OCR Interpretation


The Manning times. (Manning, Clarendon County, S.C.) 1884-current, February 10, 1886, Image 1

Image and text provided by University of South Carolina; Columbia, SC

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn86063760/1886-02-10/ed-1/seq-1/

What is OCR?


Thumbnail for

VOL. II. MANNING, CLARENDON COUNTY, S. C.. WEDNESDAY, FRBRUAR
A Desperate Thougwt.
"What if there is no God:" Tho re'ii
thought
Took hideous shape within my muortal br,iu
Then instantly my share o. itorial l- iIn
Pressed heavier on my heart. 1.ik: n :
blot,
Hurled out on spae, ombiight og '.
Snot
Reeking with tears and b boodsb-. gea .
gain,
This sorrow-laden world srnieee naon
vain,
And but a ghastly jest, man's anguiedI(.I lo.
The universe contracted on my sight,
Down to the limits of a prison ipn
Its one dark door. an opeinr in t hs sod.
I lung my arms up heavenwrd min auman
I or sudden nwiness m. aredit- .I.,a-n
I cried aloud, "There is. iblicr is a G v'"
--Ella wh.eler wileu.o
M"1ISTAKE-N.
Thoughtless Word? and the Re,ul-ts Th'vy
Wrought in Two Young Live%.
A cool breeze blew up fron the rvr.
It playe4 mong the reeds, :nd:
grasses on the bank and r'n laiy up
6e slope toward the white maz:iin on
the hillside, flutteringt the vmia zn:
fringed the wide piazza where
of voung girls sat chating. rknt, or
busying themselves with dainty n
work.
"Wht a delicious breezel" exela imI
Florenco Freeman. rising as she spoe.
The slender, thoughtful-looking yun
man rectining unseen in the depths of a
large easy chair just within one of the
long windows glanced up from the
pages of a book in which he had been
absorbed, and his dark eves followed
her'o'raceful figure admirin gly.
sets me wild to be domug some
thing," she continued, pacii up and
down the long porch. -Do you know.
girls," pausing abruptly, . -we re a s't.
,& slaves?"
"0. Fiorrv?" exclaimed a laiuhing
w ee, "now don't give us a lecture on
om~an's rightsi
"Never fear: that isn't what I was
minking of. We are hindered by cir
.umstances from bcing and doing wI .
ore feel is ithin us to'be and do.
"Listen, girls," interrupted another
3ice, "Florry is on her hinz hirse.
Iow we shalf see some praneh:."
".Laugh away." returned Iorenc.
"I'm in earnest. Why must we. be
4ause we happen to have drifted ito a
certain channel, or because a1 particular
course is marked out for us by friends.
drift on down the stream or keel) on in
the same course to the bitter end. even
though we must smother the best there
is in our natures in doing so?"
Intense feeling emphasized her words,
and her unseen listener found him:df
wondering what personal experi :
had prompted them. Amy Gray ha d
her eves.
"D'uty is often unpleasant." she said,
"but it is best, after all. to have a settled
plan and purpose and cling to them
thronh everything. Think what a chaos
woukfresult if we all followed our own
inclinations. and, worse than that.
whatever might for the moment be our
ruling passion."
Florence did not answer for a mo
ment; her eves were roving across the
wide sweep of the river, wlhere a white
sail glimmered iii the afternoon un
shine.
"0, yes; there must be phins. of
course, and they nmust be carried out. or
nothing would be accomplished. But
take special cases. There is cou-in Dora,
for instance. Why must she give upI
her painting to marry Fred Long. mere
ly because she promised to when a mere
child, and didn't know what she w'nt
ed? Of course I don't sav :'ything
against Fred. He is good as .cod 1but
he can't appreciate her talemn. . by
he has begun lio interfere withu herciu
already. Says she works too strad'y,
and wants her to give up some wor0k
she had undertaken in order to be . r
ried sooner. She onvy laughedt ovrt
Of course she wouldn' t 'ay myting,
but we can alil see she does't tlove "im.
How can she, when lhe hasi no symp"athyi
with her on that subject? y 3ow, why
can't she say so. and be free?"
"She feels her resaonsibi'.i," said
Amy's soft voice. -Slie knows'how.; de
voted Mr. Long is to her."
"Sh-h! here she comes." whispered
Edith Stanley as a bright-faced girl flat
tered up fromn the garden, like a dainty
white butterfly, and perched hera tl on
the steps. A dead silence fell on the
group for a moment. n~ad then Donm
turned her laughing fact towarua her
cousin: "Go on. Florry. Xou were giv
ing a lecture, weren't you? I could hear
you 'orating.' but couldn't catch a word
of the discourse."
