Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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%■ t .-<• '"r F>-; yi?*-;' 1 .' 4V ^ • *i : -vA' VOL. VIII. BARNWELL, S. C., THURSDAY, JUNE 25, 1885. \ \ Day of Storm. Twm a day of rtorm, for tho giant Atlantic, rolling in pride, Drawn by the full moon, driven by the fierce ^wlnd, tide upon tide, Flooded our poor little Channel. A hundred anxious eye* were watching a breach new broken—when .. , . , ‘**<tenly tome one cries, A 1 rounding the pier- _ » *>*•«•»■ hid her before, There »uro enough, was a stranger smack, head straight for the shore. How will she land, where each wave is a mountain? Too late for how! Hun up u Hag there to show her on the right -place: Bhe must land now 1 She Is close—with a rush on the galloping wavetop—a stand. As the water ginks from beneath her—her , . nose Just touches the land. And then (as rude hands, sacking a city, greedy of prey. Toss, lu some littered chamber, a child’s toy lightly away), A great wave rose from behind, and lifting her, lowered, and broke. And flung headlong, down on the hard .beach, oloae to the folk. ( raan! • * • n u t ’tig only her bowsprit gone—she Is saved somehow; A nd u cheer broke out, for a hundred hands have hold of her now. I they sag'twas her bowsprit saved her, or she must have gone over then; Her bowsprit It was that saved her; and little they think, those men. Of one weak woman that prayed, aa she watched them tempest-driven! They say 'twug her bowsprit saved her! I say, ’twas that prayer, and Heaven! —The Spectator. MY SI ST Kit SUSETTA. “I am going, Addio. so it is useless to argue tho poiut,” my sister says, as she stands on tip-toe to pluek a rose that is almost out of her reach, her loose sleeve falling back from her beau tifully-molded arm with its dimpled el bow. Susetta is so pretty that everybody falls in love with her—men, women, mnd children: but she has her faults— who has not?—and her obstinacy makes me sigh. She is affianced to oue of tho best young men that over drew breath; but they quarrel so often that I wonder if their engagement will ever end in marriage. Trevor Chudlcigh is awfully fond of her; but she does lead him such a dance! Now, if I only had a lover like Tre vor, how differently I would behave. Alas! I am not a beauty, and although "handsome is as handsome does” is a very good saying, young men, us a rule, prefer pretty faces to plain ones. Trevor is Sway, worse luck! and be fore he went begged Susetta not to at tend those awful races. It wasn't much to ask, 1 think; but Susetta says he is a tyrant, aud if she doesn't get some enjoyment out of life before she is married, she never will afterward. She is going with those Ficidwicks, and Trevor always says that Mrs. Field- wick is fast. , She certainly docs paint and powder openly, as indifferent to criticism on that point as Lady Morgan; but she’s an amiable woman for all that. Still, if I were Susetta, 1 would not seek her society, knowing Trevor’s dislike to her. Hut poor Susetta is so fond of pleas ure. It is a perfect mania with her. She alwais wants to be amusing her self, and hales quiet as much as I love it 1 often wonder how Trevor and Susetta will get on if they over dp mar ry, for he is so grave and studious and she so giddy aud Highly. Ho said tome tine day—how well I remember his words— "Addie, 1 Wish your sister resembled you in your fondness for home. She always wants ki be gadding about. I never saw sue! a restless creature in my life!” "You must Mar with her,” 1 answer ed. “She is soyoung and pretty, Tre vor, and wo hav\ made such a pet of her. She does ibt know what it is to bo denied anythijg she wants.” “I know you ilways stand up for her,” he observedw ith a .-mile; "you are a good girl, Aldic.” This was before\e went away to Lon don on business, le has been gone about a week, arid tusetta has had a letter from him cvAy morning. Hap- j>y Susetta! What »ore can she want since she has his low? It would not be much of a sacrifice to stav away from the races. \ Susetta looks lovely ooouettish hat. and blc isn't likely, she tells \u going to stick at home « pie are enjoying themsen "If old Trevor”—he' twenty—“doesn’t like it her blue dress, s veil, and it ue, that she is hilo other pco- f!8. cight-and- can do the a laugh, yourself, xc, linn is my loved feelings, sm other thing,” she says, w 1 "Why don’t you marry I you little