Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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\ NEWS AND HERALD s y SUPPLE! Is/T. E N" T . IL . mmmmmmmmrnummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmrnm MI??? ? y ?' - * Vacation. O worker, weary with tby work, Wora wltb the dally strife, Who knoweth that succesB lt? vain, That dreams fade out of life, Onto thv mnlliftr'a Imurt fnr runt Deep as thy childhood's ule^p, Her tired olilldren safe aud clone Thy mother yet can keep. For still 'tis true, as lu thosq days AJUUK OI 111;IU HUU HUUg, Calm Nature gr?at all mother is, With love and memoty long. Find then, tliou canst, on Nature's heart This solaoe tor thy pain? The Joy that blossoms with the grass. The glad news of the grain, The happy breaking into song Of brook, and bird, and bee, And on the wind that lifts the wave And bends the willing tree. On silent pools beneath the hills, Where qulot shadows lie, On wa$*raswift and changing hue Let tell thy line and fly. Let thy heart dance with dauolng leaves, And with the pattering rain? 8o?halt thou find, though day decline, yby childhood's rpst again. THE ORGAN-GRINDER. iiir.ii _ a. ! jm 1 "JUtttiys KUI> H uonui" twiiu mm, Hall, in a sort of stage whisper, as she spread out the various sections of her half-completed patchwork bed quilt before the Admiring eyed of Mrs. Feckham, her neighbor. "Keepin' reg'lar company I" "La mol" said Mrs. Peckham, at once losing all interest in the "Irishch^ln" pattern ana staring full in the face of Mrs. Hall. "Who is it?" "I duuno's I'd orter tell." "Oh, yes, dot I won't mention it to ?? oftnl V lio#lrk)f />t?f am ItAir M 11T111 OUUli -A- UU liauu V U1VC71 ilDT mysteries from me, as has beeu a neighbo^to you bo long." "You're sure you won't tell?" "Yes, sartiu sure." "Well then, it's Martin Paley." "Well, I never," said Mrs. Peckliam. "Me and L.ouisy, we*ve wondeiedthis time why Martin didn't marry and settle down, with such a nice farm as he's got?real store carpet on tho floor, and a nepr cOokin'-stovo with a water-boiler to jt$e back on't, and everything. And lib- nice good-tempered fellow, too, as ever llvedl" site added, with a sigh. "i suppose," saw jura, nau, witn modest pride, "it ain't every girl would suit-Martin." "Day set yet?" said Mrs. Peckham, ber spectacle glasses all a-glitter with curiosity. "Bless me, U ain't got so far as that yetl" declared Mrs* Hall. "I didn't $ty he'd Dfoposed, did 1? I only said Jte was corn la' here Sunday evenin's." "OliI" said Mrs. Peckharu. "But of course," added the mother of Matty, "everybody knows what that means. And the next time I go to Uudport I shall be sort o' lo ok in' out for bargains in dove-colored silks." "i suppose it wouia oe jusi as wen," said Mrs. Peckham, wistfully. "Loujsy hain't no notion of gettin' settled, has she it" hazarded Mrs. Hall, the height of her satisfaction. ' "Not that I know of." "Well, you mustn't give up," said Mrs. Hall. "I've known girlsmairy? and marry well, too?avter they was older than Loulsy is.'" Mrs. Peek ham bit her lip. "loulsy pin't so very old!" said she. "file's thirty, ain't she?" "Yea; but 1 don't call that dying of ojd age retorted Mrs. Peck ham. ' Matty ain't but three and-twenty," complacently observed Mrs. Hall. "But our family always did marry early." Mrs. Fdekham rose. "I gu$|fj I'd better be going," said she, a Utjfd nettled. "That walk across Qie.tuedaer is awful hot arter the sun ftfta hlghl Mrs. Hall looked after her with a halt suppressed smile, as she trudged down the road, a subdued brown speck on the summer brightness of the land scape. "She's dreadful jealous 'cause .Lou lay's booked for single blessedness I" said she, chuckling. "Lou lay, indeed ?a wa8he$-out, red-haired old maid! /lib more to be compared with our 'M&tty thau a cabbage-stalk with a rtee.J> While Matilda herself, dusting the furniture 4n the best room, looked crit~4 il.A ...^,11 11 ~ M a.A Mwujr ut> mo neii-wuui iigumn ui ui? carpet. "Ma,** sail she, "we must have a new carpet this fall. This ain't hardly decent when a girl has steady company." "I dunnp what your father'll say, Matty," sa^d Mrs. Hall, coming in from the kitchen with a fried cruller amp^ed ontne end of her fork. 