"It's ended now.," said Florence cool
lv, mentally resolving never to b~ sq)
careless again in mnentionig r-ei'
cases," id unless some on-zas t Iken i
notes you c:an never hop~e to knowv iny
thing' about it. for it was quite imi
pro..'' And, taking her coutl'
arm, she marched her up and down t u
piazza humming a gay air.
Meanwhile, w.ithiin the windowsv. the.
young man sat motionless, his tinge'r
still between the pages that only t ew
momenats agro held him speil~oiund:
though his world had fallen in~ ruin'
around him since Florence began hi.r
"lecture." Outside the breeze ralnr
among the tree-tops and ralled th
shining bosom of the river. The Autit
sunshine lay mellow on the gralssbu
he heard nothing, saw nothing.
The tea bell rang suddenly and s.irt
ed him out of Tis meditattions. Th'le
girls disappeared with much chatter a"d
gay laughter, and lie rose mechanic iy
adwalked like one in a dream ona
through the garden and on into a Iite
grove beyond, his one thought to be
alone where no human eve could add
to his torment with its questioning~
elance. There, under the trees, w'here
le and Dora played in childhood. he
walked to and fro, one sentence rmng
ine in his ears like a sentence of doom:
"ecan all see she doesn't love him.
It was hard to come down fronm the pinu
nacle where he had imagined huimnelf;
crowned king of one heart.
'When D~ora, only 15 then. had given"
him her hand so confidingly a' they
walked together in this very gri
only it was morning then, and -prmt
time, and .the air was filled w.ith te
scent of wild crab-apple blooms, and h
wore them at her throat; how plainly. he
could see her now, all in white, and the
pink of her cheek so like the d ainty
blossoms-he had taken the gift un
questioningly, and no doubts hiad ev.er
assailed him. He knew. her devotion
to art and wits proud of her success, but
he had never dreamed that it would be
bi iy1 in her affections.
I It ben 1o Mi:' ie quest0euiod.
. my littl.e Dor'
m'iting must be done, and that at
n Shold he to Dora and ask if
1 tn weetu That would be
i v -liav yo.u b)een deceiving
:. lthese vear?" Hle (loui not do
:.H mut'wait. with what patience
he cou'ld. until he could decide for him
-f. He was very thankful that Dora
haid not quite dee'ided to be married in
thet fall, as thatt would be one test he
cou'd puzt ler to. It is something to
ha-tve -an idwa tiat can be acted upon at
0 nd he retraced his steps toward
1t.ho wi'h thlii one purpose in
yN-w. Liw shall he find a minute in
wh c-h to -peak alone with Dora? He
teels that lie ealinot bear the suspense
'mi anoth. r day shall come. and then
nmetLo himself, "Fool' what- if it
nm i-t : lifetime? What if I at
nvr I t) know?"e
AS het reached the piazza a oirlish
vo.ct, cred out e:1atriv: O. Mr. Tjng!
V i(Tr hiave vont h'een hiding yourself?"
and in -:n itstant h- Vas surrounded by
. ho sColded and
qu -i or .d with such -vivacity that their
victim toutnd it unnecessary to say a
word: in. in fact. quite impossible.
TP Dor: rose from the piano.
Here, Donr",called Edith Stanly,
--ht-r is the deserter. What shall be
done to him?"* And they led him be
fore his bright-eyed judge.
Dora had never before seemed to him
just as >he did at that moment-so far
awa.-Is i ia ;reat gulf were fixed between
theIn. le could scarcely believe in her
bright iooks, everything seemed so un
real, his lifte was - sa han to its foun
dations. It was only by a great eiort
that he roused himuelf1 to inake some
commnonnla'Cxu.
Dora'' ti st careles gl tce at his pal
d foe chan'ed to one of alarm. The
lin froi .n o(en window fell upon it
:,d -.: -w its deadly pallor. "Why,
Fred: cried. --vou careless boy!
You vill be sick azain. Come and have
Onwt.- I w he led the way to the
dHn-reom. How ' s-VI"
.Conim Dor-a. I have something to tell
Vn." aInd then. havin- her all to him
'elf. pour out these miscrable doubts
and fears in her ear and so be free from
them. But no: here was this crowd of
chattering girls-besides. she must not
know lie had such doubts. Even if she
said, --I love votz," could he be sure she
was not savin'- It because she believed
it to be her dity. And so he finished
the evening as bet he could. and all
night long his heart tormented him with
1everal das passed before he found
In oOrtuniltv to speak alone with Dora.
Th ow w1as tilled with a number of
young guests. and Dora must be every
where.
