Newspaper Page Text
10
tos sotrmm warn*, stm 1, 1 m.
Sotnq $ii[clq.
THI KINO OP THE PU>N.
paol h. stm.
Tbe anoril la re-ebeatbed In Itl scabbard,
The rifle bangs safe on tbe wall;
No longer we qaall at tbe hungry
Hot rush of tbe ravenous ball—
The war-cloud has burled Its last lightning,
Its last awful thunders are still,
While tbe Demon of Conflict In Hades
Ides fettered In force as In will:
Above tbe broad Helds that be ravaged,
Wbat monarch rules blissfully now?
Ob l crown blm with bays tbat an bloodless—
Tbe King, tbe brave King of the Plow I
II.
A King I aye I what Ruler more potent
Has ever swayed earth by his nod ?
A monarch I aye, more than a monarch—
A homely, but bountiful Ood I
He stands where In earth's sure protection
Tbe seed-grains are scattered and sown,
To uprlseln serene resurrection
When Spring her soft trumpet bath blown I
A monarch I yea, more than a monarch.
Though toll-drops are thick on his brow;
OI crown him with corn-leal and wheat-leaf—
Tbe King, tbe strong King of tbePlowI
III.
Through the shadow and shine of past ages,
(While tyrants were blinded with blood)
He reared the puro ensign of Ceres
By meadow, and mountain, and Hood-
Ami the long, leafy gold of his harvests
The earth-sprites and air-sprites had spun,
drew rhythmic when swept by tbe breezes,
Crew royal, when kissed by the sun;
Before tbe stern charm of his patience
Wbat rock-rooted forces must bow I
Come I crown blm with corn-leaf and wheat-leaf—
The King, the bold King of the Plow I
IV.
Through valleys of balm-drooping myrtles.
By banks of Arcadian streams,
Where tbe wind-songs are set to tbe mystic
Mild murmur of passionless dreams j
On the storm-haunted uplands of Thule,
By Ice-girdled flords and Hoes,
Alike speeds the spell of lilsgodhood,
Tbe bloom of Ills heritage glows;
A monarch I yea, more than a monarch—
All climes to his prowess must'bow;
Come! crown blm with bavs tbat are stalnless-
The King, the brave King of the Plow.
V.
Par, far In earth's uttermost future,
As boundless of splendor as scope,
I seethe fair Angel—Fruition,
Outspeed Ills high heralds of Hope;
The roses of Joy rain around blm,
Tbe lilies of sweetness and calm,
For tbe sword has been changed to tbe plowshare,
Tbe lion lies down with the lunb 1
01 angel majestic! We know thee,
Though ratted and transfigured art thou—
ThU lord qf life's grand romummalton
Wiu once the swarf King of the Plow!
—Home and Farm.
Written specially for the Southern World.1
A CELEBRATED CANE.
8. M. A. C.
"O yea Jedge, the new Cote'onse is line
an no mistake. I hearn the bell full three
miles from town, as I was acomin In this
mornin, an what the pnper calls the ’orchis
tortoorool effect of them red brick walls on
white stone cornder poses, puts me plum in
mind er this yere big red an white streaked
peplment candy, the boys totes round ter
the parties er Chris-raus. An the cupelo is
fur all the worl like a bee hive on top on a
pigeon house, an that aircornderstone with
the buildin commitees names all cut on hit
is so much like er grave-yard, hit makes me
kinder sorry ter think they aint under hit.
Hits fine—an hit orter be—seein, hit cost er
hundred thousan dollars we didn’t have, ef
we had er had hit, the spendin wouldn’t a
bln nigh so easy, fer you know they’d er
wanted er chance fer grabbin, though I
rccken mabe the county can,afford it; but
I'll be John Browned, ef it don’t 'pear ter
me a squar shame ter spen a hundred thou
san dollars ter house the niggers an loafers,
an sich a lot of twenty-five cents magis
trates, as right now sets on the bench of our
county cote. No ’fense ter you Jedge. You
know yourbissiness like erbook, but takeout
you an one mo man, an they’re a lot of the
Billy—be derndeat fools this side er Duck
river.
