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3 THE LEDGER: GAFFNEY, S. C., NOVEMBER 17, 1808. 3 PAST AND PRESENT. "Thf !o«t nnd dt licious Icimiro of the olden time.”—Adam Bede. Leisure is dead. Ah, dear old leisure! Meroil* ss hurry reigns in his place, Striving for gain is our only pleasure, Gold is the prize of our life’s mad race. Sit and think—at your peril you do it— Scurry and hustle and hang and crashl Wasting your time—that's the way they view it. Everything's foily hut gathering cash. An hour at your dinner! ’Tis shameful, shame ful! Twenty minutes is ample time— Gobble it down, such dawdling is blameful. You should be making an extra dime. Oh, for the days of tho sweet maid spinning, Kettle humming on open hearth. Ere tdl this artifice knew beginning. Dear old days of our nation's birth. Days when the slow old coaches, crawling, Gave us a chance to enjoy the scene. (Now we fly with a speed appalling. Nothing we see but a blur of green.) Fine old inns by tho road inviting, Smoked and soaked with an honest ehi'er. None of your rooms all paint and whiting. Chill and cold with electric glare. Sweet old games in the candle's glimmer, Corners dim where wo loved to sit. Brighter our lights, L .t our joys are dimmer. Romance—ah, little is left of it! Ghost yarn telling was grandpa’s glory— Ugh! the ghost was there at your back! Fancy telling that sort of story To the tune of the radiator's crack 1 Home delights one could revel deep in— (“Homo!” 'twas the dearest word but one) j Not just a skimpy box to sleep in After tho daily task is done. Good old parsers with good old sermons, Slow, but sure in the narrow way. None of your theological Herrmanns Juggling the Word for a banker’s pay. What though the mail came but fortnightly? Letters wore letters in days of old— Written lengthily, heartily, brightly. None of your hasty scrawls and cold. • •*•••* Rush and bustle and bang and clatter! Scurry and hustle and clang and crashl Bow, ye slaves, to tho god < . matter. Everything’s folly but gathering cash. —G. Humbert Westlcy in New York Times. A DESERT ROMANCE. Christopher Morgan fiat upon a box ia tho shade of fiomo large bowlders and within whip reach of tho circular path About tho arastra, and at each rotation of tho nmlo stimulated him by a touch of tho whiplash. It was a drowsy occupation. The monotonous creaking of the wooden shaft, tho grating of tho crush stones and tho sound of tho dull, thick wash of tho tailings thus kept in muddy commo tion acted as a sedative on Morgan, who had already almost dropped asleep. He was about falling into a still deeper doze when ho was made alert in a mo ment at the sound of voices from a lit tle mesa above tho camp. Presently, riding down the steep mid almost obliterated trail, came first a lank, elderly man in faded overalls and a flannel shirt, and after him a girl dressed in coarse blue denim and a sun- bonnet of tho same material, riding astride on a man’s saddle. She had a light, girlish figure, and her faco was to Morgan a revelation of loveliness, and his estimate of her at tractions was nut altogether without fiome foundation. Her mouth was per haps a little too largo and her nose a trifle toe “tip tilted” for an exacting taste, but her gray eyes wore full of life and sympathetic intelligence, her hair golden, her teeth as white and regular as a young animal’s, and her complexion fresh and blooming. Tho elderly man hailed Morgan in a loud voice, which woke the echoes all about: “Goodmorniu, compauero! How gees it?” Morgan acknowledged tho vociferous greeting, and went to meet his visitors as they rode up toward tho arastra. “My name’s Rascqm, ” fiaid the man, “and this here’s my daughter Boly, short for Bolivyer. Amaupassin along the road night before last said as how you’d bought in this here Belshazzar prop erty, and Boly and me ’lowed it’d be the square thing to como over and got acquainted.” Meantime his guopts had dismounted and, holding their ponies by their bridles, Pat down on a broad flat rock near tho arastra, while Morgan resumed his seat on the box facing them. “You done well when yon bought this hero property,” continued Bascom. “I’ve known tho ledgo this ten years, and if you go slow you’ll come out ahead of the game. Thom there fellers, tho creditors, shut down on and busted up all natural enough, as I seen they would when I first sot eyes on ’em. Bull Horn’s all right.” Miss Boly said nothing, but fixed her gray eyes on Morgan and sat silently regarding him in a frank and interested way which somewhat em barn seed him. Mr. Bascom was not only carious as to the past, present and future of his host, hut was loudly overflowing with information as to himself. “My place is just over Potto; side