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s js TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO. S. 0.. NOVEMBER 20.1883. ESTABLISHED 1848. “WEARY.” Weary of living, so weary, Trying to lie down and die, To find for the sad heart and dreary The end of the pilgrimage nigh. Weary, so weary or wishing. For a form that has gone from ray sight, For a voice that is hushed to me ever— For eyes tliat to me were so bright. Weary, so weary, of waiting. Waiting for sympathy sweet, For something to love, and to love me And pleasures that are not so fleet. For a hand to be held on my forehead A glimpse of the golden brown hair, For a step that to me was sweet music And a brow that was noble and fair. Tired, so tired, of drifting Adown the dark stream of life. Tired of breasting the billow, The billows of toil and strife, Wishing and waiting so sadly For love that was sweetest and best, Willing to die, Oh! so gladly If that would bring quiet and rest. CLAUDIA'S LOVERS. at the big “steep bills only once a “Marry her? No, sir.” And Mr. Marshall Amberg, handsome, wealthy, thirty-two and a bachelor, shook his dark head with a deliberate and pro nounced decision. “Why pot?” questioned young Dr. Lane, perseveringly. “She’s a nice, amiable, light-hearted little girl, though proud as a princess and pretty as a picture.” The two friends were leisurely puff ing at their cigarettes in Marshall Am- berg’s own particular sanctum, a cosy, delightful room upholsered in dark red leather and cardinal cloth. A tire sparkled in the steel grate, for the late May evening was chilly, and its cheery rays fell on well-stocked book cases, darkly bright Turkish rugs, and the thousand and one elegant trines that in our modern fashion make perfection. On the crimson-covered centre table a bronzed Mercury held a globe of light aloft over the latest and most tempting of magazines and periodicals. “Lane,” came a drowsy murmur from the recesses of the host’s loung ing chair, “a pair of bright eyes play the mischief with you young fellows. I tell you a man wants something more than a pretty, well-dressed doll for a life companion.” “This,” warmly, “Claudia Demarks is notl” “Pshaw! the girl is a walking fash ion-plate. Why take her life! Calls, driving, shopping, the opera and ball! Crowd all these into one day and you have it. She’d make a blessed fireside companion.” There was an unpleasantness^m the short laugh that followed, for he%new that laKtrner ui tier wuiot, « uuuSmt ot fashion, he still cured a good deal more for her than all the logic of his well-regulated masculine mind could reason away. “Dy Jove, but you are a bat, Marsh! Because a girl fresh from school, a beauty and heiress at that, enjoys with the keen, unblunted ze-t of a child the pleasures so novel, you immediately— oh, hang it, no! I’m not sentimental” as the eider man muttered a word be tween his teeth, “but I do think there’s a good deal of gentle, genuine woman liness underlying that light, sunshiny manner of hers. Well,” jumping up and flinging his cigarette into the grate, “good uight. Marsh! Pleasant dreams of your ideal woman!” A swift, questioning fear shot through Marshall Amberg’s heart as his friend stood before him in the mellow gaslight. Such a handsome, erect young fel- • low, with his easy, soldierly bearing and his earnest, resolute face. Hair of chestnut brown curled away from a broad, white brow; dauntless blue eyes looked the world cheerily in the face, a dark mustache shadowed lips curved aud sweet as a woman’s. “Could it be?” thought Mr. Am- Ijerg. “Lance,” with a swift penetrating side long glance, “I wonder you don’t go in for the fair Claudia yourself.” -11” a sudden wistfulness darkening the trank face. “Why, I daren’t as pire Marsh. A pretty figure I’d cut, a fellow with little more than his prac tice kneeling at the shrine of your black-eyed heiress If the case w'as re versed—well,” abruptly, “by-by, old boy!” and Lance was out of the glow- ii g luxury of his friend’s royal bach elor quarters and jolting citywards in the street car to his own uncomfortable lodgings. * * * * June came, and with it heat intense even for the month. The breath as of a furnace, blasting through the dusty city streets, was stifling, unendurable. So the annual flitting began and Eu rope, the Catskills, Saratoga and the thousand minor Summer resorts grew thronged with their fashionable merry city patrons. Mai shall Amberg, lying lazily back in the cool green gloom of the Vene tians, sipping sherry and seltzer and carelessly gleaning the latest London “Graphic” with half-shut eyes, issued orders to his valet for a speedy depart ure. “Just as well, perhaps, I’m not going to Saratoga this Summer,” laughingly | sighed this modem philosopher. “I might, in some rash moment propose to the lovely Claudia before I was posi tively sure that it would be wholly ad visable to make her