John House is bin er sendin round the
big talk he made up in Congries ’bout
“Civil Service Reform,,’ but in my ’pinion
he’d a sight better acome home an sot in ter
prechin reform er this here eitcivil service
of oum, I call ’em that becase the whole kit
an bllin of ’em is 'nough to make a perlite
man sick. They’ve jest got the sense of a
woodtick ter crawl on an itiek wherever they
kin get blood, but as fer gettin jestice from
’em, er even law, the Lord help the feller
what tries it.
I bleve in honest men every whar outen
jail—inside they wouldn’t fit over well ye
know—but it alnt half so much our fun’ral
who the Gov'ment 'pints Collector of New
York er Gineral Post-office, as what sort er
men ha* ter manege our every-day matters,
roads, taxes, warrant-try in and sich.
A magistrate orter be the best man in the
deestric, an we did uster have ’em that way,
but yere lately the o*le set’s gin it up, an now
the biggest jackass without ears, is shore
to git 'lected every pop. Yes sir-r-ee-e in
the cool. The thing works just that way
shore as youre a foot high, an there's a passel
acomin in here frum my deestrict ter day
that’ll prove every word I’ve been er sayin,
an mo besides.
Yer see at the Jinewary term, Squar Wel
don resigned, said he was gittin too ole ter
have to ride them fifteen miles every first
Monday, an he'd hilt the offls so long, nigh
twenty years, he thought twus some other
fellers time ter take up the trouble an no
profit on county business.
Well sir, that sot the hive aswarmin, can
didates popped up like frog-stools in a May
rain and by 'lection day I realy believe thar
was but fo men in the deestric—the ole
Squar, Jones the squar that hilt on, Jack
Weems the constable, an me—but what
wasn't runnin. I aint got but jest’nough
sense ter know I aint fitten ter ’tend ter no
body* business but my own, an hardly that,
but that little wus a sight mor'n the most of
'em had.
Three what lived insighterme, wus each
one shore they’d git it, fer one had kept over
two barrels er hard cider, an treeted every
body that come er-long; one had ercraper
goober-peas an toted his saddle-bags full
regler; an tothcrone gin out that he wus
gwine ter sell sweet tater seed in the spring
fifty cents a bushel lower ’n they could be
bought anywhars else, and twould er made
a dog laugh ter a hearn ’m o’ mornings,
when I’d go out ter feed, a hollerin acrost
the liel’s: “Good mornin Mr. Atkins, hows
yer health terday,” or "Good mornin brother
Atkins, how’s sister Atkins newrolgy?" er
may be, “I'm gwine ter town neighbor At
kins, what kin my waggin fetch out fer ye.”
an let one begin, tothers would come in as
lowd an pert as chicken roosters er Chris-
museve. Never mind who I voted fer, you
bet your boots it warnt none er them three,
but I might a done it ef I’d a knowed Jack
Weems’es game. Yer see, he wus fust one
they all tried ter git fer ’em an the young
vilyun jest fer his fun promused the last one
of ’em his vote and influence, ef they’d
keep it quiet, so ns not ter hurt his poplar-
ity nn promise ter vote thcirselves, fer Billy
Shepherd. Ye see, says Jack. He’s got no
chance agin you an oughtn’t ter have none;
but Bill’s a good feller, an ter save his feel-
ins I’d like for him ter git one vote, an as
you cant vote fer yerself, why he’s the safest
man ter throw it away on, for he wont git
no more you may be sartin, an the fambly
think I giv that an it woont make no row
’tween me nn Mis Betsey; you know she’s
my June sweetnin. Well sir, this thing
worked like a fresh greased cart-wheel, an
when the poll wus read out, picked geese
never cackled inor, nor felt worst than that
’lection crowd; Fer Lias Brown had ten
votes; Hard Cider,, thirteen; Goober-Pea,
five; Sweet Taters, ’leven, and Billy Shep
herd, seventy-five. The rest warn’t named,
for ye see thar was nobody ter vote fer ’em,
an I reckon them fellers would a-tar-an
feathered Jack only they hated ter let on
how clean he’d sold 'em out.
