Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, proprietor, j ^ |oDtj)tiiknf Jfamifg fttfospaptr: Jfor % promotion of ftt ^political, jpotial, Hgriralforal anb Coimntrtial Jnteists of % Soulf). }terms--$2.5? A year, in advance. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 1883. ' ::n NO: 8. Ifte j^tonr Idler. AZ = | ;i ' A PEACEMAKER. , J Old Jasper Trently sat alone in his library one chill October evening. In fact, he was ; generally alone, and his solitary life, though of his own choosing, was fast changing him into a gloomy, morose man. AH around him were evidences of wealth; velvet carpets, silken' draperies, statuary and rare paintings, and a library of wellbound volumes, worth of themselves a small forturte ;1)tit there was an aching void in his crusty, old heart, that even these things failed to fill. Over the mantel hung a portrait, a handsome, boyish face with frank, blue eyes and a sensitive, smiling mouth. The poise of the head betokened pride and self-will, and the square chin looked very resolute, but j 1L" fmn untl lpnt ! me eyes w ei e miiu auu >??. ..... a charm to the whole countenance. Old Jasper looked up at the handsome, smiling faee and sighed. He would have the portrait hung there where lie could see it every day, even though its original was banished from his sight forever. And sometimes, when he felt the resentment dying out of his heart and his pride giving way to kinder feelings, he would turn away from the picture, lest in his softer mood, the tender lips and pleading eyes would make him yield the forgiveness for which the TnaTrwasrtoo pTottd*tou?dr: ? "A-young lady, sir," announced the butler ht the door,: and thebfd man started ltom his reverie. Calls were not frequent at Trently Manor. "I'll see her here," he said shortly. She came in timidly, a small, slender girl with a pretty, oval face, and dark, wistful eyes. Jasper Trently glanced her over with a look of approval and motioned to her a seat. "Your face looks familiar," he said, "yet I do not recollect having seen you before." "I am Hilda Vinton," she answered; "Percy Vinton's daughter." The old man started from his seat. "Percy Vinton's daughter !" he exclaimed. "Is it possible? well, yes, you have your fathers features. V hat brings you here ?" His manner was not unkind, though he spoke so brusquely. "I have been an orphan for a year," Hilda said, and her voice quivered. "They both died in France, and I was thrown 011 my own resources. Father never found the fortune he was expecting, you know." "No, though we both started together in life. He was a dreamy man, never meant for real work, though I remember his Wild talk about the wealth he would have one day. Poor fellow ! so he's dead ?" He stared - at the glowing coals with dreamy eyes, and shook his bald head sadly. Then his mood changed and he leaned forward in his chair with flushing face. "I tried to keep him steady," he said, excitedly, "but it was 110 use. He was like a rolling stone, here, there, and all over, and precious little moss he ever gathered. When he planned that foolish expedition to Europe," I was thoroughly vexed with him, but when he married a pretty French singer the first year without a cent to live on, I washed my hands of him altogether." "She was a good wife/' Hildasaid, gently. Then, when the old man's excitement had subsided, she continued : "Father mention' 1 ' 1 1 4., .1.1 ed the quarrel, out oeiore lie uieu ne iuiu me what staunch friends you used to be, and though lie hadn't heard from you for years, lie had kept track of you and gave nie your fl<Mress. jTe told irielFT was ever in trouble, to come to you, and he was sure you would help me. * I did my best for awhile, but I was poor and unknown, and everything went wrong, so I made up my mind to take father's advice, and " "And here you are," interrupted Jasper Trently. "Poor Percy! Well he was a good fellow, after all, though 110 man for business." "I have been well educated," said Hilda, "and thought, with your influence, I might secure a good position as governess. I am willing to work hard, sir." Jasper Trently surveyed her with kindly favor. He admired her spirit, and her face, so like her father's despite its foreign eyes and complexion, awakened the dormant affection for his old friend. The little ormulu clock chimed ten. "We'll talk it over to-morrow. You look tired, and doubtlessly need rest," he said, and rang for the housekeeper. They met again early the next morning. The old man told Hilda his purpose at once. "1 need some one here; the place is lonely. If you will stay, I will remunerate you well," he said. His first thought had been to offer her a home there without duties or compensation, but he knew that she was too proud to accept a dependent position, and adroitly worded his proposal. Hilda Vinton thanked him with tears of gratitude in her eyes. "Are you sure that you need me, sir?" she asked. "I did not expect this." , "Yes, 1 need you. There is 110 one 1 would rather have here than Percy Vinton's daughter." Ho Hilda remained at Trently Manor. Thedayswent by. Gradually there came a changeof affairs in the lonely mansion. It lost its old gloominess; the silken curtains were parted to admit the sunlight, fresh flowers from the conservatory mien tne empty vases, the old-fashioned piano was uncovered, and its tones, clear and sweet as in the olden time, echoed through the vast rooms, when Hilda's dainty fingers pressed the yellow keys. ()ld Jasper grew cheerful and genial under the sunny influence, and life assumed a brighter aspect to him. But he was not quite content. Hilda found hi 111 one day leaning on the library mantel with his eyes 011 the portrait al>ove. They wore a wistful expression, and his face looked sad and grave, almost regretful. "Who is it, sir?" she asked softly. The old man frowned on her, then turned with sudden impulse. "Tliat's Charlie, my nephew, Charlie," he said, with emotion. "1 have never spoken of him to you, my dear, but he is seldom out of my mind. We used to get along famously, hut he was wild a hit, and sell willed, and one day we quarreled. I don't think either of us meant one word we slid then, hut we were both very angry, and the end of it was I ordered him from my house forever. He took me at my word, and I j ^ have not seen him since." You loved him, sir?" asked Hilda. "As my own son," he answered; then with sudden bitterness, "but he did wrong. I was in the right, and he was too stubborn to yield. 