Fred Long was just now taking a
well-arned vacation. .. After years of"
hard work and nionths of illness he had
come back to the home of his childhood
to regain lost health and strength. He
had called this the happiest summer he
had known. biut now an untimely frost
had spoiled its beauty. Among the
friends whom Dora was entertaimimg
her cousin Florence Freeman was the
011 one he had previously known. Nat
uralv they drifted tog,-the-r during these
isl-abl' (:Ivz. With Dora lie wa
Su.idnlv ill 'at case and restless: her
uitk eys nted the changre, and she
looked about for a cause. Those same
(uiek, evces oon niticed the walks and
talks withi cauinh Fiorence. --No won
di-.- rs hiin." she said. with a
h1 io %tlpn a, her heart. mentally
com-stn talL handsome Florence
with her own little self.
Pres-ntly the ilock of merry school
'iti- took 11light. --Onlv lore!nce. and
'\u and~fl I. said Dora:'-just asit usedl
to b'." Butt fortt both Iim oldl chairm
One d-av'they w..akedi together aiong
the~ rivi bamk, and Dora said, *-Our
--Ye-, h'e answered. " I must go back
o my 1:nI books :mid voui umst have
t~m- bor vottrpum .
A lighd e~nmm into) h r eyes. "Then I
amt to go on p:ung.i~/k
--." he said slowly. "I amt mak
in! ti satcricie for yout. I do not wish
yiou to maiirrV me until you havie linished
ths wor-k vou have set your heairt upon.
It will oceatv vout- whole winter?'
--Yee: p)L1haps motre. Give mte a
year." -ohe satid eage-riy, quite untcont
-oeious of the pain her words inilicted,
and on.v an.xiouts for- timte wherein to
pro0ve wheth.er. after all these years of
devotion. Fried could be won fronj JAeir.
-ery well,"- came the antswer, calm
--d euv. No tr-emtling in the quiet
tone to i. -Ltray the hiart s unutterable
anuih as a- whi-pered to itself, "-How
d se i to be free evren for a year.'
'As ftor Do-a, her heart was saying.
-Ie dots not cr-."
Antd then th er 1:dked of indifferent
ma~tters. tes t-.'.o foolish onecs, and the
trecous5 houtrs in which they might
ve understood each other slipped
:v and were g-one forever.
)htee moo: e ap'art. their letters wereecx
c:u, -d at r-ezular intervals-Fred's
id~ and loving. --Of course." said
1r.'-it is his duity. while D~ora's
weea.uio- studyl ha-d her- lover but
kumvn.i Ehon little cooler, a
tle 1)rifer thani the l:n-t, until by the
tie sp ring had tr -.e the fields antd
w~o i green aia~~ poor Fred had
wel-itgh male up a his~ mind that Flor
cnee w'as. r~it. D~ori' hearut wa~s ailI in
-er.p itn -lhe ha"d grown quite
-:1'hi - upe . is klling me" lie
wub ida "but- l' wait-it is better
it w ill s e..
Andt l-.ru. work' . -herself to a shad
ow ver t-; pati'u would think:
'''oon h1-ed frid i.
sel asi i h. Il famiiar h aunts.
bt- :-is: th i j P-"l;:t waso wanut
- ~metl :: * ove everytihing, and
Dora a . : :tlawa 1 in ev..
T::..r o- a: merr gu- .s to divide
her semio: Em. '0-red, sos
lent di .s:- eei lhe could't hardly be
.*.v it wa' th r''.:u- Do he hd known
A ui e- -:wd'i b --a wet-k of mninghcd
prdh ind o tortzient. Some(timies hie
wou,~ld bt an the- pon of sayving to her-:
Doa I w ili stan~d in Vour way no0
lontger: bmt a faint hop- sill lingu-ered,
itd he could1 i not crush it so ruthlessly.
A o ther tim'es he could almost believe
iself' mistaken-all tnese months al
fenafl d..rm-.when hoe ere met hin
so earne.,lv anf .xen:ii nuert for a mo
ment with the o0l. w::rm light.
They sat. together one (a upon a
litle r:;Ze ,eat, ehat ing Znd1( resting
after a walk. 'red had taken some
lett-r-s fromi li' xo'ket which he wished
to lhow to Do .% A nie'r fll from
anui mir :x;-m D~ .op:: to recover
it. i~n Flory.'' She murmured,
and Fred b-gan umkng some conimon
place renark tion s correctness.
The lncing at his con1panon's face,
he was start!;-- at its i deadly pallor.
"Dora:- he eri'ed. ou are ill. We
walked too far. You oust rest.''
--N., I'm not ill." he said almost
sharoiv. -Iow lovelv Fornce is.
-Ye-:. indeed. Sh' ts wvell-nigh per
feet. But there is only one Dora in all
the world. takin-r hxer little. cold hand
in his. "Without Dora the world is
meaninglcss to me."
l)ora's eves were scanning the dis
tant hills. She made no reply. She
was ste-ling her heart against him
'le wants to be troe." she thought,
--but I will have no sucih love.
