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••WISDOM. JUSTICE AND MODERATION.”
VOLUME XXVI.
ROME, GA., FRIDAY MORNING, SEPT. 22. 1871.
NEW SERIES-NO 3
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Oi l? NOVEL
rii.u-.xxii.
you
U.M -T A DEXOUMF.NT.
Kustacc,’ said Viola ‘will
lease me, I must see about break-
r7 sn d with a' pretty little housewifeish
*; Vi da tucked up her sleeves and skipp-
the kitchen. Site was not there
|i» however, before the cook had her in-
1 ■ i®. and Viola came tripping back
im'ie to meet Hiram and Winthrop
>ball. ns they arose from Hiratu'srcv-
j of his heart’s history.
|M trss not aroused until long after
u 1,..,: glorified the room with its gol-
Ifeiit'-t. and the breakfast was already
'ikon it tr is she opened her eyes and
liwl with an uneasy look around. Her
|a liar's anxious loving face was the first
ini site started up and sprang to
5 With the rush of the recoilec-
h t . terrible night, came a relieving
|si li tears, and for a moment she sobbed
a'-ively up m her mother’s breast.
i-J then .lie raised her glad eyes and
thankful it is all
jI B Hast ice's emotions were as fervid
grateful, and she could only answer
citeadcr kisses.
fan had left Winthrop and Viola alone
Rliter a turn in the garden to cool his
araing eves, he now entered the room,
lie emotions of the mother and daugh-
erere too sacred to be intruded upon,
tike started to return, when Mrs. Eus-
£ caught his presence,
ibme in,' she said, releasing Emuia,
uivithiug out her hand, and thon turn-
I’miiia she continued, ‘Eumia have
tuhanked Hiram for his services?'
Ike words struck painfully upon Hiram's
a.ojies, and Kuitua was confused for a rc-
'[ need no thanks,’ he said perceiving
|ier confusion, ‘I am only too glad to see
s Emma looking so strong and fresh,’
Emma appreciated the delicaoy of his dU
union and she smiled her thanks,
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I feel quite strong,
(trong enough mother, to ride home,’
' interrupted Hiram again with an
larnest appeal in his voice, ‘do not go yet,
leeaijf'ast with us, a cup of coffee would
ready strengthen you ’
ist decline your hospitality Ili-
la. breaklast at home will await us, and
It Eustace will be impatient for our return,
fctiides,’ continued .Mrs - Eustace with
Task of shame mounting to her checks,
|*sdes Emma's dress is baldly^ suitable
it her presentation to your friend.’
I It was the first time since she had with
breaking heart been enrobed in the mag-
Kent dross, save the little glean! of its
lauiousneas that had prompted her to
1st the veil from her head and the orange
lessouis irotn her hair, that Emma had
legl.t of her dress, and now as she glan-
Jsdat its bejeweled splendor, her heart
(task back with a cry of pain.
i let me go,’ she cried,‘andstrip jpy-
Jditfthflsp hateful mooking garments, the
Into clothes of my buried heart.’
| Hiram appreciated the horror with
['kick the lovely fingers clutched at- the
. lhldB of her dress,as if she would pluck
‘atm from her, and althougn her queenly
I tatty never before shone so resplendent
It it did in that dress, he hated it as he
vsald have hated the plague pointed robes
da leper.
Emma drew her skirts back and put out
I hr little slippered foot. The white satin
‘Epper was all torp with briars and pierced
<dlt stones, and her loot had been bleed?
'?• With a little shudder she drew it
>d. and said:
let ns go mother.’
And then she knelt by the side of Mrs.
-'-■teller and taking the pale, thin hand
■aler’s she kissed a fervent good bye.
Hiram walked with them to the carriage
-- as lie closed the door, Mrs. Eustace
^ght his hand, and with tears choking
| voice, she said:
Hiram you must come, forgive us for our
j hpattreatment, and come to see us, and
'■tin; Viola.’
Hiraat could only bow his acknowled_
Vvvi end turped to fhe cottage, vyonder-
"?it his thoughts what in the world Vio-
3 had to do with it.