prude?” "Because ho never asked 1 quiet reply; "but if a good mo I would never trifle with Susetta.” "You are perfection, and I says my pretty sister. Addle.” And she hurries out of the a smart four-in-hand has j up at the door, and going to dow I watch Susetta as she up to the top and takes her side Mrs. Fieldwick, whose white is laid on extra thick I day. Then I sit down on the sofa an< a little for Trevor, but more for m Oh! if he had loved me, how would have obeyed his slightest' But he does not love me—so w the nse in indulging in sueh though They are foolish and wrong. Mother and our one servant are n< very observant, but«« fear that the, may noticeJth^,^5* Te ^been weeping makes me * ' not,” od-bye, se, for drawn win- el ped be- and to- fa eage% I myse 5a, Susetta perfect my eves; but not because lyself uglier than mtav called me. than ever. Yea, I look at myself steadily in the mir. 1 J'? >atdo 1 A small pale face, light eyes, and sandy hair. An entrancing picture, truly. Alma Tadema says a woman with a beautiful figure seldom has a beautiful face, and my figure is undeniably good. Susetta has often told me so for my con solation, when I have admired her -pretty features. There is a double knock at onr front •door, and oar servant being busy I open say that he will be with Susetta that afternoon. Of course, she would not bo hero to receive him. 'What will he think? I tell mother tho news, and she says, calmly: "My dear, it is no business of ours; Susetta must manage her own affairs. She would go to the races, and your sister and Trevor must settle the mat ter between them.” Mother is a little bit vexed with Su setta, for Trevor is a very good man, and she might have stopped at home for once just to please him. "If she had only known he was com ing to-day,” I say regretfully, "she would not have gone in that case, and all would have been well.” "Don’t you bother your dear little head over Susetta’s affairs,” returns mother, kissing me. "You’ll have enough to do if you trouble yourself about her. There never was such an obstinate self-willed girL” “But she loves Trevor,” I say earn estly. "1 doubt it,” returns motber, shak ing her head. “If she cared for him she would bo ready to matcc a greater sacrifice than stopping away from the , races for his sake. ” "But she is so pretty, mother, and so i fond of pleasure.” "All the worse for Trevor," retorts mother, who is deeply vexed. "But ; since you are so staunch in herdefense, | I’ll leave you to make excuses for her. My head aches, and I am troine to lie j down.” „ "But, oh, mother! what can I say to him?” I cry in dismay. "Just what you please,” returns mother. "If I were to see him, I { should tell him what I think of Suset ta’s behavior, and you woflld object to 1 that, I know.” "Oh, mother! dpn’t be hard on our petted darling.” 1 say, and mother’s ftcc relaxe*s, and I see a smile lurking at tho corners of her mouth; but she won’t wait to sec Trevor, neverthe- j less. i He will look so bright and eager I when he comes into the room, and I shall see sueh blank disappointment on his faee, as he looks in vain for Susetta | —Susetta who is cujoving herself at the races in company with those objection able Fieldwicks. I £o to the piano, but rise from the music stool in a very few minutes, and take up a book, then, throwing it down, begin to walk restlessly to and fro, for I can settle to nothing. Presently I hear Trevor knocking at the hall door. 1 know his rat-tat-tat so well, and an instant later ho is in tho room asking eagerly for Susetta. “Was she not pleased to get my tele gram?” ho continues. "She was far away from home when it came,” I say, trying to appear at my ease, ."so I opened it” "(Juite right, sister Addie,” returns Trevor, looking a little disappointed, but still speaking cheerfully. "But where is Susetta?’” "She is spending tho day with some friends,” I answer, with a foolish de sire to put off telling the truth as long as possible. Trevor's handsome face darkens, and his eyes flash ominously, as he says; "Adeline, she has never gone to the races?