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The following was published ia "Augusta about the Wayne Musical Company, which wit' appear ? here this afternoon and tonight: "I've seen many a $1.50 musical show that was not nearly so good . as this." This expression was heard. last night, on all sides as the audi ence filed out of the Bijou after the performance of "The Circus Girl" by the Wayne Musical Comedy Com pany. The word large is used here 9 advisedly, for the pretty play house was literally packed with an audi ence representing every class of peo ple in the city, but an audience con genial in its -universal approval of the heautiful surroundings in which it found itself.'-ahfl ^r the entertain ing show it enjoyed so thoroughly as to make the wistaria-hung walls echo again and again to the tempes tous bursts of laughter constantly indulged in by young and old. im pressionable and unimpressionable. There is a marked improvement in the organization' since at the casino last summer, when it played to au diences almost as large and enthu siastic as that of last night. The chorous ? works together better, dis playing more finish, while at the . same time it has lost none of its distinguishing vim and go; the prin cipals have become more subdued and dignified, while apparently as whole-hearted Interested in their work as forraerty, and. the costumes and the stage settings are quite be yond crlticims. And speaking of costumes, the company must have a thorough capable designer of gowns, for some of the effects are thorough ly artistic, and the color combina tions are almost pleasing to the eye. ' Everything is fresh and dainty, and much care is given to every minute "detail.. "The Circus Girl" is a bright lit tle opera, full of laughoble situa tions and with a dialogue sufficiently mirth-provoking in itself to make as unnecessary as objectionable the vul- j gar interpolations that several times marred the general good taste of the' performance. The songs are wonder fully catchy and bright and for the . most part were well sung. Among those who sang and acted to excel lent effect, were Miss Aimee Travis Mr. Fred Wayne; Mr. Harry Crib-; non. Miss Loretta Marshall and Mr.' Chris AHsworth. There were somr; beautiful dancing specialties by the Sisters Lamere. Scene from "The Circus Girl" Played ? by the Wayne Comedy Corpany. . . YARN'S REMEDY CURES Cures Backache, Lumbago, Kladder and Kidney Trouble, aud Rheumatism. Branchville. S. C. Aug. 17. 1909. Charleston Drug Manufacturing Co., Charleston. S. C. Dear Sirs: For a number of years I have been a great sufferer of Rheumatism and Backache. About two montbs ago I heard of Varn's Rheumatic Remedy being fine, and a sure cure for Rheu matism and Backache, and I went to the Wimberly Drug Co. at once and got a bottle. I have taken two bot tles, and I am proud to say that I am just as clear of Rheumatism and Backache as I ever was. I am 62 years old. and I consider this med icine wonderful to cure a man at my age. You. nor any one else, can recommend It too highly. I consider it a great blessing to humanity that this remedy has been discovered. I gained six pounds while I was taking two bottles. Yours respectfully. A. H. Bruce. For sale by all druggists. Cheap For Cash We have on hand about 50 nice Repaired and Re painted Buggies, which we will sell for LESS THAN COST for the next 30 days. Now is your chance to get a Buggy Cheap at L E. Riley's. iE COMEDY Scene from "A Knight and a Girl' Angelica of Michigan By CAROLEN BATESON Copyright. 1909. by Ameriun Pre?? Asso ciation /_vsTIK Florentines were proud of Giuseppe. To tourisi? the Inn I keeper pointed bim out along , J with the city's curios as the painter who was to equal Raphael and revive in Italy the glories of bygone centuries. "His faults?" And for once the iun keeper's rhapsody halted out of defer ence to the well bred young lady at the wludow. "It is true.Giuseppe has I faults. But. signorlna. what will you? j He Is young, and geniuses are uot | found under every bush even in Italy, j Mnrgharita. Florla, Beatrice, Frances- i ca"?the fingers of both hands thrown out and a despairing shrug Indicated the iuaccuracy of the count?"they all have spoiled him. itut look for