The carriage drove rapidly home and
;®tia was lifted kindly from bar seat by
‘ e 'H°d fatherly hand of Mr. Eustace.
And tend er iy he led her to her chamber.
£r n Nettie was in a'tendencc, and in
U®.™ 1 henna tore the hateful robes from
■“ Hmbs, and with her pretty little
a H hleed'hg ppd ' torn' aB it was, she
■‘’taped them oa iHo carpet,
simplest dress Nettie,’ she said,
i, 1 -' c hie dressed her in a simple dress of
. te “noslin. ‘There now take that bag
j. v[ 0l “ “tj eight,’and then Emma felt
^ l the heaviest load that ever weighed
funded heart down into the dust, was
^Htd from her soul, and with a gladness
i Ramin,, f rom j 1(r 0 y CS] B ] le hurried to
iLio 3 . 1ta Hle. And it was adejicions
ta"n !ui 'V t ' le 60 > 0D S tasteless to Em.
■ °w had a heirty relish, and sho ate
b 1 healthy zest.
HtoMt^ UStacB w ' t ' 1 a delicacy of feeling,
wY tI ? tra , u K c and unnatural to him,
tts 0 f ,, n easily carelul to remove all tra-
*ns so,, j an d Emma’s sensitiveness
q nf y e d the shack of amoeking remiud-
l CI ordeal. After breakfast
went with her to her room.
‘And now mv child it is all over and
you have been mercifully delivered, tell me
all, tell me how you came to escape, and
who led you from the garden,and went with
you to Mrs. Lavender’s?’
‘Mother,’ answered Emma with a puz
zled air, ‘I know not how it came about, I
have a recollection oflongingfor a breath
of fresh air, and to inhale ft;'I stepped in
to the back porch, and front that I knew
nothing more until I heard the voice of Hi-
rom Lavender weeping as. he knelt by his
mother’s bed, and only then fir a momeut
was I conscious, when my eves became
blinded again, and T could not" see, could
not speak. The neit thing I knew was fa
ther’s violent threats to Hiram, and Mr.—
Mr.— the monster’s fierce denial of Hi
ram’s words, and then thestruggle between
them, when Hirant pushed him to the
door and then came back alone. I could
see and hoar all this but I could not speak,
I could not think, and it Was only after
father and Hiram came back into the room
and father spoke to me so kindly that my
poor shattered senses came back to me, and
I could weep for very joy.
‘And did you speak to Hiram, did you
thank him for his words?’asked the moth
er whose conscience still troubled her with'
the great outrage she had heaped upon
him.
‘No mother, he was so gentle, so kind
and tender that I dared not speak, and
then his mother was so ill, and his very
soul seemed absorbed in its anxious watch
over her, that it would have scented cruel
to divert it ’
‘And Viola,’ asked the mother with a
yearning curiosity that sho could not re
strain.
‘Viola was there, and was very ki id, she
is a sweet girl, a noble girl, and I cannot
envy her her happiness.’ This was answer
ed in a voice low and sad and sweet.
‘Did you see the other gentleman, the
stranger ?’ again asked Mrs. Eustace.
Emma started with a look of surprise:
‘I saw no one but Hiram and Viola,’ she
auswered, ‘nor was I aware that any ot: cr
gentleman, than Hiram, was there.’
‘Yes Iliram introduced me to a gentle-
mau,’ said Mrs. Eustace.
An expression of uneasiness overspread
Emma’s face. She know not to what ex
tent her unconscious state may have expos
ed her to the observatiou of others, and
ihe thought of a stranger witnessing her
confusion, was exceedingly mortifying to
her sensitive pride. Mrs. Eustace percciv-
od this expression, and she said:
‘He possibly may just have arrived when
we came iu the parlor, I suspect he had.’
But the relief of the gratified girl was
too glad.for her mind to dwell upou disa-
rceable suppositious, aui she soou thought
and spoke of something else.