That’s how of all the onfitten one’s; the
onfittenest was 'lected. Than no harm in
Bill. He kin work er farm by main strength
an awkardness, an is honest as fur as he
knows how ter be, but he's one er these
here natural idjiuts that cant see ter the
eend of his nose, an as fer larnin the Third
Reeder’s Greek ter 'im; an as fer the “status
of Tennessee" that Bquer Weldon passed
on ter 'im, he’d a knowed no mo about ’em
an a hog does of hollidy, ef Jack Weems
hadn’t a read him some on ’em when he'd
be up thar courtin Bets, an he’s such a slow
listnener at even then, be didn’t lam fast
enough ter spileAbe-hide;
The fust trial before- 'em he run away
an couldn’t be found, the next one, he set
fer Bundy,-so hit missed fire too; but the
third one he sthek, an I'm er Hessian ef he
didn’t give us law that was a caution, a
fa’ar sin ter Crockett. You know we’ve got
a law that means, when you get it outen
the tanglp er .whereas an hereinbefore* that
a manshall.be. fined fifty cents for every
cuss-word he says in the presence of a mag
istrate, leflin in court,. an Bill had gathered
from Jac^s reading of it,' that the thing
was finable no matter whar it was done, ef
only he heard it, an it made him feel like
terbaker had"gbtte‘ 'up ’to twenty dollars a
hundred, for, though our folks ain’t no
worse’n their nabors, they use a heap er cuss
talk to the squar inch; fact is they’re ’bliged
to 4 fer mules need it, jest as much as they
do salt mi woodn’t be healthy, nerdo half
work
The preachers have got to understan it so
well, they’ve stopped all their foolishness
er week-day preachin an never stir out ex
cept a Sundy, an Jim Wylie’s got twomules
that would make a preacher swear even to
plow ’em in smooth land. He named ’em
“The Devil an Tom Walker," an when he
sot in ter breakin up his terbaker patch, a
piece er stumpy second year’s ground, they
kep him so hard at cussin that’is oldest boy
done nothin but run back’ards an for’ards a
fetch in water ter keep ’is pap from splittin
’is thote.
Well Bill Shepherd don’t live no great
ways off—a mile er such matter—an that
day he was out er hog huntin an came ter
the fence jest as tbe a’ar wus bluest, an Jim
a rip-tarin round like all them devils that
come outen the swine had got a bolt er him
an Bill he stood thar an listened, an count
ed, counted on an listened, tell he felt like
he wus a made man. It hurt ’im mightly
that he had ter stop at fifty nine ’cause he
can’t count no further. I’ve heard ’iin go
fifty-ten, fifty-’leben, fifty-twelve many a
time at school; but he thought that wus a
right smart chance, and streaked it home
ter ask Bets how much that many half dol
lars would be. Then he sot her down ter
drawin out the warrant, fer lie’s too stingy
ter buy blanks, and hit was er warrant shore
’nough. Hit soured Jack Weems good on
his ’lection-errin when he had ter serve hit,
an here’s the copy my boys made ter laugh
over:
March the fith 1800 an 80.
In the state Tennessee.
Toe eny ofeur in this Kounty, perticler
Mr. Jack Weems:
Dear Sim—You air kumanded toe take
theboddieof Mr. J. Wylie fur swaring be
fore a jus tess of pece and bring him before
me toe pa’ his fine fur the same.
William Shepherd.
The twelf day of March ef not er Sunday.
He swore SO oaths.