Mrs. Marshall Amberg. Whei I return—by George! I wish I could forget the saucy little beauty ” Arriving there the cabman drove him to the best hotel. “Phew!” loooking up stately pile before him, here. Never mind, it’s year!” In the evening lie went out on the veranda and stood leaning against a column in blessed idleness, From the long-lighted parlors behind him came a powerful Teutonic voice chanting a wild song of Fatherland. A crash of chorus and it died. There was a rippling murmur of well bred appause. Then all the pleasant melody and silvery jingle of men’s deep tones and women’s sweeter laughter broke out afresh. Lance Lane looked towards the brilliant background a minute with bright, mocking ey^L “It is plain to see you stay for the Summer, my friends, or you wouldn’t miss this breeze and moonlight.” Even as he spoke a figure came softly through one long French window, a small slender figure in trailing lace draperies. A long scarf of silky Span ish lace was flung over her head and shoulders. She came slowly forward and clasped two little sparkling hands on the bal cony railing. Her face was in profile —such a lovely, childish face as it was, with its delicately chiseled features, its pretty, warm rose bloom, its vivid scarlet lips, its eyes darkly brilliant as black diamonds. “Miss Demars, say good evening to an old friend, will you?” She turned swiftly at the sound of his voice, her whole face luminous, and held out one fair, jeweled hand in gra cious greeting. “You, Dr. Lane! I did not know you were in Saratoga. Ah, you have been ill!” “Yes,” with a queer, sad smile: “all work and no play was making Jack a dull boy.” For an hour or more they walked to gether up and down the long pleasant balcony, and when they paused at last to say good-night, all the white weari ness had vanished from Lance Lane’s face. Something he saw in the shy, droop ing eyes before him, in the soft rose blushes, deepening to carmine; some thing he heard in the low, sweet voice thrilled his heart with new fire and courage. How pretty she looked in the white moonshine—how pretty. He bene till his lips almost brushed the loose lace on her hair. Breaking the old chain of reserve, trampling beneath his leet the crumb ling tgirri^rs of\rank and wealth, he sweetest in God’s wide world to the woman w T ho loves her lover. ***** * Three weeks later. In the New York bound train sat Mr. Marshall Amberg. His summer trip was over and he was coining back with the determined resolution—for better for worse—to marry Claudia Demars. “I love her and I can’t battle against fate any longer,” he told himself, de cisively. “Good heaven! What’s that?” A horrible, ru mbling, shivering shock! A sudden rocking, swaying motion! A fall through space, confu sion, shrieks, darkness! “Fell dowm an embankmeut!” head ed the next morning papers, and among the paragraphs was the following: “Much honor and thanks are due to one woman, known and esteemed in our highest circles—Miss Claudia De mars. “Throughout the agony and confu sion of the disaster she aided materially in relieving the sufferers by her quick helpfulness and generous self-sacrifice. “It was not discoverd till the last of the victims had been removed that she herself had been injured, and at last accounts was*uuconscious from exhau stion. ” But one little incident transpired away up in a lonely coutry farm house that the city papers never knew. Into the presence of the woman who had so grandly proven the true nobility underlying her higher, happier nature, filled with bitter self-reproach and pas sionately decided judgment, Marshall Amberg came. He did not see the shabby room, the dilapidated furniture, the tawdry pa pering. i •' He knelt down beside the low, white bed, where a frail helpless figure lay, and humbly asked her to be his wife. Love should be all loyal! All confi dent! Had he waited and doubted too long? But even as he spoke the -door was flung wide open and Lance strode in and straight up to the bedside, to the pale little face lifted in such tender brightening at his coming. My darling, my darliugl” he caught her almost fiercely in his loving eager arms. “I came as soon as I heard— my own brave darling!” She looked silently at Aamberg. He was answered! Jules Verne. Universal as is the reputation of M. Jules Yerne, and much as he is admir ed as an author, but little is known of his private life. To make his acquain tance it is better not to go to his plea sant home at Amiens, where he would be almost too deep in his work to re ceive hLs Visitors, but to see him on board his small yacht when he is cruis ing off the coast of France. You will, then, beside the author, admire the man See him walking the decu, now as captain giving commands to his two assistants, now busy with sail and reef, his fine face lit up with evident deligU at the prospect of a long holiday on the sea, and you will understand