The breakfast at Mrs, Lavender’s cottage
was not quite so hearty as the oue at the
Eustace mansion, bat it was a pleasant
breakfast and presided ozer with such a
charming grace, by Viol I, that the victuals
eemed doubly delicate and rich.
The events of the past night were no: allu
ded to. Winthrop felt too true a regard for
Hiram’s feeliogs, to touch in idle gossip
upon a matter that so deeply affected his
heart.
After breakfast the doctor’s arrival call
ed Hiram and Viola to bis mother’s room,
and Winthrop sauntered alone in the garden.
The doctor was pleased to ncte a decided
improvement in the case of Mrs. Lavender,
and lifted an anxious load off the heart of
Hiram by pronouncing her out of danger.
Yet his anxious solicitude still hovered
around her head, and until Mrs. Middleton
Muggleton came, he could not leave her
room, even to the tender care of Viola,
But wheu the matron came with her
warm friendship beaming from her kindly
eyes, to take his place, Hiram gladly sought
hi3 chamber for a rest.
While he is gratefully breathing a kindly
sleep, we will turn to the elegant Mr. Au
gustus Frazee, whom we left imitating the
illustrious locomotion of the kingly Nebu
chadnezzar, and making tvacks from Mrs.
Lavender’s cottage door upon all-fours.
Opening the gate, and finding himself in
the highway, his first impulse was to fur-
tivclyTeel behind, and tee if the boot of
Hiram Lavender was still sticking to him.
Being releived upon this point, and also that
none of his elegant proportions were stick
ing to Iliram Lavender’s boot, he next felt
fur his hat, his hat was secure upon his
head, and the next thought was to secure
his head; this, he reasoned,intuitively,could
best be done by accelerating his locomotion,
and with a greater speed that he had just
pursued the poor,trembling,destracted, girl
that fled Irom her fate, lie turned town-
wards, and never stopped until he reached
the depot. Here he threw himself upon
the platform and gave himself up to pant-
reflections, tbe moral of them all being
the condoling conviction that “Othelo’s oc-
upation is gone,” and that being gone he
would avail himself of the first passing
train, to be giqe too.
It was morning before the next train
came thundering by, but wheu it did come,
the elegaDt Mr, Augustus Frazee slinked
into the hindmost car, among the negroes,
and as the train sweeped around the curve,
he cursed a long farewell to Winnsboro, And
well was it for the elegant M r - Augustus
Frazee that he thuB wisely concluded to
follow Othello’s occupation, before the indig
nation ofthe outragedjeommunity had fallen
upon his ignominious bead, else poor Sally
Scruggs would have never again beheld the
face of her worthlessNodiah, for as soon as
the outrage became known and the sympa
thies of the people with the lovely girl,
began to give place to the bitterness of a
jnst indignatiou against the wretch, the Iu-
ry of the community could not be controll
ed. As it was, the disappointment of Mr.
Thomas Hoggins in not getting to punch
the envied nose, was inconsolable, nod he
almost threatened to cuf own nose off
for very spite, in being so dull as not to
punch it when he once had the chance.
‘Ne.ver mind, I will know better next
time, just let one of them yankee nose-
whangers come bumbing arouud Winns
boro ag’in, and see if bis snot poucb
don’t git punched.. I allays knowd that
his’n orter been punched, and I was a blam
ed fool for not punching it,’and Mr. Thom
as Hoggins could only dray/ a shadow of
consolation from tie Bqbstance of the sagac?
ity which tojd him a year before,whose nose
it was, that ought to be punched.
The dinner was spread and the pretty
little Viola—not little in her fine rounding
stature and exquisite figure,hut endearingly
little in our heart of hearts—was ready to
again do the honors of thq table, before
Hiram awoke, and when he did so, it was
with burning eyes and aohing head._ The
report from tbp si?k chamber was still en
couraging, the improvement in Mrs. Lav
ender’s oase being now apparent to all.
