The Anderson intelligencer. (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, July 03, 1867, Image 4
* THE LAND WE LOVE."
BY FATHER RYAN.
Land of the Gentle and Brave!
Our love is as wide as thy woe,
It deepens beside every grave,
Wliere the heart of c hero'lies Urtf:"
Land of the brightest of skies;.
Our love glows the more 'mid thy gloom,
Our hearts, by the saddest of tics;
Cling closest to thee in thy doom.
Land where the desolate weep!
In sorrow too deep to console,
Our tears are but streams making deep
The ocean of love in our soul.
Land where the victor flag waves,
Where only the dead are free,
Each link of the chain that enslaves,
? Shall hind us the closer to thee:
???fond where tne sign of the cross,
Its shadow of sorrow hath' shed,
. We measure our Love by thy Loss,
^ Thy Loss?by the graves of our dead.
gm fits *?mw ?mk.
"MY EAKLt FEIEND.
"Gertie is .so lovely," I said, glancing
at my ow"n image, reflected in the mir?
ror, ........
I had just twined snowdropsinmy hair,
Which drooped low on my neck, and Ed?
gar said, as he stood watching the finish
ing^touches given to my toilet-?
/'Gertie will out-shine you to-night,
ETan; I saw her as I passed to-night, and ,
she looked like an angel floating by in a i
cloud, of white."
He spoke enthusiastically, my boy bro?
ther, toying at the same time with the
heavy braids of my poor yellow hair. I
smiled at his earnestness, for Gertie was
my dearest friend, and no feelings of rival
ship had as yet marred the .current of our
Jives-; so I simply said, "Gertie is so love?
ly/' and. turned for a parting look at my
short,-dumpy figure.
It was the night of Mrs. Wilson's party,
and. we. were to go in the same carriage;
Gertie and her father, and'Edgar and my?
self.
"Snowdrops, !Nan ?" said.Gertie, as the
light from the dressing room fell upon us,
"Ah, ma chare, some day will be taking
?wings and flying away;" and she laughed
a merry,'rippling lavigh. *
I glanced at her brown curls, falling over
? Ber snowy neck, at her softj floating tulle;
and the. bright flowers she wore, and
thought of what Edgar had said in regard
to the "angel in white;" but somehow she
looked earthly to me," with her gay, child?
ish ways.
Some one was singing when we entered
the brilliantly lighted rooms, a clear, man;
Jy voice, and a deep hush. seemed to per?
vade the vast assembly. We . sought the
enclosure of a lay window, and listened to
the-music. The song was veTy plaintive.
I think of it now, in these after years, with
the same sharp pain.at-my heart there was
then.
Lglanced at Gertie as the last note of
the- song, died away; but she only smiled
archly, and said in. a soft whisper?
"Mr. Tracy; you know him."
I shook my head.
Just then a crowd of people surrounded
TS?, and we were soon separated. Once,
in-passing through the room, I -encounter?
ed Gertie ; she- was leaning upon the arm
.of a stranger. I would have passed, but
she stopped me.
"Mr. Tracy, my friend, Miss Vere."
He bowed in acknowledgment,murmur
ed some words expressive of pleasure,
bowed again, and passed on.
I only saw a broad, intellectual forehead,
a1 pair of piercing black eyes, and a mass
of dark, curly hair; but I heard a voice of
peculiar richness, and I fell to musing as
we promenaded the long rooms.
"Are you ptveri to long reveries, Miss
Vere ?" asked my companion.
I started. Perhaps I had been hi deep
thonght a long time, I could not telL I
seized upon any subject near at hand to
atone for my long silence. Some fine en?
gravings hung near, and we paused before
tbein. In reply to some question of mine,
my companion with the eye of a true poet,
descanted upon the merits of the picture.
A voice near me attracted my attention.
Jr'turned. Gertie and Mr. Tracy were
standing before "Sunset on the Rhine."
He .was speaking. I listened,
"Alexander Smith, in his Life Drama,
gives the finest description of the bridal of
the ocean and the shore;, have you ever
read it, Miss Howard?''
I could not hear Gertie's reply, but. I
saw the brown eyes lifted to his face for a
moment, and guessed what she.was saying.