'Ta iuttatf no business to be so gtingy," saw Matilda. She wa#?? black-eyed, red-cheeked girl, withSppny hair growing low on her forehead,mid a certain air of domineer xwg comrn^nua wincn comported wen with her cigar, piuk-and-white beauty. Mrs. Hall looked admiringly at her daughter. < "I guess likely he'll let you have your own way," said she. "You ^1 yvays was a great hand to coax. Just taste o> this, ere fried cake, Matty. I ain't certain whether I've got onough cinnamon into the dough." ' Meanwhile, Mrs. Feckham had reached the little wooden house on the edae of tlia swnmn. where her crniuU daughter, Louisa, was hanging out the clothes of the week's wash?a tall, slight girl, with largo gray eyes, rather a colorless complexion, and hair of that bright lluben's gold that Mrs. Peckham had miscalled ''red." ? "It's true, Louisy," said the old woraau, rather spiritlessly. "What's true, granny?" "About Martin Paley and Matty Hall." "Well," with a quick twitch of the upper Up, "why shouldn't it be true?" "I sort o' thought, one time, Louisy, that he was partial to you." .LiouiBa laugueu, not a uaa mutation of careless indifference. "Partiall" said she. "He called a few times, that was ail. I ain't a beauty, you know, like Matilda Hall." But when she came in to put to boll the frugal dinner, consisting of a knuckle of ham and some plantain greens th^t qhe herself had dug out of the grass of the dooryard with a rudty kitchen knife, her eyes looked susplclAllfllu rorl* Q nrl O ffor Mia Hiahaa tuora J v? *?V* MAVV& VUU UIH1IVJ HUl V cleared away she went up to Jier own room, took a withered rosebud or two out of her little Testament and flung them out of the window, murmuring to herself: "What a fool I have been to keep them so long!" The pleasant dusk of the next sunset was purpling the hills when Mrs. Hall called shrilly to her daughter from the spare chamber up stairs: "Matty! Matty I there's one o? them bothering hand-organ men comin' up 'the uath. Send him awuv?mi irk I Mrs. Deacon Dolby lost one of her jjrandmothor's silver teaspoons last Week, and?" Matilda, who was ironing out her one embroidered pocket-handkerchief, set the iron back on the stove apd ran to obey the maternal beqt\est. The broom, unfortunately, was not in its place, as usual, but the kitchenmop was the next handiest weapon that presented itself. She caught it up and brandished it at the door like a modern Amazon. * "Be off about your business!" she cried; in a voice to the full as shrill and sharp as that of her mother. 4 4We don't want no shiftless loafers about here I" The wandering musician hesitated, but Matilda brooked no delay. "Clear out, I say!" she cried, dextrously Hinging the implement of household skill at the marauder. It whirled once or twice through the air, and finally buried its?lf in the hedge of gooseberry bushes bevoud. The man with the organ beat a hasty retreat. Mafty returned to her ironing, and Mrs. Hall laughed aloud from her vantage point above stairs. "1 guess you settled his business for him, Matty," said she, gleefully. 'I've no patience with no such vagabonds," said Matilda, folding up the nanuKercmer. Louisa Peckham was working button-holes in a ve9t?it was the way she earned her living?by the light of a shaded lamp some tweuty minutes later, when there came a knock at the door, and who should walk in but Martin Paley. Good evening, Louisa," said he, "I didn't know as I should And you at home." 'I ain't often away from home," said Louisa, coloring a soft flesh-pink, that made her for the moment almost beautiful. "Sit down, Martin, won't ou?" ^1 can't stay but a little while," said Martin. "I've come on an errand. ? want to know if you will marry me, Louisy." Marry you?" The needle dropi>ed from Louisa's fingers. "I know it must seem sudden-like," apologized Martin. 4,but I've made up my mind sudden>like. A man always does, I suppose, at the last. Will you iuarry. me, T-ouisy?" VWhy?yes?I suppose so," shyly ac?[uiesced Louisa, pretending to search or the mhsing needle?"if you really mean it, Martin, that is." VI do," said Martin, "with all my heifrfc and soul." ; "But I thought you was keeping company wiin Mauiua tiRiir" i- ,4I:dfd go tliote consld'able confessed iMartin, ''but I Bort o' susploioned she ^wouldn't suit mo like you would, Loutsy. So It's a bargain, is it?" And when he went away, he stepped a jninute to take something out of the big cluster of black currant bushes by the gate. > "Why what's that?" said Lousla, who had followed hlrn out. / 4,A trunk?" "N-no," confessed Martin, reddening even In the starlight, "It's a handorgan." I 4 lA?halid-organ I *' "Well,*' said Martin, laughing rather shaine-facedly, *'I may as well own up, Louisy. It won't do for me to have any secrete Irora you, 1 s'pose, arter to-night. But there was a poor, worn-out Italian fellow came to my house this evening with his money, and ?<uu no iiuuu c nau no .iuck all day. And bo I gave him some supper and a bed in the barn, and I just borrowed the organ for a little while. 