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2 THE WEEKLY LEDGER: GAFFNEY, S. C* JANUARY 2, 1896. DOHOTHY, A clerCtr little malucn, In a dalat.v, rv.ffii.i Bowu, Whoso eyes of brown elanco shyly to r.nil fro, Her ehiii is tilt' 1 u:> < Llho u cloven lily-cup. And her chocks ha\o stol'n tho popples' ert.n- sou glow. A hat that's big and shady overtop he r ! onny head; To keep the suu out, ,v.;re lit he circling rir.: But the c.mti a 1 i i:i val i. It was Ooi’.ncd t ?o late, ’ti; pie in. For ho’s tangled In her curls bent...lb the brim! Eivcry step sho treads no quaintly in her tiny buckled shoes. Takes her f .Tiber 1 ithe kin : lo::i of tav I. She's: y groeiou iq to 11, so k yal.. And 1’ .1 U r uc u'ot. lo^al —* And she nil njr.n WlWl "I’rolflcr, lovln;: l Tgraclom lltt'. i sovereign, may the swiftly- pnsaing years. With their overflowing freight of Jo.; an’ pain. Lay tho .sorrow at my doors. Lay the ’a .ypincss at yours. And the harvest mcon of heartsease iiev-i wane! —Boston Tran 1 cript liroodSt • ov "c.. 1 f. y<jt “At; y r. “it’s, wc . th 1 ono c m rc> than It A DIMINISHED SEVENTH. 1 lie, vehemently, so here goes,” and sandhags ho threw it over. The lightened balloon at once began to rise more quickly. “What are you doing, .Jack?” I sJrout- cd. “For heaven’s sake kec*i> calm. We are a good height already. We shan't l)o able to breathe if v;c go much higher. It’s getting uncomfor t able, a , it is.” “.Shan't we? We shall see about that. I’m going to try, anylpyw -“lie bid; .;, MouXcacS-IM'Caii't breathe. I Tsee my Ada. That’s all I cure about.' I began to fear the worst. Was he going mad? Were the reports my wi i had hear 1 literally true, and not ex- aggerated after all? What a fool Iliad been not to be more cautious! Whether I1Y EUGENE E. WOOD. THE AERONAUT’S STORY. “Is Jack Tunnicliffc going with y> t to-morrow, Tom?” raid my wife to me. “I wish you would takesomeoneel.se.' “Why, Norah?” I asked. “He's been stranger than ever in hi- manner since his wife died, I he .r. In fact, I’ve been told by more than <mc person that lie's quite insane at time •. It's not to be wondered at if he is, j > r fellow. 1 don’t know a rad ler ,■ He'd only been married a wo k. ; a horrible death, too! IL'scn a 1 » turn a man’s brain, and I mas.e > Tom, 1 wish Jack was not go'.n you.” “Nonsense, Norah! People a exaggerate and make the v. • things, as you know. If a mail': original or eccentric, if assumed that Ik';, non comp cour e, Jack’s !o\v-' :>irio d and a minded, and perl;; .a lot pec.:! wtt i at on n. How cc n h ■ i elp bri u: ling (; V v‘ r rribla 1 . •) , .3 « lie want; a';;::. ‘ ii ’ *' er 'iipation to take off hi hi', iiom his trouble. 1 le’n foni 1 looning os J nra, and a trip i will .1 all the good 1 in the woi tld.” 'i a above converhatiun between my vvi:'>- tin l ini’sclf took place on tf evenin;; before the day whicli I l::: iix ' l for a 1 alloon ascent, ilnl!' »t:i: wtm tn\' hobby. 1 had conceived : liking ; r it on m.y fir t a .cent. Tit!.-; liking h: 1 become a “erase,” for t;.c novel experience and ctrat.g'e sen alien <>! sailing'over hou s and tree , an l o. soari;:;; into the clouds, had a peculiar fascination for me. Recently, I had tried utility with pleasure, and had made some a .eontn solely lor scientific purpose:). 1 had found kindred spirit in young Tunni- clilTe, and wo had had many deligkU'nl and sncee ful trips together. O.vin r to the nntiniely death of my friend' wife, our aerial expe litions ha 1 b. en suspcntled for awhile. A; .s.v.ra) weeks hudelap e l since thtvt s.i l even!, I felt anxious to resume the-e exp di- tious, an 1 as Tunnicliii; had e xj l las uilhngneS) to accompany me, a day had been fixed for our next trip. It was when I was talking to my wi.e about this self-same trip that she ex pressed her regret that Jack Tunni- cliffe was going with me. 1 had not much diliiculty, how v r. in overcoming licr objection > and al laying her fears. She was not aver c to my hobby, and had cv n a;oau- panied me in one or two of my jour neys in the air. Moreover, she sym pathized with me in my desire “t; make some useful discovery,” an 1 v/u j therefore unwilling todnmp my ard-r, or hinder the progress of my oi. tv;.