1 told him I would never forgive 1 him." "Oh, I am sure you will." Hilda laid her hand on the old man's arm I and looked at him w ith wistful eyes. They j laid grown to be very fond of each other, j and the bright young girl held a deep place | in the old man's affections. "I'm sure you will," she repeated. "He ! was such a boy then, you know, and he has j repented." ."How do you know?" old Jasper asked | fiercely. "He will neverrepent, I tell you." | "Iftt ton Wind and true to hnrbor re- : sent men t long," said Hilda. "Won't you write to him, sir, and tell him he may come back ?" He shook his head slowly and his features grew hard and cold again. I le was not ready to yield just yet, but Hilda hoped that at some future day he would grant her request J and send for his wayward nephew. Sum-! mer came and passed. It was October again, but Jasper Trendy did not dread now the coming winter with its bleak days and long we^ry nights. lie was lonely 110 longer ; Hilda l>ecame i a constant companion, brghtening his life with her sunny presence, and whiling away the hours that were once so tedious. Stting one evening at twilight at the old piano, she began the ballad of "ltobiu Aclair." With the first notes old Jasper started up and laid his hand on her shoulder. "Don't, don't," he exclaimed tremulously; "that was always Charlie's favorite. Don't sing: it." Hilda had never seen him so moved ; she thought it would be a good opportunity to plead for the absent lad, and oegan with-; out delay, earnestly and appealingly while I the old man listened and did not silence her. "Oh, sir, please forgive him. I know he is sorry. It will be best for you both. Won't you forgive him ?" "But I was right, persisted the old man. "Yes, I know, but he was so young and thoughtless. I don't think he deserves such severe punishment." "Well, yes, I'll forgive him." Old Jasper spoke reluctantly, but Hilda knew that he would not retract his words. "And you will write and tell him so?" Hilda added. A change came over the old man's face; it grew sad and thoughtful. "Alas ! I don't know where he is now," he answered ; "but 1 will try to find him." Hilda rose from the piano unci Kiieiinnus i side. "Mr. Trently," she said, slowly, "I, too, must ask for forgiveness. Would you grant it when I tell you I have deceived you ?" "Deceived me ? I cannot understand." .Briefly she. related her story. "Before father (lied we met your nephew, Charlie Trently. Father welcomed him at once for your sake, and he visited us very j often. Then when I was left alone I hail j 110 other friend, so I turned to him, and?j and a few months later we were married." i She looked up timidly at old Jasper's face, but it was non-committal and he maintained a grim silence. "I did it for Charlie's sake," she went on. "He was willing to return to you, but he said it would be useless, so I came, and? and?oh, Mr. Trently, can you ever forgive me ?" For a moment the old man sat silent and motionless, then to her surprise, he lient and kissed her forehead. "You have done me a great favor, my dear," he said, gently, and he thought of the past years, lonely and profitless, before this young girl came. With those in mind he could not resent her deception; then, too, he was touched by her devotion and perseverance. Charlie came a few days later, and the old feud was forgotten. -.x XI - . ?1?S\1|1/1 J JUnilg lilt! yours UUVt lUlli;?nit ii nuuiu be difficult to find a happier trio than old Jasper Treritly, of Trent!y Manor, his nephew Charlie, and the idol of their hearts, sweet, Hilda, the little peacemaker. awHwii Maiik Twain's Litkhaky Habits.? A correspondent of the Philadelphia Times writing about Mark Twain's Washington correspondent days, says: To Twain's room, however, the visitor was always welcome, for by nature Twain is so lazy that he will not work if there is an excuse for loafing. He had a little back room that was a novelty, a museum, a hermit's cave, a den for wild animals, and the wild animal was there. In this room Clemens wrote his "Innocents Abroad." I wish you could seen it to day, in the light of Mark Twain's present reputation and his $f?(M>,(XK) of money. I am rather hardened now, but I remember it shocked me at the time. The little drum stove was full of ashes, running over 011 the zinc sheet, which was covered all over; the bed seemed to be unmade for a week, the slops had not been carried out in a fortnight, the room was sour wifh "Tobacco smoRerriKnroor, mrry enough to begin with was littered with newspapers, from which Twain had cut his letters. Then there were hundreds of pieces of torn manuscripts which had been written and then rejected by the author. A dozen pipes were about the apartment? on the washstand, on the mantel, on the writing table, on the chairs?everywhere ' ' til... 1.' 1 % .V.l 4-lw.wn nuit room count no toumi. mm uu-n: ??.-> tobacco, and tobacco everywhere. One thing, there were no Hies. The smoke had killed them, and I am now surprised it did not kill me, too. Twain would not let a servant come into his room. He would strip down his suspenders (his coat and vest, of course, being off) and walk backward and forward in slippers in bis little room and swear and smoke the whole day long. Of course, at times be would work, and when he (lid work, it was like a steam engine at full head. I do believe that if Clemens had not been under contract to write for the Hartford firm his "Innocents Abroad" be never would have published it. Watkk.?Water is so common that few persons think of it as the most important factor in the building up and civilization of the world. The rocks were mud and sand made by water and laid down by it, one kind on top of another. Coal, made of plants, was covered up by water, so that the rotten plants were kept there and changed to coal. Veins of lead, copper, gold, silver and crystal, were cracks in the rocks, tilled with water that had these precious things dissolved in it. And water, as ice (glaciers,) ground up rock into earth, in which plants can grow, the sea and streams helping to do the work. Water builds plants, and animals too. Three quarters of what they are made of is water. When you pay twenty cents for a peck of potatoes you are really paying fifteen of the cents for the water that is contained in the potatoes. A boy who weighs eighty pounds, if perfectly dried up, would only weigh twenty pounds. And there can be no pota toes or boy without water, it must uissolve things to make them into new things; and it carries them where they are wanted to build the new things. It softens food, and then as watery blood carries the food to every part of the body to make new flesh and bones, then we grow and have strength. It carries the plant's food up into the plant. Water carries man and goods in boats, and, as steam, drives the cars. It makes the wheels go in the factories. It is a great worker, and we could not get along without it. It makes much of the beauty in the world. Home Ixkh enck.?Our home influence is not a passing but an abiding one ; and all powerful for good or evil, for peace or strife, for happiness or misery. Each separate home lias been likened to a central sun, around which revolves a happy and united band of warm, loving hearts, acting, thinking, rejoicing, and sorrowing together. Which member of the family group can say, I have no influence ! What sorrow or what happiness lies in