This happy change in her condition was a
glad relief, not only to Hiram’s anxious
care-worn heart, but to his physical set ses
as well. The bursting bead needed the
invigorating breath of an evening’s ride to
cool its fevered throbbings, and as soon as
the evening shadows began to fall, .and the
mountain breezes began to sweep back to
tht sca, ho moantoi his horse for a gallop
to the creek. In its cool crystal water be
balled his levered body and from its soft
freshness he drew health and vigor
Refreshed by his bath, he rode back to
wards hnme.histhoughts wandering in a con
fused maze.all unconscious of wbither.they
were drifting, or what they touched.
The road that he had travelled to the
creek and was now retracing,was an obscure
one, leading off from the broad highway,
and running back ofthe broad plantations
of Mr Eustace. It was but little traveled,
and its solitude this evening was as-till as if
it had led through the heart of a desert.
It was just sucit a solitude, as accorded so
well with his own sad and lonely thoughts
Its silent way leading through waving fields
and bright green woods, was typical too, of
his own solitary life-track leading on, now
through fortune’s golden bowers, but all
unblessed by the music of birds or the com
panionship of joy. His own consciousness
appreciated, the harmony of the similitade.
nud he loved that solitude, because in it, his
silence, could liuda companion, aDd an echo.
So absorbed was he in its sympathies,
and so lost to all, save its grateful silence
that he heeded not the clatering sound
of approaching hoofs, nor thoughtof meet
ing a companion until a sudden turn of the
road through the thick woods, brought his
own, almost breast to breast with the spirt
ed horse of Emma Eustace.
The surprise was mutually sharp, and
mutually painful. Emma’s hearthad. wear
iedofits confinement iu the house, where
everything so painfully reminded her of
the terrible agony ofthe yesterday, and to
case its uloaning cry for breath, and for
irccdom, she had mounted her horse, and
oa-rlit that, same solitary road.
The blush that crimsoned her face, told
her confusion, us plainly as did tho half
suppressed cry of surprise. Hiram too,
convulsively drew up his reins, as the sud
den appiration appeared before him. In a
moment his wandering thoughts were all
collected, and his surprise was hushed in a
self posseted politeness, with a glad smile
of ncogoition, he raised his hat, and as he
reined his horse aside, he said.
Good evening Miss Eustace, I am glad
to see you able to enjoy tho beauty of this
delightful evening.’
Emma's soul thrilled to the music of
that tender voice, and her heart rushed
up into her eyes, but for the life of her she
could uot speak. Her face burned the
more, with its crimson confusion, and
with a sharp cut cf her riding whip, she
sent, her horse bounding past. She would
have given almost her'lifo to have with
held the impulse, to have restrained her
horse, and to have spoken a kind word to
Hiram, but she could not; aid when she
did at last with a convulsive effort, draw
her reins, and turned her head, it was only
to see Hiram as madly dashing off in the
opposite direction.
Her first impulse was to raise her voice,
and to call him back, but a wild outburst
of tears choked her utterance, and she
again hurried forward into tho deep soli
tude of the woods to hide her emotions.
‘Miserable wretch that I am,’ she cried
why do I thus repel him from my presence,
oh proud foolish heart, have you uot yet
been bruised enough to chasten your foolish
pride. But my heart is right, I must
not eouit that flame, that would destroy my
peace. He is nothing to me, can never be
nothing to me. Oh Viola, Viola, ‘and in
another rush of feeling, too strong lor her
weakness, lier words were lost in sobs.
And Hiram’s emotions were bitter, he
felt keenly the cruel slight, for it was not
presumptuous arrogance, that prompted
his friendly salutation andto have his advance
thus hastily repelled was an outrage to his
feelings, to his pride, that cut him to the
very soul.
Oh Emma’ he cried, ‘how I have been
deceived in yon, and now foolish heart,
you must crush out her memory, must
bury your new springing hopes, and curse
the develish witchery of woman,’ this he
hissed through his compressed teeth, as he
plunged his heels madly against his horses
flanks.
The sun was nearly setting when he
reached home. There he met Mr. Eustace
who had just called to enquire after Mrs.
Lavender. Hiram cared not to see him,
but he offered lii3 hand in such a frank
friendliuess, and his voioe was so subdued
as ho asked about his mother that he
could not reject the friendship, and he in
vited him in the cottage.