- ! tious. She had felt the exhilarating : effect of a balloon ascent, and my i\ i- I erenee to the benefit young Tunnicliite i would probably derive from the pro- i jected trip appealed to her experieuc • as well as to her teuder heart. Accordingly, next day at tit ap- . pointed time, everything being in read;- : ness, \vc started on our aerostatic journey. Tunnicliffu, contrary t > his usual demeanor, seemed a little ex cited, but this caused me no appre- 1 heusiou. His interest had apparently been awakened, and it was only natural 1 that he should be animated on such an occasion. The balloon wa . tiit lib erty as soon a . we had taken our seat . and the machine rose beautifully. T r :v was a gentle breeze, which b >re it > slightly southward. Wc rose slowly at first, and so liad plenty of t me t » gaze on t!ic vast and extending panor ama below us. Presently wc entered a huge bank or mountain of cloud of the kind tv.I! I cumulus, and were surrounded by a chilling mist which inducon us to put on the wraps wc had brought. When wc emerged from 1 he cloud a scene of fairy-like beauty i ’ l aly burst upon us. We were in ..id of basin sur rounded by mountains of clouds of the raofit fantastic shapes, of euormou. size, and of dazzling brightness. Now and then, as we rose, wo caught sight also of wondrous ravine, of curious shape and great depth. These moun tains of clouds, with their silvery and golden sides, their dark shadows, their varied tints and summits of d tz.dii.g whiteness, presented to our wondering gaze a scene of surpassing beauty and grandeur.* This sublime spectacle evoke l my highest admiration, while the silence and vastne.>> of space Inspired mo with awe. 1 drank in these exquisite and varied delights with such avidity and with such absorbing interest that I had scarcely looked at, or spoke i to, my companion since wc hnd started. Bulan exclamation from him now di verted my attention, and, glancing at him, I was surprised to s o that he had risen and was much excited. * "What i; it. Jack?” 1 usked. "Isn’t it glorious?” lie replied. “I wonder if Heaven h much more beauti ful? How delightful it would be if we could reach it! I should re my Ada again, then.” "My dr r fellow!” I interpo • 1. hastily, nom .vhat alarme i-- not »o much by iii., wor L as by hi excited manner and wild look; “you think too much of these things. You have been he \ 7 a: d or not, he was in a danger- ous m jod and my position wa , far fro a 1 V !c:is ant. To oppose him •. vould cvi;’ vf Tit! j aggravate him and make inn.. loi ; w r.se. To humor him was un- : don jti 11V t!i i wisest course. “» .Of liw 1 iere. Jack!” 1 cried. “You 1 say VO 11 V •ant. to see Ada. I ca n tell | you of a b •tt. r and . uror way' of r i- s j to h * r tha i this. If you will li.Vi on to j me- (h • ro I involuntarily move 1 my : han I l J \v ird the valve cord) —i f you 1 wd! ii: t i*n to me I—” t k ' * no: io of your blarney, man! I’m not to be \ vheedlcd so. I’m t o old 11 li • iOi t; at. Leave the e ird : lone. can' 1 y on? I’m not going down again l >• P m going to see what '.s Up thei o. 1 don’t yon try’ to sto t m and h * :.!a ’• ! fiercely at me. Tim IGl’t idle nature of my si n i i was n ) , only too apparent — !i ne coal 1i . ) h )a rer be any' doubt of Tun nic! iix- C >a lition. 1 was in a ba lioo’ wit! M i i*: Iain, nil about f mr mils fro: 1 l u* c. arth. 1 f dt the e ild • .. '.! L on ; i y I) TO w, and my brain beg il 1 » IVl'l hit witli a tremendous eirort I pud * i my • elf together, for my only cha 'C ‘ of : fvdy was iu retainiu ■r my sei;- y;; ,s!on. To attempt tij over pow er liita was out of t!io question - tho tre i •; Ii of a madman is so well l:;i. ,'il iy only hope of esca*) * was t » i .. i . it him. But ho'.v? F iro.. 1 in- to 11 nn itm •;il activity a , my brni i Was h; i iv de i rate sitnation, mi l y the IT.'O ty ol prompt action. I eou! i of no device or ruse that would i.iy , > 1; i was completely at the it. P’fa ble to t V* p iwer to in my despair do in rev of the madman; The hop les .ness of my lyzrd all my energies. I fa move or speak, and cvi thkik was almost gon •. I ' lanced at the valve cord. Owing to l!m rotary motion of tho balloon it ha 1 unfortunately become entangled. To fr e it i should b* obliged to leave the c r and climb into the ring. But t > a! t. nol such a tiling (even if I were ]< . ' 'a!!v' capable of i.j would be c. r- t a; to lead to a struggle which woul i a c r; a inly send one or both of us out of the car. \\<> were