the power of each ! "A lighted lamp," writes MeC'heyne, "is always a very small thing, and it burns calmly and without noise, yet it giveth light to all who are within tlie house." And so there isquiet influence which, like the flame of a scented lamp, tills many a home with light and fragrance. Such an influence has been beautifully compared t.o "a carpet, soft and deep, which while it diffuses a look of ample comfort, deadens many a creaking sound. It is the curtain which from many 1 1 ' e- 'i Hw> <ntii. H IH'lOVt'U HIIIII UillUS wii <n wiiw ?.?v- , liter's {flow and the winter's wind. It is the pillow on which sickness lays its head, and forgets half its misery! This influence falls as the re freshing dew, the invigorating sunbeam, the fertilizing shower, shining on all with the mild lustre of moonlight, and harmonizing in one soft tint many of the discordant hues of a family picture." flei?" The woman suffragists of Massachusetts have had their annual hearing before a I legislative committee, and been countered on by a petition signed by sixty ladies of j the first families of Ifoston, protesting' against being saddled with political duties. J The programme this Winter in Massachusetts is to push for municipal suffrage, on the argument that women whose property is taxed by municipal corporations have an indefeasable right to be represented in the administration, and instancing the precedent of the voting of women in municipal affairs in Kuglaud and Scotland. ^Wt.srrUanrou.s ft failing. HE TURNED AND KlWDED THEM. A CANDID MUSICAL CRITIC. Night brooded over the scene?a habit | that night has between the hours of sunset | and sunrise. During those hours the sun ! rarely shines in our latitude, and night has j everything its own way; with a clear held to itself. Godfrey Stiehlnen sat at his table in the sanctum of the Morning Tamboree, his idle pencil in his listless fingers, and his aching ! head resting upon one weary hand. The I solitary bell in a distant steeple had just j tolled I A. M. There was a famine of copy on the hook, and the echo of the clamors of the "comps" came nimbliii" in ghostly cadences down the speaking tune, and once the sarcastic tones of the foreman's voice ' penetrated the dismal sanctum, conveying 1 to Mr. Stiehlpen the entirely superfluous | information that this "was not an afternoon ' paper," and furthermore that he "would like to go to press before the men went to ! dinner." Mr. Stiehlpen sighed heavily, , and in an abstracted manner turned over the closely written pages of his note-book, j! For twenty-two years he had sat at that j, table and praised everything that came !' within fifty miles of Shawneetown. Horses,' 1 bird-dogs, new houses, minstrel troupes, I, new goods, lectures, eminent citizens, big I, radishes, tall corn, long jumps, speeches, I brass bands, imported cows, fine waltzers, new roads, wagons, fancy gates, concerts, fairs, hops and debating societies. He had noted the uprising of the eminent citizen, and observed his lying down ; he watched his coming and going and to-night he was j weary. lLe had written up two speeches, . a social lion, a nine hundred dollar horse, an imported pig, a new fence, a big egg, a seventeen-pound tumor, a lecture, and here was a concert to be written up. lie knew what a delicate matter this was. lie knew what woe waited upon his footsteps if he failed to notice each performer at length and in perfect detail. Wrath and denunciation hovered above his head, ready to fall in one destroying deluge if he said anybody sang or played better than anybody else. How could lie meet the father of the young lady who wore the expensive dress on the stage, and yet got a notice four lines shorter than the shoemaker's daughter who had nothing in the world but her voice to commend her to public notice ? How could he look Miss Uppereea in the face when in his description of her exquisite rendition of "Monastery Bells" he forgot, or perhaps with malice aforethought, intentionally omitted to mention the cost of her diamonds? He sighed its he remembered how often he had been through all this, and here it was one o'clock in the morning, his hand was tired and his head ached, and his notes of his one hundred and.eleventh concert were still echoing in his brain, and were waiting on the pages of his own note-book for his own transcription. He rose, and dragged from its dusty shelf an old bound volume of the Ttimboree, looked over some of his old reports, with a view of changing the dates and names and using them over, to save time and trouble as he had often done before. But his head was heavy, and the concert of the previous evening differed in so many respects from all its predecessors that he was forced to abandon his Tabor-saving scheme, so dear to the heart of the ambitious and painstaking reporter. "I have praised people for twenty-two years," he muttered, again seating himself at; [ns tai>iet "ana 1 am ureu urn. i nm inn in the praising "humor tonight. I sigh to toll a few truths. Mv longing soul aspires to originality. I will write up these notes in a style that will have at least the merit of originality, and will please everybody who doesn't find his name in the paper tomorrow." His pencil flew over the sheets of paper like a walking-match ; the sarcastic utterances of the foreman ceased, the distant clamor of the intelligent compositors was hushed, and only now and then the multied groans that came sadly down the speaking tube told that some printer was trying to decide whether a blot, a long waving line, two dots and a dash was "commencement^" "communion," "incineration,"or "emancipation." Mr. Stiehlpen laughed hoarsely as he heard the groans. "Howl for copy will you ?" lie chuckled defiantly. "I'll give you copy that will make your heart sick." ****** Next morning, while (Jodfrev Stiehlpen slept, the Tamboree was opened at a thousand happy breakfast tables, and before the reader got to the concert notice, a few trifles met their astonished gaze. * * * But the crowning glory of the Morning Tanibnree was the concert notice. It read as follows: T 4 **r/o?rn>o /./\\'/?T?DfO The regular annual exhibition of good clothes and bad music, that has grown to be . a feature of the musical world in Shawneetown, came off last evening at the opera 5 house. Every seat in the hall was taken, . for our patient community has become accustomed to this affliction, and submits to , it without a murmur four or five times a year, very much as they take quinine in The j spring. ' . Those people who came stamping in late, ' as usual, after the Swawneetown style, are j to be congratulated this tilde, as they escaped hearing the "A rion Quartette" sing < "Here in the Cool Grot." It is due to the "Arion Quartette," however, to say it was 1 not the worst singing of the evening. The audience thought it certainly would be the worst; and so, indeed it was, until later in the evening the same quartette