—she would not do that after what 1 have said. But yoli don’t an swer me. She has gone, then?” I am still silent, and Trevor begins to pace up and down the room in a state of tno greatest agitation. He is terribly put out, ami makes no attempt to hide it from me. "And 1 shortened my stay in Lon don, and hurried back" for’ this,” he says, bitterly, coming to a standstill before my chair. "Addie, I am begin ning to wonder if Susetta is worthy of all tho love I have lavished upon her.” "Nonsense, Trevor,” I say, quickly. "You must not speak like that of my sister. She is foolish, I know; but there is not a better girl in tho whole world.” He gives mo a quick glance as I fin ish speaking, and sighs impatiently. “I know one thing,” he says, after a pause; "she could not have a hotter sis ter. Why is it you always take her S iart, Addie. Have or me?" He puts his hand on my shoulder as he speaks, never dreaming how that light touch thrills me; and how hard it is to steady my voice, as I reply: "I sympathize with you both. Ah! if you would only take ‘Bear and for bear for your motto!” "Have I not borne enough already?” demands Trevor, with another sigh. "Addie,” he cries, suddenly, and the blood rushes to his face, "she has not 5 one with the Fieldwicks? She has! hen, by Heaven! I will never her.” “Hush, Trevor!” I say soothingly. "You will be sorry for talking like this when your anger is over. After . all, she has not done anything desperately wrong.” v "Would you have done it, Addie?” I hesitate for a moment, scarcely knowing what reply to make; but I must say something in my sister’s de fense, and I answer, gently: "You forget how different we are, Susetta and I. She is so fond of pleas ure, and I have ever been a home bird.” “What a fortunate man your hus band will be!”,says Trevor. "You are tho wonvan to make a man’s home hap py, and fill his life with sunshine." "But men love beauty,” I say, with a faint smile. "Then men arc fools,” exclaims Tre- jvor, forgetting that bis remark is carcely complimentary, and he, at any ate, has not been proof against the cination of a pretty face. "I moan," adds, quick!}-, “that a man who U will seek a wife who is good, as as beautiful.” e man who is wise will not mar* I observe laughingly. “He es a wife takes trouble and you no sympathy forgive Trevor is not in the humor to anything. He hates the idea ta associating with the Field* wicks, and is deeply wounded that she *ho*ld save gone to tho raoee, in defi- •wbo A telegram, > stands them mjs tfe toy x 6pm K with* , <-4 - thefeor-i and I land I arc in the garden when band dashes np to the gate, with horror that Mr. eridaat signs of bar- . ms- wholly comical appearance. At any other time I should find it impossible not to laugh; but now lean feel noth ing but dismay. susetta is helped down by a young man with light hair, and stands at the f ate as the coach bowls along the road. he has not seen Trevor yet When she does, her cheeks lose a little of their rich bloom, and a half-frightened, half-defiant look comes into her eyee. “You here, Trevor,” she says, hold ing out her hand. “You did not expect to see me," he observes, coldly. “If I bad, I should have stopped at home." she answers, and then i slip in doors and let them alone. Presently Susetta joins me, but with out Trevor. They have quarrelled it seemed and parted in auger. "Susetta,”! say, cntre&tingly, away •you she &n- I fancy have not sent him “He has gone, my dear, swers, and begins to sing; but her voice trembles a little. “Oh, Susetta,” I say, "pray think of what you are doing. He loves you so!” "He says he never wants to see my face agaiu,” she answers, and then eon- tin u«s her song. It is growing dark, but I fancy I can see a figure lingering near tho gate. Can it be Trevor? "Susetta,” I say, "do you know Tre vor is going to leave Kugland?” It is an awful fib, for ho had never said so; but it is what i imagine ho will do if his estrangement with Susetta continues, and I oanuot bear to see thesertwo people, who love each other, spoiling their lives from sheer obstinacy and ill-temper. I love them so dearly that I would fain see them happy. "Doing to leave England because 1 went to tho races, 1 suppose you mean,” says Susetta. "Well, let him go—I don’t care!” "If you don't care, why are you cry ing?” I ask, hoping that she is crying; for I am not sure of it, aud the asser tion is only a bold venture on my part. "f am not crying." replies my sister, in a choking'voice. “If Trevor loves me so little, that he can leave mo for ever because I committed an act of fol ly, he isn t wortu crying about. Per haps if ho had known how my con science had pricked me all day, and how 1 had resolved never to go out with those horrid people