WWE: Live Tickets at Crown Coliseum in Fayetteville, NC in Fayetteville, Arkansas For Sale

WWE "World Wrestling Entertainment" xxxx Tickets & Schedule
WWE: Live
Crown Coliseum - The Crown Center
Fayetteville, NC
Friday
1/3/xxxx
7:30 PM
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Bon Secours Wellness Arena (formerly Bi-lo Center)
Greenville, SC
Monday
5/12/xxxx
7:30 PM
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BJCC Arena
Birmingham, AL
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4/14/xxxx
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Over the open space in front of the main THE disturbance of the magnetic needle had announced the coming of the Northern Lights, even before the sun had set, and the balloon was being filled with hydrogen gas, when the transparent green color, which is the unmistakable forerunner of an Aurora Borealis, appeared in the North. In a few hours more the preparations were completed. The atmosphere was limpid, the sky cloudless. The stars sparkled in a moonless heaven, brightened only in the magnetic regions of the North by a circle of soft light, which shot forth rosy and greenish flames that seemed like the throbbings of the heart of some unknown and mysterious being. The father of Iclea, who was present at the inflation of the balloon, had no suspicion of his daughter's intention. At the last moment she entered the parachute as if for the purpose of examining it. Spero gave a signal and the balloon rose slowly and majestically above the city of Christiania, which, with its thousands of lights, gradually diminishing in size, soon disappeared from the gaze of the two aerial voyagers as they ascended into the dark regions of space. The balloon, taking an oblique direction, soared lightly above the dark regions below, whose lights paling gradually, soon disappeared from view. The noises of the city were at the same time lost in distance, and a profound silence, the silence of the upper regions, enveloped the aerial boat. Impressed by the strange stillness, and still more, perhaps, by the novelty of her position, Iclea clung to her intrepid companion. They were now ascending rapidly in the air. The Aurora Borealis seemed to descend toward them, spreading itself beneath the stars like a floating drapery of gold and purple, shot with electric lights. Spero, by the aid of a small glass globe containing glow-worms, took observations from time to time with his instruments, marking the degrees indicated by them as they ascended. The balloon continued to mount. What intense joy for the scientist! In a few moments they should reach the plane of the lights. He was about to solve the problem of the altitude of the Aurora Borealis, which so many famous scientists, chief among them his beloved masters, the two great "psychologists and philosophers," Oersted and Ampère, had attempted to solve in vain. Iclea had recovered her calmness. "Are you then afraid?" her friend asked her. "The balloon is safe, there is nothing to be feared; every possible accident has been provided against; we shall descend in an hour. There is not a breath of wind blowing from the earth.""No," she said, while a flame lighted up her figure with a transparent, rosy brightness. "I am not afraid, but it is all so strange, so beautiful, so divine; to me, in my insignificence, it seems sublime. I trembled for an instant. It seems to me that I love you more than ever --"The solitary balloon sailed on through the aerial heights in silence, a globe of transparent gas enveloped in a frail, silken covering, of which they could descry, from the parachute, the vertical divisions meeting at the top around the ring of the valve, the inferior part of the balloon remaining wide open for the expansion of the gas. The "obscure brightness" of which Corneille speaks, shed by the stars, would have given light enough without the light of the Aurora Borealis, to distinguish the form of the aerial vessel. The parachute, suspended to the network enveloping the silken globe, was fastened by eight solid cords woven into the wicker-work surrounding it and passing under the feet of the aeronauts. The silence was solemn and profound; they could almost hear the beating of their hearts. The last sounds of earth had sunk into silence. They moved at a disiance of five thousand yards above the Earth, borne along with incredible swiftness by the upper current of the atmosphere, of which, however, they felt nothing, for a balloon is submerged in the moving current of air and remains motionless in it, as if it formed a part of it. Sole inhabitants of those elevated regions, our two travelers experienced in their novel situation, the exquisite happiness felt by those who breathe this pure and exhilarating atmosphere, and soaring above the world below, forget in the silence of space, all the meannesses of our terrestrial system. And they, better than any of those who have preceded them, were able to enjoy the charms of this unique situation, heightened tenfold by the feeling of their own happiness. They conversed in low tones as if they feared to be overheard by the angels, and that the magic spell should be broken that held them suspended near to Heaven. At times, sudden flashes, the lights of the Aurora Borealis, passed before their gaze, then everything returned to an obscurity more profound and more fathomless than before.They continued sailing on, as in a dream, among the stars, when a sudden sound like a dull hissing greeted their ears. They leaned over the edge of the parachute and listened attentively. The sound did not come from the earth. Was it the hum of the electric currents of the Aurora Borealis? Was it some magnetic disturbance in the upper regions of the air? Lights flashed suddenly from the depths of space, illumining their figures for a moment, then vanished. They listened breathless -- the sound was