Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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THE LEDGER: GAFFNEY, S. C., MAY 5, 1898. 3 WAYNE AT STONY POINT. nml the 1 lanil and on tho wn Pms th- (•••art r.f tlir nuirky nlKht ' lou i si clili <if the lido. Hili lice iiiy mi lln tors wide. Have fur the -entry'a tramp or the le te of n lntie nuiht liinl, Or thu hoiicIi i f the liniint'st |itncMHM the Mouth win I miftly Ntincd Olootn nUive nml nriiutnl nml the liniiidiiitf Kjiirtt of test. Only n sinttltt ntnr over inimli rliertt's lofty crest. and dune nt the Throatth the drench of innrt;e of th" river ten File ii)io'i tile slips hy S»ci An* they nh'ists or in tif F'ast do they forward press, on by n trneU un Imrrisl Now is the ennseway won; now have they throttled the p’llltrd. Now have they tmrtisl line to storm with a rush on the height, Hon.e by n path to the lift, some by n path to tho npdit Harkl The peal of a t’lin and tho drummer's rude alannst KniKinp' down from tho height there Koundeth the ery, “To armsl’ Thundering down from the height i' v f;r cometh the cannon s hlnro. Flash upon blinding hash lightens the livid nir Look! Uo the stormers quail? Nay, for their feet are set Now nt tho bastion'a base, nowon the parapet Urging tho vanguard on pronn doth tho leader tall. Bmitten sudden and soro by a foeman's mu.-ket ball Waver the charging lines. Swiltly tl cy stiring to his side— •'Madcap Anthony Wayne.'' the patriot army's pride! •‘Forward, my braves!" ho cries, and the he roes hearten again. •'Bear me into the tort I'll die at the head of my men I" Die! Did he die that night, felled in his lusty prime? Answer ninny n Held in the stormy r.fter time bill! did his prowess shine, btill did bis cour age soar, From the Hudson's rocky steep to the .lames level shore. But never on fnme's fair scroll did he blazon a del'd more bright Thuu hii) ciutrge on S;«ny Point in tho heart of the murky night. —Clinton Seolhml in Youth’s Companion. KLONDIKE CAXTON. Klowlyko Gaston was a native of X., | a largish niaunfactnritig center tn tlio Black country. His father, a pour cler- j Kynian, had no means to afford his son | a Rood start in life, ar.d thank- | ful enough when tho interest of certain friends secured a clerkship in o o of the local hanks. Young Charlie C xton, as he was then called, remaine in tho bank for nine or ten years um 1 he had • achieved tho age of 28 and a salary of £lf)U per annum. Now, taking into ac count the conditions of the bank clerk labor market, this was by uo means bad. But Charlie Caxton was a shrewd fel low and had done even better for him self in tho time than he might have ex pected. Ho was already assistant cash ier, with tho prospect of soon becoming chief cashier at an increased salary, and, in fact, so well were his business abili ties thought of hy his chiefs that ho had a very fair hope of being appointed manager of one of tho country branches before many years were over. But cir cumstances occurred just at this time which caused him to throw up his situ ation and leave tho neighborhood. These circumstances were ccuuectcd with an affair of the heart. The young lady was Miss Miriam Wakefield, only daughter of the vicar of X. She was a very pretty and chatm- ing if somewhat superficial girl, then barely 18 years of age, and her maiden fancy was soon caught by Charlie Cax- tou’s handsome face and agreeable man ners. On his side, Charles was deeply in love with Miriam and made no secret of bis attachment, but the relatives of both young people naturally viewed the affair with disapproval, for Charles had nothing but his meager salary, and Mir iam had not a penny. However, tho enamored Charles was deaf to all reason ing, and Miriam, being a spoiled daugh ter and accustomed to have her way, at length coaxed her father into giving a reluctant consent to the engagement. “But it will bo a siege of Troy, my darling,''ho pointed out. “Charles will not be in a position to marry for ten years.'* “I would wait for him if it were 20, father,” she cried, with sparkling eyes and flushing cheeks. The vicar smiled to himself, but said no more. He was a man wise in his generation. He thought he could gauge Miriam’s disposition, and—well, ten years was a long time. Everything went smoothly with tho lovers for about a twelvemonth. Then a cloud began to appear upon the horizon of Charles Caxton’s happiness. He no ticed some slight change in Miriam's demeanor toward himself. At first it was very slight, but gradually it became more marked. Poor Charles was terribly npset. He felt that be was not mistaken, and that Miriam’s love for him was cooling daily, in this conviction, as a matter of fact, hu was quite correct. Miriam, if the truth must bo told, was a young lady incapable of any real in tensity of love. She was emphatically not the stuff out of which heroines are made, and that degree of heroism in love which required her to wait an indefinite tiiue for marriage while the best of her youth was slipping away and which of fered her uo better reward at the end than tho position of a very poor man’s wife was (as she thought on mature re flection) just a spot beyond her. In this idea she was sedulously en couraged and supported by all her friends and relatives. “Yon are-throw ing yourself away on Charles Caxton,’’ they said, “when with your pretty face, my dear, you might marry a fortune.’’ “There are many rich men quite as handsome as Charles, “was the tenor of others’ remarks. “There is young Silk- •tone, for instance. He has just come in to £8,000 a year." Miriam blnshed at this. There was young Silkstone, and be was quite as handsome as Charles, 4pd be bad £8,000 a year or rather e, for bis father, the retired coal r < rchaut, bad died only six months ago, and bis personalty, almost the whole of which onmo to his fou, had been sworn at £100,000 not. Also the latter bad begun to bo very polite and attentive to herself, and—mid—and— New reflections of this kind often be gin by ourtiug with an “and,” bat they seldom end by ending so. Miriam's reductions ended with a letter—a very nice, proper, prettily worded letter to Charles Caxton. Young iSilkstono’s name was not mentioned in the letter, hut only her (Miriam's) struggles be tween love and duty, in which heaven had given her the strength to range her self on tho latter's side. Heaven also (it appeared from tho letter) hud given hsr not only strength, but conviction—con viction that she had no right—nay, that it would bo selfish in her to tho point of criminality—to marry him (Charles) and to foist herself as a burden upon bis slender means. No, she would not ham per him. yho would not ruin his pros pects She cared for him far too much. It was because she cared for bitu uo much that she was giving him his free dom, and when in future years ho, mar ried perchance to some rich wife and become a county magnate, should meet a dowdy, laded little old maid yclept Miriam Wakefield he would surely breathe a prayer of thankfulness to heaven at tho merciful escape that ho bad bad of being tied for life to such an incubus. And, in conclusion, sbo ! was always his siucero friend and true well wisher—Miriam. That was a very artful little touch about tbe “old maid," wasn’t it? It contradicted the truth of any rumors i that Charles might have heard in refer ence to young tjiikstono and herself in the most delicately insinuating manner. Charles read this letter without any ex ternal display of emotion; though, to be sure, his face was hard and set, and i a bitter smile curled bis lip. Tho blow j did not fall unexpectedly. He had boon studying the signs of tho times in Mir iam’s demeanor now for mouths past and had felt sure that, sooner or later, . it would come to this. Of course Iw ; read between tho lines of the letter. Ha saw that Miriam merely wanted to ha rid of him, and he had too much pride and ;-elf respect to abase himself by auy , weak entreaties or protestations. Nor, in his reply, did he indulge in any angry reproaches or, whatever ho may have felt, other exhibitions of mortifi cation or ill temper. Charles always had perfect command of himself, and his answering letter was polite and dig nified. 1 Ho was deeply grieved, ho said, by her communication, but in this, as in all other matters, he bowed himself to her lightest wish. Her letters and pres ents wore returned in an accompanying packet. But one thing ho still retained —tho sweet memory of what had been— and one privilege ho should still claim —tho privilege of serving her, if occa sion offered, at auy futuro time. Though uo longer her affianced lover, he begged permission to subscribe himself her al ways devoted servant, Charles Caxton. So that affair was ended, and Miriam congratulated herself on having escaped from her engagement without fuss, un pleasantness or scandal. Six mouths elapsed. Then a further announcement was made in the columns of certain London and local papers: “A marriage has been arranged and will shortly take place between Lon donderry Silkstone, Esq., of VVallscud Manor, X., and Miriam,only daughter oi tho Rev. Theodore Wakefield, vicar of hearsay it need not have meant But Caxton himself, in talking When tho content* of this letter got , t ( . r n f about, ns tiny at once did, qnitu a stir | i 11U( -||, was created in Charles’ nativo town, j |,j a friends, admitted the general ac- and his friend Pi writing hack to him uur . |( .y uf these rumors. To Miriam hu informed him, half jocularly, that