something of the vigorous vitality which is the pre-eminent characteristic of all his works. M. Jules Yerne is about fifty years old; his hair and beard are turn ing white, and his once supple and ele gant figure is beginning to give way to a comfortable embonpoint, but his in telligent face is still full ot youthful ardor. A veritable sailor does he look in his blue pea-jacket and leather sou’ wester, not differing in outward ap pearance from his mates, whose adora tion of their Captain is only marred by his indifference to fishing, a sport dear to their hearts. One of them, talking of his master with enthusiasm and af fection, said with the deepest convic tion, “He has but one fault:—he does not know anything about fishing, and believes in a fish only when he sees it at the end of his fork. How can a man of such superiority be afflicted with such a defect?” The master, however, though himself not inclined to share the favorite pastime of his men, does not interfere with their pleasure, and will often watch their operations when on a calm day tackle and lines are pro duced, and the two fishermen prepare for work, sometimes disturbed by a mocking remark of the Captain or gall ed by his hearty laugh when an heroic fish returns to its element before it can be secured. After a few months of such holiday- life Jules Yerne returns to his home re freshed aud strengthened for his win ter’s work, his ever-active brain full of fresh ideas gathered in earth, sky, and sea. ( “He is but a story-teller. ” Yes, he is but that; but a story-teller such as Diderot had in his mind when he said, “Let us tell stories, my friends. While we are telling them the story of life is being told and we are happy!” Nobody ever escaped the fasemation and charm with which he draws to him one and all who once enter his domin- que as the Houyhnhnms of Swift, but always living, moving, breathing be ings, whose changing fate you watch with breathless anxiety. M. Jules Verne’s genius is such as to create an infinity of beings, which he takes from all classes of society. “He, above all others,” says M. Claretie in the charm ing little sketch of M. Jules Yerne which has just appeared in the series of “Celebrites Contemporaines,” “has solved the problem of making even the most insignificant appear interesting, and in the midst of a new world full of marvels and monsters we are impressed by the convincing truthfulness of the scene to such a degree that we, a prosaic generation of the nineteenth century, lose all power of logic and can not but believe in the truth and reality of his improbable—nay, impossible scenes. But however impossible they may seem, his steamboats, serpents, elephants, locomotives, Indians, idols, and monsters have spread over Europe, ana monsters navespieau uvei XiUiupc, a ] [K)U j i • been applauded at Brussels, exhibited fir8t ^ One Voyage Cu.-ed Him. A small, black-eyed lid applied at the Mulberry street police station, San Fran cisco, for lodgmg. He limped painfully ss he walked, and his clothing was old and much worn. He said he had armed in New York on thesteamer Egypt. To a reporter he toid this stsry: “My name is William Keene and I am 16 years old. My father is Cipt. Charles Keene, a music dealer and proprietor of a music hall at Market and Third streets in Sin Francisco. We reside at 1,515 Tartar street. ^ took a notion to to go to sea, and my father finally let me go, saying cne voyage would oqje me. I shipped as an apprentice on the Snow & burgess; that as, I was a cabin boy, and worked oat on deck, too. As soon as we got out to sea I was treated dreadfully, especially by Second Mate Lewis, who beat me many times, and worked me until my feet got so sore I couldn’t wear shoes, and could hardly tep on them. He only allowed me to sleep between four an l five hours ont of the twenty-four, and on many nights made me work right through.” “He gave me that punishment once beoanse I hadn’t found time to grind the coffee, he bad kept me so busy at other things.' That night he made me grind coffee all night He was just as eruei to the sailors and other boys. I saw him give the sailors black eyes two or three times. The first ma e was al most as cruel, bat didn’t do so much striking. The steward, George Chase, who lives somewhere here in New York, was as bad as the second mate, aud I don’t know whai the sailors would have done to either one of them if they had found the chance, “Harry Brown, another boy, 16 years old, had worse luck, though, than I, for the mate pounded him jusi as much, and finally knocking him overboard and he was drowned. Harry Brown was from some place in New York btate. He told me he gave some men in San Francisco some money to put him on board the Snow <k Burgess the day she sailed. Both the mates were mad about it, and they made it as bad for him as they oonid. bat he had the advantage of me one way, for he was four hours