now at such a height that asphyxia was imminent. I could hear my heart throb quite plainly. I bred he 1 with difficulty, and a horri ble ■ 'iivition like that cf sea-sickness came over me. The cold was so bi te.i th it I shivered, notwithstanding my wraps. The mental strain was ter rible. I was almost frantic. Know ing. however, that in a few minutes I slioul i be unconscious, and that then all woult. be over with me, I nerved mys. lf for one last effort. As 1 rose from my seat my eye fell on the grapnel. Foi Innately it was on my side of the car. A sudden idea struck me, here was a weapon to hati 1. It was an awful thought—it woul l bo a terrible deed. But there was now no alternative, no time for i delay. My senses were going. 1 | stretched out my hand, but the mad- j man, who never took his eye off me, ‘ had detected my purpose. With a su 1- den movement ho darted forward and seize l the grapnel, but in his eager- nos, to forestall rao he had precipitat- e 1 him .elf too far over the side of the ear and almost lost his balance. He made u desperate effort to recover hi; i df. but, seized with a suddeu and inv ,i .Able impulse, I pushed him over, and witli a horrible yell, which rings in tny ears whenever I recall the oc- cun-eue.', the madman disappeared .'..in my sight. .Ma >st mad myself—I am not sure that 1 was not quite so just then—1 clb i'<e 1 into tho ring to reach the wiv line. But iny hands were, so if and numb with tho cold that I c-a 1 1 not grasp the cord. By n kind <>f i dration which seemed providen- t’. l I ized the cord with my teeth. : . 1 dor two or tiiree tugs the valve <>; i with a loud clang, ami the bal lon began to descend. Thank heav en! 1 was saved. My hands being use- !• 1 was obliged to throw up my arm . and drop into the car, where I 1 ; motionless and unconscious for awhile. My swoon could not have lasted more than a :cw seconds, for when I recov er I th barometer showed that I was ill in a high altitude, although the bdl'.jon was descending rapidly. I rubb 1 and beat my hands until the circulation was restored. Then I set a! >ut taking the necessary precautions against a too rapid descent. But I act 1 more like an automaton than w a conscious agent, for I seemed in a kind of n tupor or trance all the time. How and where I reached the solid earth I cannot say. I have only a <lim, In: y recollection of being surrounded by ft crowd of people. Some were I ending over me and seemed to lie questioning me, but I couldn’t make '•at what they said. I felt an awful in in my head, and remember noth in:; more until I found myself fn bed in u dark room and my wife bending ovi'i' me. This was several days after ward, and I learned then that I had been brought homo in a delirious state anti had had brain fever. . U In'ii I recovered my friends con* gratulated m s and tried to persuade me that as my homicidal act was done in ; b- e en ,o it was justifiable. I hope it wus, but I can never recall it c i.li .ut misgivings and horror, and I have never made u balloon asuentsince. -Tit-Bits. She was the youngest but one of a family of eight. Physically, her lile was and could be nothing save one long crucifixion. Crippled and de formed, there stretched behind her a record of suffering; before her the prospect of greater torture still. Na ture had used .her cruelly, for while her* puny and misshapen frame in spired ridicule, or, at best, shuddering pity, she had been dowered with a capacity for affection that burnt itself into fiercer intensity waiting the love that never came. Misunderstood, she had cradually retreated into a little world of her own, with nothing to love. Nothing? There was her violin, but that could hardly he considered apart from Ida’s own individuality’. It was her violin that expressed more elo quently than herself could ever have done the loneliness and the lovelcss- ness of her life. “It speaks lor me,” she once con fessed to the old doctor, who under stood her better than anyone else. “What other people feel they can ex plain in words; but I seem to have no power of expression except through my violin.” Ur. Marshall was silent for a mo ment'. then he asked presently: “Did yon ever hear my boy Austin play?” Ida shook her head. She had heard no one. Her morbid consciousness of infirmities prevented her from attonn- ing any public concert, and Austin