Mrs. Lavender was still better, and Mr.
Eustace was turning to depart when Win-
throp and Viola came in.
Hiram presented Mr- Winthrop, and
thon remembering tho interview of tho
last night he said.
‘Will Mr. Eustace walk in tho parlor a
moment, with Mr. Winthrop and myself.’
With a look of f nrprise, Mr. Eustace
obeyed the strange request.
‘I promised you last night Mr. Eustace
that I would have a witness to day to
confirm my statement in regard to Mr.
Scruggs or Frazee, this gentleman Mr.
Winthrop is the witness I refered to, and
he can corroborate my words.
‘I beg your pardon Mr. Lavender, but
the subject is exceedingly unpleasant to
me, and I am already satisfied with the
truth of your statement, the wretohes’ dis
appearance from the town renders no fur
ther allusion to the matter necessrry, and I
-hope that yon will do me the kindness
never to mention it again,’ answered Mr.
Enstace with a tone of mortification. Hi
ram rggreted his own words and frankly
apologised.
Winthrop also ventured an apology
half in sympathy with the unfortunate af
fair. hut congratulated him upon the hap
py deliverance of his family.
Mr. Eustace gladly accepted the friend?
ly assurance, and rising logo he said.
‘Hiram may I hope to have the pleasure
of seciog you, and your friend at my own
honsc, as soon as yo>ir mother can be snf-
ficicntly restored to permit you to spend
an evening from her.’
The invitation was so cordial, the words
so unstudied, and friendly, that Hiram's
better nature was reached, and he frankly
The Culture of Rarer an# the Grasses—
The Best Fertiliser— IlllUlde Ditching
—Stock Balsing.
Speech of Ex-Gotcra/ir JosephE.' Bbown
before the S’ote' Aijric«bnre Convention‘
at Rome, Georgia, on the 11 th day of
Attyusl, 1871.
[Folly and Correctly Reported Expressly for the
“Atlanta Daily Sun.’ ]
Mr. president:'
I rise for the purpose of seconding—
which I do most heartily, the resolution
of thanks to Dr. Jonos, fur tun very
strnctive and practical address which he
has just delivered on the Culture of Clover
and Grasses in Greene county. It had
been lully demonstrated! by previous ex
periments and practice, that Clover, and
almost any of the Grasses, erow well in all
tbe section above Atlanta to the Tennes
see and North Carolina lines; but it was
still regarded as a matter ot donbt, wheth
cr it eonld be profitably grown as low
down as Greene county. The experiments
of Dr. Jones, however, settle the question
beyond farther caviling, and it is no donbt
true that Clover and the other Grasses may
be profitably grown as low down as the
red or olay lands extend The result of
tbe Doctor's experiment is truly astonish
ing, as the yield is one of the largest
have ever heard of. On the best riTer bot
tom, in Cherokee, I had never made bat
little over three tons to the acre in one
year, weighing when dried and ready for
the market; and this I have regarded
very fine crop. Indeed, it takes onr best
lands up the cnuulry to produce tbatqnan-
tity.
METIIOD OP CULTIVATING CLOVER.
I am satisfied our people are neglecting
their best interests, whenever they neglect
to cultivate largely of Grasses, as it
scarcely any labor to make the Grass crop,
and it is the most available made on the
land when produced. A word as to the
mode of sowing and cultivating it: I
have never, in a single instance, tailed to
get a good stand when I have sowed in
March, with tats. I prepare my land
thoroughly; then sow the oats and plow
them in; and, after tncy are plowed in—
when I nonld be ready to leave the field,
if I only intended to make an oat crop, I
Sjw down the Clover seed upon the iresh-
plowed land, at the rate of a bushel of clean
se>-d to six acres, aud brush them in with
a brush cut in the woods near by, having a
heavy top, which makes a light load for
two horses—running over, covering the
seed, and leveling the ground, as our
fathers formerly did their turnip patches.
