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 judicious in his dealings with men. He was a successful merchant of Mount Hope. There were born to George Jackson and his wife, Jane Pickens, five children, two girls and three boys. Mr. Jackson died two years ago. Jane was left to manage and educate the children. She takes great care in governing them, and is giving them every benefit of an education. Mr. Jackson left her ample means.

William Argyle Stephenson, second son of Hodge L. Stephenson and his wife, Eliza P. Wasson, married Miss Mary A. Steenson. They reared a family of three children, two sons and one daughter. They moved to Dyer County, West Tennessee. Mort Stephenson, son of Argyle, is married; has a married son, Marvin. Mort is a merchant at Yorkville, Gibson County, Tennessee. Argyle's other son, Frank, is married and has a married son, Other. They are well-to-do farmers near Yorkville, Gibson County, Tennessee.

Harriet, the second daughter of H. L. Stephenson and his wife, was educated in the common schools of the country. When I think of her attending school under my tutelage in the year 1850, and then notice that she is now a great-grandmother, that fact inti mates that I am getting old. She married John Ewing Steenson, a clever, intelligent farmer near Mount Hope. They reared a large family of sons and daughters. The children are scattered and settled in different parts of Texas. Her husband was an elder in the Cumberland Presbyterian Church. He was doing well on his farm, but sold it, moved to Texas, had much sickness in his family in Texas, and moved back to Alabama. When Mr. Steenson returned he was financially


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 worsted. He died in Alabama. Harriet lives with her son, James Steenson, on a farm near Mount Hope, Alabama.

James Monroe, the youngest son of Hodge L. Stephenson and his wife, Eliza P. Wasson, was born in Lawrence County, near Mount Hope, Alabama, August 10, 1840. He was educated in the common schools. He was a very dutiful, industrious, good boy. He joined the Cumberland Presbyterian Church when quite young. About the time he arrived at the age of maturity, the Civil War came on. Monroe volunteered for the Confederate service. He made a brave and useful soldier. At the close of the war he actively took up farming and continued to Mount Hope, Alabama, farm successfully till his death, which occurred June 10, 1887. On January 3, 1871, he married Miss Laura Dukeminier, near Mount Hope, Alabama. Miss Dukeminier was a daughter of Alfred Dukeminier. Laura was a most estimable young woman. There were born of this union nine children, six sons and three daughters. They are all married except the youngest son, and all live in the community where they were brought up. Their names are as follows: Charles Michaux, Fredrick L., Russell E., Frank David, Edward Alfred, Deaton Monroe Stephenson. The girls are Lula B.,

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 Zula and Mollie Stephenson. At Monroe's death the widow was left with these nine children and a little farm. She, by hard work and good management, gave her children a support and a good common school education. The children were reared in respectability. They were a credit to their noble, sacrificing mother. After the children were grown and married, the widow very judiciously and prudently married Mr. Ches Roberson, a respectable farmer of good means. Mr. Roberson is a good farmer and a good citizen, and was quite fortunate in capturing the wary widow of eighteen years' widowhood.


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Eliza Jane, the youngest daughter of Hodge L. Stephenson and his wife, Eliza P. Wasson, was fairly well educated. She was a very quiet, sensible girl; she grew to womanhood in the stormy times of the Civil War,

but she was always prudent and wise. She married James G. Dement, a son of an upright, faithful minister in the Cumberland Presbyterian Church. Mr. Dement was a respectable farmer in Limestone County, Alabama. They reared a family in North Alabama, on the north side of the Tennessee River.

Rebecca Eliza Dement, the oldest living daughter of James G. Dement and his wife, Eliza Jane Stephen-


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 son, was born in Limestone County, Alabama, November 3, 1874. She was an unusually intelligent girl, cheerful and gay. She was educated at Huntsville, Alabama. She was an ambitious girl, desirous to stand at the head of her class. Her physical constitution was not equal to her thirst for knowledge and distinction. As a consequence her progress was checked to some extent. She wrote for the newspapers occasionally. Her productions were of a moral and literary nature. March 4, 1903, she married Lawrence A. Johnson, a farmer near Greenville, Texas. Mr. Johnson is a noble specimen of humanity. He is of a family distinguished for mental and physical strength and forensic power as well as its moral worth. There are thousands of men and women in Tennessee and North Alabama who have heard with gladness the persuasive eloquence, and felt the power of the pulpit when it was occupied by Dr. Felix Johnson, or his brother, Alvia. These good men were uncles of Lawrence A. Johnson. Of the union of Rebecca E. Dement and L. A. Johnson a son, Jack Dement, was born. The child is the pride of the young parents. Jack is an extraordinary child, if a mother's testimony is good in such cases. But the average man knows how much salt to use to cure the statements of the mother, especially where there is but one child. Rebecca did not marry until after her mother's death. She and her husband are well situated on a rich prairie farm near the beautiful little city of Greenville, Hunt County, Texas. Mrs. Johnson has only one living brother, John M. Dement, and two sisters, Mrs. James H. Easter and Mrs. William Bruce Strong. The brother and the two sisters have families and live in Limestone County, Alabama. Mrs. Johnson's father, James G. Dement, is remarried and lives


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 on his farm at the old home. Hodge L. Stephenson's wife, Eliza P. Wasson, died; after which he married Mrs. Margaret Barker, nee Broyles, of Lawrence County, Alabama. Mrs. Barker was a worthy woman, a good and kind stepmother. Of this union there was a child born, Ann, named in honor of her aunt, Ann Broyles. Ann married Calvin Martin; there was a son born. Calvin died. The young widow married John Wear. To this marriage several children were born. Ann died. Mr. Wear lives on his farm with his little children. Ann's first child is a farmer and lives at the old Stephenson homestead.

Sallie R. Stephenson, the eighth child and fourth daughter of Hugh W. Stephenson and Margaret, his wife, married Ellison McGaughey. They reared a family near Mount Hope. Sallie died. Ellison married Miss Lively Little and went to Marshall County, Mississippi. I think the family are all dead.

Finis is a Latin word and means the end, but my grandfather was not a Latin scholar. I will not accuse him of naming the boy of his old age Finis on that account; but the fact is Finis Ewing Stephenson was the fifth son, ninth and last child of Hugh W. and his wife, Margaret Stephenson. Finis married Talitha McWhorter. They reared a family in Pontotoc County, Mississippi.

In accordance with the plan of this work, I have given the generations beginning with Hugh W. Stephenson, the oldest son of William Stephenson, 1st, one of the Four, and his wife, R. Green Beattie.

My grandfather, Hugh W. Stephenson, was the oldest child of William Stephenson, one of the Four. He was born in Ireland, January 25, 1765. He had four full and two half-brothers in South Carolina.


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 They were called "Stinson," the Scottish vernacular for Stephenson, but they knew their proper name was Stephenson. My grandfather, in 1787, married his cousin Margaret, daughter of Capt. James Stephenson, one of the Four. In the year 1794 he moved with his family from York County, South Carolina, to Smith County, Tennessee. He was never called "Stinson" any more. The six brothers "Stinsons" who were left in South Carolina have now not a single "Stinson" descendant to bear the name; but their descendants by their daughters are quite numerous.

I will give here a list of male descendants, now living, of Hugh W. Stephenson, through his sons, not counting the descendants of his daughters. The number now voters is forty-three. I am not reckoning those under age:

1. William Henry Stephenson, Collinsville, Texas.

2. Felix W. Stephenson, Collinsville, Texas.

3. Dick Lee Stephenson, Collinsville, Texas.

4. Nim L. Stephenson, Collinsville, Texas.

5. William Newton Stephenson, Leighton, Alabama.

6. Hugh William Stephenson, Tuscumbia, Alabama.

7. Donald Reagan Stephenson, Juanita, Louisiana.

8. Dr. Hugh Watson Stephenson, Oakman, Alabama.

9. Roscoe Owen Stephenson, Oakman, Alabama.

10. William Claiborne Stephenson, Rockwall, Texas.

11. John Calvin Stephenson, Chattanooga, Tennessee.

12. Edwin Napier Stephenson, Chicago, Illinois.

13. William Myatt Stephenson, Waco, Texas.

14. William Watson Stephenson, Lois, Arkansas.

15. Thomas Floyd Stephenson, Lois, Arkansas.

16. Hugh Albert Stephenson, St. Charles, Arkansas.


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17. Porter Stephenson, Rice, Texas.

18. Amos Jarmon Stephenson, Des Arc, Arkansas.

19. Dr. Charles C. Stephenson, Little Rock, Arkansas.

20. John C. Stephenson, Rice, Texas.

21. Scott Stephenson, Rice, Texas.

22. Eugene Stephenson, Ennis, Texas.

23. Thomas Hercanus Stephenson, Boyce, Texas.

24. John B. Stephenson, Greenville, Texas.

25. Joseph Stephenson, Waxahachie, Texas.

26. James Albert Stephenson, Greenville, Texas.

27. Henry Stephenson, Dallas, Texas.

28. William Anderson Stephenson, Memphis, Tennessee.

29. Robert Lee Stephenson, San Francisco, California.

30. Frank E. Stephenson, Memphis, Tennessee.

31. Frank Stephenson, Memphis, Tennessee.

32. Henry Harvey Stephenson, Dyer, Tennessee.

33. William Argyle Stephenson, Ro Ellen, Tennessee.

34. Mort Stephenson, Yorkville, Tennessee.

35. Marvin Stephenson, Yorkville, Tennessee.

36. Frank Stephenson, Ro Ellen, Tennessee.

37. O-ther Stephenson, Ro Ellen, Tennessee.

38. Charles Michaux Stephenson, Mt. Hope, Alabama.

39. Fred L. Stephenson, Mt. Hope, Alabama.

40. Russell E. Stephenson, Mt. Hope, Alabama.

41. Frank Stephenson, Mt. Hope, Alabama.

42. Edward Alfred Stephenson, Mt. Hope, Alabama.

43. Deaton Monroe Stephenson, Mt. Hope, Alabama.


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William Stephenson, a Revolutionary soldier of York and Chester counties, and the father of Squire Stinson," was commonly called "Stinson," and his family came to be generally known only by the name "Stinson." His son, Daniel Green, signed official documents with the name "D. G. Stinson." But it was known by him that his father, William, was a son of Robert Stephenson, a Scotchman, who reared a family in County Antrim, Ireland. J. C. Hicklin, Esq., Rodman, South Carolina, a grandson of William Stephenson's daughter, Mrs. Mary Furgeson; Sam J. Lewis Rodman, whose wife was Daniel Green Stinson's daughter, and Mrs. Hephzibah Stephenson, Rossville, South Carolina (she is the widow of Dr. William Stephenson), and a granddaughter of William Stephenson, all now quite old, say they have often heard Squire Stinson" say that his proper name was Stephenson. In speaking, in this booklet, of Daniel Green Stinson, or any of the descendants of Robert Stephenson, of Ireland, they will be called Stephenson. "Stinson" is the Scottish vernacular for Stephenson. This fact is well known in Scotland and Ireland. It appears to me that it shows a want of dignity and of proper respect to the illustrious dead to designate them by a misnomer. But the name "Stinson" as applied to this family is now extinct. Why? Echo answers, Why?