Marshall, as she well knew, was a pro fessional violinist of repute. “You ought to hear him. They tell me his execution is remarkably good— and, besides, geniuses like you two ought to know each other. I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he added kindly; "I'll bring him round one evening to see you, if you like, when he isn't busy.” Not many days elapsed ere the doc tor kept his promise, and Austin Mar- shell, tall and strong, held the small, wasted hand of the diminutive musi cian, and wondered the while how the perfect soul his father had described had managed to find itself in that mis shapen little body. And later on, when Ida had completely astounded him with her rendering of Dvorak’s "Romance”—wild, intense and heart breaking—he told himself that such a thing was monstrous. Here was an untutored genius, beside whom him self would pale into comparative insig nificance, doomed by nature to perpet ual solitude while, Orpheus-like, she ought by her music to charm into life the rocks and trees. “You want some lessons to correct a few technical errors,” he said at last, “and then you ought to be able to hold your own at Queen’s hall or St. James’ with the best of them. If I could be lieve in the transmigration of souls, I would swear the lost soul of some re pentant sinner is imprisoned in your violin.” He spoke with the generous enthusi asm of genius, mere talent is sparing of praise and begrudges success. “I can never play in public,” she an- , swered, briefly, with a painful flush I that testified to her sensitive recogni tion of physical defects. "Ida on a public platform! Why they'd never see her!” interpolated a jovial elder brother with the brutal candor admiring friends had sometimes mis- i taken for frank geniality. “Wc call | her the Diminished Seventh,” he added, with a conscious smile that betrayed the originator of the questionable pleasantry. Poor Diminished Seventh: She winced as from a blow, and Austin, with the intention of covering her con fusion, observed with ready tact: “I suppose because the minor har monies are most perfect and least un derstood.” That evening was but the forerunner of many similar. Scarce a day passed without Austin Marshall contriving to spend some time with tiic deformed musician. And as the days lapsed into weeks, and the weeks into months, it was noted that when Ida played alone her airs were more roman tic than be fore. And even her unmusical family became infected with their gayety; her mother (who frequently alleged she could enjoy good music us much as 1 anyone—if she could only get it) was i cheered to tho verge of joyful antieipx- tioi For who knew that Ida might not attain the supreme neight of in- bpirtng dunce-mu ie, such us her mother loved, and abandon forever those ghoulish wails she said wuru classical. Dut when the old doctor noticed the ; change he shook his head in apprehen sion, while tears of pity filled Ida eyes. His profession had trained him to read the longings of the heart as well a; tho infirmities of the tenement it inhabited, and if all he thought and dreaded were true—! Had things been diHMr- ent! If Ida had not been distinctly isolated by nature from the sweetest gifts that life can hold! And one evening came the crisis the good doctor feared. . “1 shall miss all this dreadfully when I’m away,” Austin said, as he turned over a pile of music for a particular duet. “I’m going north in a day or two, you know—didn't 1 tell you?” ho added, answering the unspoken ques tion. “Next autumn, when 1 am back again,” he said, presently, feeling tho vibrating airings. Austin looked up in momentary surprise. Then he sat spellbound while she played tho weird “Romance.” of Svendsen’s, once heard, never forgotten. He had heard it played by more than one finished musician; but this was a different rendering. It was like the despairing cry of a lusty swimmer failing close to shore, or the wail of a lost soul striving to escape from tho sea of torture and driven by a lio^t of fallen angels. In those strains ho read her heart plainly, as though speech had passed between them; lie knew tho bitterness of her life; he saw the vista gray and barren liefore her; and when the last notes died away he learnt in a brief glance from Ida’s eyes all the strange discords had not confessed. It was but for an instant. For. in the next, overcome