Now Bets, ses’e when twus done fixed up
“You must make out my ’count ergin ’em
for fear I fergits some on it. Write fust,
1 plane — d— .60
1 — d— yo — — soul to — . . 1.50
1 double — every — hair on ye . 1.00
1 go Ye blue Devils ... .60
1 — yon, keep your — leg from
over that — trace . . .1.50
Bets busted out a cryin, “O pappy se s
she, I can’t write no sich awful langwidge.
I know they’ll turn me outen the church
fer it, and mammy’]] whip me too.” "Shet
up yo racket," ses Bill sorter riled. “D’ye
spose I do-know wlieets right, and a squar
too—but ter savo paper you may finish it,
an fifty-nine other oaths, like you done the
warrant.” Says she, “that’ll make the
count wrong. I have done put down ever
so many.” “Shet up ye blamed fool,” ses
Bill, "Didn’t ye hear me say he cussed a
heap mor’n them meny,thnt I didn’t count,”
So Bets put it down, and writ under hit the
twenty-nine dollars an fifty cents, though
she’d sense enough ter know as’er pappy
didn’t, twas mighty funny arithmetic.
When Jack sarved the warrant nex day,
Jim fusv took it fer u joke an laughed tell
he stumbled over backwards an rolled half
way down the hill, but when he come ter
understan twus butinces, he out cussed a
campmeeting, Jim’s no slouch at it,anyway
an flings eround er heap or onnesessary
langwidge, but I don’t think the reec’ cordin
angel orter take any ’count or what he said
that day fer the feller’d a busted ’is biler ef
he hadn’t er let off steam.
Arter he cooled down a bit, he ups and
goes ter Squar Weldon ’ with the whole story,
an ater he’d liken ter laughed hisself inter a
fit over hit, he tole Jim ter lay low an keep
dark, he’d see ’im through the trial—an
shore ’nough, when the day come he wus
thar to act for Jim, an hit salivated Jack
Weems wusser’n anything that ever hap
pened ter ’im, fer though he hangs ’round
Beta Shepherd case he can hug an kiss her
all he’s er mind ter, he’s been a lovin' the
grouii' Sophy Weldon walks on four year er
mo, but daresnt tell her so on 'count er the
ole gentleman; an he knowd ater this, the
ole man wouldn’t 'count 'im no better’n a
Shepherd; an I tell ye the fust ole Weldon
of all would come outen ’is grave ef he
knowd of hie stock a mixin’ an marry in'
with sich as them.
Ef the ole Squar could er stayed, he'd a
squinched the rumpus right thar; but jes as
co’te was openin 'is nephew John, come er
tarin up, 'is eyes like dogwood blossoms, an
’ishorsersweatin’, an yellin' out, “Go home
Uncle Peter, go home—ride fast er you’re
ruined. The devil's ter pay an no pitch hot
an mighty fur ter water.” An we all made
sho the house wus afire er somebody dead,
•rat least the sheriff thar with a writ er
hocus pocus, but come ter find out, twus so
oncommin warm that day the bees had sot
in ter swarmin’, an the wimmin folks could'n
manage 'em, an John wouldn’t, but come
ater ’is uncle like life depended on it Of
course the Squar never stopped ter ax what
wus the matter, an Jim looked purty blank
when he galopd off with sech er straight
coat-tail, but I aidged up ter 'im an tole ’im
ter let the trial go on anyway. Thar wus
sich a many of us gethered in ter see the fun,
we’d inshore he had faar play; an when that
warrant an acount wus projuced an read,
you could er hearn the laugh we raised half
er crost tbe county; an when Bill Shepherd
undertook ter ewar hietelf ter both uv ’em,
we jes laid down an squealed like stuck
pigs.