every ; ), ; „i | )( .nti more explicit. X.” It was soon after this announcement that Charles threw up his berth at the bank and suddenly quitted X., without having communicated his intention to any of his friends. For several years nothing was heard of Charles by his friends in X. Then one day a letfer was received by one of them, dated six or seven weeks previous ly and bearing the postmark “Dawson City.” Tho young man wrote in good spirit, and uo wonder, for ho hud excel lent news about himself to tell. It ap peared that soon after quitting X. he had gone out to British Columbia, of which he had beard the highest reports from a friend of his who hud settled there pre viously and who iuvited him to come out and see the country for himself. Ha had accepted the invitation and, on ar riving in the colony, had, first of all, helped his friend with bis stock raising, the pursuit in which he was engaged. But after a few months they heard from a traveler who visited them on his way south such glowing accounts of the gold finding prospects in the Klondike re gion that they were caught with the fe ver td go there themselves and try their luck. • Fortunately his friend had some cap ital at command. Fortunately also they got into Klondike (though only after considerable hardships) before the boom set in. They had thus been able to ac quire a small plot from the Dominion government on comparatively easy terms, and judge of their delight when they found that they hud hit npon one of tbe richest lots in the whole district. Charlie’s friend had had tbe sense to enlist at once tbe services of a compe tent mining engineer, to whom they had to pay the modest fee of $8,000. But in spite of that expense; in spite of tbe money ($4,000), which they bad given for their plot; in spite of a wages bill of about $2,400; in spite of tbe enor mous price they had to pay for food, they iiad netted a considerable fortune in their first season. In the next season they had done even better, in the season following better still, and now they were negotiating the sale of their lot to a syndicate at a figure which when add ed to their already large takings would make them both wealthy men (for His friend was most geuerous'y going equal shares with himself) for the rest of their lives. He went on to add that when tbe sale in question was completed and other business mutters arranged ho should probably ruu over to the old country, in which event his friends at X. might certainly rely on bis looking them op, and he concluded by asking his friend to write and tell him all tbe news in the neighborhood. inhabitant of X., especially tho marriage able maidens, were dying to have a per sotial sight of Kloiidkka Caxton, us they hud already christi tied him. “I have not much news to send you," said the writer in tho course of his epis tle. “Things go on here much r.s usual. Stay ! There is one item, though, that will inti rest you. Young Silkstone is dead. Ho was killed hy a fall out hunt ing two years after you went away. So you see, my dear fellow, your faithless little sweetheart, Miriam, is now a very charming widow. It looks as if Silk- stone bad not left her nearly so well off as was expected, for she is now living in a tiny house in the smallest of small ways, and even what sbo has is to go from her in event of her marrying again —at least so it is popularly reported. Bather a shame of Silkstone to treat her so, I must .say, though, to bo sure, she deserves it, in a sense, for tho way in which she treated you.’’ No further letter was received from Caxton. The next event was his person- ! al return to X. a few mouths later. As , regards appearance, ho was not much altered except for being somewhat tan- ' ued by exposure to tho weather. But in his manner, his demeanor, his general air, there was a very decided change. It was indeed just the change that might have been expected to result from his completely altered circum- | stances, a change from the modest difti- | deuce of a poor young clerk into the full assurance of a wealthy and successful man. Not that be was in the least arro j gaut or bumptious or ostentatious. Quite tbe reverse. But he boro himself and j could not help bearing himself with that almost unconscious self confidence that great success inevitably imparts. Some of his friends who fancied themselves particularly observant said they now nnd then detected a gleam of contemptu ous triumph iu his eye when ho met some acquaintanco who, having been coldly neglectful cf him in his poverty, was now obsequiously cordial to him in his wealth, but if such a feeling ever betrayed itself for a moment in bis eyo it was never exhibited either iu his man ner or his ccnversation. Ho was friendly and affable