on and four hours off, and could get plenty of time to sleep, while I was never sure of getting even my four or five hoars, and was sleepy and tired all tne time. “One day Harry Brown wao upen the rail fixing a sail when the second mate came along, and, finding fault with the way he had fixed it, struck him a blow in the stomach and knocked him over board, William Smith, the bo’sen, sprang over after Harry, One of the TAB to get the life buoy, and drifted about a mile away from the ship. They put out a boat for him, but he didn’t get Harry, though the boat went right over him once just as he went down, Bo’sen Smith never said much, but ho was kind to everybody, and I never saw him strike a blow. The Captam hardly ever came ont. Sometimes he stayed in for days at a time. He had a st ck of novels, and was reading them all the time, “When we get to Liverpool the mate pat me in irons below. I s’pese he thought I would get ashore and tell on him. Bat some of the sailors told me they got even with him, for one night, when he was ashore, they got him into some scrape or other, bad him arrested, and he was fined thirty shillings. ‘The night before the ship sailed the mate took me out of the irons and put me ashore. He put my chest off with me. Some of the sailors had told me the American Consul. I went the fruits of J. Verne’s rich imagina tion.” Though destined for the bar, J. Yerne soon found that the true field for his labors was literature, and after several attempts to succeed at the Ex change or to emigrate, he devoted him self to his real vocation, and at the age of about thirty published his first vol ume. The world-wide fame •which from its first appearance attended the Journal Bound the World in Eighty Days, none of his other works have reached, yet each and all of them have jeen devoured by thousands of adven ture-loving readers, for the fame travel er’s instinct runs through all. To whom has not the North Pole appeared the very centre where all earthly interests are concentrated, while reading 'The Adventures of Captain Hatter us, The Children of Captain Grant, or The English at the Eorth Tolet Who has not been far above the clouds with the adveutures of Five Weeks in a Balloon? The Voyage to the Moon and two Thousand Miles Below the Sea were as eagerly read as M. Jules Yerne’s for mer books, and each in ’ts turn # made admiring multitudes r sognize 'more fully that the author’s kingdom is the universe, the surface and the centre of earth, inhabited as well as desert regions. With each new volume anoth If there is a gutter plate over a gutter in the pavement it Is entertaining to some to bet on pedestrians stepping on or over it A onrions fact is that seven ont of ten step on the plate and it is necessary to give odds if yon are betting open. Betting on oorners which certain passers-by may torn is also a elnb pas time. The color of passing horses is some times made the subject of wagers also, and betting on whether the collar of the next man passing is standing or turn down is a cheerful diversion of the same system. At the table fly-loo is also an exhilarating recreation for the inteleo- tnal young men who find pleasure in such diversions. Each player has a lump of sugar before him, aud if a fly lights on a lump the other players pay the proprietor thereof the staked per centage, Snob are some of the games which beguile the monoteny of life for olnb men. An Amateur Lawyer. A Yankee, named Mather, who had been for twelve years in an insurance oftice, was in Cincinnati, out of work, and living on ten cents a day. He had a room with a certain Mrs. Sterne, and as his bill there was assuming re spectable proportions, and he had no immediate prospects of being able to liquidate, he decided to “skip by the light of the moon.” That very day his landlady inquired, “Aren’t you a law yer, Mr. Mather?” Quick as thought he responded, “Yes.” “Well,” said Mrs. Sterne, “I want to get your ad vice. My husband has left me and wants to get hold of the policy of in surance on his life, which I have. Can he do so aud sell it back to the com pany?” Mr. Mather examined the policy, and feeling doubtful on one point, told her he would advise her the following morning. He repaired at once to the law oflice of a friend, and in an off hand way gained the informa tion lie desired, and the following day gave his final decision to Mrs. Sterne. He had then accumulated a few dollars aud asked his landlady the amount of his bill. “Why, you are not going are you! I hoped you would board out your bill against me for your advice.” ‘That’s so, we lawyers cau’t advise for nothing. But I must go to-day. How inuchis yourbill?” “Twelvedollars,” said she. “Well, you’re a hard work ing little woman, and, if you’ll give me $8 I’ll call our accouut square, though I would charge anybody else $50.” Mrs. Sterne handed over the money with many expressions of