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 Hugh W. Stephenson, oldest son of William Stephenson, and half brother of Squire Stinson," refused to sign his name as Stinson. He married in York County, South Carolina, moved to Tennessee, thence to Alabama. I have given the names and their respective postoffices of forty-three men voters by the name of Stephenson, descendants of the sons of Hugh W., to say nothing of the descendants of the daughters. Hugh left six brothers in South Carolina, as good men and as intelligent as he was. They accepted the name "Stinson." That was not the right name. The good Lord prospered them in their basket and their store. But he gave them daughters; in a few cases sons were born, bright sons, but they died without marrying, or failed to raise male offspring. Who can explain all this? Facts are stubborn things.

William Stephenson's first wife was a Miss Beattie. She has been dead more than a century. The rude granite headstone has her name chiseled on it. But it is scarcely legible. I am indebted to my cousin, J. C. Hicklin, and especially to the indefatigable energy and perseverance of Mrs. Gober Anderson, for deciphering her name on that old, rough headstone. Mrs. Anderson sat down on the ground in the hot July sunshine and rubbed the stone to make the carved letters appear. She was thoroughly satisfied that she understood every letter except one. She could not tell whether the first letter of the name was "R" or "B," but she was inclined to believe that it was "R." The name then reads, "R. Green Stinson." I could not see the letters. But Mrs. Anderson's bright, intelligent eye is younger than mine. I am satisfied that William Stephenson kept no family record of births and deaths.


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 I doubt whether he kept a Bible; Bibles were scarce in those days. But he was a Presbyterian.

His brother, Robert Stephenson, called Robert of Wylam, the father of George Stephenson, the engineer and railroad promoter of England, had no family "rechester," as he wrote it, of the births of his children, until after they had all been born, 1792. His family record was all written at the same time, by the same hand, written with a goose quill pen. There was no other sort then.

The information obtained on a short visit to South Carolina last July does not afford me sufficient data to write a correct or full history of the Stephenson family in South Carolina, nor their connections in that country. I hope that some one in South Carolina will revise and this booklet, and so amend and enlarge it as to include more of the family history. I will at all times be more than pleased to furnish any assistance in my power to that end.

John Stephenson, supposed to be the second son of William and R. Green Beattie, probably married. But nothing is known by me of his family if he had one.

Robert Stephenson, the third son of William Stephenson and his wife, R. Green Beattie, married Nancy Agnew, of South Carolina. Of this union six children were born: two sons and four daughters. Mary, the oldest daughter of Robert Stephenson and his wife, Nancy Agnew, married Mr. Harrison. Lucretia, the second daughter, married John Stroud. The third daughter, Agnes, married Thomas Cain. William Stephenson, the oldest son of Robert and Nancy, never married. Elihu, the second son, married Miss Taliaferro. Elizabeth, the youngest daughter, married Ferguson Woods.


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 James Stephenson, the fourth son of William Stephenson and his wife, did not marry.

William Stephenson, the fifth son of William Stephenson and his wife, never married.

Elizabeth and Nancy, the first daughters born to William Stephenson and his wife, R. Green Beattie, were twins, born in Chester County, South Carolina, in 1787. Their mother died the same day on which they were born. Elizabeth married Mr. Roberson. They had several sons. Nancy was twice married. She first married William Orr. Of this union two children were born. Mr. Orr died. The widow, Nancy, married John Ferguson. Of this marriage there were children born. Burdette Ferguson, now living with Stephen Ferguson, is the only surviving child of John Ferguson and his wife, Nancy Stephenson.

William Stephenson, one of the Four, the widower, married a second wife, Miss Elizabeth Wylie, an excellent and intelligent Irish lady, who had only recently arrived from the Green Isle. The marriage took place in 1789. Of this marriage four children were born, two sons and two daughters. These Stephensons were called "Stinson."

There exists a singular fact in regard to the "Stinson" family in South Carolina—one that cannot be accounted for from a human standpoint. It is this—the "Stinson" family failed to perpetuate the name "Stinson." The name, as applied to the Stephenson family, is extinct. But the descendants through the "Stinson" females bearing their husbands' names are quite numerous. I have referred to this singular fact elsewhere.

When I found that Samuel Stinson, the first son of William Stephenson and his second wife, Elizabeth


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 Wylie, born 1790, reared a large family, and among the children were three healthy sons, Jacob, Daniel and Samuel, I thought this was a reasonable chance for a perpetuation of the name "Stinson;" but it, like all the rest, failed.

Samuel, son of William Stephenson, one of the Four, married Elizabeth Westbrook. There were born unto them seven children, three sons and four daughters. Salena, daughter of Samuel Stephenson and his wife, Elizabeth Westbrook, married Samuel Baxter. They had no children. Elizabeth married Israel Baxter. Two daughters were born. The family moved west. Nothing is known of them.

Nancy, daughter of Samuel Stephenson and his wife, Elizabeth Westbrook, married Lemuel Jackson. Of this union there were born seven children. Mrs. Tillman Henson, near Rossville, South Carolina, is the oldest daughter of Lemuel Jackson and his wife, Nancy Stephenson.

Laura Jackson, the second daughter, married George Peters.

Lucius Jackson, son of Lemuel and his wife, Nancy, married Miss Elizabeth Brown. They are living in Navarro County, near Corsicana, Texas.

Thompson Jackson, son of Lemuel, married Miss Sanders.

Love Jackson married Mr. Marshall.

Lenora Jackson married James Gladden. They reared a family in Chester County, South Carolina. They have descendants now living in South Carolina. The other son of Lemuel Jackson and his wife did not marry.

I am not informed in regard to the fourth daughter of Samuel Stephenson.


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 Jacob, son of Samuel Stephenson, called "Stinson," and his wife, Elizabeth Westbrook, grew to manhood, went off with one Johnson with some articles to sell. He was never heard of after he left home. It was thought that he was murdered and thrown into the Broad River. The next son, Daniel, married Miss Margaret Davidson. Two children were born to them. The parents and both children died. Samuel, the last son, never married. Thus the three sons of Samuel Stephenson, called "Stinson," passed away leaving no descendants.

Mary, the second child of William Stephenson and his wife, Elizabeth Wylie, was born in 1792. She married James Ferguson. They reared nine children, seven girls and two boys. I regret that I do not know more of the history of this interesting family. Mr. Ferguson was a prosperous farmer in the Rocky Creek country, near Rossville. His wife, Mary Stephenson, was an extraordinary woman, very domestic and intellectual. While she was an excellent housekeeper and provided well for the comfort of her children, she kept well informed as to the affairs of the State and country.

Isabella Ferguson, daughter of James Ferguson and Mary Stephenson, married Jason Hicklin. Mr. Hicklin was a farmer and owned and operated a grist mill on Rocky Creek. They reared a highly respected family. The children had as good an education as could be obtained in the country, then new.

Jason Calvin Hicklin, son of Jason Hicklin and his wife, Isabella Ferguson, married Miss Sallie Strait. She is a most excellent lady and is well preserved. They live in contentment and ease with their family on a well cultivated farm near Rodman, South Car-


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 olina. Mr. Hicklin is an intelligent, industrious husbandman, a consistent member of the Associate Reformed Presbyterian Church. He is a surveyor of large experience. He has two very nice daughters at home, who, I fear, are cheating some two young men out of most desirable wives and happy homes. His daughter, Susie, married Mr. Gaston, a farmer and merchant in the neighborhood. They have three promising children.

Mrs. Hall, of Winnsboro, South Carolina, is a widow. She is a daughter of Jason Hicklin. She lives with her son, Jason Hall. Mr. Hall has an interesting family—wife and eight children.

Mrs. Susie McCrorrey, wife of William McCrorrey, is a daughter of Mrs. Hall. She is an excellent, good housekeeper and provider, as I can testify, having had ocular and tasteful experience. Mr. McCrorrey is an elder in the Associate Reformed Presbyterian Church, at Catholic—a strange name for a church of Presbyterian family. It is an old brick church a few miles west from Rossville, South Carolina.

Elizabeth, second daughter of James Ferguson and his wife, Mary Stephenson, married Mr. Sterling. Agnes Ferguson, the third daughter, married Mr. Coleman. Kate, the fourth daughter, married Mr. Grafton. Mary Ann, the fifth daughter, married Mr. Hindman.

Hephzibah, the sixth daughter of James Ferguson and Mary Stephenson, married Dr. William J. Stephenson. (No relation to the family whose history I am writing.) She is a widow and lives with her son, William Stephenson, a farmer, near Rossville. She is a consistent member of the Associate Reformed Presbyterian Church at Catholic. She is held in high esteem by her church and her neighbors, by whom she is


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 regarded as one of the noble old ladies of the community in which she lives. Her son with whom she lives is a well-to-do, industrious, honest farmer. He is married, and has several children. Mrs. Hephzibah is the mother of Mrs. Nancy Ferguson, the wife of Stephen Ferguson, near Richburg, South Carolina. Mrs. Nancy Ferguson is one of the most attractive and intelligent, as well as one of the finest looking ladies I saw in South Carolina, and I saw many who would be stars in any community. She could grace any parlor, or lead the social company, and when it comes to the culinary art, she is an adept. She is the mother of ten healthy, intelligent children, and from appearances she might be the mother of ten more.