again, he wouldn't have been so hard upon me.” "It is too late now." I say, watching Trevor’s shadow. "After all, dear, he was too exacting, you’ll find some one moi'e kind and considerate, and learn to forget him.” "Never!” replied my sister, indig nantly. "If you had ever been in love, you would know that such a thing is impossible. You have no feeling Adel ine.” "Darling!” This expression does not come from me, hut from Trevor, who, leaping through the window, clasps Susetta iu bis arms. I am about to retire from the room, when Trevor, still holding my sister in his embrace, takes my baud and lifts it to his lip-. "Addie,” he says, "I shall never for get the service you havedono me.” "Was it a plot between you?” asks Susetta. struggling to free herself. Trevor stoutly denies this, and so do I, aud Susetta appears satisfied. But iu her own mind 1 fancy she still has her doubts. I know one thing, she is always grateful to mo for what I did that night. If she knew all, perhaps she would bo mote grateful stilL A Picture—The Creoles. v*_ A correspondent of the Son Fran* cisco Argonaut, writing from New Orleans, says: Tho Creole element here is exclu sive in the extreme. It has a rigorous contempt for the American element of the city, and 1 am informed by a very old resident hero that there are many denizens of the French quarter who have never crossed Canal street. They are content to live and die in one place, and desire no fame outside of their own neighborhood. 4p that re spect thev are like the Pansians they so abjectfy adore. Who has not heard rhapsodical de scriptions of the Creole girl given by hard breathing and thicklipped enthu siasts—her voluptuous figure, heavy- lidded and languishing eyes, dark hair, and olive and ov&l face, which she car ries about in a pleaso-somc-one-lovo- mc expression? Don’t dream about her any more. Come and see her. Look at her as she slouches out of a doorway, in a calico wrapper, the pat tern and color of which long ago ceased to be obvious, and drags herself along to the adjoining house to gossip with another beauty. Mark how the heels of her slippers have been vigorously “run down” till there is no after-section at all to speak of, and then follow the squat figure up to the head. The faco is always au in teresting one. but seldom beautiful Almost invariably the mouth is large and the teeth prominent, bat the chin is dimpled and small. Tho cheek bones are high, tho eyes dark, and the akin is coarse and greasy, often covered with ill-laid streaks of powder. She is clever, though, when she talks, and often very bright, and she has the same idea of honor that her lackadaisical sister has on the other side of town. In this respect the girls of New Or leans are all alike—they will never brook familiarity from a comparative stranger, and their street manners are severe and proper in the highest de gree. Once the ice is broken, however, they rush io a finish at headlong speed. To~men to whom they have not been properly introdnoed they are ice; to men they know they are gushing, flop ping, and effusive even in public. tm — “Ah, Miss Paul,” said a lank to a sarcastic girl to whom be had just been presented, “I believe von know my fwiend FiUdaiweace." "Oh, yes, I met him at Saratoga last summer." “Ah, Miss Pant, Ffta is a ehawming fellow, don’t you know? Weally.now, Mias Paul,don't you think he ia a monk delightful fallow than these CiOcinsab- tae men?" "Oh, ha's vary niea," she answered, “hot I think he told ms a •tory.” "No! Why, FiU la the Tansy •on of twooth, Mias PaaL What eoold hakavesattr ~ FAMOUS SONGS OF PRAISE. ■rams that wmwm Bssn Wmmt *r Msa? CMrtertss. The Soman Catholic church has aver bean the friend of the arts of painting, sculpture and music, and without her cherishing care mnch that ws now have as glorious relics of early art would have been destroyed and lost This is especially true of music. The highest and grandest contributions to the musical art have been inspired by the Catholic church, and are tns work of her votaries. In the mosio that was sung in the churches recently some of the hymns are 800 years old, coming to ns out of what ws are pleased to term the darkness of the middle ages. The Gregorian chant or tones, a name given to certain choral melodies, S its its name from Pope Gregory the reat, who was himself a musician and taught at tho Lateran palace, so that this form of music