botched 1 "Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming." 1 It was dreadful beyond description, and the i deafening applause which followed it only i testified the great joy of the audience on be- ] ing assured that the "Arion Quartette" 1 would sing no more that evening.. Miss Abigail McGinnessy rendered a reci- < tative and aria, by Cappola, in the manner i that has long ago become so sadly familiar < to our suffering people, and is always a source 1 of profound embarrassment to the aecompa- f nLst, who floundered along last night in the 1 patient but vain hope of getting even with 1 the singer somewhere by scrambling across lots, and heading her off in some unusually i prolonged run. Put this was impossible; 1 the singer and accompanist were never within six bars of each other during the whole i ofthealleged performance. Mr. Poundawa, i the time honored accompanist in all these af- I fairs, by the way? did even worse than usual ] last evening. We are pained to notice that i his lmhit of playing on tlio edge of the piano, < two inches away from the keys, prows upon him, and lie .should either change his drink 1 or his vocation. : Mrs. Bangalon played "Monastery ' Hells" as usual. It was disguised under a French name in the .programme; hut all know what is coming after Mrs. Hangalon finally gets the piano moved into precisely the right place?which is always just where i it stood before she had it moved the first ! time?and after seating herself for the filti- i etli time, finally concluded to remain seated, i Mrs. Bangalon's unvarying habit of.weariny her trioves at the niano, and occupying seven minutes in removing tliem, is not an affectation. It is an act of mercy, and gives the pdbple nearest the door an opportunity to slip out before she begins to play. The reporters of the city press used to go out at this time; but since Bangalon has taken to standing at the door to watch refugees, they have, with excellent taste and better judgment, abandoned the custom and silently swallowed their full cup of misery. As Mrs. Bangalon left the stage, JoabCiarbey, who was asleep in the gallery, fell off his chair, and mistaking tne noise for an encore, Mrs. Bangalon returned and pounded out the '"Maiden's Prayer." Somebody ought to kill that man (farbey. "Professor" Sawn post played a violin solo--DeBeriot's "Seventh Air." Everybody was gnid that he didn't try the eighth. I The professor dresses like a waiter, and 1 handles a fiddle like a graduate from a side show. He is in good demand pt all dances down at Wyseker's Branch and Sassafras Bottoms, and it is believed, in fact, that all his musical education was acquired at Dan Coseman's store, at the old ford, on Climer's Creek. He is trying to get up a class in this city, and if this man attempts to teach our hoys to play the tiddle as lie does, he ought to lie lynched. And he Will be if the 'Ihmboree has any influence in musical circles. It was as good as a circus to hear Madame Paraplue sing "Robert, toi que j'aime." If the old lady's lungs were as big as her feet, she might sing more and wheeze less. As it is candor compels up to say that a case of cir*lIUllU ? V'i^lllll^ . iff tr MUiKdvu |?>?\? >^v?x >1 teen pounds is 110 artistic addition to a concert. Miss Uppercea played the same old "Improvisation" she began playing in these concerts eighteen years ago. It lasts about as long as her diamonds and changes about us little. It is time she had it published and improvised something new. Jim Thurlow came out and sang his unchanging "Ah, so Fair." The agonv of the audience duringthis time of trial was fairly insupportable;* His high notes are greatly admired,.because his voice always breaks into a thin falsetto squeak on them and be can't make so much noise as be can an his chest tones. If Jim had been born I lumb, or his audience deaf, the world would be much happier. Some time he will go away from home and sing, and the ludge will give him sixty days for it. Still this would not be extravagant. His singing is worth it; ever day of it. The only excuse for putting Miss Maltby >11 the programme every time there is a oncert in Shawneetown, is that her father is worth eighty thousand dollars, and owns lie biggest brewery in Lowell county. With a voice, musical education and general ability about up to the grade of "Baby Mine," she sang jut old stana-ny last mgnt, he "Spinning Wheel Song," from "Faust." [f .Marguerite could have sung it as Miss Malthy sung it, it would have saved the >oor child a world of trouble. It would have cared Faust, Mephistopheles and the whole fang of them out of the country. There is nore music in Mr. Maltby's bung starters ban there is in his daughter. Much has leretofore been said in these columns about Miss Maltby's beauty. While the spirit >f truth is upon us, we are free to admit hat she is pretty?in the dark. Mr. Bellows sang "Oh, ye Tears." Mr. iiellows has a rich baritone voice?a wheellarrow tone, that is. Unfortunately for lis effort last evening, nobody knew he vas singing until he finished the butchery if art and bowed himself off the stage. Everybody thought he was just trying his mice. If ever his voice is tried, it will be onvicted 011 its own evidence. James II. Blowson and FJbert Ilafut sang 'Larboard Watch." It is a great pity these mung men are not aware that their mouths .vent made to catch Hies with rather than or singing. Ilafut's voice is so like a fog lorn, that he may be pardoned for a tendency to sing marine songs ; but aside from a ilea of natural depravity and fiendish mismthropy, there is no excuse whatever for Blowson's attempting to sing in public. These misguided young men were down on he programme for a second atrocity, but it vas omitted at the urgent request of theaulience. The piano used at this massacre was the same jingling old harpsichord from the music store of .Jingle, Jangle & Co., that has ippeared for a free puff at all local outrages >f a musical nature for the past twenty 'ears. Last winter this enterprising house raded off the old dulcimer for a silver watch; >ut the old man who"got the alleged piano irought it back, paid seven dollars forfeit, 111(1 gOl 111* \\ JIlCIl j Him nrnuinnmciiu iinmv oncerts in Shawneetown will be haunted >y this venerable nightmare until the police nterfere. Our readers will b > delighted to learn that :his is the last concert of the season, and a nan can goto the opera house in safety for he next six months. The receipts of tiie pandemonium were "our hundred and thirty dollars, and old [lardwieh, proprietor of the hall, with his uncustomed rapacity, gobbled nearly oneburth of that sum for the use of an old barn hat looks shabby in comparison with a secind-rate market house. Six of the thickest leaded young men in Shawneetown, in sorrowed dress coats, acted as ushers, and icted most wretchedly at that. Taken alogether, it was the dreariest occasion that uis bored a long suffering community