appreciation, and her guest departed—not penniless aud owing for his lodgings, but free of debt, and having $8 in his pocket. The lurefe v.bUJiat Jha jjmne v which he quickly rose to a position of atliueuce, and almost his first act after becoming established in a business yielding an income of $50,000 a year, was to hunt up Mrs. Sterue and send her a check for $10,000, with the story that 1 have here told. Of course the names given are not the real ones, but this sharp Yankee is now a prominent business man in a large New England city; and the story I have related I heard from his own lips. An Eye On Him. Hat SeattoiiK. often do the hat seasons ^ a boarding heust). but it was in London,advertised at Vienna, eager- j n a d a y 0 r two, and I iost my ly awaited at inew Yerk; and this not c b e8 t with my clothing, sod what little only for a short period of time: kbeir I mone y t had. Then I went to the Con- glory is lasting, and thousands are still gu j jj d took my story down in a book day by day amused and instructed by mth all about Brown. Then he i-l. ~ .i4-.. I V'...".i^ -u vmh imarriTid- I - • ,. arranged for my passage in the Egypt. Petroleum. This peculiar product—called a ‘mineral” in the official documents, because it is supposed to have been produced, geologically, from coal- now constitutes one of the most im portant of the country’s exports. It Miss Demars went too, and with her I may not eventually prove to be a mine- ral in any other sense thin is implied by its being found in the subterranean rocks, for it is not yet certain that it is not produced from measureless mil- ions of a minute marine shell tish that the sunshine of Lance Lane’s life. All through the hot, sweltering Summer weeks he worked incessantly •in labor is forgetfulness,” aud he preyed for forgetfulness. But when _— -- w August ueared its end and a valiant' | once lived in the ancient seas. W hat- battle had been fought with disease and ever it is, a product of coal, or of what city misery, with his own heart sick- was once a form of animal life, it is , J ’ - . . — — • I essentially made of carbon aud hydro gen, and is proving to be an invaluable addition to the world’s possessions. It seems strange that this substance, so early known, should have remained, during all these centuries, unused— except by some of the followers of Zoroaster, who have for a long time utilized naptha springs at Baku, on the shores of the Caspian Sea, to keep alive their perpetual fire. heart sick- uess, he was but a shadow of his right stalwart self. “Take a rest, lad, or order you cot fin,” said old Doctor Walker, tersely, “and when you come back you can have my practice.” His practice 1 That meant a cool four thousand per annuml So scarcely know ing what he did, he packed his valise, replenished his pocket book and bought a ticket for Saratoga. 1 was treated well while I was ou board of bar. I stayed for two or three days at Castle Garden after I got here.” PlFerHloiig of Club Life. There is probably no club that has not its own peculiar game of chance. Some of them are very queer and unique. They always take precedence of such common games as poker, euchre pin-pool or odd aud even, because they can be clayed without cards and with out attracting attention. One ef these games was instituted in the Union Club in New York. It was called “colored up and colored down.” Those who would play it sat in the olnb bow-window. Four men were a compliment. The game was regulated by the number of colored citizens that walked up aud down the street. -One player would take the pavement up on one side, an down on the same side, a third up on the other side and a fourth down. U a colored person passes by during the progress of the game it is like a winning hand at poker. Up or down or either side counts for some one player and he rakes in the pot. This game was at one time such a mania among New York club men that colored processions have Recently a man doing business on Michigan avenue, Detroit, put a quart of kerosene in a jug, walked out to the crossing of First street, and deliberate ly let the jug fall to the pavement. It was,of course,broken into many pieces, and, of course, the oil splashed over the stone sidewalk. When this had been accomplished the man waited. In two or three minutes along came a citizen who halted all of a sudden, stared hard at the spot, and called out: “Ahl somebody broke a jug!” “Yes.” “Oil in it, wasn’t there?” “Guess so.” “Probably let the jug fall?” “Probably.” “And the oil was wasted?” “It was.” “Well, I declare!” he gasped, as he passed on. He had been gone only a minute when a lawyer came along. He, too, brought up with a sudden jerk,and asked: “Something happened?” “Yes.” ‘ Somebody broke a jug?” “Yes.” “Had something in, eh?” “Yes.” “Might have been turpentine, but smells like kerosene. ’ * “It was kerosene.” “Ahl then I was correct.” He lingered