of this here ridge in the other canyon,” he explain ed. “I took up land there ten years ago, never tbinkiu I’d stay there this time, and I wouldn't if it hadn’t been for a thieviu parduer of mine. ” “How’s that?” “Why, this away. I’d made a stake before ever I’d come in here, landin arms for Bolivyun insurgents, and this pard- ner, this 'ere triflin feller Meeks, was in with me. Wo had $lo,000 profits be tween us, mostly in big yellow twen ties, and he comes up to my place here sayiu as he’d help develop the claims back over the ridge on which we bad located together. Wo was goin to put that coin all in to developiu, but one mornin 1 wakes up to find him clean gone, along with his share of the money and mine too. I tracked him out on to tho desert down Mud Springs way, and then lost his trail altogether, and I never seen hide nor hair of him or beard where bo went to. Since then I’ve had to rustle for a liviu. Boly, here, phe helps out herdin a few cows I’ve got on the bunch grass flats on t’other side the ridge.” When his guests had remounted and ilowly climbed the trail again, Morgan Wftidicd them till they were out of eight witli an unaccountable mixed feeling of wild joy and deep depression in his heart, to which ho had hitherto been «i stranger. During the next few days the image of Boly grew more and more deeply im pressed on his hitheito unsusceptible heart. This state of mind was progress ive, and when, on the third day after Holy’s visit, he had made a mo:t satis factory test clean up, it was in the best of spirits that ho determined to knock eft' from work and return Bascom’s visit. On his way over the ridge be diverged from his direct route to Bascom’s to ward a little flat, where he saw three or four cows feeding and a pony near by, which, even at a distance, he recog- uied as Boly’s. A few yards away, seat ed in tho shadow of a great rock, he recognized tho blue clad figure of Boly herself. “I allowed you’d .hq over before long,” she said, with a smile. “I kind of expected you’d bo in yesterday eveu- iu. ” Morgan’s courtship progressed with rapid strides. Within a fortnight after this visit he had been over to see Boly several times, and she, after an interval of a week when he did not come, know ing him to bo tied down by his work at the Belshazzar camp, with a natural disregard for empty convention, had herself gone over to chat with him at the arastra. It was on the occasion of thD visit that Morgan declared himself. The arastra was stopped. The mule still dis creetly blinded, dozed in the tug path, and .Morgan in beatitude sat with his arm around what for tho time being was the only waist in the world. “There’s one thing I ought to tell you,” continued Morgan, “before ever j you says yes or no. You see, when I first met the old man he kind of jump ed at the idee that I was tho owner of this here property. I didn’t say so, but | seeiu as he took it that a way I didn’t i sec no call to undeceive him; but I ! ain't no owner. I’m just up here work- in for Biggs, an old pard of mine, on wages, and I simply don’t own nothin.” “That don’t make no difference to me, Chris,” saiil Boly, with a sigh, “but I reckon it will with por about consent- in. He sets such a heap on a man’s be- in well fixed.” There was silence for a moment, and then Boly continued: “I’ve been thinkin this a way. Why don’t yon branch out for yourself and get some property of your own? Then you’d be el’gible.” “That’s easy to say about branchiu out and gettin property,” responded Chris despondently. “But however’m I to do it? I don’t see no opeuiu.” “You’ll never see no open in sitting ground this arastra belongin to another man,” retorted Boly, with some spirit. “I’ll tell you what I’d do if I was a limn and wanted to make a stake. I’d quit here too quick and go right away over into this heie new Mud Springs deestreect that they’re all runnin to and stake out some claims for myself. That would make it all right with por. He’d say your bein a man with just wages is one thing, but you bein a man with some promisin claims is another.’’ “But,” said Morgan, inspirited by the plan, but yet aware of obstacles, “wbat’d I say to Biggs if he should como back here and find I’d quit work- in the arastra and pulled out with his mule? He’s done a heap for me, and I •ouldn’t go back on him.” “I’ve got a plan abomt that, too,” said Boly, contemplatively drawing lines in the trailing dust with her riding switch. “You start right in and clean ap this here run and then go and get rock down from the drifts and I’ll come over every mornin and run tho arastra while you’re gone with Gyp” (indicat ing her pony). “He’s email for tho work, but he’ll do, and you take tho mule and start off for tho new Mud Springs range. I’ll herd tho cows into a little rincon that I know of, where the feed’s good and they won’t leave till I come for ’em. Por is repuirin tho road every day now, and he’ll never suspicion what’s up. ” Thus it was that on the third morn ing after this conversation Morgan was on his way on the trail to Mud Springs district with a fixed determination to find something rich and become “el’gi ble” or die in the attempt. He wasted no time in entering ac tively on bis work. Ho rode here and there over tho country, working up dry gulches in search of placers and climb ing rocky buttes and ridges in the hope of finding some rich ledge. Promising discoveries were being constantly made by others, but his own luck was of the worst. The month’s time which he had al- i lowed himself was already drawing to a cle -3, and ho seemed as far from his | p',al as ever, and it was in a stale of deep despondency and discouragement that he started upon his last trip into the adjacent mountains. Ho followed for several hours an old, deeply worn Indian trail tending to ward the Colorado. Tho trail had evi dently been but little traveled for years, for in many places it was quite blocked with bowlders which had rolled down tha hillside, and finally came to a point where it bad been completely buried by an enormous slide of loose rock. Here he dismounted and tied his mule to a stunted pinon. He was anx ious to proceed in the direction he had been going, for not more than a mile ahead there was in plain view a rocky bluff, curiously marked and mottled in dull reds and faded yellows that sug gested strong mineral possibilities. Morgan bad clambered half way across the rough and difficult barrier, still following the general line of the trail, when, as he paused for a moment to take breath, he saw with some sur prise a few yards above him on the hill side a high, narrow opening in the rocks. It was partially blocked by a few fragments of broken bowlders and was evidently the mouth of one of those mountain caverns not infrequent ly found near the summit of these des ert mountains. With but little diflicnlty be pus ted away a few of tho larger stones that blocked the way and found loom to enter. He had with him a small supply of matches, and as he lighted one after another bo saw that he was in a fairly good sized chamber, 7 or 8 feet iu height and perhaps ;iu feet in length and half as broad. He advanced to the center of the cave and by the dim match light saw that there were clear evidences of former habitation. At one side on tne floor were two broken ollas and other fragments of pottery. “Just some old Indian biding place,” thought Morgan, and, lacking antiqua rian tastes, he was about abandoning further exploration when his attention was attracted to certain dark bundle- like objects at the rear of the cave. He appioached them with a mingled feel ing of curiosity and distrust. He was not impressionable, but when bis first near view assured him that one was a tumbled roll of blankets and the other a partially clothed skeleton of a man the damp chill of the cave seemed to penetrate to his very marrow. Stung by tho flame of the match, which, unnoticed in his excitement, had burned to bis finger tips, he drop ped it and was left in darkness. It was but a second before he lighted another, and then for tho first time be noticed that close to the blankets lay a pair of leathern saddlebags. He stooped to lift them and was surprised at their weight. They were unstrapped, and his curiosity now overmastering all other feelings ho threw back tho flap of ono and holding a freshly lighted match close to the opening was speechless with amazement at what ho saw. The bag was half fill ed with coined gold. For tho second time, iu his excite ment, he bad nearly allowed bis match to burn out. Ills stock was now reduced to four, and, realizing that he must make haste to leave the cave, he seized the leather neck connecting the two bags and dragged them to the opening. In another moment be was again standing in the sunlight and threw the remains of bis last match among the rocks outside. It was all so strange and passed so quickly that it seemed to him almost that he had been dreaming and still dreamed, but when be opened the mouth of the saddlebags and plunged his bands into the jingling, shining yellow coin which both contained there was an end to all bis doubts. “This I beats dry washing or striking a ledgo,” ho exclaimed aloud. “If Boly don’t think I’ai cl’giijlo now. I’ll give up beat.” On tho side of each of tho heavy calf skin bags in sprawling, pen printed let ters, was tho name “H. Meeks” and a date some 12 years back. “That’s the name of the feller that robbed old man Bascom, and it was down in