Jane, the seventh daughter of James Ferguson and his wife, Mary Stephenson, married Mr. Hall. William Ferguson, the first son of the above parents, married Miss Wade. They have a son living with his family on the old Ferguson farm near Rossville.

Barber Ferguson, another son, the last child of James Ferguson, was three times married.


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Daniel Green Stephenson (called "Stinson"), the tenth child of William Stephenson, one of the Four, and the third child of the same, and his second wife, Elizabeth Wylie, was born May 1, 1794, in South Carolina. From his boyhood he exhibited an unusual thirst for knowledge. He was a good farm hand from the time he could hoe cotton till he was grown. But he managed to obtain a good education through his perseverance and energy. He was intellectually very strong from his youth up. His moral character was above reproach. He was kind and considerate in his intercourse with men, very conscientious and just in all his transactions with the world. He married Miss Esther Gaston, from an illustrious family of the country. There were born of this union nine children, seven daughters and two sons. One of the sons died in infancy; the other, John, was in his senior year at college when he died. It is


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 said he was a young man of much promise. Three of his daughters died in maidenhood. Much attention was given by the parents to the education of the children. They reared a family highly respected for integrity and worth.

Daniel Green Stephenson (called "Stinson") was a fine local historian. He rendered invaluable services to Mrs. Elizabeth F. Ellet, in writing the third volume of "The Women of the American Revolution." He also wrote, by request of Lyman C. Draper, the history of the Battle of King's Mountain, so far as it was participated in by South Carolinians. He also wrote the "History of Presbyterianism in South Carolina," for Dr. Howe. He has left on record in the Yorkville (South Carolina) Enquirer, of October 2, 1879, a biographical sketch from which we learn much of his history. I, especially, and as for that, all the descendants of the Four, are under lasting obligations to his memory for the family history he has left on record, without which thousands of us would be in total darkness as to our genealogical history. While we observe some errors into which he has fallen, we respect his memory the more highly for his effort in that direction, knowing that he did his best for us. He did so much better than any one else did that we can readily excuse any apparent error in his writings. He was for many years a faithful and efficient public officer in Chester County, South Carolina. He was a farmer of large means, always kind and lenient to his slaves. He kept a bill of sale for some negroes his father bought in the year 1797. This paper was lost about the time the negroes were freed—1865.

Jane Stephenson, daughter of Daniel Green Stephenson and his wife, Esther Gaston, married Rev.


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 Matthew Elder. They reared three children, two sons and one daughter. Norman Elder, son of Matthew Elder and his wife, Jane Stephenson, has a family in Columbia, South Carolina. Mr. Elder is an intelligent, well educated man. He is head clerk in a large business in Columbia. John M. W. Elder, a brother to Norman, is an Associate Reformed Presbyterian minister. He has charge of two churches in Virginia. He has a family. Miss Mary Jane Elder, daughter of Rev. M. Elder and his wife, Jane, is not married. She is living in Chester, South Carolina.

Melissa Stephenson, daughter of Daniel Green Ste—phenson and his wife, Esther Gaston, married the Rev. Laughlin McDonald. Mr. McDonald was an eminent Associate Reformed Presbyterian minister, a zealous and useful man, a man who sacrificed his own ease and comfort for the general good. He and his wife, Melissa, reared to maturity three sons. Charles Edgar McDonald is an able and highly useful Associate Reformed Presbyterian minister. He is the pastor of the church at Winnsboro, South Carolina. His wife is dead. He has charge of the children and his flock. He is in many respects a very superior man. James Edwin, a younger brother to the preacher, is a lawyer of more than ordinary ability. Judge McDonald practices in the courts at Winnsboro, his home, and in the surrounding counties. He has great ability in determining the merits of the cases that come before him when on the bench. He has a large and commodious home, surrounded by extensive grounds. He has a most amiable wife and five very promising children. His daughter, Miss Helen, now about grown, is a charming and well educated young lady. His oldest son, Edwin, is in college and will soon graduate. There


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 is no nicer family in Winnsboro than Judge Edwin McDonald's.

William Lee McDonald, son of Rev. L. McDonald, is an insurance agent. He has a family and lives in Charlotte, N. C.

Eliza C. Stephenson, daughter of D. G. Stephenson and his wife, Esther Gaston, married Samuel J. Lewis. There were born of this union seven children, five sons and two daughters. The five sons and one daughter have passed away, leaving no descendants. Mrs. Lewis, the mother, is also dead.

Margaret Melissa Lewis, daughter of Samuel J. Lewis and his wife, Eliza C. Stephenson, after she was educated, married John M. Bell. They have one interesting child, a son, Lewis. The child is a very intelligent scion and the pride of the family. Mr. Bell is an electrician, and an industrious, clever, good man. He lives at Rodman, and works at Chester, eleven miles west from Rodman. Mr. Bell, in the early morning, runs to Chester on an electric bicycle, and returns after work time in the evening. Mr. Bell was exceedingly fortunate in his marriage to Miss Maggie Lewis. She is an intelligent, industrious woman, a devoted mother, a kind, obedient wife, and a painstaking housekeeper. She is a blond, having the complexion and style of the Scottish Stephensons. There is no better or kinder woman in Rodman than Mrs. Margaret Melissa Bell. But her Irish blood will rise in the twinkling of an eye, if she sees that dear little boy imposed upon.

Samuel J. Lewis is a successful merchant at Rodman. He owns land and farms. He is a member of the Presbyterian Church. There is no better man in that church than Sam Lewis. Mr. Lewis lived in


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 Tishomingo County, Mississippi, when the war came on. He was a gallant and brave soldier in the Confederate army. Probably there was no one in that desperate struggle who was in more hard-fought battles, and who was a witness to more death and carnage than Samuel J. Lewis. He lost all he had; his family refugeed from North Mississippi to South Carolina. He is an industrious, economical man. He has now a nice little estate.

Martha Stephenson, daughter of Daniel Green Stephenson and his wife, Esther Gaston, married Mr. Lewis, a nephew of Samuel J. Lewis. She is dead; she has no descendants living.

Daniel Green Stephenson was twice married. His wife, Esther Gaston, died in 1854, after having been married thirty-five years. Her husband made the common mistake of old men. He married a widow who had a family of daughters. 'Squire "Stinson's" family and the newly adopted one were not congenial; they never are. His latter days were not his happiest days.


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Catharine, the last child of William Stephenson, one of the Four, and his wife, Elizabeth Wylie, married John Westbrook, a farmer. They lived on a fine farm one mile west from Rossville. There were born to them twelve children. Seven of them died without heirs. The other five reared respectable, good families. Jacob Westbrook, son of John Westbrook and his wife, Catharine Stephenson, married Sarah Peay. They have a family and live in Acworth, Georgia. Terzie Westbrook, Jacob's sister, married Jefferson Wylie.

Jane Agnes, daughter of John Westbrook and his wife, Catharine Stephenson, married James Campbell. They reared a family near Mount Prospect church, in Chester County, South Carolina. She is a widow and lives with her daughter, Mary Frances, and son-in-law, W. C. Garrison, a respectable citizen and a good, industrious farmer. Mr. Garrison and his wife have several children. My cousin, Jane Agnes, is one of four living grandchildren of William Stephenson, one of the Four. She is getting up in years for a widow, but her memory is very good. I obtained from her more of the past history of the descendants of the Four than from all the others whom I met. J. C. Hicklin and myself enjoyed a splendid basket dinner with her family at a picnic one July day.


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 Mary Elizabeth Westbrook married William Alexander White. Mr. White owned a large farm, three miles south of Chester, South Carolina. On this farm he reared a large and respectable family. Their son, James G. L. White, now owns and lives on the original White estate. It consists of four hundred acres that has been in the family for one hundred and forty-five years. The land was granted to Mr. White's grand ancestor in 1762, by the crown of England. The consideration was ten shillings for a hundred acres. When the land was surveyed it was guessed off with given metes and bounds, always good measure thrown in. The purchaser did the most of the guessing. J. G. L. White has the original deed by which the crown of England conveyed this land to his great-grandfather.

The following are the names of the children of William A. White and his wife, Mary Elizabeth Westbrook: John W. White, Louisville, Georgia; Mrs. Kate S. Stone, Augusta, Georgia; Dr. W. G. White, Yorkville, South Carolina; James G. L. White, Chester, South Carolina; R. M. White, Chester, South Carolina; Miss Jinnie C. White, Chester, South Carolina. On that same old farm Mr. White, this year, 1905, expects to make a bale of cotton to the acre. He has an interesting family, consisting of wife and seven children. His daughter, Mary Elizabeth, has just finished school. Any one knows how bright and polite a young lady can be when she has just graduated and returned home. Three of his little boys, one named "Stinson," are about the same size. They are about the right size and age to get off with a stranger and tell him all the family secrets. Isabella, daughter of John Westbrook and his wife, Catharine Stephenson, married Robert Nichols.


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 Having given a very incomplete account of the descendants of William Stephenson, one of the Four, and of his children and their descendants, I will take up next his brother, James Stephenson, one of the Four.

James Stephenson, son of Robert Stephenson, a Scotchman, who reared a family in Antrim County, Ireland, was born in Ireland about the year 1746. He married previous to coming to America. His wife's Christian name was Nellie, but I do not know her maiden name. He was a captain in the Revolutionary War under Col. John Sevier. He was in the battle of King's Mountain. There were born to him and his wife, Nellie, eight children, four sons and four daughters, namely: Hugh, born in Ireland, in 1766; a daughter, who died on the way to America and was buried at sea; Margaret, born November 28, 1770, in Ireland, my grandmother; John, born in Ireland, in 1772; Mary Ann, born in South Carolina, in 1774; Robert, born in 1776, in South Carolina; William, born in 1778, in South Carolina; Rebecca, born in 1781, in South Carolina.