until the third man came up. The new arrival picked up the handle of the broken jug and remark ed: “Bless me! but this must have been a jug?” “It was.” “And it had kerosene in it,” he con tinued as he rubbed his finger on the walk and sniffed at it. •• “It did.” “Well, by George! but that’s queerl” He also waited, and a fourth man came up and went through about the same performance. Then a fifth, sixth and seventh came, and by and by there were thirty men in the group and more coming every moment. Each one pick ed up a piece of the Jug, looked it over, snuffed at it and put on an expression of interest, and one man had asked if the coroner had been notified, when a policeman pushed his way in and ask ed : “What’s this all about?” “Why ” answered the man who had started the affair, “I put some kerosene into a jug and let the jug fall onto the walk.” Some of the crowd tried to laugh as it suddenly broke up, and some said they would pound him if they had to wait a whole year, while the officer went away m littering; was he going with that jug? How came it to break? What was he doing with kerosene? Why didn’t the jug contain molasses? I’ll have an eye on him.” THE VERDICT -or— Uoneii »l the Itonaparten. erworld is explored, a world peopled I lr ° m th ? r r °^ an . d P aid with strange, fantastic creatures whose bberahy to pass certain club windows very absurdity attracts and enchants. m o^ta 111 d ' re ® tl i ^ 118 a0r <J ^ Before beginning to write a new story * man P ald M. Verne carefully studies the country hnights why were about to turn out to which he is about to explore, gathering northward by the window. An- information on all possible details and «l Q b man unearthed the plot and then clothing them in the garb of his doubled the bonus for the same proces- powerful imagination. Love, in most won to go by the of the author’s works, shines by its ab- southerly direction, sence. Queer scholars, full of fantastic I began a game of • same window in a These two men colored up and colored How change?” “T wice a year. On the first Saturday in March aud the first Saturday in September the seasons are said to open. ’ ’ Is it the demands of the customers or the ideas of the manufacturer that inaugurate new styles?” “lu rare cases the former, but gene rally the latter. With most buyers our representations of what is in fash ion sell the particular hat we wish to dispose of. Of course there are styles of which there are many forms, allied to each other by a geueral resemblance, yet each member of this ‘hat family,’ if it may so be termed, differs in some particular from every other. Take for instance the stiff hat with a medium height of crown and curved brim; here are the samples of seventy-six kinds of hats, all of which I have in stock, and no two are exactly alike, yet all may be said to bear a general resemblance One patron may fancy a little wider brim than another, or a higher crown, or some little peculiarity scarcely visi ble to the eye. While the manufac turer sets the styles afioat, we cater to the individual tastes of patrons in this manner.” Do you not have customers who al ways wear the same style of hat?” Bless me, yes! 1 have customers who have traded with me continuously for thirty-three years, and some of them insist upon wearing a style of hat of twenty years ago. They have lost all interest in keeping up with the fash ions, but put their money out for solid comfort and what will wear. For one such patron, who would wear nothing but a wide, stiff brimmed hat. with a six-inch crown, slightly peaked, I had a dozen hats made a year ago from a pattern twenty-five years out of date. The old man bought three of the hats, and fell dead soon after. I have the nine hats remaining, and, unless I can get a contract for supplying the in mates of a lunatic asylum, they will be pretty sure to remain iu the’cellar.” “There are others who keep up with the changes in styles, I presume?” interrupted the scribe. “Indeed, there are; they are the people we look for. There are hun dreds of young fellows who think they must have a new hat evei7 month at least, and we cater to their trade, for THE PEOPLE BUY BEST! Mr. J. o. Boau -Dear sir: I boagH IM am Davit Machine told by you over five yean ago for my wile, who hat given It a long and lair trial. I am well pleated with It. It never alvea any rouble, and la aa good aa when tint bought. J. w. HOLICK. Winnsboro, 8. C. f April 1888. Mr. Boaq: \ ou wish to know what 1 have to aay In regard to the Davis Machine bought of yon three years ago. I feel 1 can’t aay too mach In Its favor. I made about 180,00 within five months, at times running it so fast that the needle would get per fectly hot from friction. I feel oonfldenl I could not have done the same work with as mach esse and so well with any other machine. No time lost In adjusting attachments. The lightest running machine I have ever treadled. Brother Jamea and Williams’ families are as much pleased with their Davis Machines bought or yon. I want no better machine. As I said before, I don’t think too much can lie said for the Davis Machine. Respectfully, KUJtN STEVENSON, Falrfl“ld County, April, 1888. Mr. boas : My machine gives me perfect satis faction. 