WE South Carolinians are proud of our state. Although we have often quarreled among ourselves and still oftener thumbed our noses at other folk, we are at heart a kind and generous people. We Up-Countrymen can even be forgiving and simply shrug when Charlestonians maintain that only they, who have weathered quietly in salt air, have any genuine patina of culture. Likely as not, such Charlestonians are recent emigrants from New Jersey or Indiana, for there is no zeal like that of a convert. And South Carolina, both in the Low Country and the Piedmont, now can count many emigrants from all over the United States—and even from foreign countries. A retired army colonel, after looking the country over, decided to retire in the pleasant suburbs of Spartanburg. He liked the climate, and he liked the people. We welcomed him, as we have welcomed countless others, not ostentatiously, with a "Welcome Wagon," but with the kindly handshake of a neighbor who is pleased to have him sit on his porch of an evening and swap yarns of other days and other places.
The colonel is right about the climate. It is temperate and rarely violently extreme. But occasionally, lest we take the weather for granted, a tornado cuts a destructive path across the state in spring, and every few years a hurricane blows up out of the Caribbean to devastate the coastal region. These, however, are abnormal aberrations. In general, South Carolina enjoys long springs with gorgeous flowers, wild and cultivated: flaming azaleas, camellias of every color, hillsides of snowy dogwood, and meadows of wild iris and violets. The summers are long and lazy, sometimes sizzling hot but usually moderate with