to every one. Even fcdlkstouo’s widow, whom lie might have been excused for treating with hautenr, and who had, on the first occasion of their meeting again, been obviously embarrassed, was relieved to find Charles perfectly pleasant and agreeable, and his demeanor toward her was all the more remarkable because be had previously had the reputation c! being a man who did not easily forgive. “It is really very sweet of Charles to bear uo malice, “ said Miriam to her father, the vicar, some weeks later. “Ho is a good, generous fellow.” “He can afford to be generous, my dear," replied her parent. “His suceess has been extraordinary and I should say bis wealth must be immense.” “I heard people saying the other day that he was worth nearly half a million, papa." “Hardly so much as that, my pet. But from what I can hear in well in formed circles he is worth nearly a quar ter of a million. “ “How much a year would a quarter of a million be, papa?" asked Mrs. Silk- stone carelessly. “Well—as a shrewd fellow like Charles would invest It, £10,000 or £12,000 at least. Certainly Charles is a lucky man." “He is lucky, ’’ assented Miriam, with a sigh. And, for some reason, the expression of her face grew grave and oven gloomy, as she spoke. Nothing worthy of record occurred for the next few months, except that people began to talk a good deal and say how foolish it was of Kloudyke Cax- ton to allow himself to be entangled (as be was apparently doing) into a second affair with the woman who had thrown him over so scandalously five years be fore. And while they wondered he coaid be so idiotic, they marveled how she could be so barefaced. The mothers of marriageables were particularly strong on this point, and swelled to tbe full extent of their corsets with righteoue indiguatiou whenever they spoke of it. That he should pass by hundreds of nice girls in favor of that perfidious and de signing ereatore was incomprehensible, but that she should spread nets for him, without disguise or shame, in tbe full glare of tbe publio aye, was neither more nor less than an outrage on com mon decency. Heaven rr&ut her intend ed victim might come to bis senses and free himself from her toils before it was too late I This pious prayer, however, was not destined to be grunted. Six mouths aft er his return to X Caxtou’s re-engage ment to Silkstouo’s widow was duly an nounced, and the corsets of the mothers of tbe marriageables were iu serious About a fort night before their wedding—as soon as tho certainty of those disasters reached him—ho went to her and told her tho truth. From tho wealthy man he bad hitherto believed himself to he hu was suddenly transformed tr a very poor man indeed. A few thousands were left —that was all, enough to bring in a meager income of, say, £200 a year. Under these circumstances ho could not hold her to her promise. Shu was free —it she wished to bo free. Ho placid him- jlf unreservedly in her hands, and so on. Miriam’s answer quite tool: hia breath away. “Uh, Charles," ebe said, gazing nt him with earnest, eager eyes and clasping her hands together nervously, “I'm— I’m—I’m so glad!” Charles started and stared at her in blank astonishment. He could find no words to express his surprise. “1 don't mean that I’m glad for your sake," she went on to explain eagerly, “but I’m ho—so glad for my own!" "Eh?" gasped Charles, more and more bewildered. “Eh?” “I must tell yon something, Charlie," dropping her voice and speaking with unmistakable earnestness. “By marry ing Mr. Silkstone because he was rich I learned a bitter, bitter lesson. It was not until alter I became his wife that! real ized how much I had loved you—how much I loved you still. And when he was killed, Charlie, I was not, 1 could not be sorry, for I felt—1—I—know that—that when you heard of his death you would come—come back. You have heard perhaps how ho left his money to me, Charlie? An income of £3,000 a year during my life or widowhood, but everything to pass from mo if I married again, and, knowing that you would re turn to mo some day, I at once took a small house and lived on a tiny income, Charlie, in order that 1 might save and save and save and have a little some thing to bring to yon when you return ed. But you came back rich, Charlie, and I was so disappointed, and—and—“ She said uo more, for at that conjunc ture Charles started forward and caught her iu his arms, aud for tho next ten minutes nothing was said on either side that could be of tho slightest interest to auy except tho two immediately con cerned. By aud by, however, Charles had to make « confession. “Sweetbeart, ” ho said, “don’t banish me into outer dark ness for what I um going to confess to you. It was not until you told me this just now that I—I