comes to us from about 51K>-(>00. This ecclesiastical chant is the chant of the Catholic church all over tho world. In it we have all that the priest sings at the mass, and it is in general use by choirs of ecclesiastics. In the course of time abuses of oue kind or another crept into church music, for the reason that there was no established form, until the time of Pope Maroellus II., about 1555. In his time music had so degen erated that he thought to throw it out of the church altogether. Before pro ceeding to this extreme step, however, a consultation was held with Palestrini, a great musician. He promised the to introduce music that would not chargeable with tho grossness and uncouthness of that which it was to supersede. He composed tho work known as the Messa di Papa Marcello (the mass of Pope Marcellus) which was so thoroughly a success that the pope accepted him, and gave him full powers to go on and recast and re model as he chose. The mass of Pope Marcellus it a magnificent work. It was given at the recent plenary coun cil at Baltimore. This style of music is that which forms the basis of that made known by the Cecilian society, which is now widely spread over the United States with the intent of en couraging good classical church music. This Palestrina music is the style used in the Sistine chapel, where the pope to-day will celebrate Easter. The cel ebrated Misereres for which the Sis tine chapel is famous in Holy week, composed by Baini, Mustapha, and others, are sung in that music, and to hear them during the week just closed people flocked to the chapel from all parts of tho world. The grandest mu sical achievements of the masters of the past one hundred years have been in church music, and the names of Bee thoven, Meyerbeer, Haydn, Handel, Mozart, Mendelssohn, and, later, Ros sini and Gounod, are attached to num erous so-called themes. Gounod, who is still living, has composed a beautiful Are Maria. Mcrcadante has composed a number of beautiful masses. The masses most popular in Rome to-day are those of Mercadantc, Xirziana, and De Pietro, a Jesuit. Rossini's Stabat Mater is always a favorite in Home. Of Palestrina's music it should be understood that it was bever writ ten by him, but taught, and is tradi tional. No less a person than the illustrious Charlemagne himself is the reputed author of tho “Veni Creator Spintur,” who died at Aix-la-chapeiie, his crown upon his head, and his copy of the gospels upon his knees, Jan. 28, 814, so that it is now at least 1074 years old. The "O Salutaris Hostia” is a hymn sung during the office called benedic tion, at the moment when the taberna cle is opened in order that the conse crated host may be removed and placed in tke monstrance prepared uxr its solemn exposition. The custom of in troducing this hymn at high mass is at least sis old as the fifteenth century, while tho hvmn itself is prob ably much older. This theme has been treated by many musical composers. Tho "Magnificat ’ has been used as the vesper cauticle of the church from time immemorial, and tho evening office has also been so constructed as to lead up to it as its chief point of Interest The. text of the “Magnificat" has been grandly illustrated by Bach, Mendels sohn, and active composers of the modern school in the oratorio style, with full orchestral accompaniment*. King Robert IL, of France, who suc ceeded to the throne of his father, Hugh Capet in 997, is credited with the anthorship of the Yen! Sancte Spiritns hymn, a hymn which is re garded as “the loveliest of all the hymns in the whole circle of Latin sacred poetry." The king was a saint a poet, and a musician, and his ability to compose this great hymn is not improbable. The Stabat Mater is a Good Friday hymn. Its author, Jacobus de Bene- dictus, was born at Todi, of the noble Italian bouse of Benedette, and rose to distinction as a jurist About 1268 he lost his wife, and, broken-hearted, renounced the world to join the order of St Francis. There are several English translations of this great hymn. The following is the opening stanza of a recent translation nj no less celebrated a person than onr countryman, the late Gen. John A Dix, while minister plenipotentiary, at Paris: Near the cross the Savior bearing, Stood tho mother lone desylrfg. Bitter tears down-falling fast Wearied was her heart with grieving. Worn her breeet with sorrow heaving; Through her soul