1 Hud no fault with it. The attachments are so simple, i wish for no better than the Davis Vertical Feed. Respectfully. Mas. R. MlLLOfO. Fairfield county, April, 1883. Mr. Bo AO: 1 oougnt a navis vertical Feed wing Machine from you foor years ago. I am lighted with it. it never his given me any ouble, and has never been the least out of order. It is as good ss when I first bought it. I can cheerfully recommend It. Respectfully, Mrs. M. J. Kireland. Montlcelto, April 30. 1883. The hones ot the Bonapartes are scat tered far and wide. Italy holds many of their sepulchres. There lie Joseph and Lucieu, Pauline and Caroline aud Eliza. In Rome and Florence has their dust mingled with the dust. The ashes of Josephine are at Reuil. Jero me,sometime king of Westphalia, found as governor of the Invalides, a tomb close to the mausoleum of his great brother. An adopted Bonaparte, Joachim Napoleon—“le Roi Murat”— fills a nameless grave. His corpse after his execution was huddled into a trench full of quicklime in the wild, Calabrian country. The King of Rome was in terred in the vaults of the Capuchins at Vienna; Mine. Mere was buried in Rome; the bodies of Napoleon III. and the Prince Imperial repose in the quiet little Romau Catholic chapel at Chisel- hurst, while the good and evil genius of the race, the founder of this won drous tamily, the man who might have made hi^country, and indeed the bet ter part of Europe, prosperous, happy aud free, but who spread, instead, broadcast death,devastation aud havoc, bloodshed and tears, and ruin aud irre mediable despair, slumbers under the goldeu dome of the Invalides, iu the stately cenotaph, the walls of which are supported by the twelve vittories of Pradier—slumbers there, with the cloak of Marengo and the sword of Austerlitz on his coffin—slumbers there on the banks of the Seine, in the midst of that French people whom he profess ed to love so well, but on whom his monstrous ambition brought, in the end, nothing but ruin, defeat and hum iliation—the disgrace of a foreign occu pation, the restoration of a hateful dy nasty. The tomb of Charles Louis Napoleon Achiile Murat, nephew of Napoleon Bonaparte and son of Joachim Murat, ex-King of Naples, the great cavalry general, stands iu the city cemetery at Tallahassee, Florida. Murat owned tor many years a large plantation in Florida. In the cemetery at Baltimore has recently been erected a costly monument, bearing the follow- inscription: Sacred to the memory of Elizabeth, Daughter of William Patterson, and wife of Jerome Bonaparte. Died April 4,1879. “After life’s fitful fever she sleeps well.” This U to certity that I have been using a Dans Verticil Feed Sewing Machine (or over two yean, purchased of Mr. J. O. Boag. I haven’t found 11 p jsscssed of any fault—all the attachments are so simple. It neverrefuses to worE, and is certainly the lightest running in the market. I consider it a first class machine. Very respectfully, Minnie M. Willinuilam. Oakland, Fairfield county. S. C. Mr boao : i am wen pieasea in every partlcui with the Davis Machine bought of you. I think a first-claas machine In every respect. Yon knew you sold several machines of the same make to ditlerent memiiers of our families, all of whom, us far as I know, are well pleaaed with them. Respectfully, Mrs. M. H. Mov.et. Fairfield county, April, 1883. This is to certify we have naa in constant use the Davis Machine bought ot you about three years ago. As we take In work, and have made the price of It several times over, we don't want aay better machine. It is always ready to do any kind of work we nave to do. No pnckerlngor skipping stitches. We can only say we are weU pleased and wish ao better machine. Catherine Wyme and Sister. April 25,1888, I have no tault to hnd witn my macn.ne, and don’t want any better. I have made tne price of It severa times by taking In sewing. It Is always ready to do lu wont. I think It a first-class ms chine. 