A bushel to six or seven acres is more than
is usually put upon land, bat I have found
it, in the end, mnch the cheapest to pat
on eooagh seed to be sure to get a good
stand the first year. Some object to cov
ering it with brash, and say it does just as
well to sow it on wheat, or even on land
unprepared, and leave the seed on the top
of the ground. If sowed in the seow on
wheat, which we seldom have here, or if
sowed in a very rainy time, this will do;
bnt take one year after another, and risk
the season, and it is entirely too uncer
tain. It is said that tbe brush covers part
of the seed too deep, aod they do not come
up, and we thereby waste seed. This may
be true, but I leave a proper quantity at
the proper depth under the ground; and
when it comes up, having some depth of
earth, the root is not so easily killed by the
hot sun as it is when the s ed is on tbe
top of the ground. I find it, therefore,
decidedlly best to brash it in. Besides, it
leaves the ground level and in good order
for mowing. The oat crop is the one to be
looked to for that year, as we do not expect
a crop of Clover the first year; and you
should Dot pasture the land the first year,
unless yon do so very late, say tbe latter
part of September, or the first of October.
Of an ordinary season, the Clover will,
tbe year it is sowed, grow np a consider
able hight before frost, if the land is good;
and with it will be a good coat of crab-
grass, and a considerable crop of weeds.
Jnst before frost, I pnt my two-hGrse mow
er in and cat all this down, and dry it and
stack it, and it makes a fine crop of hay.
Tho stoek will eat all the yonng Clover
and the crab-grass, and even the tops of
the rag-weeds, when they are cut green and
dried with the hay. But not the least
benefit from this course is tbe fine order
iu which your laud is left for mowing in
the Spring. If you do not cat down the
grass and weed crop in the Fall, you will
find, in the Spring, that the large dry
weeds are very much in your way, and it
will be necessary to employ hands to gath
er them and pile them out of the way, be
fore you can reap your crop of Clover.
CLOVER AS A FERTILIZER.
ferred to turned under with a two-horse
turning plow, and I afterwards sowed it,
as I did the corn land around ft, in wheat.
The following Spring, when the wheat was
about maturing, you could see the differ
ence to the very row, from a very consider
able distance. That where the Clover
had been was from twelve to eighteen
inches higher than that around it. The
next year it was c titivated in corn, and the
tenant informed me that he eonld shot his
eyes before he came near the place, and
. tell, by tbe looseness of the ground, the
' moment the plow struck the part that had
been in Clover. The corn crop was de
cidedly better on Clover land than on the
same quality of land around it, which bad
been in-wheat the year before. The third
year, which was the last Summer, the
field was again sowed iu wheat, and I
could have carried you into the edge ofthe
wheat-field and said, “Two acres of this
have been in Clover,” and asked you to
point it out to me without my indicating
the place, and you could have shown me,
to the very row, where the Clover had been
a3 the wheat on that part was decidedly
taller, and looked better every way. The
effect ofthe Clovei, therefore, has been not
only visible, hut very marked, for trhee
years after the crop had been turned un
der.
HILLSIDE DITCHINd AND DRAINING'
We have hear! some very interesting
statements here on the subject of Hillside
Ditching and Drainage. In my opinion,
the very best hillside ditch that can be
made m this climate, is made cf Clover and
Grasses and deep plowing. If you will
plow your lands deep, and keep yonr hill
sides in Clover and Grass, and use them
mostly os pasturage for yonr stock, which
will pay better than any other crop yon
can pnt npon them, yon will havo no use
for hillside ditches; and tho deep plowing
and the Clover and Grass will prevent any
wash.
A REPROACH! TO THE PEOPLE OF GEORGIA
accepted it, leaving it for
ratify which Winthrop did with an expres
sion of pleasure.
That night was Viola’s for watching, bnt
the watch though tenderly kept win not
needed. Mrs. Lavender’s recovery was
sure, though slowly, and her illness from
that on was only a. neclens, around which
to cluster those kindly attentions of the
loving hearts that make life endurable.