--Dora. -oi arc not happy.
se sutarted. --Not perfectly so. What
mortal i.?"
-It seems to ine I would be if only
things could be as they once were be
twcen Its.
This was the firzt allusion he had
made to the fact that he had noticed
any change in their relations.
Dora realized that a crisis was com
ing. She simply awaited it in silence..
She would neither strive to avert nor to
hasten it.
"I have som.etimcs feared that you
and I have been mistaken. That is the
word. I think. If so. I love vou too well
to ask you to keep a promise which has
become hateful to you."
Dora rose from her seat; a sudden
fire flamed in her pale cheek. She
held her hand out toward him-the dear
little hand that wore his ring. Some
thina in her air bewilderedhim. He
stood a moment motionless. then seized
the hand in both his own. She shook
him of impatiently and drew the ring
gog her finger. Now he understood.
..WVith6iC _2 word. Dora?" he said,
struggling for a man
might battle for life against the waves
of a sea.
"What is there to say?" asked Dora,
her voice clear as a silver bell, while
her eves shone like two stars. And
ngain he told himself that lie: --She is
lad!"
And so they parted. The tie formed
almost in childhood was broken, and
they went their separate ways.
Dav after day Dora's pale, resolute
face 'bent over her canvas, and she
steadied her trembling hand for greater
achievements. She worked too hard,
ther said. She was too ambitious; she
put too much of her life-blood into the
strokes of her brush, and a few months
ended the struggle.
He came again to the dear old house
beside the river; a crowd of friends had
rathered there, but Dora gave them no
welcome. Pale and silent she lay and
stirred not a finger nor an eyelash for
any of their tears. He stood there with
lorence, and that still form between
them: its smiling lips were no more si
lent now than thev had been in life. A
dumb patience wva marked on the
sweet face, but they never guessed its
meaning.
"If she might only have lived!" sobbed
Florence.
Fred spoke not, but the bitter cry of
his heart was. "If I could only know that
she loved me!"
And they never dreamed, these two
er nearest and dearest-that they had
slain hex'.
George Sheridan's Joke.
Gen. George H. Sheridan, "of Louisi
ana," lives now at the Union Square
hotel and is coming to be known as a
Union Square notability. He has had a
heckered political career, but he has
ad a good liv'ing through it all, evi
lently, for he has grown stouter and
stouter with each succeeding year, until
his short figure now carries upward of
250 pounds of flesh. As a stump speaker
e has been and still is in great demand.
is talks arc a mixture of witty stories
and eloquence which is taking with the
people. A politician of Ohio related to
nc yesterday an incident of one of
Sheridan's engagements which had a
udicrous ending. Sheridan was posted
for a speech in a manufacturing town
n northern Ohio. It was an o.y-t
ad the Den crats were expecting to
x'r the 'dounty through Republican in
dife'rence and the labor vote. They
idn't want Sheridan to make a speech<
for fear lie wculd rouse up all the Repub
icans, but how to keep him away wast
problem. They hit upon a plan at:
last, anid when Sheridan arrived he wast
urprised to meet a cordial reception
from several Democratic acquaintances<
ho pressed him with invitations to go<
out and "smile." He finally went out
with them and was conducted to at
saloon where he found a number oft
other choice spirits, but all Democrats.
hey began to ply him with invitations
o drink, and it soon popped into his
ead that they had a scheme to make
im drunk and let the meeting be a i
falure because o~ his non-attendance.t
hen he became satisfied that this was
their game he went in for as much funf
as anyone. It was' 2 o'clock when they t
went into the saloon. At half-past 7 he
walked out with a slightly unsteady
step, but with a perfect control of his<
otions. while every' other man of the t
rowd was under the table. He weont to <
the hail where he was to speak and de-1
ivered one of the finedi efforts of his 1
ife, not forgetting to tell the story of:
how thxe enemy had tried to trip him up.
'he county rang with his speech for at
week, and was carried for the Republi
cans.- Y Tribune.4
On His Tongue's End.
Col. Fizzletop has a wretched nmemor'y.
He is very m uch puzzled to remember
the simplest thing that is told him.
-What is the name of that patent
medicine Col. Witherspoon told nie to 1
et for nmy liver?'' he asked his wife.
I can't remember the nxamie to save
nv life."
"I can't either. My memory is gettingc
~orse and worse every day. Let med
tee. I had it on the end of my tongue a(e
ninute ago." 11
Little Jfohnny spoke up and said: s
"Stick out y'our tongue, pa, and let
e see it. Perhaps thiat name is on it
A PECULIAR CUSTM.
A Ludicrous Practice in Which Mans
Ocean Travelers; are Compelled
to Take Part.