since lie concert that preceded it. ****** At the office of the Tumbaree, people .vaited for Mr. Stiehlpen, but he did not ome. As the day. wore away men sought dm at his lodgings, but he was not there. All that the ticket agent at the railway staion could tell was that he bought his ticket or San Antonio, Texas. Mr. Stiehlpen staled that he had been appointed United States ninister to that port, and had been ordered :o proceed thither and enter upon the duties it once, and that in all likelihood he would lot return to this country until the Peruvian ;roubles were all settled. They never saw him again. But long, ong after he disappeared, mocking but inonymous postal cards used to come to the nembers of the "Mendelssohn chorus socie;y of Shawneetown," asking them to sing n.1.1. And nftncfhnv pixirl tlipill 'WIIII'IUUIK iVIIU VMKIO IIIVJ ? v?.v? ;he vocalists choked a rising sigh as they :hought of the absent reporter, and wished hat wherever he was, theearth might open uid swallow him up.?Iiurliiiyton JImckeye. WASHINGTON IN SOUTH CAROLINA. Two correspondents of the Advocate, not ong since alluded to the visit of (Jeorge Washington to our State. Some readers nay lie interested in knowing more about it. In 18(11 the Virginia Historical society published a part of Washington's Diary, which had not been published before. Henson J. Lossing edited the work. The war ame on immediately after the publication, ind perhaps most of the edition was burnMi when Richmond fell. A copy of the work is now before me, and a few more ' -L ^ *1. ?1 w. nori I'A'U'ill'lS llliiy ut; HUUU uir ri|ii?x uir^ The remaining portion is given to liis Soutiiern tour. It begins: "March, 21, 17!U. Left Philadelphia ibout 11 o'clock, to make a tour through the Southern States. * * * in this tour I was accompanied by Major Jackson?my equipage and attendance consisted of a chariot and four horses drove in hand, a light baggage wagon and two horses, four saddle horses, besides one led for myself and five, to wit: my rtdcf dc cluuiibre, two lbotnien, roachmen and postillion." Passing through Wilmington, X. C'., he reached Georgetown, S. ('., Satuday April 10. Traveling along the seaboard, through Charleston, he reached Savannah, May 12, from which place he went to Augusta, the 21st; he reached Columbia, the 22(1. The simple-truth may he told without any wrong motive, that this 22d May, on which the party traveled forty-seven miles, was Sunday. The J Mary shows that this was not unusual. \n e remcmner reading in me old Ilrn/rj/au Journal, (Charleston,) a manly, Christian protest by the editor, Dr. William Capers, against some demonstration or reception given in Cheraw (1K?>) to Vicel'resident Calhoun, who reached the place by stage on Sunday. l<et these things be remembered when we are tempted to think that in all respects the former days were better than these. From Columbia his route was to Camden. All the places visited are described with the plain, good sense and wisdom so characteristic of the man. The road from Columbia to Camden, he says, "excepting a mile or two at each place, goes over the most miserable pine barren I ever saw, being quite a white sand, and very hilly." "We copy the entry for two days: "Thursday, May ^l>. After viewing the British works about Camden, I set out for Charlotte ; on my way, two miles from town, 1 examined the ground on which General Greene and Lord Kawdon had their action. The ground had but just been taken by the former, was well chosen, but he was not well established in it before he was attacked?which, by capturing a videt, was in some measure bysurprise ; six miles further on, 1 came to the ! ground where General Gates and Lord Corn- J wallis had their engagement, which terminated so unfavorably for the former. As this was a night meeting of both armies on their march, and altogether unexpected, , each formed on the ground they met, with- ! out any advantage in it on either side, it being level and open. Had General Gates boon half a mile further advanced, an impenetrable swamp would have prevented the attack which was made on him by the , British army, and afforded him time to have formed his own plans; but having no information of Lord Cornwall is' designs, and perhaps not apprized of this advantage, it was not seized by him. Camden is a small place, with appearances of some new buildings. it was much injured by the British whilst in their possession. ( "After halting at one Sutton's, fourteen miles from Camden, I lodged at James Ingram's twelve miles further. ( Friday, 27th. Left Ingram's about 4 o'clock, and breakfasting at one Barr's,eigh teen miles distant, lodged at Major Crawford's eight miles further. About two miles from this plaee I came to the Corner, where , the North Carolina line comes to the road, \ from whence the road is the boundary for twelve miles more. At Major Crawford's I . was met by some of the Chiefs of the Cataw- J ba nation, who seemed to be under the apprehension that some attempts were mak- , ing, or would bemade to deprive them of ( part of the 40,000 acres which was secured to j them by treaty, and which is bounded by , this road." ' | Lossing says, in a note at the end of the | Diary: "The President reached Mount Ver- , non on the 12th June, having made a most ( satisfactory journey of more than seven- ] teen hundred miles in sixty-six days, with , the same team of horses." "My return to this place is sooner than I expected," Washington wrote to Hamilton, | "owing to the uninterruptedness of my , journey by sickness, bad weather, oracci- j dents of any kind whatsoever," for which . he had made an allowance of eight days. \ Traditions of this tour still linger in places along his path. The bowl out of ( which he took his milk at that "breakfast , at one Barr's" is still identified. The little , girl who took the howl from the President, long preserved the half of a silver dollar | which he dropped into it, and a few years ( ago Mr. Andrew Mayer, of Lancaster, pre- . sented it to the museum of Wofforu Col- j lege. .. , Tiik Future of the Negro ix This j CorxTRV.?We must again ask the ques- . tion, What, from this stand-point, will j the upshot be when the blacks numerically | will so far exceed the whites as to overcome , the vantage that the superior wealth and intelligence of the latter now give them? The outlook here is no less serious. Whatever civic capability the blacks may have, . it is now in the germ; whatever governing aptitude the race may possess, it is at I present dormant. In the history of nations 1 it has nowhere, as yet, been exhibited. If , this race in the United States, is improving, , its improvement, as was to have been ex- . pected, is slow ; and in every political vir- . tue it will still be vastly below the whites, when in voting strength its fecundity will have put it vastly beyond them?so far be- . yond as to overcome every counter influence, and give the political reins entirely into its hands. Who can doubt that, when this day conies the blacks will obey a race instinct which all their surroundings will have powerfully , tended to develop, and vote blacks alone , into office? Thus have they done whoreever the power existed. Kept, as they are, a distinct and alien race, no other issue is reasonably conceivable. And who can K4- 4-lx?