1 thought it would be a good idea to serenade with." "To serenade? But, Martin, you didn't seronade meV" 4,N-no," said Martin. "I changed my mind. But the tunes are real pretty. Louisv. There's 'Annie T,?iiiio ' and 'Home, Sweet Home,' and 'Twickenham Ferry,' and lots like that. Don't you want me to play some for you?" *'Do," said Louisa. *'I,m real fond of music." Out there in the starlight, the oldfashioned strains of music sounded so plaintively that even Grandmother Peckham opened her up stairs casement to listen. Louisa had never been "serenaded" before. She thought it wan like a page out of the "Arabian Niglits." And honest Martin did not regret his hospitality to the poor tired organgrinder, who, with his monkey, lay coiled up, fast asleep, on the hay in the barn-loft at Paley Farm. But Matty Hall's "steady company" did not coipQ baok to her. olio could not imagine why, when she dressed herself evening after evening, and sat in the best room, by the big lamp with the silk shade, nobody rewarded her persistency. And one afternoou Mrs. Pecklmm came over with a jar of Morella cherries which she had just preserved. 'I know you like preserves," said she. "Here's one of our'n. By-theway, Louisy was married yesterday." "MarriedI" echoed Mrs. Hall. "Yes?quite quiet-like,^' said the grandmother. "To Mai tin Paley." Mrs. Hall turned a dull tallowy white, She could hardly believe her ears. And all the time Martin Paley was saying to himself: "Haven't I had a lucky escape from marrying a woman with a temper like i that?" There are some mysteries which will remain forever unsolved; and to the day of her death, Matilda Hall will probably never know how it was that she tailed to become Mrs. Martin 1'aley. An Experience as Lieutenant. When 8heiia?tn was last lu Chicago he told some friends of an incident of his career as a Second Lieutenant, Fourth Infantry, In 1854. It was In v>uuu?ui/i?u witu chcoh may 10 a t'ayinaster, U. S. A., aurl the safekeeping of about $20,COO The disbursing officer bad provided himself with that Hum, all in gold pieces, in a canvas s<~.ck, intending to use the monev to pay off coj tain troops after the party reached the proper d stinatlon. Meantime the responsibility for the custody of the money was vested in Lieut. Sheridan, who found himself encumheied sviih a t.raulilAMf itrtM vnllniv nlmiliui.t- Tl.u General said that one night tie didn't feel well, so left the camp, ami, taking the money with him. went to sleep In a rough looking house near hv. The lower part of the house Wets filled with the usual Western rough characters, and the Lieutenant knew Hut if he didn't keep one eye open he'd stand a good chance of losing t e gold. Said he, in telling the story; 'During the night ic beeame necessary for me to leave my shake-down and visit the guard, on something. Of course I had to carry the money with me. Then 1 had to luflp it UD-stairB aoraln to mv room. Not many minutes later I had to do the stime thing over again, and the canvas bag was Infernally heavy to carry. There J was, hindered and burdened by a pile of metal, afraid to cro to sleftD lest I should Le robbed: unable to leave it for tho same reason; sweating and anxiouB. My arms ached a good deal that night, lugging that bag in and out, as my necessities compelled, and I've been a convert to paper money ever since." A World for tlio Old Muids. A thoughtful writer nulla nttr>ntim> to the growing willingness of women to go through life mummied. Onco it was considered a bad thing to bo an old maid, and light minded people made fun of one. Now it is different. Some of the. brightest and prettiest women become so much interested in the serious work of. life that they regard husbands as altogether unnecessary inconveniences. They are satisfied with the state of single blessedness, and appear to be just as happy and useful as their married sisters. It is all right. If a woman remains single It is her own affair, and outsiders need not concern themselves about it. As a rule, an old maid is an intellectual and interesting woman. nUIIiDINO TRADITIONS. Iirgcnde Concerning* Structures Intended for Mau's Use. There tire in various parts of the world many curious traditions concerning structures Intended for man's habitation or uro. When the noinad finally strikes his tent, and adopts a fixed structure in some chosen spot ror his future home, much importance U usually laid on tho manner of selecting this spot, then upon certain propitiatory rites deemed necessary to insure tho siifety or continuance of the new dwelling. Many of our modern ceremonies are harmless