Capt. James Stephenson was a brave and faithful officer in the Revolutionary War. He participated in many battles. During the time James Stephenson was in the army his wife, Nellie, and her children worked on a farm in the southeastern part of Chester County, South Carolina, for a support. In the year 1780 the British and Tories came to her house plundering. She had her cattle in a lot. She fought the enemy the best she could trying to save some of her property. She put one favorite milch cow, "Old Brindle," in the horse stable. The Tories knocked her down and broke the door open and took the last cow she had. But she had one weapon left which she used with much severity


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 her tongue. She called them low-down, thieving imps of King George. Her ten-year-old daughter, Margaret, struck one of the Tories with the poking stick. In these days of plenty and affluence there may be some who do not know what is meant by a poking stick. In the time of the American Revolution, and down to my boyhood days, iron shovel and tongs were luxuries which only a few were able to enjoy. In those days for fire dogs common rocks were used, and for tongs a hickory stick four feet long and one and a half inches thick was used. The shovel was made from a common clapboard riven from a white oak tree. The board was trimmed down to a handle.


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Hugh Stephenson, oldest son of Capt. James Stephenson, one of the Four, and his wife, Nellie, was born in Antrim County, Ireland, in 1766. He came with his father's family to America, married Miss Margaret Presley in South Carolina, in 1790. He moved to Sumner County, Tennessee, in 1794; thence to Lawrence County, Alabama, in 1820. After three children had been born his wife died in Tennessee. These three children were John, Thomas and Margaret Presley Stephenson. Hugh married Elizabeth Alvis in Tennessee. They reared a large family in Lawrence County, Alabama.

John Stephenson, son of Hugh and Margaret, was born in South Carolina, in 1792. He married Lucinda. Theirlkill, near Mount Hope, Alabama. They reared a family in Mississippi. Thomas, the next son, never married. Margaret Presley married my father after my mother's death. Her children have been noticed under the head of William Watson Stephenson.

Dorothy, daughter of Hugh Stephenson and his wife, Elizabeth Alvis, married Hiram Byler. They reared a family in Mississippi. Mary Ann, commonly called "Polly Ann," daughter of Hugh and Elizabeth, married Alexander Lee. They went to Louisiana. Martha, commonly called "Patsy," married James Lee. Of this union three children were born: Puss, Thomas Benton and William A. Lee. Puss never married. She now lives with her brother, T. B. Lee. T. B. Lee married Steve Johnson's daughter. They reared a family


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 six miles west from Moulton, Alabama, on a farm. William A. Lee married Miss Wasson. They live northeast from Leighton, Alabama, in Colburt County. Their children are mostly grown. Some of them are married.

Ashley Elliott Stephenson, son of Hugh and Elizabeth, married my only full sister, Miss Mary Ann Stephenson, commonly called "Polly Ann." Their children have been noticed under the head, William Watson Stephenson.

Jasper Newton Stephenson, son of the above Hugh and Elizabeth, married Caroline White. They reared a family near Landersville, Alabama. Bill, Tom and his brother went to North Texas.

Paralee, daughter of J. N. Stephenson and his wife, Caroline White, married Thomas Hagood. They have several children. They live at Hatton, Lawrence County, Alabama. Another daughter of J. N. Stephen son married Mr. Montgomery. They live near Moulton, Alabama.

Catharine, daughter of Hugh Stephenson and his wife, Elizabeth Alvis, married William Eckles. They have no children.

Elizabeth, the youngest child of Hugh Stephenson and his wife, Elizabeth Alvis, married Thomas Washington White. Some children were born. The parents died. The children live near Landersville, Alabama.

Margaret Stephenson, daughter of Capt. James Stephenson, one of the Four, and his wife, Nellie, was born in Ireland, in 1770. She married her cousin, Hugh W. Stephenson, my grandfather, in South Carolina. She has been noticed under the head of her husband's father, William Stephenson, one of the Four.


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 Much of the early history of the Stephenson family, here recorded, is derived from her conversation when I was a small boy. A little boy thinks his grandmother knows it all.

John Stephenson, son of Capt. James, one of the Four, and Nellie, was born in Ireland, in 1772. He married in Tennessee. After two children were born he died.

James Guynn Stephenson, son of John Stephenson and his wife, was born 1807, in Tennessee. Guynn was a scientific farmer, a good neighbor and an honorable, upright citizen. He was a faithful member of the Baptist Church. He married Miss Mary Kent in Alabama, reared an interesting family. He died in Texas.

Mary Ellen, daughter of James Guynn Stephenson and his wife, Mary Kent, married Dr. John Benton McGaughey, Mount Hope, Alabama. They reared a large family in Texas. The McGaugheys at Brownwood, Texas, are Guynn's grandchildren. Jane, Guynn's second daughter married Mr. Simmons, of Hood County, Texas. They have a family in Texas.

John Smith, son of James Guynn Stephenson and his wife, Mary Kent, married Miss Jinnie Davis, Concord, Alabama. They reared only one child, a daughter. She married James Masterson, of Moulton. Two daughters were born. Mrs. Masterson died. The two daughters are now young ladies, living in Moulton, Alabama. John Smith Stephenson's wife, Jinnie, died. John married Mrs. Susan K. Benner, a widow. They live in Courtland, Alabama. He is the sheriff of Lawrence County, Alabama.

Camilla, called "Miley," only daughter of John Stephenson and his wife, never married. She died in Texas.


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Mary Ann, daughter of James Stephenson, one of the Four, and his wife, Nelly, was born in South Carolina, in 1774. She married Mr. Sandifer. They reared a family in South Carolina. The son of Mr. Sandifer and his wife, Mary Ann Stephenson, married Miss Wylie. Of this union were several children born.

Misses Sarah and Hephzibah Sandifer, now living on Rocky Creek, near Rossville, are two of their children. These two maids own and live upon a farm on Rocky Creek, on which, by prudence, industry and economy, they make a competency and some to spare. These ladies are nice, quiet members of the old Catholic Presbyterian Church. Their farm skirts Rocky Creek where the old cow ford was in Revolutionary times. Here at this cow ford is the place William Anderson crossed and made his escape from forty pursuing British and Tories. This was in June, 1780. The old Anderson home is just over the hills across the creek from the Sandifer home. The home is in sight; the creek still flows as then; but the living creatures of that day are all gone. But their brave deeds are living and moving as well as the water in the channels of that historic creek.

Here Mr. Anderson lived when he volunteered for the war. He left a loving wife and three children: Mary, the oldest, and Robert and William. He left a


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 bountiful supply for his wife and children—horses, cattle and hogs, and a crib full of corn, and a smokehouse well supplied with provisions, old ham and well cured side meat. But, oh, the uncertainty of this world's goods! On the return of the British and Tories from the vain pursuit of William Anderson, her husband, they, knowing his skill and bravery and being chagrined on account of his escape, destroyed and carried away everything she possessed. Soon after this occurrence Mr. Anderson was surprised and killed on Fishing Creek, near where Fort Lawn now is. Her resources for the support of her three children were her energy and will to work. She built a dam and put in a fish-trap on Rocky Creek. Her seven-year-old daughter, Mary, assisted her mother. They worked in water up to their knees all day building that dam, but they succeeded in catching an abundance of fish. They would prepare the fish and hang them above the fire in the rude chimney, so as to dry them for a future day.

Mrs. William Anderson, nee Stephenson, had two brothers, James and William, in the army, and one brother, Robert Stephenson, who went from Ireland to the coal mines near Newcastle, England. This Robert is the father of George Stephenson, the celebrated inventor of the locomotive. He built the first locomotive that moved on the surface of the earth. This was 1814 to 1830. The child, Mary Anderson, who, when seven years old, was such substantial aid to her mother, married Joshua Smith and became the mother of four able ministers of the gospel in Tennessee, and the great-grandmother of Senator E. W. Carmack. One of her nephews, Napoleon Bonaparte Anderson, belonged to the Tennessee Conference for forty years. The Andersons near Pulaski are the de-


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 scendants of her brother, Robert Anderson. One of the Andersons near Pulaski sent eleven sons to the Confederate army, ten of whom returned at the close of the war. William H. Anderson lives at this time on an estate near Pulaski, Tennessee. The substance of the above history is gleaned from the third volume of "The Women of the American Revolution."

There is another place on the Misses Sandifer's farm of interesting history. It is a cave in the banks of Rocky Creek. There was a farmer who had only recently come from England at the beginning of the war of the Revolution. His name was John Ferguson. He and his good wife, Isabella, would not take part against their neighbors, most of whom were Whigs, nor did they wish to oppose their recent countrymen. Mrs. Anderson, after being robbed of all she had, gathered her maturing crop, and, to keep out of the way of the marauding Tories—the country being overrun with British and Tories—called on Mr. Ferguson for advice. He concealed her corn in a cave under a hill on the creek's banks. Through Mr. Ferguson's kindness and ingenuity he was of great help to Mrs. Anderson and other Whig ladies of that neighborhood.

Robert B. Anderson and I visited these historic spots last July. We took dinner with the two happy maids. It was a bountiful repast and thoroughly enjoyed by the two visitors. The old cave is there yet, but the washings from the fields have partly filled its mouth. Some old fence rails are sticking up out of the mud and sand in the cave's mouth. May the good Lord preserve these two happy, good, and what society calls old maids, and may they conclude not to deprive some nice gentleman of good and suitable helpmeets any longer. Selah.


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Robert, son of Capt. James Stephenson, one of the Four, and his wife, Nellie, born in 1776, married and went West. I know nothing of his family.

William Stephenson, son of the above James, born in 1779, was a soldier in the War of 1812. He gained distinction for bravery and gallant services at the Battle of New Orleans. He volunteered from Tennessee. He never married.

Rebecca, the youngest daughter of James Stephenson, one of the Four, and his wife, Nellie, was born in South Carolina in 1781. She married Hugh Campbell in Tennessee. They reared a family—four sons and one daughter—in Maury County, Tennessee, near Spring Hill. The oldest daughter of Hugh Campbell and Rebecca Stephenson, Ann Eliza, married A. L. Stephenson, my oldest brother. They have been spoken of under the head of William Watson Stephenson.

The oldest son, "Tiry," died unmarried. He was a mechanic, and is buried at Leighton, Alabama. The next son, Zeno Stephenson Campbell, married and reared a family near Spring Hill, Tennessee. George Washington Campbell, another son, married and reared a family in Tennessee. James Madison Campbell, the youngest son of Hugh Campbell and his wife, Rebecca Stephenson, never married. He was killed at the Battle of Monterey, Mexico, September, 1846.