your self. Could you Ida me theinV" Angelica looked: Besides being a conscientious traveler auxious to miss nothing, she was a painter, too. in her prim, orderly way aud, before her Ital ian sojourn could boast an occasional premium at a county fair. She had al ready heard of Giuseppe at the studio in Rome, and her Interest grew now thut she saw the man. Her trained glance noted his perfect proportions. The soft roundness of the figure matched with the handsome head, in which, she could swear, no concrete fact bad ever found lodgment. Such a bel?g should be care free, a ward of the uature he Interpreted. He needed blue sky and sunshine for a back ground. Hts, faults?well, who could rebuke the lightness of a butterfly? Aud yet In his expression there was a restless hungering that explained the artist. It was n sorrowful look, but beautiful nnd In harmony with the fon 'Aures. Its dissatisfaction, free from plaint or jusotest. bad long been sweet ened Into aspiration. "How cold be would look in a Grand Rapids winter!" she thought. "But even In Grand Rapids he would still believe In Italy." Theu she glanced away. Anglo-Sax on secretiveness hid her Interest, for the great painter, seeing her. had paused nnd was staring up eiirapt fron: the walk below. The rudeness wa. unconscious--framed by the window sash she looked so like a picture in ui: exhibition. Her clear cut face, all purity, resembled nothing he had ever seeu In life. Su? b faces he some times dreamed of?after confession. II? loved them as be loved the church with its poetry and mystic symbol ism. Her gentle coldness, so differ ent from Florin, gave her a holy seem lug, und holiness bad power to thrill hi> soul, like a violin's harmonics, as some thing high and tine, almost past tin sensing. That such a creature must hi beyond all touch of pnssloti affected him with ineffable sadness, but to the artist sadness holds au element of dee| artistic joy. Her heigh, above him brought a consciousness of his own si! oppressed mortality. Her eyes wan dered beyond him in apparent careless uess. "She is an ungej from heaven, and she knows not that 1 live." he mur mured. "Yet if she knew surel\ she would plead j for me with Mary and the blessed saints." "A stranger*! Yes. she Is a stranger." cooed the best, pointing to the register when Giuseppe questioned. Gen ius is a hot house plant that must be coaxed into flower. "A for eign n a tn e -- Ca-art er ? yes ?'arter. Angellea Carter of Michi gun." So?an angel, even as Giuseppe bad hoped. It pleased bim that her home had so hazily remote M sound. Michigan?no world pc*ci that?one of those faroff onkuowjj, un.kri.es. wjbjj^_the_ fancy Storing ?*/> ctirupL COMPANY at the Academy of Music Tcuglit. loves and the geography ignores. But the host came presently with further Information: "Michigan?a lake, tbey te'l me. big as a sea. And the lady paints. She would desire to see your pictures, it might be?eh??if you asked. You love her?" "Yes. I love her." Giuseppe an swered, "but she is not for such as me." That night he had a word for Mar gbnrita. a kiss from Florla. an appoint ment with Beatrice. But It was the last time, for his heurt was with the saintly one whose lips his might never press. Henceforward she alone should be his inspiration. She would make him great. He would put on canvas this impossible, ecstatic passion for a water maiden, an Undine, au angel from Michigan?that lake, big as a sea. And perl' ips she would come to see his pictures. Angelica came one day. The inn keeper's "He respects you, signorina," gave the most fluttering of safeguards. In spite of herself she was very proud of It, this respect of n dissolute man for It separated her, for Giuseppe, from earth's other women. It was a distinction to be valued like all dis tinctions, according to Its rarity. Giuseppe received her with few words aud much humility. His works spoke for him. She saw there Madou ua eyes and quiet valleys and that peaceful calm of evening' when (Jod walked abroad in the garden. Every where was faith, tinged by sorrow to a deeper richness, and poetry aud In tuitive comprehension of those things beyond that humankind must strive for. uever reaching. A despair of her own poor reasoning taleut seized her. ' The picture s/iaif S"il it 'it'." Looking, she understood the man and the strange sweet longing of his ?