this Mud Spring country that tho old man lost the trail. While I am out discoverin things, I seem to bo workiu up the whole job to once, ” said the now exult ant Morgan to himself. “Old C’lumlms ain’t in it with me. ” When be reached Mud Springs late iu tho afternoon, he was discreetly silent about bis discovery in tho cave. He cached his saddlebags a mile or more back on the trail, and his prepa rations for an immediate and impressive return to tho Belshazzar camp were un dertaken as once. These consisted in va rious purchases. From the proprietor of the Magnolia saloon he obtained a black mule, with a silver mounted sad dle and bri.llo and a pair of deep rowel- ed spurs, with little, jingling chains. These had been left for sale by some newcomer from Sonora with bad luck and extravagant tastes. He also obtain ed at the same place a diamond of largo size, but of doubtful purity, which ho pinned iu his Lluo flannel shirt front. He added to this a guitar for Boly se cured at an exorbitant price from an impecunious Mexican, and, having bado bis friends goodby, started on his tri umphal homeward march just as tlio full moon was rising over the eastern ridges. He reduced the four days’ time of liis outward trip to less than three on his return, and an hour before sunset was riding up the last heavy grade on tho trail into tho Belshazzar camp. He hardly expected to find Boly so late at the arastra, but still on the chance he gathered himself together for an im pressive entree. His new mule, laden with the precious bags, trotted in ad vance. He followed with the guitar swuug by its bright ribbou about his neck and hqld in place before him, his questionable diamond flashing respleu- deutly, his spurs jingling and his som brero well back on his head. As he neared tho camp his spirits sank for the moment us he recognized the loud voice at old Bascom raised to even a higher pitch than usual. Ho hurried his animals, and iu another mo ment was in camp. Boly’s pony, Gyp, was iu harness in the arastra. She her self was sitting despondently on a flat rock near by with her face buried iu her hands and sokbiug at short inter vals, while old Bascom was vociferously upbraiding her for the infatuation which bad led her to deceive her Jhther and clandestinely operate tho arastra in her penniless lover’s absence. The situ ation, however, was soon changed to ono of glad excitement and friendly greeting and congratulation when Mor gan appeared and, brfefly recounting his adventures, astonished them with the sight of the coin in the saddlebags. “Two-thirds of that there coin natcr- ally belongs to me,” shouted old man Bascom, “and one-third of it” (mean ing Meeks’ part) “of course goes to you, but I won’t stand on that. This is my day for bein lib'ral, and I’m goin to allow you half of the whole pot and throw in Boly as an extra, alow’n, of course, as she’s agreeable to the arrange ment.’’ “I ain’t got no objections us I knows of,” said Boly, with a laugh, as she looked down and shuffled cue foot in the dry tuiliifc's. “Aud all this comes,” mid Morgan to Boly, with glad impressiveness, "of my just follerin your advice and rustlin round aud gettiu el’giblft. ”—Edmund Stuart Roche iu Argonaut. Tat's Fanny Snylnftn. A reply of a somewhat mixed char acter was given by the gamekeeper of an estato near Tralee to a gentleman of the town who requested leave for a day’s shooting. “Sure, yer honner may as well do the poaebin os any other blackguard out of Tralee.” Of coowe the gamekeeper meant that the gentle man might as well enjoy the advan tages of the preserves as the boys from Tralee, who were In the habit of sur reptitiously coursing the estate for hares and rabbits. Writing about poaching recalls the comic answer given by a country girl who on offering a salmon for sale to a fishmonger in Limerick was questioned as to bow she had obtained the fish. “Sure,” she ingenuously replied, “my father is poacher to Lord Clare.” Two men were fighting in the streets of Cork. One got the other down and was administering to him a severe pun ishment, when the man below cried ont to tbeonlookers, “Oh, tare us ashunder, or we’ll murdher ache other!”