We turned away to find a seat, for I was
weary, and that dull pain at my heart came
back again. Somehow I seemed to "be out
on the trackless ocean, while Gertie was
drifting far away from me, and the sound
ef gay voices seemed to my ear only the
dashing of remorseless billows.
I dicf not see Gertie again until we were
irrthe carriage, bound for home, aud then
Bb> only nestled her curly head on my
'shoulder, and murmured like a weary
child?
"Oh, I am so tired, Nan!"
But I had seen the pressure of his hand
in the moonlight,'and the whispered "good
night" at the carriage window. "
"' When the harvest fields were white Ger?
tie came and whispered a secret in my ear;
she was engaged to Guy Tracy! We were
in the parlor of my own"home,"sitting there
in the twilight as we talked, and the gray
shades of evening gathered around us^ust
j? the shades of a darker nigbt afterwards
gathered aiound her. We grew silent at
last, wrapped in our own musings. There
came a quick ring at the door, then a flood
light poured in upon us, and Guy Tracy
entered. The pendants from thecnndelbra
jingled musically as Mary placed it on the
table, smiling at the same time, in her
hearty Irish way, and casting sidelong
glances at Gertie.
Guy . murmured something about the
''fairies of olden time" as he took us each
by the hand. I had got wonderfutty over
.my prejudice since the night of the party,
and almost thought him as perfect as Ger?
tie. He possessed a wonderful power of
fascination at all times, but this night he
s.eemed more fascinating than usual. I
We had been singing Norma, Guy and
myself, and as he turned from the instru?
ment, at ins close, he saiti?
"Do you know, Miss Vere', you have a
most magnificent voice ? You? should go
W Italy.3
It was only a passing com pi im en t, yet
somehow it annoyed me. I tuniedto Ger?
tie; she Was leaning out of the window,
and as I approached she suddenly drew
back,- Holding up a cluster of purple
grapes.
"From fairy land," she saidgaily, laugh?
ing like a gleeful child at Guy's puzzled
look, ancT then1 ft* a mocking tone she re?
peated,' "Come into the garden, Nan."
And skipping immediately to the piano,
she dashed off a lively waltz.
Edgar's boyish face appeared for a mo?
ment at the cascn\cnt, and then was gone,
but a basket of grapes rested on the sillr
and the tinkling notes of a guitar, accom?
panying Gertie, floated into the room.
I was alone at last?alone with my
thoughts.
"Gertie will be very happy," I said,
half aloud; but I sighed as I spoke. Some
undefined feeling, I know not what, made
me sad;~but true it is that "coining events
cast their shadows before." I thought Guy
was fickle, and so it proved.
.The gaieties of the winter had ended.
The spring had come and gone, aud the
month of roses was upon us. Gertie was
ill one day, and I went to see her. I re?
member she wore a pale muslin wrapper,
and some one had put white rosebuds in
her hair. She was very pale, as she lay.
upon the lounge in her room. She looked
up wearily as I entered.
"I am so glad you have come, Nan.
People tire me to-day."
There was a dreary look in the brown
eyes, and a quivering of the lips as she
spoke. I drew a stool to her side, and sat
down, taking one dimpled hand in mine.
"Shall I read to you, Gertie ?"
She shook her head.
"Shall I sing you to sleep ?"
She smiled assent. I sang some simple
ballad in low, soft touesj and at length she
-fell asleep,
I wont down into the parlor, leaving the
chamber door ajar so that Qcrtie might
call if she awoke, and taking .a, volume of
Longfellow's poems from the table, I was
soon lost in Evangeline. A shadow fell on
my book, and I looked up. Guy Tracy
stood before me.
"Gertie is sleeping," I said.
He nodded carelessly, thew himself into
a lounging chair, and picked-up the volume
which I had just discarded. He read a
few passages in a rich, melodious voice,
tossed, the book upon the table and turned
toward me.
"You have a poet's soul, Miss Vere, that
finely strung nature so seldom met with in
our day, at least not in these quiet walks
of life," and looked at me earnestly.
I answered him quietly, f&r I had become
accustomed to his impetuous nature. But
he went on.
"I never saw the woman who could
awaken in my innermost soul such intense
longings after goodness and greatness as
you have awakened since first we met."
I sprang to my feet. He too, was stand?
ing. I tried to speak, but he stopped me
with an impatient wave of the hand.