A Cambridge undergraduate, now on
his way to the cape in a trading vessel,
sends ihe following interesting commu
nication to tL Pall Iall Gazetk: One
of the oldest customs of the sea lately
came under my notice, and in such a
way as I am not likely to forget. As
usual after our 6 o'clock tea, we were
seated in the saloon enjoymig our game
of cribbage. when a blast from the fog
horn. fit to awalken the dead, put an end
to our cards. Ilurriedlv we made for
the deck, where a sight never to be for
gotten met our eyes. The evening was
dark and cloudy. the moon entirely hid
den, but the (leek was brilliantly illu
minated with blue lights. From the fore
castle was issuing a procession that
bafiles description. Firs: walked Father
Neptune himself, leadirg on his arm his
young and beautiful wife. Amphitrite.
Neptune was dressed in long, white
flowine robes-that is, a nightshirt;
aroun' his head waved his gray locks,
blowing before the wind in every direc
tion; his beard reached below his waist;
on his head lie wore a miter of such
tremendous size as to drive any bishop
wild with envy; in Jiis hand he bore his
trident.
His wife's dress was evidently on the
plan of "beauty unadorned." for some
red paint, a small red flag, and a pair
of red bathing-drawers constituted her
costume. Her flaxen hair in curly
masses reached ker knees. Following
this august couple walked the hero of
the evenin-the barber. Dressed all in
white, wearing a hat the shape of a
dice-box, half white, half black, with
curly white hair and whiskers, he was
sublime; but the sublime changed into
the awful when one perceived that he
carried in his hands instruments of tor
ture rivaline in their latent cruelty even
those of theInquisition. Imagine stand
ing and gazing upon a bucket of flour
and water mixed to about the thickness
of liquid glue, of which you know you
will receive a large share-on your head.
Eo ; can, from that sight, and
look again. In his_&rfand he holds
a razor of such magnitude that iYt4U
not be ill amiss for felling trees, and
think that soon that edge of rough,
rusty iron will be plowing its meander
n' course over your innocent jaws.
'ollowing this torturer came two
olicemen armed with cudgels and dark
anterns. Behind them crowded the
crew. In spite of the awful solemnity
of the scene, one could not but admire
the dark, cloudy sky, the sea a blaze of
phosphorescence, the flickering summer
ichtning, the g-roupina of the actors.
altingr'before the after deck, Neptune,
in a oud voice, with such calm disre
gard as to where he put his H's as would
make any classical author turn in his
grave, gave utterance, "Earing that
some of the crew of this ship is such as
they 'ave not vet crossed the loine, and
bin baptoized, my sons. I ham 'ere to
see them done so." Evidently Nep
tune's intercourse with British sailors
has been to the disadvantage of his elo
quence.
The sailors, at the finish of Neptune's
peech, cheered loudly, while from their
midst stepped the two brawny police
men, one of whom was a nigger from
)emerara, and seized upon T. Mean
while the torturer was not idle. He had
seated himself upon a low stool, with
his bucket before him, in his left hand a
brush like a housemaid's broom, while
with his right he was sharpening his
azor on the companion-ladder rail'ings.
las for poor T. He stood smiling be
ore his executioner, who, evidently
hinking the occasion far too solemn to
mile at, put an end to his innocent
erriment by inserting' as much as he
pssibly could of his mixture into his
outh." While he wvas engaged in
hoking and spitting' out what he could
. the &oncoction, h~is head was being
overed to such an extent as to render!
his features quite indistinguishable.
hen that awful razor came into use, its
road. rusty edge scraping away the
ough like a plow in a clay soil. But
ow difficult it is to take the dough out
f one's ey-es andl mouth with a razor
lade three feet long, one can not im
gine till one has tried! His satanic
ajesty, I1 mean the barber, having
erpea ofE is uha leasd b
ang,- MA two po/ eie~in came to the'
ore again, armed with buckets of cold
atr, which, utterly regardless of what
?art of the victim's body received the
vatr. they threw in quick succession
)ver him.
I was the next victim, and wvent
hrough the same terrible routine; but
it last it was all over, and I issued fromi
ie cold-water cure quite ready to see
e fun in treating the others to thei r
lose. It was a novel experience, and
ie not likely to be forgotten. Then
ollowed the others who had not crossed
e line, some half-dozen of them, but
o were miissing. The poic vere
on after them. but it was an hour be
ore the first was found, lying under
eath the boilers in about the temper
iture of the place I had wished the bar
)er in when I was being shaved. All
iis he endured rather than face his
having, or, I should say, shaving his
ce. HIe was quickly dragged upon
e scene, and paid the penalty of his
ar by receiving a double dose. Soon
fter this the other, a boy, was found
moeealed in a sail in the rigging; lie, 1
oo, got what he deserved for trying to 1
sape justice. After all were baptized,4
e had some songs and dances, the bar
er being especially good at the latter,
tad giving us some excellent clog-dances<
nd breakdowns. Poor Neptune had<
errible trouble with his wife, who, sud
lenly discovering herself among a lota
fsailors, became "skittish"-naturally,t
vhat woman would not? The songs
nd dancing finished, grog handed all
ound. andl with three cheers for us
on the crew, we retired to our cabins
put on dry clothes, and to tear out
indfuls of hair in endeavoring to rid
ur heads of dough. And so we crossed
he line.1
A Boston chemist has discovere~d a
a of extracting an essential oil from
nions, with whIch tears can be pro
[uced at pleasure. One drop of this oil
a hand kerchief will produce a copious
ood. T1he oil bids fair to ha~ve a large
Mle. de Lesseps is her father's confi-.