by the strong ex citement she had just experienced, the bow slid helples ly from her nerveless fingers and she fainted. Symptoms of little moment in an ordinary person might in her ease prog nosticate the worst, and any new phase, however slight, was at once submitted to medical opinion. In the present in stance, as she failed to respond readily to the customary treatment, Austin hastened for his father while she was carried to her room. She had over-ex cited herself with her music was the general cxplanati hi of the seizure, and tiiis was what the doctor was told when he answered the hasty summons. In tv brief space, however, she yiolde l to his restoratives, and before he left the home site had dropped into a sleep (juiet and natural. For some time father and son went i homeward in silence. Then the doctor asked abruptly: “Does Ida know you are going ! ‘in E WHEELS. «Ye Mdcn Bach W«i« th* Bicycles of Time.** Arehtnologists will be interested to know tlia; the fi*st record of a bicycle is that of a staintd-glass window in the church of Stoke Pogis, near Windsor, in Hnglaad. 11 was this churchward, bytlie way, that uspired Gray to write his ever-faiiious degy. The rider of the cycle in the picture on the win low, writes Join Gilner Speed, in id; M:.- cott’a, which is died 101:!, would bi taken for Pan vith his pipe w? • it elsewhere than ia a Christian eh where papan deities are not in: : home. Brt history is silent us to use of any sueli vehicle at that ;: , One hundred and twenty; years <>; * later there was exhibited be for. French court a uianumotive carr: : several hundred pounds’ weight; b .j the bicycle can scarcely have yrovn from that. It was is’.efi nearer < r own time that the nrst genuine 1 i v ’ • was invented. It was quite the fash 1 i to ritle sieh n vehicle in Hn;;!.::!'! pRor ■ pneumo epidemic? i- rill . !■ ECT50M from dipUfhc: i.i. the fever »iOo<; s I** 8ar 3LOOI JJA : - - . - ^ ■ w > —A” .■war'- -j.£a m- ■. -. i ■ • -.'ia r *' i ‘ j 1.* Caveats, and Tr Je-Marks obtained and all Pat- ent bimr.. ; err., t J f r Moo CRATE FEES. Our Office is Opposite U. S. Patent Office ana i-.iieiit in kss time than those' remote from innaton. Send model, drawing or photo., with descrl r lion. W s advise, it pafemabie or not, free of charge. Our feu not due till patent is secured. A Pamphlet. “ How to Obtain Patents,” with co t < t in the U. S. foreign countries; sent free. Address, A if* r i 0f.~. f\T O; GW. in IS ID: ; tire new invention wa va ri- ous’.y c tilled the "dandy hor a, ,” th ; “hobby -horse,” and the “ veloei There are many allr.skxis to ii iu tii record , of the day •. and in a le ■ r f 5 ’, ; Joha I' feats in 1 obruary. IS ID, to !;" . brother ' in America I find ti iiS i.T i o’ ;■ of it: “ 'lire n Aim *g of the < lay is a i char* called the velcj'pa ! e. It is WilLCl L an'iagv to i ide cot k- hor. • upon, nit t ing astride : d pu ;hi; h'f it ala • i n i r U 3 ' a', ry, vaguely that something was wrong, ! j nst away? “I told iter this evening,” Austin tm- cwere-1, and inborn ■ confusion as he re- ! called tii” way she had received the i new:;. “Father, do you know—” “Ah! That accounts for it,’’ said the old i vin. as though speaking to him- : self. “Ye.;. Do i know what?” “Well—I think—that is, I’m afraid— | that lda ’’ He stopped short, for j tiic confession was alike tender and ' humiliating. But his father, who had | feared such a contingency well-nigh i from the first, understood what had j been left unsaid. “I know, Austin, I know. But what is to be done? The frien Iship that you | have felt for her—thut she believes she j has felt for you—has been the one ^ bright spot in her life. Seventeen years old— .n l seventeen years of per- i pelual martyrd nn. Do you knowhow long I give her to live?” “1 su po: e tiiat when she is twenty- , on \ustin began, but the doctor j cu sort. ‘ . o lives to see the spring,” he said, gravely, “I shall be surprised.” The young man wa ; r.t irtled, even shocked. Tnere wus silence between them for a few moment.. Then the doctor said, with hesitation: “Austin, 1 suppose you would not think of putting off your visit to the Harrisons? I know Marian expects you —but I think if she knew the pleas ure you would be giving that poor child whose days are numbered, she would be the first to bid you stay. In a ease like this there can be no