"Don't remind me of my duty," he burst
forth angrily. "I; accept my lot, bitter
though it may be, but 1 would to God our
paths had never crossed each other.7'
"Mr. Tracy," I said, "you forget your?
self."
"No, I do not forget myself," he return?
ed. "Nan Vere, you know that 1 love
you."
"Guy Tracy, you do not love me?you
are incapable of loving any true woman,"
I said scornfully. "Have you grown tired
J of the sweet child to whom you were affi?
anced a tew.months ago, that you come to
me with your soft speeches? I depise
you for them. I would that our paths had
never crossed each other, for then I had
not learned to regard you as less than a
man."
He started, while a sudden pallor over?
spread his countenance. Gertie glided
into-the'room so very still and white.
"I have heard all," she said. "You are
free, Guy. I shall never be your wife."
She staggered and would have fallen,
had I not caught her.
Guy sprang forward, but she put him
back with her hand?the hand on which
the engagement ring was yet glittering.
Then she stood up very straight, and as
weak and trembling as she then was, look?
ed him full in the face.
I don't think-he attempted any explana?
tion. I do not even remember what she
said. I only knew when he had gone,- and
-have some very faint recollection of assist?
ing Gertie up the Ltairs. I know my heart
was very heavy.
Two years afterwards I read of Guy
Tracy's- marriage. He had married an
accomplished woman of the world, just as
I thought he would do, - I had been a
bride one year then, and Gertie was with
me in my beautiful home. She had grown
so womanly since then, so forgetful of self,
and there was a quiet "dignity about her
which she never had in olden time. I
watched her. face when she read of Guy's
marriage, bnt there was nothing by which
I could read the thoughts within.
I was called from the room just then,
and when I would have returned, the voice
of Gertie, singing a soft, sweet melody,
arrested mc on the threshold. She was
seated at the piano, with her back to me,
and had not heard my step.. Only these
words floated by me as I stood there, for
the song was almost ended.
"They come, beloved one, from thai distant shore,
Whose joy illumes with golden tinted rays,
And softly in each sorrowing heart they pour
Sweet memories of departed days."
? During the summer of 1861, while
the hospitals in Richmond were crowded
with wounded, the ladies of the city visit?
ed them daily, carrying with them delica?
cies of every kind, and vied with each
other to comfort and cheer np the wounded.
On one occasion a bright-eyed damsal of
about seventeen summers was distributing
flowers and speaking tender words of en?
couragement to those around her, when
she observed a young officer who was Buf?
fering from his wounds, exclaim, "O, my
Lord !" Approaching timidly, in order to
rebuke his profanity, she said, "I think I
heard you call on the name of the Lord.
I am one of his daughters. Is there any?
thing I can ask him for you ?" Glancing
hastily upon her lovely face and perfect
form, he replied, "Yes, please ask him to
make me his son-in-law."
Forgiveness.?A soldier whose regi?
ment lay in garrison in a town in.Eng?
land, was brought before his commanding
officer for somo offence. He was an old
offender, and had often hoen punished.
"Here he is again," said the officer, on his
name being mentioned ; "Everything:?
flogging, disgrace, imprisonment.has been
trieerwith him."
Whereupon the sergeant stepped for?
ward, and apologizing for the liberty he
took, said :
"There is one thing .which has never
been'done with him yet, sir."
"What is that, eir ?" was the answer.
"Well, sir," said the sergeant, "he has
never been forgiven."
? "Forgiven !" exclaimed the Colonel, sur?
prised at the suggestion.
He reflected for a few moments, or?
dered the culprit to be. brought in, and
asked him what ho had to say to the
charge.
"Nothing, sir," was the repl}r; "onlj' I
am sorry for what I have done."
Turning a kind and pitiful look on the
man who expected nothing else than the
punishment would bo incroased with the
repetition of his offence, the Colonel ad?
dressed him saying, "Well, we have de?
cided to forgive you P
The soldier was struck dumb with as?
tonishment, the tears started to his eyes,
and he wept liko a child. He was hum?
bled to the dust; he thanked the officer
and retired : to be the old, refractory, in?
corrigible man ? 2Co; he was anuther
man from that day forward. He who
tells the story had him for years under
his eye. and abettor conducted man never
wore the Queen's colors. In him kind?
ness bent one whom harshness could not
break; he was conquered by mercy, and,
forgiven, ever afterwards feared to offend.