etial scretary.
Julian Hawthorne's Ideas.
Mr. Julian Hawthorne, the novelist,
was recently interviewed by a Chicago
Daily Ncws reporter. The conversation
turned upon the estiiation placed by
Europeans on American works of tietion,
and the question was asked:
"Do you think the American novel is
growino in popularity abroad, and what
are its istinctive features thought to be
by foreigners?"
'The American novel is certainly
growing in popularity abroad, especial
Iv in England, as will be seen by the
frequenti~nllish reprints of our better
novels. The reason for this is that there
are at present so lew tolerable novelists
in England. The English novel has
been written to death, and, as even
novel-readers must have occeasional nov
city, they turn to our books with relief.
The distinctive features of our work
probably appear to them to be new sit
uations, social conditions, and types of
character and a certain minute accuracy
of treatment from the literary point of
view. Average English novel-writing
is very slip-shod and careless."
"What is your opinion of the school
of 'mental vivisection'?"
"I am not myself in sympathy with
that school. 'Mental vivisection' is easy
writing, but hard writing. I think it
is due to a lack of mental energy and
of imagination in those who practice it.
It amounts to importing Your note
books into your story, instead of show
ing only the results and embodiment of
a previous analysis, and is done by
Shakspeare and the best writers."
"Do you consider this departure of
literature a part of the progress of the
time or a morbid outcome of days too
prosperous for romance?"
"I think itr has nothing to do with the
progress of the time. Ft only indicates
that our novelists make less use of their
imagination than any other class of our
community. Perhaps the recognition
they receive is too faint to stimulate
them. The difficulty is certainly not on
the side of any deficiency of stirring
times. Timidity and lack of self-conti
dence have more to do with it. Our
writers consider their audience too much;
no audience that they can reach is
worth considerings as a literary tri
S . 'Inspiration is deprecated, as if
it must beeerthy or ill
bred. A masculine poet or noclt
much needed, and it might be well, at
this stage of our literary history, to make
it a penal offense for any woman to
write a story."
"Do modern novelists make their men
and women do nothing but sit still and
talk because there is nothing else for
them to do?"
"I shall rather say because it is easier
to write clever dialogue than to portray
characteristic'action."
"What are your methods of working?
Do you depend principally upon your
observations or on our imagination?"
"Observation is always of assistance
in imaginative work if it can be sufli
ciently emancipated from individual in
stanes. On the other hand, nothing
spoils a fictitious character so surely as
to make it conform too closely to any
real model. The requirements of the
story must be allowed to mold and
dap t it or the story will be ruined."
"Do you have regular hours for work
r do you wait for an inspiration?"
"I never wait for an inspiration, and
am not aware of having every been vis
ited by any. I generalTy take a walk in
the morning and write in the afternoon
and evening. But I keep no strict rule
in such matters."
IDo von know what the 'terrible se
ret' of~ 'The Marble Faun' was, or what
he 'mystery that surrounded Miriam?"
"If I kne'w 1 would tell with pleasure.
MyV father never explained it. because it
idl not come within the design of the
tory that the 'secret' should be anything
ut a typical secret-a human being
olluted by involuntary' association with
he sin of others. The Cenei tragedy is
an instance of such an occurrence, and
s therefore made prominent in the
tory. but whether or not Miriam was
he ictim of a similar castrophe was
er private business, and of no import
o the nmoral of the tale."
A Light-Giving Mexican Insect.
At a recent meeting of the Academy
f Sciences at Paris a plate half filled
sects about an inch in length, which
bone like diamonds, although the room
vas 'filled with sunshine, was passed
round among the members. These in
acts had been brought from Mexico,
.here they are to be found in the for
~sts. The scientific name is the pyro
hore; and, as none had ever been seen
~efore in Europe, they created quite a
ensation. The light resembles that of
glow-worm or fire-fly, although as
mch more brilliant and intense as an
~lectric-light surpasses a wax taper in
s power of illumination. When the
ght begins to fade it can be made as
)rilliant as before by shakino the in-j
ect or dipping it in water. It is said
e Indians et Mexico use them for a
iht at nig'ht, and a few will suflce to
lu'.nate an entire room. When they
ee alkin at night they put one on
ich foot nso that they can be sure of
heir way, and also that they do not
:ep on any venomous snake or reptile,
vithi which the tropical forests abound.