survivals of these ancient usages,, and these custom-) themselves are still perpetuated by symbolical substitution. If we are to believe ancient authors, many tribes were of old guided to their future homes by mysterious agencies. rue rnocams claimed to nave been lea to a prosperous landing by a seal, Cyrenlans by a raven, the Irptni by a wolf, etc., etc. So the sites of buildings were frequently chosen by these wise animals. Six vultures indicated to lleinusand twelve to llomulus the location of the future mistress of the world. Sometimes these Intelligence guides minster the building materials to a propitious spot. There are many traditions in Euglaud and Scotland, as well as on the continent, of such interference in the choice of a building site. It has been the custom in nearly all lands to attribute to ancient races, or to certain mysterious beings the construction of gigantic works, ancient castles, walls, etc. Among the Greeks, these structured were attributed to the Titans, a race of giants once possessing the earth. So in Scandinavi^, the Jotuns or giant gods performed these mighty feats of construction. In Germany. it WHS t.hfi dwarf mlinhitnnf. nf the mountain cave, in the more romantic lands of southern Europe, }he fairy or witch. In the middle ages, these gave way gradually to the devil, whose influence and reputation spread with the growth of Christendom. In time he proved to be a mighty builder, although his labor was always performed for his personal advantage,. and to the loss of the owner of the habitation. The devil disliked the building of churches, and is seldom credited with assisting in their construction, but frequently tried to prevent their erection. He iB the champion bridge builder in many old world lands, and has bestowed his name, on many a bridge, as, for instance, that on St. Gotliard Pass, over a stream which he alone could spun. An anecdote frequently related of these building enterprises is, in the words of the noet. told of this: I showed you in tho valloy a bowlder Marked with the Imprint of bin shoulder, As he was bearing It up this way, A peasant, pacing, cried "Herr, Je!" And tho devil dropped It in his fright, '' And vanished suddenly out of sight. These stones are shown in many places in Germany, Norway and Denmark. One at Lundborg lias the impress of his form, whore he lay down to rest before attempting tho ascent of a steep hill. In another place are eleven large stones. It is said the devil was carrying the twelfLh up a neighboring hill, when he stopped to rest, lie was unable to resume his burden, which bears the imprint of his shoulder blade. A certain church wall in England is said to bear the imprint of his foot, where he stam|>e(l to show his dellance of popery. A victim is usually required, as the price of his satanic majesty'a services as a a architect. Many stories are told of outwitting him, when a human sacrittce was required. A Swiss peasant obtained diabolic aid in building a bridge across a valley, cheating the architect with a goat. German tales of similar substitution are numerous, a fox, a wolf, a dog, cat, or cock being the sacrifice. It was an universal custom formerly to cause a dog or cat to enter a new house llr.it, as a propitiatory victim. In Yorkshire, it was thought necessary to bury a dog or cat under the church walls, it ghost haunting the church yard. As the devil required. a victim, it was said in Lancashire, that any one counseling or planning rmmit'H. to An ohl hiiUriincr nr t.hn b.iilding of a ne'W one, would die within a year. From this notion of tho devil us a builder, there arose a custom prevalent in muny places during the Middle Ages, and surviving to modern days in Asia and Africa. This was I ho sacrifice of a living being upon tho commencement of a new edlilce, usually by burying alive within tho walln. Greek and I<atiu authors contain many allusions to this practice. A pathetic tale is told of Llebonateln castle, in Germany. A young child is said to have been walled uu in its foundations, having been purchased from its mother. To prevent its cries, it was seated and given playthings. While munchftig a roll as the walls went up, it said, "Motlior, 1 can seo you." Then later, "Mother. I see a little of you still," and dually,4'Mother, I seo nothing of you now." inwniiiwiiijMM mmmmmm The bolder castles of Scotland were, according to legend, washed with feu* blooman d by their savage builders, the Picts. Ballyportree ( castle, in Clare county, Ireland, is said to hav? befen erected by the Danes, who pressed into . service workmen from far and near* and made them labor night