-.-^_
Beautiful Passage.?We extract the
following from "Reveries of a Bachelor,"
by Ike Marvel. It is a very fine passago:
"A poor man without some sort of reli?
gion is at best a poor reprobate, the foot?
ball of destiny, with no tie linking him to
infinity and to the wondrous eternity that
is even worse?a flame without a heat, a
rainbow without color, a flower without
perfume. A man may in some sort tie
bis hopes and his honors to this weak,
shifting ground tackle, to his business, or
the world, but a woman without that
anchor called faith, is a drift and a wreck!
A man may clumsily continue a sort of
moral responsibility out of relation to
mankind, but a woman in her compara?
tively isolated sphere, whore affection and
not purpose is the controlling motive, can
find no basis in any.other sj'Stem or right
action but that ct faith. A man may
craze his brain or his thoughts to.truth?
fulness, in such poor harborage as fame
and reputation may stretch before him,
but a woman?where can she put her
hopes in storms if not in heaven ? And
that sweet" trustfulness?that abiding love
?that enduring hope mellowing every
page and scene of life?lighting them with
pleasant radiance, when the world's
storms break like an army with cannon ?
Who can bestow its ail-but holy soul, tied
to what is stronger than an army with
cannon? Who has enjoyed the love of a
Christian mother but will echo the thought
with energy, and hallow it with a tear?"
<favm and "f?nx&tn.
A New System of Labor.
Several planters in Hinds and Madison
counties, Miss., believe that they have
discovered this desirable modus operandi.
They don't believe that working large
gangs of hands, with one or two to watch
them is the best way with free blacks.
They don't believe in havinga negro quar?
ter. They don't pretend to undertake
the raising of meat for their hands. They
fence out their woodlands, and then place
the blacks in cabins several hundred yards
apart, and on the borders of tho wood?
lands. To each family of blacks they as?
sign such amount of land as they can cul?
tivate well, and loan each three laborers
two mules, and other needful articles.?
The blacks grow corn, cotton, and other
things; and half the crops, after deduct?
ing the coat of supplies furnished, is given
to the black producers. Living on the
border of the woodland, each family of
blacks, without trouble, raises its own
pigs, which fatten on the mast in the
woods. When, owing to the drought,
there is a partial failure of the corn crop,
the wood-buds on tho trees are certain to
be cheeked, and thus throwing the
strength of the trees in tho fruit buds,
there is "-always a most abundant crop of
acorn and other mast.
Where there is a gang of sixty hands,
the supplying of meat has been a great
trouble. If the meat was purchased from
a commission merchant, its cost reduced
greatly plantation profits, and if it was
grown on tho plantation, it cost much
trouble. Heretofore, one of tho greatest:
annoyances of plantation life has been
the difficulty of getting tho blacks to cake
care of tho plantation stock, but when
each family of blacks looks after its oivn
stock and raises its own meat, the diffi?
culty is surmounted. In every gang of a
hundred hands thero is certain to be at
least fifteen lazy ones, and in the field or?
dinarily the whole gang is content with
the pace of tho fifteen most lazy ones.
Where a family has its own allotment,
and is to profit by the amount of tho crop,
the head of the family is pretty certain to
keep tho others well up with tho work.
Each working family having its humble
homo some distance from others, that pil?
fering, which is so prevalent, in and about
quarters, is pretty much done away. The
friends of this system aro sanguine that
its general adoption will give to the ?South
such an organization of labor as it needs
?will tend to stimulate productions, will
advanco the physical, social and moral
condition of the negro; will harmonize
tho interests of employer and employee,
and cause the Southern Slates to blossom
with prosperity. This sj-stcm of labor is
not unlike tho cottier system of Scotland.
Its advocates claim that it is infinitely
better than oftbrts to import foreigners
and learn them to cultivate cotton, and to
harmonize their modes of working with
thoso only familiar with negro labor.
?
? A farmer refused to hire aniIrishman,
beeause two previously hired by him had
died on his hands. "Faith," said the Irish?
man, "I have wrought in many a place,
and nivcr oner played sich a trick."