tho sword had pus* —Indianapolis Journal. Chinamen are generallv not numer ous around or near mining-camps, be ing in ill-favor with the mineri Here was the only one we eaw, a seemingly ‘he wae natural* 4 bright fellow, who said iced, i and with a sevea-by-nine amUe ■aid: "Me plieemaa on my mother's side and washwoman on my father’s side." He was chattering to himself ia his tea-box language when one of the miners, with aa oath. Informed kisa that if he didn’t make lees aoiee he’d start a lead-mine in hiss. It had its et loeL—Cor. N. Y. Mvenimp /WL A War Picnic. While Longstreot was ia frontal Suf folk, writes Ned Buntline, peeking at us with Wright's batteries, instead of coming in and “wiping us out" as be eould nave done before we wore rein forced, a report came in that he was massing a heavy force to the southeast of our lines, our weakest point of de fense. To learn the true state of things at that point 1 was sent with a small scooting party br the way of the Shingle company’s canal into Lake Drummond, to scout from thence south of the Dis mal swamp. Going in skiffs, we reached a land ing on tolerably solid ground, and camped for the night on a little knoll in a dense thicket of scrub pine, a half mile or thereabout from tho point of landing. Of course, I bad sentinels well out from our bivouac, for we knew from many sounds that the enemy were not far from us. All went well through the night, and at dawn we made coffee and cooked some venison that I had got from old Duke at the head of the canal as we came by his place on the previous afternoon. The sentinels were called in to breakfast, for there seemed to be no immediate danger. We had just squatted to our coffee and grist when a sound struck our ears which made every man in silence spring up and grasp his Sharp's car bine. It was the heavy tread of men. We had just got our arms in hand when a dozen men in rebel gray, led by a lieutenant over six feet high and lean as a nail, broke right through the bush in front of us. In a second, while both parties stood at a ready, the lieutenant, cried out: “Hold on, Yanks! If you 'uns won’t shoot, wo'uns'll%old fire. That coffee smells mighty good—wo'uns haven’t had none for £ year. Wo’ve lots of lo- baeco, though.” He and his men looked so gaunt and hungry, and so little like enemies just then, that I cried out; "If you’ll stack your arms out there and trust to us. you shall share iu grub and coffee, and then be free to go back and fight it out if you want to. "Good as sweet corn! We’uns are mighty hungry, you bet!” They at once stacked arms, and we did the same, and while onr cook put more coffee and more steak on the fire we sat there on the ground, the blue and gray, and talked as if we were old friends. Not about the war or Us causes, but about camp life and other things. And tho wav our coffee wont down, with hard tack and juicy venison steak, would have satisfied the proudest land lord that over bragged of his table. b v l alw of After we had filled up, the Virginians brought out their tobacco, and did their •bare of treating. The lieutenant had a huge canteen of old peach brandy, and tnat went the rounds. After wo had got so friendly I asked the lieutenant how he came to be in on that point He replied: "I was sent to watch lest you ’uns came this way in force to take us on the flank. Our main force is massed in front, where the batteries are ready to go in if you 'uns weaken, and the old man (Longstreet) was afeared you might come through the swamp and tickle us in the roar! What were 'ui doing here?” "Just out on a hunt for fresh meat; got this deer last night.” “Well the best o’ luck to you. You don't feel like fightin' now do you?” “Not if you boys don’t It would be a pity to spoil this picnic that way.” So we all shook hands, traded coffee for tobacco, and separated, at least for then, as friends. The next day on the lines wo were all throwing lead and iron at each other. ■ . - ■ . ——' Wluri 8he Haorlflood. George Eliot can neither be defended on the plea that every man must be tried by canons he assents to, nor cen sured on the plea that virtue consists in constant submission to variable opinion. The first would absolve fanv tics and the other would supersede con science. It is equally certain that she acted in conformity with that which, in 1854, aho esteemed right, and in contradiction to that which was ths dominant and enduring