ques tion of disloyalty to her. And, Austin, —if you can—.or Heaven’s sake let her still believe that she has found the af fection she has craved all her life. The deception won’t be very long, and it will comfort her more in her last struggles than I—or the entire college of physicians—could hope to do with all the science that the world has ever known!” Five weeks later, in Ida’s bedroom a thin ribbon of spring sunshine had struggled through a crevice of the window-blind and lay a bright streak across the hour. Outside, the garden was cheer,ul with the song of birds and the rustling of leaves. Inside, sat the little cripple propped up with pil lows, her pitiful vitality burniug itself slowly away. She knew she was dying, but the knowledge brought her no fear. IVr- haps she believed that if eternity held for her worse torture than she had yet endured she had served on earth uu apprenticeship to pain long enough to lit her for it. Perhaps Austin Mar shall's companionship and sympathy during the last few weeks were making the end comparatively easy. At any rate, when the door was opened quiet ly and he looked in, violin in hand, she greeted him with a grateful smile. “lutie to have some music?” lie asked, cheerfully, though he was pained to mark each day how her hold on life w-ai weakening. “What shall I play?” * “Give me mine,” she said, suddenly, “and we’ll play together.” The violin lay, as usual, on the table close by, but Austin hesitated. “if you really feel equal to tho ex ertion,” he began, and then, answer ing the command in her eyes, he passed it to her without another word. With tremulous fingers she drew her bow across the strings, and, recog nizing iu the opening notes her favor ite “Lied,” by Schubert, Austiu softly followed, and in a moment was so ab sorbed he scarce noticed how her bow- , ing became gradually weaker, until it . faltered and stopped just before tho I concluding bars, lie looked up in sud- i den apprehension. Surely her face had not worn that strange gray shadow v. ii’i the toes, a They will j'o ■ How it Wo’,:! poll’s inixgi v. tvte that epi. od a vision of tliii g of grace. deli flit. 1’irhn; , n of tiie wheel inight ! in; ■ . >• v/hee! m ■en i.tiles an hoiir, i have stimulate in tint yi s had b en j modern t iinev,. and r ‘ally’ ;ri ■: 1 five V .Itlie 1 [Riraia! Works. . /! I,’ ) i I th-. 'f. .1 < it in thus f id salit’ nomeni ir by the j sort of : . i * '1 dilTen came in w *■ v. > her dav i * \ .r. we shall have some more pleasant evening i together, I hope.” Ida spake not. For a moment she was conscious of naught save a terri ble sense of absolute despair and a cu- j rious buzzing iu her head like the re peated twanging of the G string. Going away—and until the autumn! Why, by that time she might be dead and buried. She looked round vacant ly, ns one gropes blindly in the dark for some familiar object. She tried to speak, but tho words refused to come. Something like a dry sob rose and was strangled iu her throat. Then, with out a single word, she took up her bow again and drew it softly aerosa “Ida!” She did not move. “Ida! What is tho mutter—what b it?” She opened her eyes, but they fell on him without a gleam of recognition. Then she dropped them on the violin she was still holding. A faint smile rested for a moment on her lips. With tin unsteady band she mechanically raised her bow. Then, with one eh( rd —that of the Diminished Seventh—It dropped from her relaxing hoi 1, but not before Austin ha I involuntarily concluded tho phru.c, so that tiic Diminished Seventh was resolved into perfect harmony.—Black §nd White. there is poetry as well a and anybody with mi:.,t feel tiiis, ex • when the mind i r.ken up wil’.i the at tempt to cs-inpe b. i::*' run down by <>n<' of the reckless llyer Think of seven rules an hour and s v- eral hundred pounds weight set against the figures concerning the modern “bike!” Verily, the world moves and bicycles move with it. It would be dangerous ir, the light of the past to say what the nia.'liine of the future may evolve into, one can hardly believe iii an improvement proportionate to that of the last fifty years, but anyway it furnishes another reason for wishing to live a liun lrt d years or .so that <>:a might behold the wheel of »?0.J A. 1). The "nothing of the day" of Isl',) ha) become an almost indispen: File of