RED CLOVER
Tou desired me to give you tlie result
cf my recent experience in regard to the
culture of clover. My first attempt to
seed down a patch was in th? full of 1864.
After manuring and plowing about 4 acres
of land, I sowed and thoroughly harrowed
in the usual quantity of oats. I then with
with a log chain drawn by hand, laid it
of in suitable lands, and bo wed about a
peck of red clover seed, two quarts to the
acre and brushed it in,?the surface being
already leveled and smoothed with the
harrow. I never took more pains to have
a piece of work nicely done. The result
was about as much oats and clover as
would stand on twenty feet square;?
what became of it I do not know. I had
just brought the t'ced (Vinn the valley of
Virginia. Tho following spring I sowed
a few h'andfttls of the seed that had been
left, and obtained a good stand as far as
it went.
In the winter of i8(vr>-C> I purchased
four pounds of clovct seed in. Charleston
at 75 cents a pound, - and in the last of
Februar}' or early in March sowed with
oats as before, 2 lbs on about 1-2 an acre
which came up promptly with the oats,
except on some few places where there
happened to be a deficiency of manure,
there was no clover. This I allowed to
remain on the ground and mature accord?
ing to directions without pasturing or cut?
ting-.
On another half acre by the side of it,
my negro man, the next day in. my ab?
sence, sowed, the remaining 2 lbs of seed,
following the same routine of plow har?
row and brush, but without the oats. The
result was, contrary to expectations, a
better stand and a more vigorous growth,
accompanied with so rich a yield of crab
grass, that I was tempted in the_ month of
September following to mow it, contrary
to what is understood to be the general
rule, and obtained a wagon load of clover
and crab. Instead of being injured, it
was green all winter, and in the past spring
considerably surpassed that which had
been sowed with oats and had not been
mowed.' ? ...
From these experiments I became satis?
fied, that to sow red clover in the spring
much in the same way as wedo turnips in
the autumn, without small grain, will al?
most certainly prove a success. Accord?
ingly I have considerably, increased my
patch this spring, sowing some as late, as
April, with uniform success.
About tho middle of April, finding my
last years sowing from a foot to 18 inches
high and some of tho blooms appearing,
I commenced cutting for feed, always
mowing as I wished it,?the yield on a
square the size of a ordinary carpenter
bench, being a pufh'eicnt feed for two
mules without anything else. I now feed
corn only once a day and then no clover,
and believe it so far, entirely sufficient for
laboring teams. I expect at least two full
crops this summer, the last one for hay
and seed. Where I first commenced cut?
ting about six weeks ago, it is now over-a
foot high, nearly ready to mow again.
PiciAjr.
C'Lovkr.?Clover differs. en tiro by from
tho cereal plants in this respect, that it
sends its main roots perpendicularly down?
wards,'when no ob.-Mtteles stand in the
way, to a depth which the fine, fibrous
roots of wheat and barley fail to reach;
the principal roots of clover branch oil'
into creeping shoots, which again sends
forth fresh roots downward?. Thus
clover, like the tea plant, derives its prin?
ciple food from layers below the arable
surface soil j ami the difference between
tho two consists mainly in this?that the
clover, from its larger and more extensive
root surface, can still find a sufficiency of
food in fields where peas will no longer
thrive. The natural consequence is, that
the subsoil is left proportionably much
poorer by clover than hy the pea. Clover i
seed, on account of its small size, can fur?
nish from its own mass, but lew formative
elements for thcyoung plant, and requires
a ric.u "able surface for its development;
but tho plant takes comparatively but lit?
tle food from the surface soil. When the
roots have pierced t hrough this, tho upper
parts are soon covered with a corky coat?
ing, and only the fine root fibres, ramify?
ing through tho subsoil, convey food to
the plant.?Llebig.