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 Elizabeth, one of the Four, a daughter of Robert Stephenson, a Scotchman, who reared a family in Ireland, was born in Antrim County, Ireland, in 1748. She married Alexander Brady in Ireland. They reared a family near Landsford, on the Catawba River, near the line of York and Chester counties, South Carolina. John Brady, son of Alex Brady and his wife, Elizabeth Stephenson, one of the Four, married Miss Elizabeth Wylie. They reared several children near Rock Hill, in York County, South Caroline. I regret that my information in regard to the Brady—family is so limited.

Ruth B. Brady, the fourth child of John Brady and his wife, Elizabeth Wylie, was born in 1834. She married William Cowan. They reared a family near Rock Hill, York County, South Carolina. They have two sons, George and John Cowan, cotton buyers at Rock Hill. Mrs. Mary Youngblood, daughter of William Cowan and Ruth B. Brady, his wife, lives at Rock Hill. Margaret Tennant, daughter of John Brady and Elizabeth Wylie, lives on a farm near Landsford, South Carolina.

Nancy Susanna Cowan, daughter of William Cowan and his wife, Ruth B. Brady, married William B. Lynn. Their home is on a high elevation, a beautiful situation, in the midst of a large farm, near Lewis' Turnout, five miles north of Chester. Mr. and Mrs. Lynn are well fixed. They have an interesting family of intelligent children. I enjoyed a most bountiful and well prepared dinner with them on Sunday after returning from church. They are Presbyterians. Mrs. Lynn is one of triplets—two girls and one boy—all about forty years old. Mrs. Lynn is the only one of


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 the three that I saw. But I saw the photograph of the three. She is a very amiable woman.

The term, "One of the Four," has frequently been used in this book. It was explained before it was used, but, perhaps, it would be well to explain it again. There were Four emigrants, who came from Ireland to America in the year 1772. They settled in South Carolina. They were William, James, Elizabeth and Nancy Stephenson, two sons and two daughters of Robert Stephenson, a Scotchman, who reared a family in County Antrim, near the little town of Ballymoney, Ireland. All our relatives in America, so far as we know, descended from these four, two brothers and two sisters. Hence, any one of these Four emigrants is called "One of the Four."

There is strong circumstantial evidence that Robert Stephenson, of Ireland, had a younger brother named James Stephenson, who reared a family in County Antrim, Ireland, and that some of James' descendants came to America, and that the Stevensons in Fairfield County, South Carolina, are the descendants of the James Stephenson, of Ireland. One of these Fairfield Stevensons was six feet and nine inches high and was familiarly called "Long Robert Stevenson."


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Elizabeth Stephenson, one of the Four, married Alex Brady. She is the grandmother of Ruth B. Brady, the widow of William Cowan. Mrs. Cowan and her sister, Mrs. Margaret M. Tennant, of Landsford, South Carolina, are the only living grandchildren of Elizabeth Stephenson, one of the Four. A very unusual occurrence took place in this Cowan family, a condition I never knew to exist in any family before. It may have existed somewhere else, but, if so, I have never known of the fact. Ruth B. Brady, wife of William Cowan, on January 26, 1867, gave birth to triplets, two girls and one boy. I have known triplets to be born—that is of rare occurrence, but it happens in every country—but I never knew all three to live to maturity till this case. Robert Hope Cowan weighs two hundred and twenty pounds. He is a prosperous farmer on the old Cowan homestead, near Rock Hill, York County, South Carolina. He is one of these triplets. He is not married. Nancy Susanna Cowan, now the wife of William B. Lynn, Esq., is another of the triplets. She weighs one hundred and sixty-pounds, is the mother of five nice, smart children. How many more there may be deponent sayeth not. Mr. Lynn is a successful farmer. He has one of the nicest farms in Chester County. Mary Louise Cowan, now Mrs. Bloodworth, is another one of the triplets, weighs


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 one hundred and thirty-five pounds. I was not at her house and did not see her, but I was told that she is as fine looking and as good a housewife as her triplet sister, Nancy. If that be so, she is all right. She lives on a farm near Landsford, on the Catawba River, at the head of the falls.


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Nancy Stephenson, one of the Four, daughter of Robert Stephenson, of County Antrim, Ireland, was born 1750, in Ireland. She married William Anderson in Ireland, in 1772, and came with her husband and others to America. He bought land and settled on Rocky Creek, about eight miles west from the lower end of the falls, on the Catawba River. Of this marriage there were three children born—Mary, Robert and William. Mr. Anderson volunteered as an American soldier. He fell in the cause of liberty in the autumn of 1780. Nancy, his wife, and her children, struggled for a living. But by indomitable will and perseverance, they succeeded. She was a handsome woman, and as good as she was fine looking. She was tall and symmetrically proportioned—a graceful form. She was a blonde, having beautiful complexion, very light colored hair and blue eyes. She was an extraordinarily nice housekeeper and a fine cook. Quoting from Rev. Wesley Smith's (her grandson) "Family History:" "One, who knew Nancy Anderson, nee Stephenson, well, observed that if a woman ever lived who came up to Solomon's description of a virtuous woman, it was she."

It is meet and proper that the quotation attributed by the Rev. Wesley Smith, her grandson, to Mrs. Nancy A. Carmack, her granddaughter, should be used


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 to describe the grandmother, Nancy Anderson: "The heart of her husband did safely trust in her. She did work diligently with her hands. She did lay her hands to the spindle and hold the distaff. She stretched forth her hands to the poor, yea, she reached forth her hands to the needy. She looked well to the ways of her household and eat not the bread of idleness. Her children have risen up and called her blessed. Her husband also praised her." Her numerous intelligent and distinguished descendants are a fit reward for her piety and devotion to the training of her three children. They are distinguished in the walks of peace and in the councils of the nation, as well as in the carnage and clamor of war, and in the proclaiming of the gospel of Christ. She married Daniel Green, a Revolutionary soldier. Mr. Green was a very excellent man, a kind husband, an industrious provider, a very lenient, good stepfather. Of this second marriage there were no children. She and Mr. Green succeeded in accumulating a nice fortune. After they recovered from the effects of the Revolutionary War, they built a residence, which is still standing as a monument to the art and industry of Mr. Green.

I was in this house last July. It was built with hewn pine logs, in the year 1779. The logs and house generally are in a very good state of preservation. I visited every room, from basement to garret. The house is a model of strength and compactness. But the indications of wealth are gone; no negroes, no fine horses, no beautiful flower garden. All are gone to try the realities of another world. But the spring of cold water still flows from under the brow of the hill as ever.


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 Mary Anderson, daughter of William Anderson and his wife, Nancy Stephenson, born in 1774, married Joshua Smith in South Carolina. They reared a large and intelligent family in Robertson County, Tennessee. The most of their children were unusually intelligent. Four of her sons became ministers of the gospel. They were devoted to their calling and were useful men in the community where their lot was cast. They were of the Methodist persuasion. They reared families in the Southwest.

Rev. Wesley Smith, the son of Joshua Smith and his wife, Mary Anderson, wrote a family history to which I am indebted for much family history that appears in this booklet.


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Joshua Smith, and Mary, his wife, had born to them twelve children. Two of them died in childhood—a son and a daughter. The other ten reared highly respected families in the South and West. Of these ten there were seven sons and three daughters.

Patience Bland, daughter of Joshua Smith and his wife, Mary Anderson, was born October 24, 1797. She was a granddaughter of Nancy Anderson, nee Stephenson, one of the Four. She received a liberal education. She was always neat in her appearance, industrious and self-reliant, and quite intelligent. She was not foolishly proud, but worked with her own hands in order that she could appear in any society without expense to her family. Her father moved to Robertson County, Tennessee, when she was a child. She married Davis Gurley, Esq., of Tennessee, in 1823. As useful and domestic as she was in young womanhood, it was reserved to her matronhood to shine brilliantly. She lived to have the care of a very large household, both of children and negro slaves. But she was always equal to the task over which Providence and a good husband had placed her. Mr. Gurley bought land and opened up a farm one mile west from Leighton, Alabama, in 1823. Davis Gurley was for many years a justice of the peace. He was an upright, honorable man, a fine, intelligent farmer. He accumulated a ens ae ee


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 fortune in land and negroes. He and his wife were consistent members of the Methodist Church. They were noted in their neighborhood for their leniency to their slaves. Their negro slaves had such a home with their master and mistress as they have never had since they were free, and no one knows this fact so well as the old slaves do. They reared a family of sons and daughters. The children were well educated. They are among the best people in the country. The family moved to Waco, Texas, in 1853.

Col. Edwards Jeremiah Gurley, oldest son of Davis Gurley, commanded a regiment of soldiers in the Confederate army. He is a lawyer, but has retired from practice, and lives in comfort at Gurley, a railroad town below Waco, in Falls County. He employs his time in looking after the interest of his large estate.

James Henry, son of Davis Gurley and his wife, Patience Bland Smith, was born in Alabama. He was educated at LaGrange College, married in Waco, Texas; was master of Waco Masonic Lodge, Number 92. He has a son in Waco, George B. Gurley, who is an only child. He is city engineer. J. H. Gurley died comparatively young. During the year 1871, Waco Lodge, Number 92, having grown so as to be unwieldy, a new lodge was organized and chartered. It was named in honor of a deceased master of Waco Lodge, Number 92, J. H. Gurley Lodge, Number 337.

Davis Robert Gurley, the youngest child of Davis Gurley and his wife, Patience Bland Smith, was born near Leighton, Alabama, and educated in the Wesleyan University, Florence, Alabama. He graduated with the class of 1857. On his return to his father's home in Texas he volunteered for the State frontier service. When the war of the States began he went into the


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 Confederate service. He filled many high official stations with honor and distinction. He was adjutant-general at the close of the war. He is a farmer with ample means. He lives at his country plantation just below and adjoining the city of Waco. Davis Gurley married Miss Lutie Earle, in 1865. They reared an interesting family. It has been a happy household. Much attention has been given by Captain Gurley and his wife to the education and domestic training of their intelligent children. The facilities for an education at Waco are very good. Probably no place affords better schools and colleges. The city is known over the State as the "Athens of Texas." The Gurleys have reaped, and are yet reaping, the full benefit of such grand opportunities. Some of his children are married and living in Waco. One daughter, Mary Azalete, married Dr. C. C. McCulloch, who holds high rank as surgeon in the United States Army. Of course, he goes where his services are thought to be most needed. They are now stationed at Fort Meade, South Dakota. Mrs. McCullock is a very intelligent, educated lady, a loving wife and devoted mother.