spirit of her own work. She did not feel that she was detracting from her authority by an act which gave countenance to the thesis that associates rigid ethics with rigid, dogma, for she claimed no authority and did not dream of setting an example. Tho idea of her genii had not dawned. That sho possessi boundless possibilities of doing go< to men and of touching hearts that no divine and no philosopher could reach was still, at 85, a secret to herself. At first she was astonished that anybody who was not superstitious could find fault with her. To deny herself to old friends, to earn with her pen an in come for her whose place she took, to pass among strangers by a name which was not her due, all this did not seem too high a price for the happiness of a home. She urged With pathetic gravi ty that she know what she was losing. She d!J not know it Ostensibly she was resigning a small group of friends and aa obscure position in literature. What she really sacrificed was liberty of speech, the foremost rank among the women of her time, and a tomb in Westminster Abbey,—Thr Nineteenth Century. A Bright Boy. While teaching in a large school in Pennsylvania Mis* Crayon had sole charge of a not particularly bright little fellow whoee education had just begun. During the leading lesson one day Georgte stumbled and op mo to a dead stop at the word mat “Spell H Georgia,” said the teacher. “M-a-t" read the boy. “Well what is it?" "Don't know." “Oh yes, yod do," said Mias Crayon, enooungingly. "Come now Georgia, what do yon wipe yow feet on?" “Oh!" eried the little fellow with n fong-drawnslgh^ef^ralief, “M-a-t toi THE HOME OF THE HAVANA. wm «* ta* swrvts «r wm Otes* twees - try «C Cake. Havana furnishes the world with ef fete, and in no other plaee la the world are there so many cigar-factories. Much of the pleasant aromatic flavor of the Havana cigar is due to the fact that the fillers are stripped and packed ia ordinary flour or potato barrels and al lowed to remain for six months. The looter the fillers are stored the strong er the flavor bccomce. The method of making cigars ia other countries is very defective, as tho exquisite flavor is lost too much drying. Rainy weather ways interferes with the manufacture cigars, as tobacco easily absorbs moisture. The fillers must always be dry before they can be worked. Poor tobacco is Improved by being artificial ly flavored with Catalan wine, which, undiluted, is entirely too strong to drink. The manufacturer never eeti* mates how many pounds of tobacco will be needed for a thousand cigars, but estimates how many cigars can be made from a bale. The wrapper is selected with great care, with a view to giving beauty to the cigar. All the scraps are either re worked into the body of other cheap cigars, or exported to foreign countries for cigarettes. Cigars of an inferior quality are generally pressed flat. In stead of cutting the wrapper leaf from below upward, as is done in this coun try, in Havana it is done from above downward. Great care is taken to oat out the uppermost part of tho leaf, which makes the finest wrapper. The portion that is almost without Veins is wrapped aroond the heads. In making a cigar, the workman takes two or three pieces of leaf and places them flat in his left hand; he then takes ss many smalltr p jnay be required, rolls them all togeth er in the hand, sod finally applies the wrapper. His chief object is to cover the veins or plaoe them all on one side. By this the iKili/nl manipulator may tw recognised. An unpractised nMkbr will make third-rate cigars out of first- class tobacco. Another test of a good workman is the amount of scrape he makes a day. A good cigar-maker will average only one-half pound. The heads of the Havana eigar are not fast ened with gum or any other stioky sub stance, but simply by wheat bread. This is tasteless, and every workman carries a. well-kneaded portion with him. With very fine Havanas nothing is used to fasten the ends, but they are secured by many skillful twistings that wind Into each other. The enjoyment of the i.ytHhnis smoker would be blunted if the whole roccssof cigar manufacturing were laid open to him. Dirty negroes throw Uei and i r. their spittle upon the around it with their naked feet This, combined with the uaeioaalinocs of many of the factories, is not very Invit ing information to the lovers of the Ha vana cigar. Everybody in Havana