1 feel I oan’t say too much for the Dans Vertical Feed Machine. Mrs. Thomas Smith. Fairfield connty, April, 1883. Norman Relics. Workmen employed in altering some Hinas’arnl hardv adventurers such as I ’ and sat m the window six hours I they take as much pleasure in showing I Workm _ Fertn’isson Hatteras Clo’wbonnv waiting for that procession. Alas, un- off and advertising a new style of hat buildings in Chancery lane, Southamp- pergusson, iiaueras, v>iowoouuy, i a( | th«v wm.id a riia. tmi ILom Glenarvan", Pagauel Arronax, Captain I forseen trouble had developed about the Nemo, Michel Ardant, and Phineas I finances and the knights did not turn Fogg give rich life to his pictures; but out at alL This illustrates the game. among all the thousand original details, love and no room. unexpected, passion find —Charles Goodnight has the largest cattle ranch in the world at the head of Red River, Texas. He began buying land four years ago, 270,0UU acres at 35 cents an acre. The price has risen to $2 an acre. He is still buying. He controls 700,000 acres. To enclose bis lamia 250 miles of fence is required. He has 40,000 cattle. It may be played by a mere novice with perfect success, pi o Tided enough colored people pass by on his side of the street. Another club gameii “craok-step/'or “gutter-step,” If there is a stretch of pavement in sight which is laid with broad stones instead of bricks it is cus tomary to bet upon the number of cracks a passer-by will step on. The number must necessarily vary with the length of the stride of the party passing, mak ing the game thereby an uncertain one. to their friends as they would a dia mond ring. Like a popular ballad or a piece of music with a jingle that is whistled by the newsboys, a peculiar or eccentric style of “nobby” hat will often take like a contagious fever with the young bucks about town, and the demand will exhaust the supply. In a month the fever is broken and you may never see one of the hats worn in public.” —Over one hundred and thirty million cans of tomatoes have been con sumed in this country within the last three years, it is figured out. ton (Loudon),recently came upon some undoubted Norman Walls of chalk and cement, with some tiling. It is sur mised that this is the site of the first heme of the Knights Templar, a sur mise borne out by the quantity of hu man remains that have also been found, it being well known that the Knights removed their most important monu ments to the Temple, leaving less im portant remains behind. Quantities of old Saxon pottery, in fragments, also came to light. Mr. J. O. Boao—Dear Sir: it fives me m ica ensure to testif; to tlie merits of tne Davis Ver tical Feed Sewing Machine. The machine I got ot you about five years ago. has been almost In con stant use ever since that time. I cannot see that it is worn any, aud has not cost me one cent for repairs since we Dave had 1L Am well pleased aul don’t wish for any better. Yonrs tru'y, Rost. Crawford, Uranlte quarry, near Winnsboro 8. C. We have used the Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine for the iaat five year*. We would not have any other make at any price. The mac tuns has given us unboundea satisfaction. Very respectfully, Mrs. W. K. Turner and Daughters; Fairfield county, S. C., Jan. 21,1883. Having bought a Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine from Mr. J. O. Boag some three years ago, and It having given me perfect satisfaction In every resjiect asa tamlly machine, both for heu/y and light sewing, aud never needed the least re pair in any way, 1 can cheerfully recommend It to any one as a nrst-class machine In every particu lar, and think It second to none. It la one ot the simplest machines made; my children use It with all ease. The attachments are more easily ad justed and It does a greater range of work by means of its Vertical Feed than any other ma chine 1 have ever seen or used. Mrs. Thomas Owings. Winnsboro, Fairfield connty, 8. C. We have bad one or tne Davis Machines about four years and have always found It ready to do all kinds of wont we have had occasion to da Oan’t see that the machine is worn any, and worka aa well as wnen new. _ Mas. W. J. Crawford, Jackson’s Creek. Fairfield countv, S. C. My wife is highly pleased with the Darts Ma chine bought of you. She would not take double what sue gave for It. The machine has not been out of order since she had It, aud she can do any kind of work on It. Very Respectfully,^ ^ Monticello, Fairfield county. S. C. The Davla Sewing Machine Is simply a treas ure MSS. J. A. OOODWTN. Ridgeway, N. C. ( Jan. 10. 1888. j.o BOAO, Esq., Agent-Dear Sir: My wife has oeen using a Davla Sewlag Machine oonataas- ly for the pas’ foor years, and It has never needed any repairs an ' works Just as well ae when first bought: She says it will do a greater range of practical work end do it easier and better than any machine ahe has ever used. We cheerfully recommend It as a Na 1 family machine, Your tnny, „ „ — Jam. Q. Davie. Winnsboro, 8. C., Jan. 3,1883. —Accident, fire and pestilence killed 71,000 people this year. have Mr. Boao : I hare always found my Davis Ma chine ready do all kinds of to work I have had oo- oasion to do. I cannot see that the machine la worn a particle and it works aaweUaa whan new. Respectfully, MRS. R. C. UOOMNU. Winnsboro, S. C., April, 1883, Mr. Boao : My wife has been constantly astng the Davis Machine bonght of you *<»“**• Heavy or light. It to never out of fix or needing Fairfield, & C., March, im»