Joe Taylor, Esq., one of the leading lawyers of Waco, is a grandson of Davis and Mrs. Patience Gurley.

Nancy Agnes, daughter of Joshua Smith and his wife, Mary Anderson, was born in South Carolina in 1799. She married Cornelius Carmack. They reared a family in Lauderdale County, Alabama, where Mr. Carmack was well and favorably known. He was fond of politics, an able debater, a natural poet and orator. In his early life he had no opportunities for obtaining an education. But he had a vigorous and retentive memory. He moved to Tishomingo County,


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 Mississippi, served in the State legislature and was president of the State Constitutional Convention when he died.

Francis McMillan Carmack, son of Cornelius Carmack and his wife, Nancy Agnes Smith, married Elvira (Kate) Holding. Edward W. Carmack, son of Frances McMillan Carmack, is a United State senator from Tennessee. He is an able debater and a leader of the Democratic party.

Robert Anderson, son of William Anderson, the Revolutionary soldier, and his wife, Nancy Stephenson, one of the Four, married Miss Jane Barber in South Carolina and moved west, and settled in Giles County, Tennessee, where they reared a large and worthy family. Their descendants of to-day are among the most respected and honored citizens of Giles County, Tennessee.


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Rh

Robert Barber Anderson, son of William Anderson, grandson of Robert Anderson, late of Giles County, Tennessee, and great-grandson of William Anderson, of Revolutionary memory, and his wife, Nancy Stephenson, of South Carolina, was born March 13, 1840. He lives in Chester County, South Carolina, on an extensive plantation near Richburg. He is a successful farmer, a very popular, good humored man—a man who to be known is to be admired for his charity, industry and Christian virtues. He has been twice married. His present wife was a Miss Barber, a relative. She is a noble, good woman, a lenient and painstaking stepmother. She and her husband have no children. They are leading members of the Mount Prospect Southern Methodist Church. There were born unto Mr. Anderson and his first wife four children, three sons and one daughter. Joseph, the oldest son, was graduated from a South


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 Carolina college last June. Robert Edward is well educated, but is a natural farmer. He is of much value to his father in the management of his large farms. Porter, the third son, is in Wofford College, South Carolina. Mr. Anderson's daughter, Lena, married Rev. J. W. Neely.

Robert B. Anderson has a very singular war record. I suppose there is not now living a single veteran of the Lost Cause with a record like his. His record was good, but that is not its singularity, for thousands of others had as good a record for bravery and gallantry as could be made. But the singularity in his case consists in the fact that he was at the firing of the first gun on Fort Sumter, April 9, 1861. He was a witness: of the surrender of General Anderson at Fort Sumter, saw him and his staff taken to the guard-house in Charleston. He was in the first and second battles at Manassas and in all the battles in Virginia. He was sent over to Chattanooga in time to be in the battle of Chickamauga; then he marched through East Tennessee to Virginia to his regular field of fighting and was on foot, with his gun in hand, at the surrender at Appomattox. He says he could do it again; but he does not want to. Where is the other Confederate soldier who was at the firing of the first gun at Fort Sumter and at the surrender at Appomattox? Echo comes from the silent grave, Where! Robert Barber Anderson, of Chester County, stands alone in that respect.

This family is worthy of its noble and patriotic ancestry. William H. Anderson a prominent citizen of Giles County, Tennessee, is a brother of the late Rev. J. B. Anderson of the Tennessee Conference. They were two of thirteen brothers and sisters.


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 Col. William Anderson, son of William Anderson, of Revolutionary memory, and his wife, Nancy Stephenson, one of the Four, married Miss Cherry, of South Carolina. They reared a highly respected family in the county in which he was born. He never left South Carolina. Colonel Anderson was a valuable and useful citizen of the community in which he lived. He was colonel of a regiment in the war of 1812. His granddaughter, Miss Maggie M. Anderson, daughter of Dr. Daniel Green Anderson, late of South Carolina, is now (November, 1905) the only living child of Dr. D. G. Anderson. Miss Maggie M. Anderson owns and lives on the old plantation of her father on Fishing Creek, near Fort Lawn.

Robert B. Anderson and I had the pleasure, last July, visiting Miss Maggie at her home. I found her not only a very intellectual and cultured woman, but also a most excellent cook and hostess. She manages her; estate well, and always has on hand some one, or more, to take care of and provide for. "It is better to give than to receive." I am told that is what the boy said when he struck his playmate. She is fond of souvenirs and old keep-sakes. She showed to me the sword her grandfather, William Anderson, wore in the war of 1812, when he was commander of a regiment. She has the old, time-stained deed, by which the land on which her grandfather lived, was conveyed from the crown of England, in 1763, to an American subject. She is a most excellent little lady.

Gober Anderson, a nephew of Miss Maggie, lives on and owns the old plantation of her grandfather. The residence is the same one built more than a hundred years ago, except that some additions have been made. Mr. Anderson is a scientific farmer, has


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126 good land and keeps it good by taking good care of it, judiciously using fertilizers. He makes good crops. He is a highly respected citizen. He has a most excellent wife and beautiful children. They are noble descendants of well known ancestors. They are a happy family.


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text: The Stephenson Family/Section 15

title: The Stephenson Family/Section 15


text: The Stephenson Family/Section 16

title: The Stephenson Family/Section 16


text: The Stephenson Family/Section 17

title: The Stephenson Family/Section 17


text: The Stephenson Family/Section 18

title: The Stephenson Family/Section 18


text: The Stephenson Family/Section 19

title: The Stephenson Family/Section 19


text: The Stephenson Family/Section 20

title: The Stephenson Family/Section 20


text: The Stephenson Family/Section 21

title: The Stephenson Family/Section 21


text: The Stephenson Family/Section 22

title: The Stephenson Family/Section 22


text: The Stephenson Family/Section 23

title: The Stephenson Family/Section 23


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448 PONTO'S FIRST LESSON. and can stand it. If they think so, let 'em; more unlikely things have happened.”

Hetty grew silent, and moped; her duties seemed dull and commonplace; even the be- loved music had lost its charms. The little, quiet village had eyes, and noticed the change. Everybody said that “Miss Bab’s Hetty was queer for a young girl. Her aunt must be looking out for her when her single gentlemen came to board, bringing their pianers, and leaving them.” How happy they made them- selves with the business of other people, while poor Hetty sauntered over her work, stood still, sometimes, and looked at nothing, for I dare not say how long; found all the dear old songs he used to love, and practiced them till the piano must have ached, if it had any feeling.

“Hetty, Mr. Barstow’s nephew has come,” said aunt Bab, one morning, some three months after that gentleman had gone.

Hetty had just dressed herself for a call—the child had never looked more beautiful. So aunt ; Bab thought in spite of herself, but she only said,

“Well, if I was you, I wouldn’t turn so red for nothin’.”

“Is he like his uncle?” queried Hetty.

“Well, yes; he’s like, and he ain’t like—to my mind he’s a great deal finer looking, that’s all.”

Hetty met the stranger with a shy welcome. The excitement of seeing somebody who was related to her old friend, quickened her pulses, and brightened cheek and eye. How like his uncle he was, only younger! The tones, the very modulation of his voice, made her think of him. Presently she forgot that he was a stranger, and asked questions concerning Mr. Barstow. Whenever they met, she talked of him; she had practiced the music he left her; she had read the books he recommended; she had studied just as he had thought it best she should. “Queer old gentleman, that uncle of mine,” the nephew said, one day, tired, no doubt, of  hearing his praises reiterated. ‘Did you know that he wore a wig?”

“Not till after he had gone,” said Hetty. “Was he bald?”

“Well, yes, rather; just over a fever, you see, when he came here—ordered a wig and green spectacles. You’ve no idea how odd he looked without them.”

“Did he?” Hetty asked, absently. Some way, she fancied there was nothing in the world so becoming as green spectacles. ‘I wonder if he thought I should learn all the lessons he set me, before he comes back?" she said, quietly, smiling to herself.

“I'm afraid you’ll never see my uncle again,” said the young man.

She grew pale—so very pale that he was  startled.

“Is he ill? Have you heard bad news? Is he going away? He said he would come.” “No; but he is very much in love with a young lady of his acquaintance, and quite contented to remain where he is.”

“And he—he will marry her, I suppose,” said Hetty, in a faint voice.

“I think it likely he will marry her, if he can get her. She is a very sweet little person.”

“Then you have seen her?”

“Often.”

“She is—is beautiful, of course.”

“She is, to him,” replied the young fellow, regarding her with fascinated glances. He could not see how she trembled with the suddenness, the shock of her emotion. He had found some one to love, she thought, and would never, never come back—never think of her any more. It was cruel, agonizing, frightful! She did not know how she said it, but the words dropped from her trembling lips,

“He has found some one to love.”

“Yes, he has found some one to love, as well as, in this short time, I have learned to love you, little Hetty.”

Hetty started back, amazed.

“Oh! don’t speak of it! You don’t know how you hurt me,” cried the girl, with quivering lips.

“But, Hetty, he sent me here on purpose; he told me I must love you; that the moment I saw your innocent face I should love you—and I do, Hetty—I——”

“Hush!” Hetty stood up, feeling that her childish days, her childish heart were gone, forever. ‘‘Iam greatly obliged to Mr. Barstow,” she said, ‘‘for all his kindness; for the interest he took in one so lonely. He has been good— the best friend I ever had; but even he has no right”—her voice faltered; “I mean it is very ungenerous in him.” She stopped, struggling to command her feelings.

Still, amid her regrets, her passion of disappointment, she saw waving through her tears, the handsome face, so like, yet unlike, that other.

“Then you reject me?”

Hetty was silent; she had turned away, for the hot, heavy tears was dropping fast, and burned her cheeks.