*ouu tenance. When he unveiled a sketch of herself tears ruse with the Inten sity of her delight, (.'ulinished as it was, it was the gem of the collection. But the beauty, the exultation of It. were such as she had never possessed. And he believed her like that! He was great, he was guod, and- she knew it now with the suddenness of a reve lation?she loved him. "You were so like a picture at the window." he apologized, "that I stud led you. You forgive?" "Surely I forgive. Yuu -you shali study me again." "Oh. if I might and here: At the window yon hung so far ii.bove the line." "I shall be on the line hereafter if you paint me so." And her voice sank to n reverent whisper. The artist's face flushed. He was n creature of emotions too natural to seek concealment Without troubling to separate the woman from the con ception he struggled with an explana tion. "Oh, signorina. the years that l have longed for you! I cannot make words talk, but the picture shall say it all how I was weak and wicked and you mercifully came to be my salvation; how you looked at me to lift me out of 6ln. You will let me love you? I am bold to say it. because I ask nothing. You are so far away that my love can not offend more thau It does the Ylr gin." Angelica passed the night with open eyes examining her happiness.._j;he letters or n young attorney in Grand Rapids had been destroyed, they show ed so commonplace beside the glory of this new passion. Giuseppe should Jove her. as1 he willed. at>d when the: time came thnt it was not unmaldenly to yield?in blissful wakefulness she rehearsed the thousand ways that she might tell him.. .. . The sittings hepan. The artist work ed feverishly and said little. Angelica beican to find him more complex than she had thought. "You are like religion. You make me sad." be said when asked about his somberness. But the answer dis pleased Angelica and filled her with premonitions. Was It only black eyed Florla. then, who could make him smile? Ells Interest in her personality was meager, too. for a lover. When she spoke of Grand Rapids he had mur mured: "The rapids?back by the sen where you live?" Angelic* remarked that she lived far Inland and in pi<pie added a reference to the attorney whose letters bad been sacrificed. "One worthy you there? Perhaps Giuseppe is not. He knows It. After a time you will return. The great -apids will swallow you agalr.. and I shall see you no more." And Angeli ca's annoyance at the ease with which she was resigned was only half re noved by his coiu-!u*ioii as he touched nLs breast: ' itut I shall have you here always." Nor would In? let her see the pic ture. "Wait till it is done." he said. And he painted so diligently that she grew jealous. It hud all his attention: she none. VYhul was it like? The inn keeper, who had seen it. culled her Giuseppe's inspiration. But, was she to be only an inspiration'.' She looked at hi*'abstracted face, aud a wave of pain and love overspread her own. Seeking to make some connection be tween herself and the painting, she spoke one day of Pygmalion. "He kissed tils Galatea Into life, you know." Her conviction'that Giuseppe did know absolutely nothing that was ever clussilled and put luto a book of reference led her to add: "She was the startle he had made, aud after that she became his wife." The poetry of this appealed to Glu seppe. nor was the parallel lost. He looked from her to the picture, then gave a despairing sigh: "Ah. but I have not painted a Gala tea.'' Angelica's animosity toward the pic ture grew with her love. The day il was completed and showed to her she could have cried aloud in despair, even while she prostrated uerself before the genius that had produced It. It was a perfect face- no woman's, but at angel's. It was the soul of goodness looking down on sinners with uuscoru lug piiy. glorious, alluring up steeps and on to heights, then flitting on be fore, always unattainable, always ex alting. So Beatrice must have been when her eyes drew Duote out of pur gatory Into heaven. Giuseppe loved it?not her. There was no common ground between them, j The girl's haiids clinched with the hopelessness .of rivalry against the nonexistent. And. insult to insult, the thing had stolen her lineaments! "She is great." Angelica said, dash iug back the tears. "She will make you famous -aud me, perhaps." There was a Hug ?