Jack tried ter stop the idjiut, read out the
law, an showd him whar he was mistooken,
but twernt no go. Them $29.50 an costs had
got inter Bill’s head beyant any man’s beat-
in’ out, an he gin jedgiuent fer ’em quicker
an you could say Jack Robeson. “Hole on
thar,” says Jim, “1 disputes that air account,
hit don’t fit right at the eend—besides, I
said, black devils, blue devils is somp’n I
knows nothin er about, an you’ve done
charged me with the same thing twict over,
a writin' down ye dams an double dams an
fifty-nine other oathses besides, an I heard
lawyer Quarles tell the jury in er murder
case las fall, that twus what he called er le
gal maxum, ef you found out er man ’ad
lied in one pint you mus’ count he’d lied in
all.”
Bill got red in the face ns any turkey gob
bler. "I’ll mash yo mouth ef you call me
er liar,” ses 'e er crawlin’ outen his coat an
Jim clinched ’im ter settle it right then an
thar, but Jack Weems commanded the peace
an entered the jedgiuent to stop the skrim-
mage, while some mo uv us hilt um apart
ontwell they pretty well cooled off. Then
ses Jim, “Air. Weems, it seems ter me that
taint zactly faar fer Squar Shepherd ter be
plaintive, jedge, jury, an curseputin attor
ney all his ownself, an I wants you now ter
tell me how I mus’ go 'bout gittin me er re
peal ter a higher cote?”
"Easy enough,” ses Jack, “Jes make yo
affydavy that you don’t bleeve you kin git
jestice in this cote, by reason of personal
bias, an move the whole thing befo some
other magistrate—Jones, er Cowper either’ll
do,” see Jim.
“I’ll do that thing with as good er will as
ever I et er w&termillion.”
But befo the repeal come ter trial, Bill’s
ole brindle dog hed got ter worry in’Jim’s
bobtail bull, and made ’im break inter the
Widder Beasley’s salute patch und skeered
’ermost ter death, an she sued him fer dam
ages, an he went an shot the dog; an Bill
sued 'im too; an Bill’s boy in er waggin met
Jim’s in er curt, an wouldn’t give road ’cor
din ter law, an the cart keeled over an that
wus a damage case fer Jim; an ter sorter top
off things, his ole sow an pigs run er foul er
twenty new goslins that Bets Shepherd wus
accountin' on ter raise her weddin’ feather
bed; an they wus just a squar meal fer ’em,
an by Jacks befo tbe thing wus all sot, thar
wus sich a cross-firin' all along the line—ca-
pies, replevys, saershori, supeny an so on, it
kep three constables es lively as hopper-
grosses a totin ’em ’round where they be
longed. Squar Jones has got mo sense'n
twenty ov Bill Shepherds; but he aint got
the bockboue uv er dish-rag, an when all
them thar mixed up cases wus brung on ’em
atonct, he jest wilted right down an never
opened his lips tell he wus ready ter give
jedgment. Twus the liveliest time everseed
in our precinct. Bill wus thar fer hisself,
Squer Weldon for Jim, an ole Squar Cowper
with the fust cleen shirt he wus ever knowd
ter have on, but you see his ole ’ooman had
been dead jes three weeks, an when he piped
up “I come yere fer Miss Beasley," Jack
Weems ses, “It does look like it—but ye
can’t git'er without the license,” an sot us
all ter roarin', but he didn't laugh none too
hearty when Nath Sanders called out, "An
Jack’s here for Bets an the goslins. Open
cote now all the lawyers is come in;” but the
rest of us made it up I tell ye. Don’t ax use
’bout that trial though. A dozen reecordin’
angels couldn’t er kep the straight on It. I
gin it up at the start, an put in my time a
laugbin at Bill Shepherd. He’s deacon, an
couldn’t swar his dog wus any account, an
he wouldn’t Bwar he wus no account, fer
that would give his damages clean away, an
the feller he depended on ter prove he wus
er possum dog, had one er Job's biles, an
writ ter Squar Jon es, “Igot yure supeny two
the trile, I wood a come ef I cood a rode."
So Bill didn’t know hardly what ter do.
Jim swore that nis bull would’nt hardly
bite grass if he wusn’t aggrefretted ter it,
but wus a caution when you raised his dan-