CHARLESTON, S.C., Wednesday—The sun is playing hide and seek with us today and I am not very sure that the drive to Valdosta, Georgia, is going to be in fair weather.

We reached Mrs. George Huntington's home in Charleston, yesterday afternoon, driving over after lunch from Georgetown.

I enjoyed my morning in "Hobcaw" very much. You will probably find it hard to believe, but I have never gone crabbing before, and so hauling up live crabs and trying to catch them in a net, was a new experience. I must say I was rather annoyed when several of them flopped out of my net and back into the water. The boy who was directing, and who most expertly not only scooped the crabs in but washed them off with one gesture, had a most amused expression on his face as he watched my awkward attempts to copy him.

I always enjoy watching the way people do things in which they are expert. While winding up my own line, I watched the way this boy wound three while I did one, and wondered how long it would take me to learn that quick movement of the wrist that made those lines fall into a pattern which would easily let out again without tangling.

We also spent a little time watching Miss Belle Baruch show her beautiful horses. She has schooled them herself and trained them so they obey her voice and are perfectly familiar with what she wishes them to do. One young one was full of pep and cavorted around, putting his head down and kicking up his heels in pure joy of living.

However, when she started him, riderless, on the real business of going over the jumps, he obeyed orders without question. At the end of his performance he trotted up at the word of command to receive his lump of sugar.

In driving around the City of Charleston yesterday, I passed the Dock Street Theatre, which is one of the interesting buildings erected by WPA. The theatre is charming and a real effort has been made, I understand, by certain people to revive and present old plays. I have been told by several people that they have been charmingly done, but that the support is not really sufficient to warrant continuance of the effort. Audiences just do not attend, and so it may be necessary to close the doors of the Dock Street Theatre.

This seems a sad waste. It is hard to understand why, in this city of great culture and taste, such a program as has been carried on is not successful financially. Of course, the support must come from visitors, on whom so many things depend for maintenance. I think that the visitors here have such respect for their hosts that they would follow their lead. Charlestonians could make a success of this theatre if they would.