* 4- tti /1.?w +IiL' etotn /\t* offnifc till (II HI lit liicllj uiiiiri 11110 nuiiv 1/1 (iiiuiti/ inferior and incompetent race completely . dominating, by mere numbers, a superior ( one?the worst disorders would ensue? The white people of the country would not submit, and a violent and disastrous conflict of races must follow. The whites would hold (1) that, while America is a . nation governed by majorities, yet by those who framed the Constitution it was never intended that a race brought here as slaves, an inferior race once kept distinct by tfiis very inferiority, should, merely through a superior fecundity, become politically supreme, and lord it over the land. They I would hold (2) that this political lordship \ would he ruinous to every interest; that < for a short period subsequent to the close of . the war it had partially prevailed, and with the unhappiest results; and that, should this lordship become distinctively fastened : upon a large section of the Union, the in- j competency of the negro to provide, legis- h latively, for the manifold and complex in- h terest of an advanced civilization, would i arrest its activities, paralyze its trade, and j 1 spread a decline throughout the entirej i country. These are real and gigantic evils gradu-! ally looming up, and they merit the inime- j diate and best attention of American states- j men.?From "The African in the United , StateV' In/ Prof. E. \V. Gilliam, Popular !1 Science Monthly for February. Is the Trade Dollar a Fraud V? 1 Somebody writes to the Independent, instead i of the United States Senate: "A few days ago one of the ladies of my family offered a trade dollar at the ticket office of the Hudson River railroad, in the Grand Central i depot, in payment of a ticket. She was informed that'the company did not receive trade dollars. She then applied atthe news stand, in the same building, for change; but was there refused. A gentleman present, hearing her say that all the money she had with her was in trade dollars, kindly gave i her the change for one of them. This lady | has lived in a foreign country all her life | J until a few weeks since, and very innocent-1; ly supposed that a coin bearing the impress 11 of the Udited States Government, with the j; words 'In God we trust,' representing itself to be worth one dollar, was actually worth one dollar. Is the United States Government a fraud, that it allows the trade dollar to remain in circulation, or am I laboring under a delusion ?" Oldest Tree in the World.?The oldest tree in the world, says Knowledge, so far as any one knows, is the Bo tree of the sacred city of Amarapoora, in Burundi. It was planted in ASS 15. ('., and is therefore now 2170 years old. Sir James Emerson Tennet gives reasons for believing that the j tree is really of this wonderful age, and refers to historic documents in which it is mentioned at different dates, as 1S2, A. D., 223 A. 1)., and so on to the present day. "To it," says Sir James, "kings have j even dedicated their dominions, in testi- [ inony of belief that it is a branch 01 tue j identical tig-tree under which Buddha re- i elined at I'rumelva when he underwent | his apotheosis." Its leaves are carried | away as streamers by pilgrims, but it is too sacred to touch with a knife, and therefore ' they are only gathered when they fall. The king oak in Windsor Forest, England, is KHMI years old. Early Itisixo axi) Lath Ukstixg.?It j is a mistake, says the London />wctV, to both j rise early and take late rest. The rising ear- j i ly is good as a habit of lite, n it uoes noi mean robbing nature of her opportunity to | recruit the exhausted strength of brain and i body by prolonging sleep when that neces-\ sary luxury is at length enjoyed. There would appear to he some need of remon- ! stranee on this score. The fashion of the ! day favors early rising and the manly ' "tiih but those who rise early have, for ! the most part, sat up prodigiously late, and 1 the tub is chiefly appreciated because it rouses the system, ana makes it feel?and feelings are very deceptive?strong and vig-! orous. This is burning the candle at both' ends. If we must sit up half the night, it would be better to sleep half the day than to rise betimes and go m for arduous labor after insufficient rest. Early rising is harmful without early resting. THE BOOT. The obstinate survival of the human boot, says a New York paper, has long been a subject of amazement to the student of serial customs. Even in the summer, when the thermometer is among the nineties, and Manitoba is sending hot waves in all directions, thousands of comparatively intelligent men wear boots that heat their feet and legs cruelly and unnecessarily. They wear boots merely because previous generations of men living under peculiar conditions found boots useful. This is the dullest and most inexcusable kind of conservatism. The boot was originally an outside article of dress. In earlier days Europe was terribly muddy, and trousers and stockings were costly. The male European, therefore, wore boots with enormously long legs. By this means he protected his lower garments from mud and kept his feet comparatively dry. With the progress of civilization the imid of Europe dried up. Weather bureaus were established which continually prophesied areas of rain and frequent local showers. Of course, these never made their appearance, and one necessary ingredient was therefore wanting. Street pavements became common, und street sweepers occasionally swept them clean. In these circumstances boots ceased to be either necessary or useful, but the conservative Phiropean mind was unable to ibandon them. Instead of wearing boots outside of their trousers, the Europeans drew their trousers uver their bootlegs. This was an open confession that boots were useless, and that all the wants of the human foot could be met by shoes, The boot leg survived merely because of the stupid conservatism of its wearers; and should the climate of Europe ever become so hot that overcoats would lose their reason for being, we might ex ?A M/u.?VA/.