smokos, but the ladies in high Ufa are rather secretive about the matter. The cigar-men smoke continually,and when the employer does not supply them freely with cigars of the finest quality the laborers steal them. Flrst-etaes ci gars have a fine, smooth appearance, the wrapper being without veins and of a beautiful color. Second and third class cigars are of fine quality so well made. The dimrent cigars may be recognised by I , ent odors of sUk bands that bind them in bundles. Great can Is tahsn fa em bellishing the boxes of fine rdf rs soifao of the orders of the nobility in foreign countries being elaborate in Urn ex treme. Havana tobacco can ha harroetedbot once a year. Attempts have been made to obtain two crops annually, bet thsee have been unsuccessful The beet bacoo is known under the bacco ds la vdelta de absJa small t —Butchers fa Y< cents— —An ewon is OB MOt for the offeafafaton of u nt tfeinlnM . 7 T *f fa* Malt thehfahwafarlS -The upper fall ef county was visited ea the , j ‘r ■ . r- , u ’ the >ieoes as —The Carolina Spartan at the tyt: "Cotton that eoaaat grwa weather as this assd not try tar MBfc* —At tbs Alkaa Court, fast faNfc* five colored school tosehsn ware eai trial for forgery. They vers aB con victed. —The Baptists of Jobaslaa, fafaa- ' fieldcouutThsv. rmissdWflmTCa purpose or bnilding a ‘ church. —RWfae Sprfag has a which, if he Hvc until 1 will be eighteen year* aid. been blind two y -Ths bod the cornfields In Greenville county, sad Is eye to the young corn. -Tbs Presbyterian, Baptist congregations of have defenninsd to hoM . •"foJijaioetojjjjdfarBaMnf tr.yfr .ir< hSiwISTfa is the first white Demoaratie ter far fifteen years. —Chickens big enough fa jmvwi era on them sell far fteea amtisi the conscience of tho i —Gen. , s chicken with is on the eeeoad Mat of Ufa faft —ajir. U kmTySj sow with twta t - i * L ’ “*— Rifles, win fawn a ville oath* 7th aT wss agalfaat will be s —The Agrlealfatal sea advised thel amoaetleg to fl, Island sot ton, ‘ Mr. Clarke, o? J The hi church at! nitely have been subscribed, tel teriy. Work wtttbaT day. —^1 —w , - ■—m wvy MH county is sold to ha •lands ere excellent, a •re favorable flw timpazf Kay ha ag —Wofford Cottage, at closed Its eafag naaday. Fire. ptA.M M Jl’-./* ‘ -Mr. L. A. of to- . It grows rivers m ths 1 in the regions of the t Sierras de los Oran Jo*. Bach year thfa part of the island is overflown, sad a heavy, rich quality of alfavinas Is da- posited on the soil Irrigation has proved a failure in Cuba. In the grow ing season a heavy dew falls each aigh^ but the soil, which is a red loaas, ho-, ctsnes dry quickly, and absorb* a great deal of moisture. Only one good Step can be assured in each five yean. The plant requires groat care. Three kfodi of worms attack it, and tbeee must ha removed at night by the aid of laatana This is done by boys, who carry Iho worms to the planter for their remaa- cration. In the early part of January the tobacco is ripe for cutting. If the crop is good, all the leaves are eat of tho stalk at once, but if the crop is poor the unripe leaves are left to grew oat more. The early crop is much ths bet ter. It is recognized by the beautiful color and mellow appearance of tho leaves, many of which look as if pearls were spread over them. Groat earo ought to be takeu in purohasfaf the Havana leaf tobacco, because it dtSfars so much in quality. Out of ooei a manufacturer will make tea dflhnat brands of cigars. Ths Havana leaf la the only kind of tobacco that Booths. and bugs will eat These kinds at ver min are very destructive If not kept away. There is a great deal of to bo mode by a skillful tobaeot Havana, but 1m must bo oxperfaaeod and understand the fangooge spoken fa Cuba, otherwise he wul not profit by this trade.—Indianaooiis Journal. -A kmedBohvtBaiHni Mine, several webks w > ' .. . sum of] ■ado In' Mr.J.W. and thoeashi of Mr.! Dofaetivai — or w • mu m Tho orOiaaiy Atlantic storm wavoo are not more than thirty feet high, hat when the, barometric pram are It usually low at tbs storm’s center relatively high around tie eater si the level of the sea is nissd over a large area, and the winds Mowfaf fa on the center occasionally hsap up the waters to the height ef forty-five fast, In n monograph pnbMshsd by tho hy* drographio office, it is staled that waves, at rare intervals,' served -The baMfr a to holla far dm forty-eight That tho 4 A twenty dollar! IS*