close beside them -- it was the gas escaping from the balloon.Spero soon discovered the cause of the sound that had alarmed them, but it was with terror that he did so, for it was impossible to close the valve again. He examined the barometer, which began to rise slowly -- the balloon, then, was descending. And the descent, slow at first, but inevitable, would go on increasing in mathematical proportion. Looking into the space below them, they saw the lights of the Aurora Borealis reflected in the burnished mirror of a vast lake.The balloon descended with velocity until it was not more than three thousand yards above the ground. Although outwardly calm, the unfortunate aeronaut did not deceive himself as to the imminence of the danger. He threw overboard, in succession, all the ballast that remained, the rugs, the instruments, the anchor, until the parachute was empty; but this lightening of the balloon was insufficient, and served to diminish its velocity but for an instant. Descending, or rather falling now, with inconceivable rapidity, the balloon was only a few hundred yards above the surface of the lake. A violent wind began to blow from below, and whistled about their ears.The balloon whirled around, as if caught in a waterspout. Suddenly George Spero felt himself clasped in a close embrace, his lips pressed by a long kiss. "My Master, my Lord, my All, I love thee!" she cried, and parting the cords with her hands she precipitated herself from the balloon.The fall of Iclea's body into the deep waters of the lake produced a dull sound, strange and terrible, in the silence of the night. Mad with anguish and despair, his hair bristling with horror, looking into space, but beholding nothing, while the balloon shot up to the height of a thousand yards, he hung with all his weight on the cord of the valve in the hope of descending to the scene of the catastrophe; but the cord did not work. He fumbled at it in the darkness, but without result. He felt under his hand the little veil of his beloved, which had remained caught among the cords, the light, little perfumed veil, still impregnated with the intoxicating perfume of his beautiful companion's breath. He examined the cords closely, fancied he discovered the impress her little clinched hands had made upon them, and placing his hands where a few seconds before Iclea's had rested, threw himself from the balloon.Some fishermen, who had witnessed the tragedy, had rowed quickly to the place where the young girl had fallen into the lake, and had succeeded in rescuing her. She was still alive, but all the cares lavished upon her could not prevent a fever supervening. In the morning the fishermen put in at one of the little towns on the borders of the lake, and carried her to their humble dwelling. She had not once recovered her senses. "George!" she would cry, opening her eyes, "George!" and that was all. On the following day she heard the tolling of the village bell. "George" she repeated," George!" They had found his body, a formless mass, a few steps distant from the borders of the lake. His fall, from a height of more than a thousand yards, had commenced above the lake, but the body, still keeping the motion communicated to it by the horizontal movement of the balloon, had not fallen vertically, it had descended obliquely, following the line of progress of the balloon, and had dropped, a mass precipitated from the sky, into a field on the borders of the lake, had left a deep imprint on the ground, and rebounded to a distance of a yard from the spot where it had fallen. The very bones even, were ground to powder, and the brains had escaped from the skull. Scarcely was his grave closed than another was opened beside it for Iclea, who died calling, with her latest accents, "George! George!"One stone covered both their tombs, and the same willow cast its shadow over their last sleep. To this day the dwellers on the borders of the beautiful Lake Tyrifiorden preserve in their hearts a sad remembrance of the catastrophe, now almost a tradition, and they never point out the stone that covers the graves of the lovers to the traveler, that it does not bring to their minds the mournful memory of a vanished dream.DAYS, weeks, months, seasons, years pass swiftly on this planet, and doubtless also on the others. More than twenty times already had the Earth made its annual revolution around the sun, since the day when Fate so tragically closed the book which my young friends had been reading for not quite a year; their happiness had passed swiftly, their day had ended in its dawn. I had, if not forgotten, [*] at least ceased to think of them, when, quite recently, in a hypnotic séance, at Nancy, where I had stopped for a few days on my way to the Vosges, I was led to question a "subject" by whose aid in their investigations, the savants of the Stanislas Academy had obtained some of those truly marvelous results with which the scientific press has been astonishing us for some years past. I do not remember how it happened that he and I entered into a conversation concerning the planet Mars.After describing a country situated on the shores of a sea known to astronomers by the name of the Sea of Sathir, and a solitary island which rises from the bosom of this sea, after describing the picturesque scenery and the reddish vegetation of these shores, the cliffs against which the waves dash ceaselessly, the sandy beach, on which they die away, the subject, who was a sensitive of extraordinary power, suddenly grew pale, and carried his hand to his forehead. His eyes closed, he contracted his brows, he seemed trying to grasp an idea that fled from him. "See!" cried Doctor B----, raising his hand with a gesture of command --As if he did not himself understand what he had just said, he seemed making painful efforts to find an explanation of it in his thought, the muscles of his