+.IK1A /lAncnmrntlvo pUCl IU H*t* i lie ivrjirvuiuR- vwi*o\, i nui * v wearing his overcoat under his shirt. In the civilized parts of this country the boot is worn for the same reason that it is worn on the other side of the Atlantic. In the far West, where rattlesnakes abound uid where paved streets are unknown, the boot fulfills its normal purposes and is worn jutside of the trousers. Elsewhere, however, it is merely an illustration of human folly, and there is not the slightest excuse for its existence. It has been maintained with much plausibility that the black-silk hat is the highest development of human idiocy. This is probably true, for the block hat has not the excuse of ever having been useful or justifiable. While in behalf of the hoot it can De urged that it once had its uses, its retention in civilized communities is at least as preposterous as the .continual wearing of the black hat, and the day is coming when both will be discarded, except by professional tramps lost to all self-respect. The Costumes ofOur Grandfathers. We saw a picture recently describing the style of dress worn by gentlemen sixty-five years ago, and beside it was a woman arrayis! in the prevalent fashion of that period. To our eyes of to-day it would at once beset down as a caricature, and a monstrous, wicked caricature at that. But the printed description which accompanied the graver's art corrects such an impression. It was an honest portraiture of the accepted style of the day. The man in the picture was drawn as a very tall and very lean, lank gentleman, with his back to the reader. His coat, the collar of which was on a line with the top of the shoulder and tightly encircling the base of the neck, was fashioned with a waist that reached no lower than the middle of the back, from which depended two scanty skirts which tapered gracefully to a point, nearly reaching the heels and provoking the guests that the pattern of the garment was suggested by a partially opened pair of barber's shears. The lower limbs were so tightly encased in trousers or so obscurely drawn thatthedoubt remains whether the artist had not forgotten to complete kiu iii Hiil: luirtuMilur liniviiiim wide nirj na^vvu nt uui7 |??V4 t?vv..iw , .v4v . ...r margin for the oil-looker's imagination to fill out at his leisure or discretion. Two large buttons, which no doubt would have shown as gilt metal, had printer's ink permitted, showed where the waist began and the hack ended. The picture gives us a woman drawn after the Grecian type, with a bend in it which makes the fashion of a dozen years ago seem natural and far from an extravagant or ungraceful curvature of the body. The waist of the gown was nearly on a line with the Arm-pits, and the short skirt?bell-sluiped und balloony?was a sharp reminder of the wildest days of crinoline. The sleeves of the dress were in keeping with the style of trousers supposed to be worn by the man beside her; and the bonnet, which unless the artist was lacking in a sense of proportion, occupied more space in the world than the wearer, was of the coal-scuttle variety that out-scuttled any specimen of head-gear that the modern world of fashion has ever worn or witnessed.?.V. Y. Ereniuy Press. The QuakKit's Hat.?The tirst occasion when it came publicly into trouble was in the year llJSfi, before no less a personage than Uhief Justice.Glynn, in connection with which a writer quotes the following, partly in Fox's own words: "When we were brought into court we stood a pretty while with our hats on, and all was quiet, and I was moved to say, "Peace be amongst you." "Why do you not put off your hats?" said the Judge to us. \Y e said nothing. "Put off your hats," said the Judge again. Still we said nothing. Then said the Judge, "The court commands you to put off your hats." George Fox tlien asked for some,scriptural instance of any magistrate commanding prisoners to put off their hats, lie next asked to lie shown, "Either written or printed, any law of England that did command such a tiling." Then the judge grew very angry and said: "I do not carry my law book on my back." "Hut," said Fox. "tell me where it is printed in any statute nook, that 1 may read it." The chief justice cried out, "Prevaricator!" and ordered the Quakers to be taken away. When they were before him again, the chief justice asked whether hats are mentioned at all in the Bible? "Yes," said the Quaker, "in the third of Daniel where thou niayest read that the three children were cast into the lier.v furnace by Nebuchadnezzar's commands, with their coats, their hose, and their hats on." Ilere was a proof that even a heathen king allowed men to wear their hats in his presence. "This plain instance stopped him," said Fox, "so lie cried again, "Take them away, jailor." "Accordingly, we were taken away and thrust in among thieves, where we were kept a great while." Fox's last declaration on the subject of the hat was made in 1H77. "The very Turks," he says "mock at the Christians in their proverb, saying: 'The Christians sjiend much of their time in putting off their hats and showing their bare necks to one another.'" # Aauox Hum: as a Ckoss-Exami.vkk.? A writer thus describes the conclusion of a case in which Burr was one of the lawyers: The evening session opened and Hurr resumed his cross examination of the witness. It was a test of the profound skill and subtlety of the lawyer, the self-possession, courage and tact of the witness standing on the very brink of a horrible gulf firmly and intrepidly resisting the efforts of the terrible man to* topple him over. At last, after dexterously leading the witness to an appropriate point, Hurr suddenly seized a lamp in each hand, and holding them in such a manner that their light fell instantaneously upon the face of the witness, he exclaimed in a startling voice, like the voice of the avenger of blood : "Gentlemen of the jury, behold the murderer!" With a wild, convulsive start, a face of ashy pallor, eyes, starting from their sockets, lips apart, his whole attitude evincing terror, the man sprang from his chair. For a moment he stood motionless, slrugglingto recover his self pos session; but it was only a momentary struggle, shaking every nerve with paralyzing tear. Conscious that the eyes of all in the Court room were fixed upon him reading the hidden deeds of his life, he left the witness stand and walked shrinkingly to the door of the Courtroom ; but he was prevented from making his escape by the Sheriff. ! The effect can be better imagined than described. It struck t lie spectators with silent 1 awe, changing the whole aspect of the trial in an instant, overthrowing the hyyothesis ! of the Attorney General, which he was 1 convinced would send the prisoner to the j gallows, saving an innocent man from the deathful hands of a bold and skilful perjuj rer. The false witness was arrested, 2 inj dictnients were found against him, one for j murder, another for perjury. He was acquitted of murder, hut subsequently eon I Vliuru III JK-IJUI^ nun ? IUVIII.V \I iv <? i<>nA term of imprisonment. ? # + A REMOTE NoHTHKUX SETTEKME.VT.? Captain Dawson, who is in command of one of the British circumpolur expeditions, gives in Nature^ this picture of Jiiver and Lake Athabasca : "\\ e reached the Athaimsca, a splendid river, usually half a mile in width, sometimes more. Its course is near straight to the north, so we often had a view of some fifteen miles