and day without rest or food, and when any ' dropped with fatigue or hunger, be was at once immured within the walls. AfMl irnvnl Woruloiiliniiiifl in Inotmi/ini. , .VQVUV4U MMUUim III IIIAVaUW) of such sacrifices. Iu Africa, hundreds of victims suffered >vhod a new palace ' was commenced. Substitutes were afterward chosen, when human saorltlces had been abandoned. In Bulgaria the shadow of some one passing waji walled in. The person thus losing his other self would, it was thought, die Within a year. A dog, cat or cock is still used in many parts of Europe, panish tradition* tell of a lamb being buried under the altar that the church might stand unflhnlf All 1 11 omr If la mvl/1 ? wummv?<i am, MOiiunuT a if in CNUU Vimu it long term of good wpather may be insured by walling in a cock. Modern ceremonies at the laying of the corner stone of a building are doubtless survivals of these ancient heutfren sacrifices. Religious rites are still held, but the victim is 110 longer represented either in person or b^ a substitute. A Miserly Mkn's liuok. I Proverbially considered, the statement that it never rains but it noura and that water runs to the sea express different phases of the same truth, and this particularly irrational, inexplicable ; truth fate spends her tiine iu demonstrating. For instance, take two things that have happened tb one rich, solitary old man in N. Y., within two weeks. His name is well kftown, though Ids ' enormous fortune is not. generally estimated at its true proportions; he does not live like a rich man?is a bit of a miser, lu fact?but a? numbers of people know, is the possessor of numerous millions. He works hard, as his work . is the only thing he ! takes an interest in, aud his only recreation, takeaat the doctor's orders, is hqrse-back riding In ' the park. - *- - it i- A jlyj ciliaiiguiis UU I1V0S lO pui up ft poor mouth, for one thing, for the simple pleasure of seeing them fooled; and he recently told a business acquaintance that he was t<jo poor to have a . good horse: the buajnese acquaintance * was a rich Kentuckiqm, uot rich as compared to the other,, but rich for Kentucky. Touched byjtlie old man's bad mount, a thing that seemed more tragic to him than it would to any but a Kentuckian, he presenteq him with a superb saddle horse, a sonj of Golddust, perfectly trained and worth a small fortune. A week later an old Californian, whom the old) sinner had not i? i ?-* ?-* ?? vuuukiii' ui in nvciuj uu( waoiil lie had known in hfy youth, and who had grown misanthropical with old age and hated every tiling around him, dies . and leaves said O. S.t another enormous fortune. What is to bo said l'or a world where such tilings be? Professor Gustav fcetzius has a chapter in hid sketches ofi Finland, respecting the uses which the Finnish people make of biroh bark! Shoes me made of it. The bark, having been peeled, U cut into strips, rolled up carefully aud put away for futur^ use. When the Finnish peasant wants a new pair of shoes he takes one of his rolls, cuts it up into strips of suitable width, soaks it in water to soften at,and then weaves it into the form he' desires. It is all done very rapidly; a half hour or less sometimes sufficing ijor the whole work. Manv other uses are found for birch bark. The slieatb in' whicli the peasant carries his inseparable knife la made of it. It is woven into? pockets or bags of various sizes, which ' are used all over Finland. Birch bark is made into salt tubs, cords and lined!, brushes for washIns out wooden vebBels, boxes, sieves and tubs, and many' other articles for which wo use wood ^r basket material. ?Under very special consideration just ?ii yia-auv la lusjiraYHmig uoatume, and the modiste flnfls it quite a problem to reconcile the yvarious contradictory requirements jnade of such a dress, which must' be fashioned lu great simplicity, and yet be decidedly original and stylish In effeot?must be a utility garment, appropriate for long Journeys while remaining dressy, perfect In flt, yet comfortable. and as light and easy to 'wear as may be. Plain wool goods find wools In fine checks and straws are most used for such dresses. However elegant the dieitH amy be In fa ilt and ilnish, the more nearly the costume approaches to the rld^ug-hablt the more in ucuoruttiiuu il i? witu prosem* ihbulonuble tuste. The long (lust cloak of% twilled Bilk, shirred about the neck, id lined with a thin but Arm quality of surah of the same color, or at most one delicately striped or checked, for anything that wllf attract marked attention is considered in bad taste where a traveling costume is concerned