'he Mlexican ladies buy them of the In
ans and inclose thenm'in a transparent
)ag, which they wear in their hair or at
e neek. The effect is very beautiful,
;peially when several are worn; and,
s the Indians sell them for a few cents
doen. they are within the reach of
very fair one. They arc fed on suo'ar
man, and if well takien care of williive
long time! One placed upon a page
il enable it to be read with ease mn
e dar'kest night.-Scient~ifc American.
Among the young meni of title and
ortune wvho may be said to be cmn
for the next~ Londoni season is Sir
lenry Alfred Doughty Tichborne, who
nill in May' next be of age. The youth
1 Baronet is now in his 20th y-ear,
ving been born in May, 1866. The
ecessity of dlefenidine~ his property
rgainst'th.: ceh-'br'ated Ti.'hborne Claim
t has entaled upon his trustees the
iorious e'xpeniditur1e of E120,000. Ihis
states are in l!impshiiire. Lincolnshirie,
)oretshire, a~nd B::ckinghamushi'e, and
prsenit betweeni 1 l 1.1) and 12.000
eies. Thier* are in additioni. Londofn
ei,"' br'iningfl. up) the gross5 rent
11II'MUUUtY a sear'.
Actresses and Their Appetites.
"There are few actresses." says Sam.
nel Stockvis in the Cook, "who do not
appreciate a good dinner or know howy
to select one. Adelaide Neilson was a
devotee of gourmandism; ate often and
late, was feted. dined, and wined on
everv hand. loved nothing better than
to be invited out socially, and actually
died from feeding too much. Chain
pagne was her favorite wine. Patti is a
light eater-all singers are-but goes in
for porter and Burgundy with a will.
The fact that Mimme. Sealchi refused tc
sing last season and compelled a
*change, of bill" on the ground that she
had eaten too late will not soon be for
gotten by the chronicler of the capric
ious records of prima donnas. Lillian
Russell is very fond of salads, and will
not eat a dinner in which they do not
occupy a proinent position. Clara
Louise Kellogg's fondness for pork and
be:ins is thought by some to be her only
fault. Mrs. Langtry is very fond ol
Blue Points on the half-shell, and is very
particular about. the cooking of hex
viands. The special weakness of the
English beauty is a fondness for brandy
and soda, wiih a distinct underlyin'g
tendency toward beer. Selina Dol aro,
like most English wor men of the stage,
has fallen into the habit of taking he
tea at 5 o'clock, whether she has an en
gagement or not. Marie Prescott keeps
house in a flat, has a German cook,
knows how to prepare a dainty meal
herself, and has an able assistant in hex
husband. Rose Coglan doesn't like
a heavy wine like sherry if she is going
to play, and usually indulges in cham
pagne instead. She is a 6 o'clock diner,
feeds well, and when chicken is on the
board calls for the white meat. Ellen
Terrv. while on the road, always has
her ineals served in her room. as do Mrs.
LangIry and Margaret Mather. The
latter young lady does not dine out
much. Miss Mather always takes an
iced lemonade before going on in the
balconv scene of "Romeo and Juliet."
Nothing that Mile. Sarah Bernhardt has
ever eaten has had a tendency to make
her grow stouter, The great Freneb
tragedienne always takes a glass of old
cognac before going on the stage, dines
in the afternoon, and takes a supper af
ter the performance. Mme. Desclce, the
renowned French actress, lived for the
last year of her existence, when cancer
-as drawing her inevitably to her grave,
ti ,n grapes and inilk. Mime.
Judic is said to a., good fee,
and her embonpoint givesrno denial of
the statement. MIlle. Aimee is highly
appreciative of the pleasures of the table,
but of late years? conscious of her in
creasing stoutness, seeks to temper ap
petite with judgment. When in the
city she always dines at a favorite table
d'hote in Twenty-seventh street. Mme.
Rhea lately has been fetedalmost enough
to undermine her constitution, but keeps
up bravely. Mine. Janish loves a good
meal and never fails to get one when
the selection of the dishes is left to her
self, when she takes good care to re
member the solidly good things of fader
land."
Cleverness in Girls.