p- r- sonal bti'iiK:,) and pleasure 1M-5. It must be left to some John Keats of the present to attempt a better proph • y t han his follow bard of England eighty odd years bad:, whose gifts were not of the kind to give him a hint of the great prospect: of the "velocipede.” TOWNS OF SETTLED H A3 ITS. I Loixiou Mini I’ilflmlidphin Alike in Tiitd Bespat t. In her article on "The Myth of tho | Four Hundred,” in the Cosmopolitan, j Mrs. Burton Harrison tells of an Amcr- ! i -an calling upon n lady in London and finding her seated in a Ijig eh; window, engaged in some needlework. A young man ami paid his respects, as it v.x at home, and then bowed hinself out. Three years later the American was again in London, and again he called! upon the lady’. It was her day at li me. and there she sat i » the same ci.uir by the same window with the same needlework, or some very like it. in her hand, and, more remarkable still, the same young man called and ! made the same remarks In* had made ; three years before. Mrs. Harrison tells this anecdote to show how unchanged things are in England, and how you are pretty sure to find people ju t about as you left them. The illustra tion is a good one, but I can match it with a better one over here. I have the pleasure of knowing a family in Philadelphia, who have lived in the same house for forty years. As the children of this family grew up, they developed a musical talent from four or five generations of nu n learned iu the law, as well as skilled with the! bow. Every Sunday’ between twelve and one o’clock, it was the custom of the father and the sons to play classic | music, the father being first violin, one son viola, one second violin, the other violoncello. They played well, and, ns 1 lived nearer Philadelphia in those days than 1 do to-day’, I often dropped i.i at these rehearsals, as they called them. Five years ago 1 was in Phila delphia on a Sunday. I had not seen my old friends iu fifteen years, but I was sure that they were living at the old place. I walked around the l)««»is<* and, as I mounted the marble steps, 1 heard sounds of music. Could it be possible that a “rehearsal” was going on? Yes, sure enough. There sat the father, his hair * now white, with hi violin tucked under his chin, and thn , "boys”—fathers themselves—all play ing away as they hud been doing i.i:u e they were children. To be sure, they were married men and did not live at home, but they met every Sunday morning at their father's for the usual music. I expect to run on to Philadel phia again before long. anti, though it lias been ut least five yvaru since I wa:. at my old friend’s house, 1 expect to hear the music on Bunday morning, for I shall time my visit so us to include a Sunday. Tho Fire Cure. The native doctors of India practice a peculiar system known us “firing." Afflicted persons, no odds what the disease may be, are, immediately upon the arrival of the family physician, sub jected to the tortures of the fin*. At the beginning of the present century it was used chiefly for aches and pain;., but at present it is said that it tliieat- ens to become the universal remedy f«>r all afflictions. A lute report, by a med ical authority declares that there i, not one to the thousand of total populati >n in Bombay and the larger cities gener ally, who does not bear trace of the “fire cure” in the shape of hideous s«ars on head, back, stoimieh, or ihnba. 'UiumiMits a iH'eiaii K( . <). A: ■ n lor iT.ACKS. W. Trade 8k., ( ha s lot i- , N . (', ALIOT. ii. S. LIPSCOMB, Insurance and Real Estate Agt. Merchandise Broker And Dealer in The Celebrated No. 9 Weheler <5; Wilson die Sowing Machines •• nuts for till ! I ut i i build* A 7)?; m iJTUu V policy • . ' ' ' ' ' •■ucll colli- panics : s i 1 ! "MC. 1 III!! fi;l" |, Aniciicas Jh, ! I’eli. sylMUiiH to protect your I. r. r r: ■ and la;.- ii'.csjj from loss duii: tijV ! !’•••• is a wise in- vest ment. 1 shi.l! I><* • • * i *. ’ - f:iriii-h -in b pro- ;i!iv ! i; ('ail before in- . Hi r AC‘V. J. E. WEBSTER, A. t i oj'mj* v- A. t - I Gaffney City, S. C. $ PrneticcK iu nil the courts. Collec xms i • -i i !t v A Sparing Display i/ $ i r v v.l "TV Of J Watches and jan be seen buxine** Jeweryl by visiting our place of In DuPre's Drug Store. W'c will be jJ ! »d t° biive you caH. Ml work done by a skilled workman with years of experience. CORRELL & BRO,