-.--o
Tuf. Striped Bun.?Every gardener
well knows that this is amostdestruetive
insect among melon, cucumber, and other
young vines, sometimes damaging the
crop seriously. Many remedies have been
suggested, some of them no doubt good
in their way, but troublesome. Now, wc
have tried for several year.-*, another,
which has proved with r.s a complete suc?
cess, instead of aiming to drive away
the insect by soot, ashes, &c.. wepet it, or
rather furnish it with food better than the
young melon and cucumber plant. "We
sow around each hill at the time- of each
plan ling; a few radish seed, and coming
up about the same ti no. ih? Lop's supply
pasture lor the l.utjr Which it prefers to tlie
vines. Lettuce will also answer, but the
raddish is rather Hkod the best. While
our vines are untouched by making this
little provision for it, the young radish
tops are perforated. \Vro can recommend
tho remedy with confidence.? German
town Telegraph.
-*-:
? Jones complained of a bad smell
about the post office, and asked Brown
what could it be. Brown didn't know, but
suggested that it might be caused by the
"dead letters."
? A gentleman complaining of his too
many friends, Patrick advised him, "Lind
money to the poor ones, and borry of the
rich; then nather sort will trouble yez."
? A cynic says quills arc things taken
from the pinions of one goose to spread the
opinions of another. j
Cutting Grain a Century Ago.?A
correspondent oi the Gcrmantown (Penn.j
Telegraph gives 1750 as the date at which
the common grain cradle was introduced,
and describes the mode of harvesting in use
at that time as follows:
They took the common scythe and bored
a hole in the snath near the lower nib,
which was bent over the heel of the scythe
and fastened, the rod being about twelve
inches off from the" ??ath ; a string was .
tied across from the iron rod to the snath
in several places for the purpose of preven?
ting the grain from falling through. "With
this rough tool the farmer cut his'
grain by always keeping the grain on his
left hand, instead of the right as we now
do, so as to support the snath. Following
him was a fellow with a reaping hook, to
put into sheaves, and then followed the
binder. For every two mowers and two
gatherers there was one binder, who could
keep up except in heavy grain. The usual
day's work for these five men was five
acres, if the grain stood up,
-:-?
.GkaftinSir?The Germantown Telegraph
says every farmer should learn to do his
own grafting?an easy operation when
one knows how, A sharp knife and a fine
saw are pre-rcquisites to the operation.
Saw off the limb to be grafted, and split
the stock so as not to bruise it. Shape the
j scion wedge fashion, both ways, with the
bark uninjured. Place the rim of the
wood of stock and scion exactly together
that the sap may intermingle, and wax
the section of contact well over. Two
buds to a graft arc sufficient. In making
wax, takeibur parts of rosin, one of bees?
wax, and one of the best kind of tallow.
Melt and mix together, and when wanted,
heat and apply to the point of junction of
the stock and graft. The heating can be
done on a portable stove, or by a small fire
made on the ground wh^?e the labor is to
be performed.
-,-o-?
How to Have Mealy Potatoes.?It is
a very common thing in the spring to find
strong, watery potatoes on the table, un?
less care has been taken to select and pre?
serve them. A poor potato is the poorest
article of food that can be had; as soon
as they begin to grow poor and watery,
the better part ot the root going 1o the
support of the sprouts; hence, to have
meal}-, nice potatoes, it is necessary to
keep them from exhausting themselves in
this way. An exchange gives the follow?
ing method of preserving the potatoes
from sprouting, which we hope will be
tried and approved. Take good, eound
potatoes and place them in a tub or bar?
rel, and pour boiling hot water over them,
letting them remain in the water until
the eyes arc scalded so they will not
sprout, dry the potatoes thoroughly in
the sun, and put them away in a box or
barrel in a cool, dry place. This will give
good, mealy potatoes all the time.?Ger
mantown Telegraph.
-o
Didn't Rise.?Iii the year 1SG3, a mee?
ting was held, in Lebanon, Indiaua, for the
purpose of getting up a supper and fair
for sick and wounded soldiers. .Judge B.,
being loyal all over, was very active in
such matters, and was appointed chair?
man of the meeting. There was quite a
number of ladies present. The business
progressed rapidly, and as most of the ar?
ticles for supper were to be donated, the
Judge called, in his ludicrous manner, on
those present to know bow- -rfiuch they
could contribute. Almost enough was
given to complete the arrangements, when
some one suggested that it would be nec?
essary to have some milk.
"Oh, yes," said the Judge, rising, with
great dignity, "all young ladies who give
milk will please rise.1'
The young ladies didn't rise.