or so down the valley. As we drifted down the river the pines began to give place to poplar, the poplar to willow, the willow to reeds, till at last we saw Lake Athabasca before us, a rocky coast to the north, and to the east water as far as the eye could reach. A fresh breeze took us across the lake in two hours and we received a hospitable welcome at Fort Chipewaian, together with all sorts of luxuriesthat had l?ecome quite strange to us. This is quite a large place; there are about a dozen houses, two churches, two bishops, a sisterhood, and some missionaries. Ine country is rocky and most desolate. To the south and west the great lakestretches away to the horizon, and the land view is composed of hills of reddish granite, no soil, plants growing here and there out of occasional crevices, and a few stunted firs scattered about. There are woods in the valleys, but the trees are of no size. No sound breaks the stillness but the wierd cry of the loon, a sort of maniacal laugh that is almost a wtul; and the solitude is heightened by the reflection that for 1.000 miles north, south, east and west all is wilderness. Toward the lake the view is pretty, as there are many islands covered with pines. It is curious living together without money, as one does in tluseountry. Everything is done by barter, the unit of value being a skin; the average value of the beaver skin is said to he worth twenty ducks, or forty whitetish, or twenty plugsof tobacco, so that for a plug of tobacco (about an J oz.) one win get a duck or two whitetish, a large fish about two feet long, and very gocxl eating. This place, like all other habitations in the north west, swarms wi th 1 arge wolf-: i ke dogs. They are used in winter for drawing carrioles, and a team of four clogs will carry 500 pounds or more. The Indians use them, - yj 100, 111 UIO SUJMIllCI HS pui'it minimi.-. An* Ancient City.?It is n relief to turn from the haunts of traffic, and let your eyes rest on the abodes of men, says a Mexican correspondent of the New Orleans Tlme*Deinocrut, for Mexican dwellings have a character peculiar tothemseves,an individuality that distinguishes them from anything belonging to America or Europe. You could hardly call it beauty, for, from the outside, you see only flat surfaces, which would be monotonous were it not for the innumerable little balconies that project from beneath each window. And yet like certain faces which, though homely in feature, exercisea kind of fascination from their originality of expression, these long lines of grey stone mansions grow upon you until you are forced to acknowledge that no other style would be so appropriate to the grand type of the place. In the great commercial cities of the West you have the same endless stretch of stone front. But what a difference! There each house bears the unmistakable evidence of being painfully new; an indefinite something tells as plainly as a whisper in the ear the place is shoddy. But here is a rich antiquity in which Hawthorne would have revelled; the spirit of that mysterious and wonderful race that enacted upon this stage one of the saddest tragedies ever recorded in the history of nations seems to have infused itself into everything that meets the eye; and turn where you will, there is a suireestion of their unhappy fate. Sunshine and shadow seem to struggle in the peculiar color of the stone of which the houses are constructed, and their squareness gives an idea of strength and solidity impossible to describe. Strange to an American are the terraced roof and absence of chimneys, that in our own land play such a prominent part in marring the landscape. There are no trees along the street except oil the Paseo, and yet the want of them is scarcely felt, for you imagine somehow that they would be out of place beside the massive monuments that fasten the attention on all sides. The Althoh of "HomeSweet Home." The bones of John Howard Payne, which have lain in his far away grave at Tunisfor more than thirty years, were taken up the 5th of January to be sent to this country for reburial. John Worthington, our Consul at Malta, who was the only American present at the opening of the grave, writes an account of it to the Chief Clerk of the State Department. A little company of twenty persons, among them two who attended Payne's funeral, gathered around the grave at noon, and thecottin, which was badly decayed, was soon laid bare and lifted out. Little was left within it, save the blackened skeleton, a few buttons and some gold lace ! that had ornamented the Colonel's uniform j in which Payne was buried. These re mains, placed in a lead casket inclosed 111 a hard wood box, rested over night in the little Protestant church, where a simple service was lield, and Payne's once famous song, which has lived because it appealed to universal sentiment, was sung. A dispatch received at the State Department on the 12th instant, says that the remains of Rayne left Marseilles on that day on board a steamer bound for New York and are expected to arrive at the latter port about March ]">. Mr. \Y. \V. Corcoran, of Washington, has selected the last resting place of the mortal remains of Payne. It is a triangular spot of ground in the Washington Oak Hill Cemetery, near the Eastern j entrance, on the crest of a hill sloping down into the valley of Rock Creek. A unique and beautiful black beech tree, from which the surr<iundi ng evergreens wi 11 be removed, will stand in solitary guard over the hallowI ed plot, where no other body but that of j Payne will ever be buried. Tiik Romance of a Swoiid.?Recently some workmen engaged in teariugdown a i portion of an old residence in St. Augustine, j Fla., found a sword hidden between the j rafters and the roof. The story attached to this relic is a tragic one. Florida was yet . nf viit.iin ! imiml luill U'!)S | ill mi- jjurvnwn/ii \jm. Mj/tiiii) ?? ...... I {riven, at which was gathered the elite of the eity. One of the ladies present was ; noted for her beauty, and her hand was eaI garly sought after by the ofHeers of the gari rison for the many pleasant dances. Owing j to come misunderstanding she became eni gaged to two of the calmlleros for the same ! dance. The consequence was a quarrel, which resulted in the cessation of music I through the cutting of the strings of the inj strument. Hot words and insulting lan guage passed between the two officers, and ! the two repaired to the open streets and en| gaged in a duel, in which one of them fell, i The survivor, dropping his sword fled preI cipitately from the spot. One of the Paccetti family, a lw\v of some 1 or "> years, witnessed the encounter, and, running out, picked up the sword and carried it into the house. Not wishing to be called upon as witnesses, the parents of the child concealed the sword and kept all knowledge of the same from their neighbors. Thus the old blade has been in its place for upward of three generations.