I should say. observes a writer in All
the Year Round. that to young oirls gen
erally-to clever young girls 'crtainly
cleverness seems to be an unmixed ad
vantage. How delightful .to a clever
girl of 15 or 16, who then perhaps enters
upon regular school work for the first
time-how delightful it is for her to
find herself at the gates of a new
world of thought, to feel the thrill of
proud exultation which runs through
her as she gazes at it, and exclaims with
pardonable enthusias'm, "I can, at least,
'e monarch of all I survey!" How
pleasant to see the gratification with
which her masters gradually discover
that one eager mind is drinking in all
they say, and what trouble they will
take to' answer and even to anticipate
her difliculties! Howv pleasant, again
albeit somewvhat dangerous-to receive
the respect andh admiration which her
shoolfellows will lavish uponl her, so
long, at least, as she is sweet-tempered
as well as clever-to respond to the
many demands made upoii her for
"Just one thought, dear, to put into my
essay on -Procrastination': l've pat in
all the dictionairy says, but that only
fills up half my paiper!"'-to hear the
vrable2'RIlia with -i thuat-she
knows everything!" And then at the
prize giving. how stimulating is the
sense, not only that she is the observed
of all observers, but that she is receiving
the reward of work well and earnestly
done as she bea:rs away prize after prize
only tempered by the regretful wish that
poor MIel issal. who is so sweet. but any
thing rather than elever-and other
kindred spiria. -could have hatd some
thing more to rejoice in than the sue
ess of their friend!
A romantic marriage took place at
Plakely a day or two ago. Miss Matmie
addock of Damuascus was engaged to
narry a popular youngt society man of
Arlington Suinday. Laist night Edward
. Shepherd. aoi foi sweetheart of hers,
>id ai call to ofer his I ongra.tula1tion..
e ]:aughin~gly saitd: "Are you not sorry
on didn't marr me?" n -She replied:
Yes, when lie 11roposed that they get
arried anvway Sh assented. Fri
ay morning bright anid early they slip
ed away and wer imarriiied by the Rev.
. L. Wiggins.-SauannahL (Ga.) News.
CAN'T BE BEATS
1IE DIVEN WELL MAKES IT EASY to get
Water.
o Well Cleaning. Cheap 1 Durable?
CALL ON
SUMTER, S. C.
JACOBI HOUSE,
FLORENCE. S. C.
M. JACOBI, AGT-,
PRoPR~IEToRI.
0irL'very Stable in connection, FeO 25
NSUBANCE AGENT,
MANNING, S. C.
Wm. Shepherd & Co.,
128 MEETING STREET,
CRARLESTON, SO. CA.
STOVES,
STOVES STOVES
-AT
WHO LESALE
AND
RETAIL!
-o
Tinwares, House Furnishing Goods,
Potware, Kitchen and Stove Utensils.
Wr Send7for Price List and Ciren
lars.
JA.4IAUSSEN & O.,
Steam MBkryhl Cudiy Etor,
CHARLESTON, 8. C.
W. A. Reckling,
.AR T IST ,
110i MAIN STREET,
COLUMBIA, S. C.
Portraits, Photographs, Ste
reoscopes, Etc.
OLD PICTURES COPIED AND ENLARGED.
Sept 16
EDE L BROS.,
RICHMOND, VA.,
Manufacturers of
Tobacco & Cigars,
And Wholesale Liquor Dealers.
GRAND CENTRAL
HOTEL,
Colu.mbia, 8. O'.
V. H. FISHER, Prop'r.
NOTICE TO FARMERS.
I respectfully call to the attention of the
Farmers of Clarendon the fact that I have
secured the Agency for the Corbin Disk
Harrow. Planet Jr. Horse Hoe and Culti
ator, Johnson Harvester and the Coxa:l
enta~l Reaper. I have one of each of these
istruments for display at my stables, and
will take pleasure in sowing ad explai.
an afford o ithout$ tee imiplements.
K. BELL, Agt.,
Apr15 Manning, 8. C.
Notice !
I desire to call to the attention of the Mill
en and Cotton Planters of Clarendon,
tha Ihave seured th agenc yo ti
OLVING HEAD GIN. Havigg used
his Gin for several years I can recommend
t as the best Gin now in use. Any infoc
nation in regard to the Gin will be cheer
fully given. I can also sup ply the people
f Clarendon with any other machinery ,
hich they may need, at the lowest pricers.
arties wishing to purchase gins will find
t to their interst to give theirorder early.
May 5 MannIng, 6. C.
7. F. B. Hmswoar, Sumter, B C. *~
. S. Ibra-Ems, M*"nne,..~Ca
HAYNS WORTH & DINKINS,
TTORNEYS ATAW,
KaNNING, S.
JOHN S. WO0N,
ttorney angi Counsellor at
MANWNING, 8, C, janil
J. E. SCOTT,
ttorney and Counsellor at
Law,
KANNING, s. C. feb.S
rfnhe eo u dvresng he avtrhi h
vs. one hundred thousand dollars in ad
reisng a scheme sindicted which wl
ri doe tys a cng sscil ard co
EWSPAPER ADVEETISING BUEEAU.

xml | txt