realized that—that I loved you still from tho bottom of my heart. I thought that when you threw me over and married Silkstone you had killed my love, and I vowed that if I ever had the chance I would punish you for the wrong you had done me. So when I came back here, Miriam, a wealthy man, my design was simply to induce yon to become engaged to me thinking I was rich”— “Oh, Charlie, Charlie) But I have deserved it all. Go on!” “And then—don’t look at me, sweet est, while 1 confess my baseness—then to—to place yon iu the position in which you would—would—oh, forgive me, Miriam; I thought yon only cared for money—incur the odium of throw ing me over a second time, because I was poor. It was a blackguardly design. I loathe myself for it. I"— “Charlie," whispered Miriam, look ing up suddenly into his face, “perhaps we both have reason to loathe onrselves for what we were in tho past. But don’t yon think wo have—have even better reason to—love each other—for what we are going to be in the future?” They were married on the day ap pointed. Charles looked radiantly hap py. do did Miriam. The mothers of marriageables did not look radiantly happy, for it had transpired (to the most perilous straining of their matron ly stay laces) that Kloudyke Caxtou’s loss of money was merely a myth which be himself had set on foot.—London Truth. English as Wrote In Nice. “There is certainly no visitor in the mass of them," says an astonishing pro duction called “Historical of tho Car nival of Nice," "which does not know that tbe carnival exists since the high est antiquity. Tbe Egyptians celebrates the Boeuf Apis, who was with great honor showed iu Thebes, tbe people be ing gorged with wine and hydromel dancing all around him playing the flutes aud the cym bales. In our days still we see the Boeuf gras Apis walked pro- oessiouuely round the streets of Paris, set up with flowers aud striking dresses; just like tho one iu tbe times of tbe pharuoua. Later on tbe antique Greek tbe Bacchus, god of wine, festivities, were celebrated by the people with all tbe pleasure of tho time and the priest- erses’ disordered jumping tbe head danger of bursting. There was uo reason crowned with pumpfre and ivy singing for waiting. Tbe wedding was fixed to au( j dancing. The Romans wich civi- tako place at a very early date. Bat much may happen in a short time, and iu this brief interval a very important thing indeed occurred. Af first came a vague rumor—a rumor which people whispered into each oth er’s ears with impressive nods and ges tures. But soon it swelled and asserted itself into louder utterance and inure assertive tones. Klondike Caxton's wealth bad been immensely overrated. If he had ever possessed a quarter of what people had credited him with, it was the outside. But that was not the worst. There were two fur graver state ments to be made—the one, that tbe Canadian bank, with which the bulk of Caxtou’s money had been placed on de posit, pending investment, had suspend ed payment; tbe other, that tbe nego tiations for the sale of his Klondike dig gings to a syudioate at a high figurs had fallen through owing to an unex pected exhaustion of the gold, which had suddenly rendered them valueless. Of course one cannot believe all that oue bears, and bad this beeu only a mat* lisatiou was much like the Greoc’s and the Greeo Bucohaualos became at Komq the Saturnales. These festivities were given under tbe pretence of celebrating the primordial equality of the people,and these festivities brought to tbe most dis ordered licences, where uur modern car nival ie not to be compared to." It ap pears tbat other towns, like Buie, Romo aud Veuice, have giveu up these fas- ciuating habits, “aud eveu much fallen dowu, aud uow there is ouly to consider the Nioe carnival the Queeu of all pleas ures. • • • "In 1874 the Comity offered prizes fu cash, aud this inovatiou gave such a violeut stimulation that year after year’’ the thing weut ou iucreasiug iu splen dor. “Fiually the Nioe municipal couu- oel gave a Solid Push to do and to obtain better tbau the foregoing year. Sinoo then the fosdevoted (?) Comity did not oease. When yon shall leave these bless ed shore please take with you a ray of our suit, a little of tbe Joy of these mad days and tbiuk of Nice the beuutifoul." —St. James Gazette. HE WORE LOUD HOSE. BUT NOW HE IS CONTENT WITH PLAIN BLACK OR BLUE. Tim Trim Story of tlm riiilDirritioilnK unit j Exciting Incident* Wlilcli Led Up ti# Wit. i Ilctcriiiiuatlon to Confln* Uinnirlf to Sh>I lined Sock*. Ouo business man in Minneapolis has ahauduued sporty li'isn. There was a timo when a display of his socks upon the lino ou wash day was warranted to draw a crowd. Tho rest of his garb was decorous enough, but when it can ’ to hose he turned an effulgent f./icy h iso, aud tbu result was fearful aud won !er ful. Friends said, “Where on earth does he get tho atrocious tilings?