?- Here's the banisters, but where in
the deuce are the stairs?as the drunken
fellow said while grouping his way around
the bedstead in the dark.
j ? '-Well, what is it that causes tho
i saltness of the water of the ocean?*' in?
quired a teacher of a bright iittle boy.
"The codfish," replied Iho'little original
-.
? Pleading at the bar, says a Western
editor, is trying to persuade a barkeeper
to trust you for a three cent nip,
STEVENS HOUSE,
21, 23, 25 and 27 Broadway, N. York,
ottosite bowling green,
On tlio Em-opeau J?la?? I
THE STEVENS HOUSE is well and widely known
to the traveling public. The location is especially
suitable to merchants und business men; it is in
ciosc proximity to tbe business part of the city ; is
on the highway of Ponthern and Western travel,
und adjacent to all the principal Railroad and
Steamboat Depots.
The Stevens House has liberal accommodation
for over three hundred guests: it is well furnished,
and possesses every moilern improvement for the
comfort and entertainment of its inmates. The
rooms arc spacious and wclL ventilated ; provided
! with gas and water; the attendance is prompt and
respectful, and the table is generously provided
with every delicacy of the scuson, at moderate
rates.
The rooms having been refurnished and remod?
eled, we are enabled to offer extra facilities for the
comfort and pleasure of our guests.
GEO. K. CHASE ?& CO., Proprietors.
June 19, 1807 1 'im
Clergymen are Furnished
WITH THE m.?STR.".TEI>
PHRENOLOGICAL JOURNAL,
DEVOTED to Ethnology, Physiology, Phrenology
Physiognomy, Physsliology, etc.?at Club rates
S1.5U a year?single No's -0 cts. To others, ?'2 a
year. Prcmius, of Melodious, Pianos, Sewing Ma?
chines and Hooks are given by
S. It. WELLS, Publisher,
889 Broadway, N. Y.
May 8, 1867 3 4
cuas. ii. ai.beb. (JEO. W. WARBEN.
ALB EE & WARREN,
IMTORTEKS AND ?EAI.ERS 15
TA'HST?9 OILS, GLASS, Sec
Kerosine Lamps and Oil,
NO. 4 HAY NE STREET,
CHARLESTON, S. C.
30 2m
CARRIAGE FOR SALE.
A NO. 1 Two-Horse Carriage, new and neatly
trimmed, for sale cheap for cash. For particulars
enquire at this office.
June 5, 1867 51 ?
?
Miscellaneous Advertisements
FOUT Z'S
CELEB 1ated
this animal, sach as lux
yellow wa?
ter, heaves,
coughs, Dis?
temper, fe?
vers, founder
loss of appe?
tite and vital
energy, &c. iu
nsc improves the
Wizld, increases'
the appetite- gives
a smooth and
glossy skin?and
transforms the
miserable skeleton into a
bone. ?_
This preparation,
long aad favorably
known, will thor?
oughly relnvigorato
broken-down and
low-spirited horses,
by strengthening
and cleansing tho
stomach and intes*
tines.
It is a sure pre?
ventive of all dia-.
eases incident to
g FEVER, glanders,
fine-looking and spirited
To keepers of Cows,this preparation is invaluable.
It increases the quantity and improve! the quality.
of the milk. It had
been proven by ac?
tual experiment to
increase the quan?
tity of milk and
cream twenty per
cent and make tha
ft butter firm and
ffi sweet. In fattening
cattle, it gives them
an ap])ctite, loosens
a their hide, and
j" makes them thrive
much faster. -,
la all diseases of Swine, such as Coughs, Ulcers in
the Lungs, Liver,
Lc , this article
acts as a specific.
By putting from i
one-half a paper
to a paper in a
barrel of swill the
above d iscas.es
will be eradicated ~.
or entirely prevented. If given in time, a certain:,
preventive and cure for the Hog Cholera. ?
Price 25 Cents per Paper, or 5 Papers for $L
PREPARED BY
S. A.. FOXJTZ & BRO.,
AT THEIR ' ? <
WHOLESALE DRUG AND MEDICINE" DEPOT,
Ho. 116 Franklin St., Baltimore, Md.
For Sale by Druggists and Storekeepers through- .
out the United States.
For sale, at manufacturers' prices, by
JOHN J. BAKER,
Anderson C. H.