—Loudon Standard. Spencer’a Hooka. Herbert Spencer makes tbe following interesting statement in a letter to tho Loudon Times: “During the first 12 years of my literary life every one of my books failed to pay for its paper, print and advertisements aud for many years after failed to pay my small liv ing expenses—every one of them made me the poorer. Nevertheless the 40,000, - 000 of people constituting the nation de manded of the impoverished brain work er five gratis copies of each. There is only one simile occurring to me which at all represents the fact, and that in but a feeble way—Dives asking alma of Lazarus!" CHINESE JUSTICE. It Is Met oil Out With n VI K or That Shocks Europeans. One night we halted at a place called Huugay, which in the stern, stiff lan guage of “The Universal Gazetteer” may be said to be a small town iu the Yunnan province of China; population about 5,COO; products, fleas aud other small deer. We were making a hurried escape from the wretched place when Lowe suddenly missed his camera. I ve minutes before starting it was strapped on the machine, but now it was gone. A swift run was made to tbe inn. Had tho landlord seen it? No, he had not, and besides he didn’t want to be dis turbed, for ho was eatiug rice. Had anybody seeu tho camera? Not a soul. There was uothiug for it but a visit to the mandarin at the yamen. Ho was a kindly young fellow of about our own age. Ho listened quietly while the loss was explained, and when he understood there had been thieving he turned the color of paper with rage. A troop of soldiery was dispatched to the inn with orders to arrest everybody. There is a Chinese proverb about the advisability of tbe dead keeping out of hell aud tho living out of yamens. Landlord, cook, sweeper, stable cleaner and all the hangers on were, however, marched to the yamen iu chains, and every ono was trembling with fright. There was much confused jabbering. In the end one of tbe men was marched away, but in ten minutes he was brought back with tho camera. His countenance proclaimed him an arrant rogue, and when the mandarin saw that the leather case had been cut open with a knife aud was informed that three photo graphic appliances were still missing his ragowas unbounded. Putting on his magisterial robes, be sentenced the thief to bo thrashed. Ho held up one hand as an inquiry if 50 strokes would be suffi cient punishment. Plenty, intimated tho foreigner. Down was the man pitch ed on his faco, tho legs tied, tho flesh bared and heavy fell tho blows. “Well,” said Lowe, “as I’ve been put to considerable inconvenience over this rascal, I think I’ll take a snap shot of his thrashing. ” And one was taken. The beating went on and on, tho rufliau screamed and blood was running from the wounds on his limbs. “Hasn’t bo hud the 50 yet?” was asked. “Fifty! Why his punishment is 500 strokes, aud he has not had 400 yet.” A plea was put forward for mercy, but tbe mandarin, with bis lips tight, would not listen. It was no good telling him that the quality of mercy was not strained, or that it droppeth like tbe dew from heaven or that it became the monarch better than his crown. Ho was paid to punish offenders, and ho was going to punish them. However, it was soon all over, and the wretch lay on tbe ground groaning, writhing and bleeding. Then in marched the soldiery with five other men heavily manacled. The prisoners fell on their knees aud put their foreheads on the ground. The mandarin heckled the lot like a Parisian judge. He fixed on ono as the ringleader of the robbery. If 500 stripes was the punishment of an accomplice, wbat must be the chastisement of the thief in chief? Torture was reserved for him. He was made to sit on his haunches. His wrists were tied tightly in front of his knees, aud a pole was stuck between his arms and his, legs aud then rested on two tables, so that the cnlprit swung head downward. Strong twine was slip knotted about each big toe, aud two of tho soldiers pulled apart. This necessarily brought a tremendous strain on the roped wrists. They black ened immediately. Tho agony must have been excruciat ing. for tho man screamed. He began curling and twisting, but a soldier went forward and put bis foot on the thief’s dragging pigtail and so kept his head down. The victim foamed at tho mouth, and whenever he was on the point of losing consciousness ho was raised up by the cue to give him breathing space, swung head downward again, and tho twine abont bis toes tugged. It was in vain for the foreigner to appeal that the barbarous torture should cease. There was nothing for it but to forsake tho sickening a#d revolting spectacle.— Travel. # WEAK KIDNEYS arc dangerous Kidneys because they mi arc favorable to the appearance of Bright’S Disease* y Ash Bitters Heals the Kidneys. Cleanses and regulates the Liver. Strengthens the digestion and removes constipated conditions in the Bowels. IT IS FOUR MEDICINES IN ONE. A SYSTEM TONIC PAR-EXCELLENCE. PRICE $1.00 PER BOTTLE. PREPARED BY PRICELY ASH BITTERS CO. NOI.D BY ALL DKLGGISTS. -g 7 - ^ I ^ ^ 'i.'V • ^ ^ Vv ^ ‘Cherokee Drug Co. Special Agents. Before You Buy Your Sieves Examine our stock. We have the Times, Good Times, , 0. K, Oueen 0. K, Prince and Sunny South Cook Stoves. 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