>f sarcasm in the la?t words that puzzled Giuseppe. "She Is great. I have dwelt with her day and night, until I understood. She has been my salvutiou. She has led me on aud on. 1 am no longer a painter, but uu artist. And she Is you. Yoq have tuught me this. I thank you." Angelica jerked buck her hand from his reverent lips and shrieked her ex asperation. "No, no, oo?she is ugly. ugly-" She had hoped to retire with dignity. The dam once broken, her emotions poured out In spite of her. "She Isn't me. You have uo right to paint that thiug and call It me. When you said you loved me, I believed It. I loved you in spite uf your faults. But you you are wicked and ungrateful. You demand of nie perfection -und such perfection." Giuseppe rubbed his hand across his forehead, stupefied. The picture and Angelica, it seemed, were two sep arare entities. Galatea, made flesh, was no longer Galatea. Here was a woman surely, the one he had painted. But the blessed augels, did they nor exist? "Do you love me?" she demanded, with a stamp uf her foot. "Me or her. which? Look at ner. She is a co quette. You will never reach her. however you try. 1 will make you happy -nohappy. Giuseppe. But choose choose." Giuseppe ->t.>.:ij open mouthed for few dazed moments till he had stared her Into foi-us. Not bis augel now. not above him. lie might touch, possess A woman this with the features so d"tir !?> hitxi. r>-d lipped, fairer than Floria. The earth called loudly to hicu. Heaven was far off. The clouds "Me or h>rr?whlchT" gave way. He was falling like Lucl fer from a great JieighL swiftly, gld dlly. And still as he clasped her" iu his arms she kept demanding: "Me or her? Prove It." Giuseppe turned to the picture. In his glance was the cynicism of an en lightened century over which unbelief has swept. He considered the tender pathos of Its eyes wirb their promises that .could never be brought quite to fulfillment. He marked Its spirituality, pleading mutely against the flesh, sa cred, distant, always distant and un reachable. And It was lie who had painted such a meaning Into those fea tures. It was he who had cared for heaven while there was an earth. The corners of his mouth twitched. With out warning he burst Into a long. loud laugh. Its cold materialism startled Angelica. Before she could prevent he ti?\d seized a palette kuife and slashed tJ.o canvas from edge to edge. "1 have proved It." be whispered. "She Is worse than a coquette. She Is a He. But I have you. I am satisfied." "Yes." the innkeeper was wont to confide to guests, "that Is Ginseppe, the painter, and his wife They are a pail of lovers-?so hap py. Oh. It is most unfortunate; she bus ruined him. If only he had married Florla? but how is a bup py man ever to be a Raphael?" When the Inn keeper one night came upon his protege ?piecing together the edges of the mu tilated canvas he rubbed his hands in glee. "Ah. you de stroyed what was. Gitueppe ?la?hed the good, and it tor canvaa. ments you. Tt takes vengeance. You are troubled you, my contented one!" ! "Contented; yes. But she wasn't a ' lie." Giuseppe said as he laid away the , canvas, "for she comes to me in my j sleep and whispers of (he blessed un rest that is the greatness of man. She made me sorrowful, but she would have saved me my soul. She was a coquette; she would never have satis fied. 1 should have gone on and on!" "You regret?" eagerly whispered the innkeeper. "That is good. Regret, paint again, and you will yet be Giu sep|K\ the master." His eagerness was checked by Giu seppe's smile. "I regret nothing. I am happy?as contented as an aultual without a soul. H Is sweet to be so And a man cannot hau? all tilings. 1 shall paint again, to be sure, but 1 shall never be an artist." CHARLESTON Musical and Festival Week October 25-30 RUSSIAN SYMPHONY ORCHESTQA The best organised and most uniform in talent in the United States, support ed by a splendid chorus of two hundred male and fe male voices. 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