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is the modern party political journalism so bad? It is worse even than it intends to be. It praises its preposterous party leaders through thick and thin; but it somehow succeeds in making them look greater fools than they are. This clumsiness clings even to the photographs of public men, as they are snapshotted at public meetings. A sensitive politician (if there is such a thing) would, I should think, want to murder the man who snapshots him at those moments. For our general impression of a man's gesture or play of feature is made up of a series of vanishing instants, at any one of which he may look worse than our general impression records. Mr. Augustine Birrell may have made quite a sensible


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 * (3) For the purposes of this Article, where the law applicable to an award depends on the option of the person to whom it is made, the law for which he opts shall be taken to be more favourable to him than any other law for which he might have opted.

77. (1) Where under any law any person or authority has a discretion—

 * (a) to decide whether or not any award shall be made; or

 * (b) to withhold, reduce in amount or suspend any such award that has been made,

that award shall be made and may not be withheld, reduced in amount or suspended unless the Public Service Commission concurs in the refusal to grant the award or, as the case may be, in the decision to withhold it, reduce it in amount or suspend it.
 * (2) Where the amount of any award that may be made to any person is not fixed by law, the amount of the award to be made to him shall be the greatest amount for which he is eligible unless the Public Service Commission concurs in the making of an award of a

smaller amount.

 * (3) In this Article "award" has the same meaning as in Article 76 of this Constitution.

78. Pensions, gratuities and other like allowances granted in respect of the public service shall be charged on and paid out of the Consolidated Fund.

79. (1) Notwithstanding any provision of this Constitution relating to pension the circumstances in which a public officer may vacate his office, any rights on public officer may, with the consent of the Government (which consent shall not be unreasonably withheld), relinquish his office for the the purpose of transfer to some other public office or to an office in any other public service, and if he so relinquishes his office, his claim to any pension, gratuity or other like allowance shall not thereby be prejudiced.

 * (2) For the purposes of this Article, the expression "other public service" has the meaning given to it by the Pensions Ordinance, 1956, as in force immediately before the date of the coming into operation of this Constitution.

80. (1) Subject to the provisions of any State law, the Yang di-Pertuan Negara may make regulations for all or any of the following matters, that is to say—

 * (a) the division of public offices into Divisions and Services;

 * (b) the prescribing of Schemes regulating the recruitment, service and promotion of members of such Services; and

 * (c) the conduct and discipline of the public service.


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THERE

IS

REST

THE

MORROW.

449

" And how goes our lesson, little one?" said a deep voice.

His very words, his very tone ! Hetty turned round with a cry of mingled joy and terror. There stood Mr. Barstow, the uncle of his nephew, the uncle with his nephew- in fact, the two in one, with the dear old smile lurking in the corners of his dark eyes, the same jetty, curling locks that she had so often secretly admired.

"My darling ! did you think I could forget you ?" he cried, catching at her outstretched hands.

Hetty's eyes sparkled through her tears.

"But where is he- where is your nephew?"

He pulled the wig off.

For one little moment Hetty felt a keen disappointment-a pang, as if she had been trifled with; but the sight of the dearest eyes in the world, so full of honest love for her, soon banished all such impressions, and she could laugh at them.

Presently aunt Bab came in, all wonder at sight of the transformation-the wig depending from the hand of Mr. Barstow, the green spectacles on the floor.

"Well, I want to know what this means?" she cried, breathless. "Have you been practicing your wiles and arts upon two poor, unprotected females ? Are you a play-actor, young man?"

“By no means, my dear madam, for I have been, for some time, terribly in earnest," replied Mr. Barstow. "I came out here sick, and tired of life, an old man at twenty-five. I neither wanted to be sought out, nor recognized by anybody. I remembered this village as a quiet, secluded one; for, years ago, when a boy, I went to the academy in the next town. As I passed up the street, my attention was attracted by your notice of a room to let. I thought I recognized the house, for once, going by, I saw Miss Hetty teaching her dog his letters;" Hetty started, for suddenly she remembered the day; and when I knocked, and she let me in, I recognized her. My wig and spectacles disguised me sufficiently for all practical purposes. I saw your niece again, no longer a child, and yet one still, but beautiful and unaffected. I loved her as a child only, at first. Like a good, fatherly soul, I set out to win her heart in a good, fatherly way. But I love her differently now, and ask you to give her to me for a wife. As you know, I have the best of references; I am rich, and can give your niece a home which I am sure she will grace by her gentleness, beauty, and accomplishments."

"La!" cried aunt Bab, "you needn't make such a long speech, as I know of; the child can do as she pleases, for all I care - she always did, and I warn you that she always will. As long as your nigher her age than I thought, and can support her in idleness, I suppose, why take her, and welcome. I've did my duty by her, and my conscience is clear; whether hers is or not, I can't pretend to say. But still she's a young, silly thing, and don't know anything about housework."

"Now, aunt!" cried Hetty, with burning cheeks, " Mr. Barstow knows I can work, for he has seen me. "

"Yes, yes, I dare say you set up for a better housekeeper than I am, " responded aunt Bab, grimly; " girls know more than their grandmothers, now-a-days. You may have her, sir, though there wa'nt any need of going philandering the way you have, to git her, as I know of."

So, one sunny morning, some months subsequently, Hetty went off to New York, the bride of Mr. Barstow. Never has wife been happier than she is. But, sometimes, when her husband wishes to plague her, he will say,

"Now, Ponto, I'm ashamed of you . That is A., I tell you. Mind your book, and don't be looking around."

THERE IS REST ON THE MORROW.

BY MRS. ANNA M. LOWRY. THOUGH Vexed with the cares and the troubles of life ; Though crowned with its burden of sorrow; Beneath all the tempest, the tumult, and strife, My soul breathes, "there is rest on the morrow.

Though friends oft betray, and turn coldly away, When proof of their love I would borrow; Change follows our planet, but every day My soul whispers, "rest on the morrow."

When Wrong rides triumphant across the broad land, And Right only sighs in her sorrow; The angel of Peace I see waving he wand, And I know 'twill be well on the morrow.

When slow shall beat life-pulse, and eyes shall wax dim And Hope's golden pinions. I'll borrow, I shall hear the sweet strain in an angelic hymn, Weary soul, thou shalt rest on the morrow.

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 and amusing speech, in the course of which his audience would hardly have noticed that he resettled his necktie. Snapshot him, and he appears as convulsively clutching his throat in the agonies of strangulation, and with his head twisted on one side as if he had been hanged. Sir Edward Carson might make a perfectly good speech, which no one thought wearisome, but might himself be just tired enough to shift from one leg to the other. Snapshot him, and he appears as holding one leg stiffly in the air and yawning enough to swallow the audience. But it is in the prose narratives of the Press that we find most manifestations of this strange ineptitude; this knack of exhibiting your own favourites in an unlucky light. It is not so much that the party journalists do not tell the truth as that they tell just enough of it to make it clear that they are telling lies. One of their favourite blunders is an amazing sort of bathos. They begin by telling you that


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Rh The following 'Impromptu' is no doubt by Walsh himself: he was more of a poet than of an astronomer:—

Walsh's system is, that all mathematics and physics are wrong: there is hardly one proposition in Euclid which is demonstrated. His example ought to warn all who rely on their own evidence to their own success. He was not, properly speaking, insane; he only spoke his mind more freely than many others of his class. The poor fellow died in the Cork union, during the famine. He had lived a happy life, contemplating his own perfections, like Brahma on the lotos-leaf.

The year 1825 brings me to about the middle of my Athenæum list: that is, so far as mere number of names mentioned is concerned. Freedom of opinion, beyond a doubt, is gaining ground, for good or for evil, according to what the speaker happens to think: admission of authority is no longer made in the old way. If we take soul-cure and body-cure, divinity and medicine, it is manifest that a change has come over us. Time was when it was enough that dose or dogma should be certified by 'Il a été ordonné, Monsieur, il a été ordonné,' as the apothecary said when he wanted to operate upon poor de Porceaugnac. Very much changed: but whether for good or for evil does not now matter; the question is, whether contempt of demonstration such as our paradoxers show has augmented with the rejection of dogmatic authority. It ought to be just the other way: for the


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 some statesman said something brilliant in style or biting in wit, at which his hearers thrilled with terror or thundered with applause. And then they tell you what it was that he said. Silly asses!

Here is an example from a leading Liberal paper touching the debates on Home Rule. I am a Home Ruler; so my sympathies would be, if anything, on the side of the Liberal paper upon that point. I merely quote it as an example of this ridiculous way of writing, which, by insane exaggeration, actually makes its hero look smaller than he is.

This was strange language to use about the "hypocritical sham," and Mr. Asquith, knowing that the biggest battle of his career was upon him, hit back without mercy. "I should like first to know," said he, with a glance at his


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 supporters, "whether my proposals are accepted?"

That's all. And I really do not see why poor Mr. Asquith should be represented as having violated the Christian virtue of mercy by saying that. I myself could compose a great many paragraphs upon the same model, each containing its stinging and perhaps unscrupulous epigram. As, for example:—

"The Archbishop of Canterbury, realising that his choice now lay between denying God and earning the crown of martyrdom by dying in torments, spoke with a frenzy of religious passion that might have seemed fanatical under circumstances less intense. 'The Children's Service,' he said firmly, with his face to the congregation, 'will be held at half-past four this afternoon as usual.

Or, we might have:—

"Lord Roberts, recognising that he had now to face Armageddon, and that if he lost this


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 last battle against overwhelming odds the independence of England would be extinguished forever, addressed to his soldiers (looking at them and not falling off his horse) a speech which brought their national passions to boiling point, and might well have seemed blood-thirsty in quieter times. It ended with the celebrated declaration that it was a fine day."

Or we might have the much greater excitement of reading something like this:—

"The Astronomer Royal, having realised that the earth would certainly be smashed to pieces by a comet unless his requests in connection with wireless telegraphy were seriously considered, gave an address at the Royal Society which, under other circumstances, would have seemed unduly dogmatic and emotional and deficient in scientific agnosticism. This address (which he delivered without any attempt to stand on his head) included a fierce and even ferocious declaration that it is gen-


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 erally easier to see the stars by night than by day."