countenance became violently contracted, and he fell into a sort of catalepsy from which Doctor B---- made no delay in delivering him. But the instant of lucidity had passed, and returned no more.I give this last incident in conclusion, to the reader, as I witnessed it, and without comment. Had the subject, according to the hypothesis of not a few hypnotists, been influenced by the thoughts passing through my mind, when the doctor commanded him to answer my question? Or, more independent, had his spirit really freed itself for the time from the bonds of matter, and caught sight of things passing beyond our sphere? This is what I shall not take it upon myself to decide. Perhaps the conclusion of this narrative will tell.I will admit, however, without hesitation, that the resurrection of my friend and his adored companion on Mars, a planet near our own, and resembling it so closely as it does, although older and doubtless more advanced in progress, might seem to the thinker the logical and natural continuation of their terrestrial existence, so soon cut short.No doubt Spero was right in saying that matter is not what it appears to be, that appearances are deceitful, that the real is the invisible, that spirit is indestructible, that in the eternal world the infinitely great is one with the infinitely little, that the celestial regions are not separated from us, and that souls are the seed of the planetary populations. Who can say that the science of dynamics will not one day reveal to the student of the heavens the religion of the future? May not Uranie hold in her hand the torch without whose light no problem can be solved, without which all nature would remain hidden from our gaze in impenetrable obscurity? The heavens should interpret the earth, the infinite should explain the soul and its spiritual faculties.The unknown of today is the reality of tomorrow. The following pages may perhaps throw some light on the mysterious bond that unites the transitory to the eternal, the visible to the invisible, the earth to the heavens.* Curious coincidences sometimes happen. On the day on which Spero made the ascension which was to prove fatal to him, I knew that he had precipitated himself into space, by the extraordinary agitation of the compass, which announced at Paris, where I then was, the occurrence of the Aurora Borealis he had so anxiously waited for, to make the ascent. It has been proved, indeed, that the presence of those lights may be known at a distance, by the magnetic disturbances they produce, but what surprised me most, and what I have not yet been able to explain, was the fact that the very hour of the catastrophe, I experienced an indefinable feeling of malaise, followed by a sort of presentiment that some misfortune had befallen him. The telegram which announced to me his death, found me almost prepared for it.THE magnetic séance at Nancy had left a vivid impression on my mind. I often thought of my departed friend, of his researches into the unexplored domains of nature and life, and of his earnest and original investigations regarding the mysterious problem of immortality. But I could now no longer think of him without associating with him the idea of a possible reincarnation in the planet Mars.This idea appeared to me bold, rash, chimerical, if you will, but not absurd. The distance from our earth to Mars is as nothing where the transmission of the force of attraction is concerned; it is almost insignificant in the case of light, since a few minutes suffice for a wave of light to traverse those millions of leagues. I thought of the telegraph, the telephone, the phonograph, the will power of the magnetiser exercised over his subject miles away, and at times I asked myself if it might not one day be possible, through some gigantic stride in scientific discovery, to throw a celestial bridge from our world to its sister spheres in space.During my observation of Mars through the telescope, on the succeeding night, I was distracted by a thousand strange ideas. The planet was, however, as interesting, from a scientific point of view, as it had been during the entire spring and summer of xxxx. Vast inundations had taken place on one of its continents, the Libye -- as had happened once before, in xxxx, according to the observations made by astronomers, under different circumstances. It was ascertained that its meteorology and its climatolgy are not the same as ours, and that the waters that cover about one-half the surface of the planet undergo singular displacements and periodical changes, of which terrestrial geography can give no idea. The snows of the north pole had greatly diminished, a fact which proved the summer on that hemisphere to have been warm, although less so than the summer on the southern hemisphere. For the rest, there have been very few clouds over Mars during the whole series of our observations. But strange as it may seem, it was not these scientific facts, important as they were, and the basis of all our conjectures, which most occupied my thoughts, it was what the sensitive had told me concerning George and Iclea. The fantastic ideas which passed through my brain, prevented me from making any observation of scientific value. I continually asked myself if communication could not exist between two beings remote from each other, or even between the living and the dead, and each time I answered myself that such a question was in itself anti-scientific and unworthy of a practical mind.What is there that is not "scientific" in nature? Where are the limits of abstract science? Is the body of a bird really of more scientific significance than his brilliant plumage, or his song with its varied cadences? Is the skeleton of a pretty woman less worthy of attention than her structure of flesh and her living form? Is not the analysis of the emotions of the soul scientific? Is it not scientific