*’ aud his wife cajoled, ridiculed and threaten ed and eveu wept in vain. On tho mat ter of neckties ho might givo in, but when it camo to hose ho was as ada mant. Now, however, ho is a reformed character, and this is the way it came about: One day bo received word that a syu dicate was to meet in Cleveland which would affect his business interests vital ly. His presence might swing things his way, but there was hardly time to make tbe trip. By close figuring ou time ta bles hu fennd that if be could make an exceedingly close connection iu Chicago ho could reach Cleveland iu timo for the meeting. He telephoned homo for his grip aud took the night train. Tho train was duo in Chicago at 7 o’clock in the morning. About t;:30 the Minneapolis man wakened and was bo- ginning to dress when tbe porter stuck a scared face through tho curtains. “Fob do Lawd’s sake, sub!’’ ho said, rolling his eyes wildly. “What’s the matter, John?’’ Mr. i Smith, inquired, nonchalantly fasteu- I ing his suspenders. “ ’Deed, sub, 1 duuno how it happou- 1 ed." “ What happened?" Tho porter backed away as if ho ex pected Smith to hit out troiu tho shoul der. “I tuk yoh shoes, sub. to shine ’em, an I went out ou do platfohm, an I done lust ’em oft ’u do cyah. ’’ Smith sat up suddenly aud cracked his head against tho upper berth. That didn’t make him feel better. “Why, you bullet headed idiot," ho shouted, “what do you suppose I’m go ing to do without shoes?'' Tho porter cringed in contrition. “Why, suh, I’ll go out’u procuab yob some direckly wo arrive iu do city.” “But I haven’t got timo to wait. I’vo got to make close connections.” The porter looked worried. Then he brightened up. “Ef I cud inako so bold as to offah dem, sub, yoh cud hove my shoos fob do timo beiu. ” He pulled off a shoo as he spoke, and Smith tried to put it ou. It was too small by several sizes, aud as the full awkwardness of tbe situation dawned ou him he gave veut to remarks that were more forcible tbau elegant. Ho couldn't miss that meeting, though. It meant thousands of dollars to him. Of course he could take a cab at the statiou in Chicago, but he would have to go out to the cab. Ho looked down at his hose. For the first time iu his life he thought they looked too gay. He hud beeu proud of those socks. They were turquoise blue, with red polka dots, aud he re membered that when ho bought them hu hesitated because lie thought they seem ed subdued iu touo. Now they shrieked loudly. Tho train pulled into tbe statiou. The situation had to bo faced. He look ed at bis watch. Ouly 20 minutes to catch the eastern train. Ho settled his hat firmly, seized his grip aud umbrella and stepped off tbe car. Then the com muters pouring into the city were treat ed to the sight of au immaculate aud distinguished looking gentleman of 40 walking shoeless through tho statiou and displaying a most gorgeous pair of socks to the gazo of tho multitude. Tho multitude appreciated it and showed their appreciation iu facetious remarks. Smith broke into a cold perspiration and wondered whotber $100,000 was worth tho agony, but hu reached the street aud hid himself iu a cab. During the ride he amused himself by thinking of tbe wrath to come when bo should reach tho other station. It occurred to him that ho would send some one iu to buy his ticket aud then would sprint for the train, but there wasn’t a miuuto to lose. There wouldn't bo time for auy oue to bring a ticket back to him. Once more be braced himself for tho ordeal aud emerged into public view. By the time he reached the ticket office he had a crowd following him, and as ho moved toward the wicket the excite ment swelled to tremendous proportions. Public opinion was nuunimous and i openly expressed: Tbe man was crazyl Rome oue ought to look aiter him I The gatekeeper stopped him, and a burly policeman loomed up aud showed an inclination to arrest him. Smith ex plained desperately, tying his sentences into knots and justifying the theory of insanity, bat bo prevailed npon tho offi cials and fled dowu the platform to the parlor car, where be took refuge iu tho stateroom aud made tbe air blue—deep ly, darkly, beautifully blue—bluer than the obnoxious socks. Then he took tbe porter into his con fidence and found consolation. The por ter had a friend in the station restaurant of a town through which tbe train would pass later iu the day. A dispatch was sent to tbe friend, telling him to meet tbe train with a pair of men’s shoes, number —, well, auy sort, uuy price. Tbu friend rose to tbu emergency, and was royally rewarded, aud timith arrived at the syndicate mooting in all tbe glory of new patent leathers. tiince then be wears sud hued hose. Black is his standby, but on rare occa sions he indulges iu navy blue. History may never repeat itself, but, if it he is ready.