Now, I cannot see, on my conscience and reason, that any one of my imaginary paragraphs is more ridiculous than the real one. Nobody can believe that Mr. Asquith regards these belated and careful compromises about Home Rule as "the biggest battle of his career." It is only justice to him to say that he has had bigger battles than that. Nobody can believe that any body of men, bodily present, either thundered or thrilled at a man merely saying that he would like to know whether his proposals were accepted. No; it would be far better for Parliament if its doors were shut again, and reporters were excluded. In that case, the outer public did hear genuine rumours of almost gigantic eloquence; such as that which has perpetuated Pitt's reply against the charge of youth, or Fox's bludgeoning of the idea of war as a compromise. It


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 would be much better to follow the old fashion and let in no reporters at all than to follow the new fashion and select the stupidest reporters you can find.

Now, why do people in Fleet-street talk such tosh? People in Fleet-street are not fools. Most of them have realised reality through work; some through starvation; some through damnation, or something damnably like it. I think it is simply and seriously true that they are tired of their job. As the general said in M. Rostand's play, "la fatigue!"

I do really believe that this is one of the ways in which God (don't get flurried, Nature if you like) is unexpectedly avenged on things infamous and unreasonable. And this method is that men's moral and even physical tenacity actually give out under such a load of lies. They go on writing their leading articles and


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 their Parliamentary reports. They go on doing it as a convict goes on picking oakum. But the point is not that we are bored with their articles; the point is that they are. The work is done worse because it is done weakly and without human enthusiasm. And it is done weakly because of the truth we have told so many times in this book: that it is not done for monarchy, for which men will die; or for democracy, for which men will die; or even for aristocracy, for which many men have died. It is done for a thing called Capitalism: which stands out quite clearly in history in many curious ways. But the most curious thing about it is that no man has loved it; and no man died for it.


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40 Earth's."

"The Hundred—!" Kris gasped.

"Someone's given them the warning! I wonder who!" Vanz said acidly.

As if by signal, the eyes of all turned upon Brooke. The girl started.

"You—oh, you're wrong!' she cried. "Dane, I swear I know no more of this than you! Haven't I been with you almost every minute?"

Uncertainty claimed Dane. The others watched him intently. Doubt lay close to the surface of his troubled eyes. More softly, Brooke pursued:

"Didn't I risk my life to come to you, Dane? Would I have done that if I hadn't really believed in you?"

Dane couldn't meet her imploring eyes. Common-sense told him that Brooke was the only one who would have done it. But a stronger urge in him was to believe her. Finally he looked up at Nile Vanz.

"I'll vouch for her," he said levelly. "For one thing, I don’t think a woman of Earth would know how to run an Ionian transmitter. And besides I—well, I just choose to believe her," he ended lamely.

"I'll hold you to that." Vanz growled. "In the meantime, we must all keep our eyes and ears open. Keep quiet about this. Perhaps the murderer will try another coup. Then we'll grab him."

When the others had gone out, Brooke pulled Dane's face down to hers and pressed her lips against his. Into his ear she whispered:

"I knew you'd believe me. Dane!"

Dane fumbled for an answer. His reply might have been easier had he not seen Margo glance back over his shoulder at them. Her eyes dropped instantly, but a darkness had flowed into them, and the darkness was one of hurt. Tight-lipped, he disengaged Brooke's arms. They fell in behind the other pair. And Dane Cabot was wondering when the old spark had died.

Vanz took Kris to the bridge with him to confer on some matter. Brooke went to her room to rest, and Dane entered the smoking room for a cigarette.

It was just ten seconds after he lit the match that tragedy struck.

UT of the violet immensity, silent as marauding wolves, a swarm of tiny ships leaped upon the fleet! Like silver sparrow-hawks, they were, splitting into ten squadrons of a dozen ships each and diving upon the ten gigantic war-craft. Dane shot to his feet as alarm bells clamored all over the ship. Through the window he saw the reason for it.

Around the Orsis swarmed a dozen swift pursuit ships. While he watched, a crackling blue ray stabbed from one of the flagship's gun-stations and an Earth-ship exploded into metallic fragments. But eleven angry hornets remained to put their deadly stingers into the clumsy warship.

Dane raced from the smoking room and plowed through milling soldiers to make his way to the bridge. Nile Vanz's booming voice seemed to bulge the walls of the cabin as he approached. Dane entered to find him barking by turns into a dozen microphones. Lights flashed on the switchboard as officers throughout the ship sought to get in touch with him.

Kris was at the controls. The chief gunner, with eight television pictures shimmering before him, stabbed frantically at buttons as the darting American ships crossed his sights.

The warlord shot a blazing glance at Dane.

"Why didn't I guess!" he roared.


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Rh Dr. Coffey drove his screwdriver through the glowing walls of four of the energy tanks hanging from the ceiling. White hot streams hissed and bubbled out of them. "That's enough," Dr. Coffey shouted. "In ten minutes that stuff will eat out bigger holes. It's like the inside of the sun! When enough air gets in, this whole mountain will start to go!"

Brent shuddered. The heat even now blistered his skin. The fight was long since over. Cars and trucks were started up outside, there by the loading platforms, engines racing. Dr. Coffey pressed a button on a panel. A siren wailed somewhere. Bells clanged in the corridors. People Brent had never seen before came running.

"Clancy, where's Nadine?"

Clancy was rubbing an eye. "That son of a dog got away with her before the fight got going."

Brent's skin crawled. He turned and started towards the corridor. Dr. Coffey grabbed his arm. "Wait! Only one way to go now—out!"

Brent twisted himself loose. "Nuts!" He raced towards Blackmer's office, turned the corner, and bumped into the Moron. Halfor was sent sprawling. Brent half jumped, half slid, through the Hawk's office door. The Hawk cringed. He was pulling out desk drawers, stuffing thick packages of currency into a valise. Nadine stood, her face bone-white, in a corner.

"Thanks, we can use that!" Brent grabbed the valise, delivered an uppercut to the jaw in the same breath, sent the Hawk reeling backward, clutching a letter-opener in his right hand. He recovered, started for Brent with the knife. Brent braced himself against the window-sill.

A shot rang out at the door. A look of surprise swept the Hawk's face. He flung his arms wide, and careened neatly out the window to the rocks a hundred feet below.

Brent whistled. He grabbed Nadine and the suitcase in the same motion, carrying both. He motioned to Halfor to follow. Halfor would make an excellent butler, or something.

He struggled back through the hissing heat in the smoky control room out to the loading platforms. Cars were swinging down the curving road. Someone called Brent's name. Clancy and the doctor, sitting in a yellow station wagon. They piled in, Nadine, Halfor, and Brent, and Clancy let her rip down the side of the mountain. Minutes later the sky itself boiled up and the top of the peak was a molten, glowing mass.

"That," said Brent, "was a close call." Modestly, he adjusted the tablecloth about him.

Dr. Coffey was staring at the white-hot mountain top. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He, unwittingly, caused all this, Brent thought.

"The Cultural Lag," Dr. Coffey whispered. "Science gives man the keys to Heaven Itself, and man uses them to unlock a flood of misery!"

Clancy coughed. "I guess we're too far behind science, eh, Doc?"

Everybody laughed. "I'm a little retarded myself," Brent said, "with something I've wanted to do for a long time!" He grinned at Nadine.

CCORDING to the British Air Ministry, George Reynolds piloted his Spitfire fighter to an altitude of almost 50,000 feet where he attacked a number of Junkers 86 and shot one down.

The attack took place above the battlefields of Africa where the temperature often goes past the 100° mark, yet the pilot said the temperature at 5 miles up was 67° below zero.

This example of heroism is only one of the many showing that Allied airmen will seek the enemy out wherever they may be.


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Rh one way out. I got to find Prince Grumbold and his Professor and make them tell me the secret."

"I reckon," said Wimp firmly, to Vans and me, "we better get cracking."

"We?"

"Yes, we."

"But what can we do?"

"Let us send for Bruny," said Vans. "Hear what he says."

So we sent for Hudells.

ANS HOLORS is a big man. Big enough to get by in most places, anyway. He weighs more than a ton. But the synthetic giant Hudells made him look like a very little shrimp.

Hudells came in and started the ceremonial salute to Princess Wimpolo as the Martian laws lay it down.

"Keep that stuff for when the public are about," says Wimp. "We're in conference now. Sit down."

Hudells sat down, looking dazed. The Martian Kings, Queens, Princes and Princesses he knew had never been like that. Long ago, when Prince Grumbold's father had been ruler of Ossalandok, Grumbold had made a rule that all courtiers coming into his presence must bow nineteen times. One miscounted and bowed one short, and had his nose cut off. Another had his ears cut off for bowing one too many. And really it was the Prince who miscounted, not the courtiers.

And here, in the highest court of Mars, nobody troubled about ceremony. It was enough to drive a simple wrestler daft.

"About this powder of yours," says Wimp.

"Eh, have you got it?" exclaims Hudells, waking up, all eager.

"Well, no. Not yet," says Wimp.

"Oh!"

It was quite sad to see the giant sink back onto the seat again like a toy balloon that somebody has stuck a pin in.

"Something has got to be done about it," says Wimp, looking very determined.

"Yes! Yes! What are you going to do, Princess?"

Hudells could hardly wait to hear her plan.

"Well, er, I thought you could tell us what we could do," says Wimp, looking uncomfortable.

The rubbery face of Hudells became a mile long again.

"Me? No, not me," he said, looking blank. When Hudells was in any difficulty he just hurled his three tons of weight at it. If that did not solve the problem then all he could do was to send for somebody with nimbler body and quicker wits than he had.

And the problem that was worrying us now was no slouch of a problem. We wanted the formula for a certain powder. Only one man, so far as we knew, knew the formula. And he was hiding. Might be anywhere in Mars. Emperor Usulor had already got his police looking for him, but—

"I wonder what the Chief of Police has found out," said Wimp suddenly, beginning to fiddle with the teleview.

"The latest report," I said

"Keep it." Wimp believed in the personal touch.

In the teleview screen the Chief looked up and saw us.

"What progress?" Wimp asked at once.

"In what matter, Your Highness?"

"Prince Grumbold."

HE Chief tapped his forehead and tried to put on a "Spider-in-his-web" look, like a man who is watching