to seek to know if the soul can really see from afar, and how? And then what is this strange vanity, this naïve presumption of ours to imagine that science has said its last word; that we know all that there is to know; that our five senses are sufficient to comprehend the nature of the universe? To say that we can recognize, amongst the forces which act around us, attraction, light, electricity, is this to say that there are no other forces which escape our knowledge because we have not the faculty to perceive them? It is not this hypothesis which is absurd, it is the naïveté of the pedagogues and academicians. We smile at the ideas of the astronomers, the philosophers, the physicians, the theologians of three centuries ago. In three centuries more, will not our successors in the sciences smile in their turn at the assertions of those who pretend in our day to know everything?The physicians to whom I communicated, fifteen years ago, the magnetic phenomena observed by me in certain experiments, one and all, denied absolutely the reality of the facts observed. I met one of them recently at the Institute: "Oh!" said he, not without shrewdness, "then it was magnetism, now it is hypnotism, and it is we who study it. That is a very different thing."'Moral: Let us deny nothing positively. Let us study, let us examine; the explanation will come later. I was in this frame of mind, when, pacing up and down my library, my eyes fell on an elegant edition of Cicero, which I had not looked at for some time. I took one of the volumes, opened it at random, and read as follows: "Two friends arrived at Megara and put up at separate lodgings. One of them had hardly fallen asleep when he saw his traveling companion before him, who said to him with a tragic air, that his host had formed a plan to assassinate him, begging him at the same time to go as quickly as possible to his assistance. The other awoke, but convinced that he had been deceived by a dream, he soon fell asleep again. His friend appeared to him anew and entreated him to hasten, as the murderers had just entered his room. Much troubled, he could not help feeling surprised at the persistence of the dream, and was inclined to go to the help of his friend, but reason and fatigue finally prevailed, and he lay down again. Then his friend appeared to him a third time, pale, bleeding, disfigured. "Unhappy man," he said to him, "you would not come to me when I implored you. It is too late to help me now: all that remains is to avenge me! Go at sunrise to the gate of the city. You will meet there a cart laden with manure; stop it, and order it to be unloaded; you will find my body concealed in it. Render me the honor of burial; seek out my murderers and punish them." Persistence so determined, details so minute, allowed of no more hesitation. The friend arose, hastened to the gate indicated, and overtook and stopped the driver, who, surprised, made no attempt at resistance, and the body of the murdered man was at once discovered, concealed in the cart."This incident seemed to come expressly in support of my opinions regarding these unsounded problems. Doubtless there will not be wanting theories in explanation of the occurrence. It may be said that the story did not happen just as Cicero relates it, that it has been amplified or exaggerated; that two friends arriving at a strange city, might well fear some misfortune, that, fearing for the life of his friend, and fatigued by the journey, it might easily happen that one of them should dream of his friend being the victim of an assassination. As to the episode of the cart, the travelers might have seen one in the inn-yard, and the principle of the association of ideas accounts for its connection with the dream. Yes, one may make all these explanatory hypotheses, but they are only hypotheses. To admit that there was really communication between the dead and the the living is a hypothesis also.This incident seemed to come expressly in support of my opinions regarding these unsounded problems. Doubtless there will not be wanting theories in explanation of the occurrence. It may be said that the story did not happen just as Cicero relates it, that it has been amplified or exaggerated; that two friends arriving at a strange city, might well fear some misfortune, that, fearing for the life of his friend, and fatigued by the journey, it might easily happen that one of them should dream of his friend being the victim of an assassination. As to the episode of the cart, the travelers might have seen one in the inn-yard, and the principle of the association of ideas accounts for its connection with the dream. Yes, one may make all these explanatory hypotheses, but they are only hypotheses. To admit that there was really communication between the dead and the the living is a hypothesis also.It was at Toul, his native place. One beautiful evening he was lying on his little bed, awake, when he saw his mother enter his room, walk across the floor, and go into the next room, of which the door was open, where his father was playing cards with a friend. At the time his mother was at Pau very ill. He arose immediately from his bed and ran after the apparition into the room, where he looked for her in vain. His father, with some impatience, scolded him, and, telling him that he had been dreaming, sent him back to his bed. The child, convinced at first that it was so, went back to bed and tried to go to sleep. But some moments later, his eyes being wide open, he distinctly saw his mother a second time pass quite near to him, and this time he sprang toward her to embrace her. But she vanished on the instant. He did not wish to go back to bed, but remained in the room with his father, who went on playing cards. On that very day, and at that very hour, his mother had expired at Pau.
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