—New York Sun. A Birthday Reception. .Correspondence of The Ledger.) Mr. Editor: Tuesday, April 20, "i*l he long remembered with pleas ure by the writer. The morning was so lovely that the simple fact of liv ing was a keen delight. By invitation n number of us met to spend the day at Mercer, tlm pleasant home of Mr. nnd Mrs K. 1*. .Macotnson. The ob ject of our meeting was to celebrate the birtbdwy of Mr. Macomson’s mother, whose gentle, dignified pres ence was a benediction. The rela tives present, besides the elder .Mrs. Miicomson were, Mrs. Otnie Service, Mrs. .lohn Service, Mrs. U. \V. Mc- Kown. Mrs. Sarah Service, Mrs. C. \V. Whisonunt, Mrs. It. M. Gaffney and Mrs. \V. \V. Gaffney, besides two or three children. The morning hours passed so pleas antly that before we expected it we were summoned to the dining room. On such occasions how many sumpt uous banquets are spoiled by still at tempts at formalities? Not so at this one. The dinner was skillfully prepared and daintily served, and was enjoyed by the guests with the cul tured ease which always hsrmonizes everything. We had scarcely reassembled in the parlor when the low hung clouds began to “drop their fulness down,” fiut lilth* wo cared for the ruin out side; within a bright fire was sending out a genial warmth. Miss Moliie Montgomery at the piano was giving us some excellent music, nnd the un ruly member—well we were discuss ing the many little tokens of love and esteem that the guest had honor ed themselves by bringing as birth day gifts. But all too soon the shad ows began to deepen, so with many a handshake and kindly word of part ing we separated to our respective homes each carrying awav, I am sure, a very warm regard for that hospita ble and attractive family. l. Thirty-five years make a genera tion. That is how long Adolph Fisher, of Zanesville. ().. suffered from piles. He was cured by using three boxes of DeWitt’s Witch Hazel ^ulve. Cherokee Drug Company, Gaffney, and Macon Thornton’s Pharmacy, Blacksburg. Japan is to build a $10,000,000 steel plant. It is a great leap from the old fashioned closes of blue-mass and nauseous physics to the pleasant little pills known as DeWitt’s Little Early Risers. They cure constipa tion, sick headache and biliousness. Cherokee Drug Company. Gaffney, and Macon Thornton’s Pharmacy, Blacksburg. The hardest thing in this world to do is to do nothing. busy Children like it, it saves their lives. We mean One Minute Cough Cure, the infallible remedy for coughs, colds, croup, bronchitis, grippe, and all throat and lung troubles. Cherokee Drug Company, Gaffney, and Macon Thornton's Pharmacy, Blacksburg. The man who is entirely satisfied with himself is easily contented. _ Tho farmer, the mechanic and the bicycle rider are liable to unexpected cuts and bruises. DeWitt’s Witch Hazel Salve is the best thing to keep on hand. It heals quickly, and is a well known cure for piles. Cherokee Drug Company, Gaffney. Macon Thornton’s Pharmacy, Blacksburg. The monetary unit of Spain is th peseta, which is worth about 19 cent of our money. M. L. Yocum, Cameron, Pa., says ■‘I was a sufferer for ten years, trj ing most all kinds of pile remedies but without success. DeWitt’ Witch Hazel Salve was recommende to me. I used one box. It has el fected a permanent cure.” As permanent cure for piles DeWitt’ Witch Hazel Salve has no equa Cherokee Drug Company, Gaffney and Macon Thornton’s Pharmac Blacksburg. Prophet Totten says “ currences happen in e Which is very odd. Thousands of sufferers from grippe have been restored to health by One Minute Cough Cure. It quickly cures coughs, colds, bronchitis, pneumonia, grippe, asthma, and all throat and lung diseases. Cherokee Drug Company, Gaffney, and Macon Thornton’s Pharmacy. Blacksburg. If the sun was inclosed in a mass of ice <X) feet thick it would be one j minute in melting it. A little boy asked for u bottle of “get up in the morning as fast as you can.” the druggist recognized a household name for “DeWitt’s Little Early Risers,” and gave him a bottle of those famous little pills for con stipation, sick headache, liver and stomach troubles. Cherokee Drug Company. Gaffney, and Macon Thornton’s Pharmacy, Blacksburg. Au old habit is stronger than a man’s right arm. Fortunate the man whose habits are good ones. A torpid liver robs you of ambition and ruins your health. DeWitt's Little Early Risers cleanses the liver, euros constipation and all stomach and liver troubles. Cherokee Drug Company. Gaffney, and Macon Thornton’s Pharmacy, Blacksburg.