2 3m
i i
June 26, 186',
"KIND WORDS''
IS PUBLISHED MONTHLY AT
TE3NT CENTS A. YJEA.lt,
ALWAYS IN ADVANCE.
No. Less than Ten copies sent to one Address,
nor for a less time than One Year. :
THE poatage. by advices from the PosFOfficc De?
partment, is on each package, at the rate' of one
cent for every four ounces or fraction thereof, pay?
able quarterly or yearly in advance", at the office
where received.
Money may be sent by mail at our risk.. Ta?
pers arc discontinued when the term of subscrip?
tion expires, unless renewed. Each package is
marked with the number at which the subscription
ends, and a cross mark is added on the last three
packages.
Minutes of Conventions, Associations, Sunday
Schools, Societies and other printed matter. Ad
?rees KIND WOHDS,
Greenville. S. C.
Address all letters, remittance'', copy, orders,
etc., to Rev. C. C. BITTING, Cor; Sec,
(Jrcenville, S. C.
Demorests' Monthly Magazine,
UNIVERSALLY acknowledged tie Model'Par?
lor Magazine of America: devoted to Original
Stories, Poems, Sketches^ Architecture arid Medel
Cottages, Household Matte?, Gems of Thought,
Personal and Litptnijr Oos-ip, (including ?pe??al
departments on Fashions),-Instructions on Health,
Gymnastic, Equestrian Exercises, Music, Amuse?
ments, etc.; all by the best authors, and profuse?
ly and artistically illustrated with, costly Engra?
vings, (full ?ize). tfscfnl find reliable Patterns,
Embroideries, Jewelry, and a constant succession
of artistici novelties,"with other useful and enter?
taining literature.
No person of refinement* economical housewife,
of lflUy ?f tastcj can afford to do without the Model
Monthly. Single copies, SO cents1; back numbers',
as specimens. 10 cents : cither mailed free. Year?
ly, So, with a valuable premium; two copies,
S'V.oO; three copies, $7.50"; five copies, $12, ami
splendid premiums for clubs at So each, with tho
f>r?t premiums to each subscriber'. A'Mress
W. JENNINGS DEMOttESTi.'
No. 47;3 'Uroadway, Niw York.
Pemorest's Monthly and Young America,, to?
gether, S4, with the premiums for each.
March 27. 1SH7 ~ -11
THE TRI-WEEELY PH?tfl^
pcm usu ed at
COLUMBIA, SO. CA.", ?:
CONTAINS the latest, nicsi interesting .and luf
portant NcWs from every section. . Neatly printed
on good paper.
terms?ix auv.vxce:
Tri-Weekly one year, $2 ">d
Weekly one year. 1 50
Advertisements inserted on reasonable terms.
AddreM JULIAN A. SELL'Y,
Columbia, S. C.
DAILY SOUTH CAROLINIAN,
F. G. DkFONTAINE, Editor and Proprietor,
COLUMBIA, S. C.
TERMS:
Daily, twelve months, $0 0(T
Daily, six months, % 00
Daily, three months', 1 50*
Single Copies, 05
To News Dealers, 2?
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Advertisements inserted on reasonable terms.
Address ?8 above.
SHIVER HOUSE,
Plain Street,
Columbia, S. C,
Mrs. D. C. SPECK, Proprietress.
THIS Hotel is situated in the most central; und
business portion' of the city. Guests transported
to and from the depots free of charge:
_4:3 ' ly
NATIONAL HOTEL,
Near the Greenvilleand Charleston Uq>ots
COLUMBIA, S. C.
THE public is informed that the above Hotel has
just been finished, and contains new furniture
throughout, for the accommodation of Regularand
Transient Boarders. The very best that the mar?
kets afford will bo found on his table, prepared in
excellent style. Charges moderate.
ROBERT JOINER.
August 10, 18GG 17 " .
PLANTERS HOTEL,
AUGUSTA, GA.y
NEWLY Furnished and refitted, unsurpassed by
anv Hotel South, was re-opened to tlio public Oc
tobcr 8, 1860, by T. S. NICKERSON, Proprietor
late of the Mills House, Charleston, and proprio,
tor of Nickerson's Hotel, Columbia, 'S C
NqySO, HfGO omi '