A writer in tho Boston
how one morning she remonstrated with her
colored servant for abasing his wife, upbraid
ing him after this. manner: “Jack, what a
pretty smart little wife yon have. If I were
you I would try to make myself more agreea
ble to her. I would .fill her coal-scuttle, feed
her pigs, gather the vegetables for her, and
—and—and—I would’nt strike her.”- The
only answer from Jack was; “why. I’se done
married Lou; I isn’t cCnrting her,” .
Newport beauties are accused of sleeping
with their heads ont of their windows fir
night air to improve their complexions,
I desire to state a fact here, which is
really a shame to the people of Georgia.
The records of the Western & Atlantic
Railroad show that there was imported over
the road into the State, during the six
months from the first of January to the
first of July, in ronnd numbers, 33,000
bales of hay. This was worth about $200,-
000. If the same quantity should be itn-
jorted for the last half of the year, it will
>e, say 06,000 bales, or $400,000 worth.
Every pound of this shqpld he grown in
Middle and Upper Georgia, and if oar
friends, who raise cotton in the sandy lands
should desire any hay, we should certainly
furnish it to them. I trust our people wiU
wake up to.this subject. Not only should
we raise all our own hay, but we should
raise our own stock. Where we have our
lands set with grass, we can do this easily
and cheaply. As an illustration—I keep
upon my farm neither a runic or horse to
aid in doing the work; but I work mares
entirely, and I have a jack aod raise mule
colts. Last Fall, in November, I was on
my plantation in Gordon county, and my
manager, Captain Finley, asked mo bow he
should treat the colts. I told him to tnrn
them into the bottom . land upon a clover
field, where we had mowed it for the Win
ter, and let them run there as long as it
would support them, and then give them
a plenty of hay and some com, if nece Bu
ry, for tho balance of the Winter. The
Fall had been a favorable one, and the
Clover was up a very considerable height
and thick over the ground. The Winter
was wet, and bnt one, really, very cold
spell came until about Christmas. The
resnlt was, that there wis enough Clover
for them to feed upon all the Winter. I
again visited the farm the first of March,
and went with Captain Finley to see my
colts, and fonnd them in good growing or
der, doing well, and he told me ha had not
fed them an earc of corn, daring the whole
Whiter, and that they had ran there npon
the Clover field, and had nothing else, ex
cept that they had eaten about half a cart
load of my seed Clover, under a shelter.
This was cat when it was rather dry and
hard for hay, when the seed got too ripe,
and they did no like it, and indeed, they
did not need it. They are now going on
two years of age, and I do not suppose they
know what corn is. A male colt, on a
clover farm, I find colts me les3 than a bull
yearling to raise it
OLIVER AS PASTURAGE FOR HOGS.
This is not confined to cattle or horses.
A Clover field is a most excellent place
for year yonng hogs. 1 set appart a field
for that purpose, and have now from 130
to 140 hogs upon it, and they have been
doing well all summer, with scaroely any
corn. When the weather is very wet,
the best plan is to move them off from it,
to prevent them from rooting np the land.
They will graxe on the greea Clover all
the while, and it is an excellent foal for
them. The cheapest way to make Beat in
the np-conntry is to have a good Clover
pasture for yonr hogs, and after yon cut
yonr small grain in the'Snmmer.tnro inem
in for a time and pasture them there.
Taking the two together, yon need feed
them very little corn until Angnstor Sep
tember. Then, as soon as yonr corn is
roa-ting ear. fence off a small piece at
time (for which Mr. Charles Wallace How
ard’s portable fence, a model of which it
now before the Convention, would be very
convenient) tnrn them npon it, or cat it
and throw it to them, stalk and all. They
will eat tbe ear and chew np the cob, the
stalk and fodder, and it is all nutrition.
Yon will find it will start them off to
thriving, growing and fattening as fast as
dry corn, and they get a great deal more
ont ofthe stalk, inclading the fodder, ear,
etc., than they do ont of a dry ear of corn.
In this way they may be carried on until
corn-gathering time, and then feed them a
short time upon dry corn, aod they are
ready for the batcher.
HOW TO TURN A CROP UNDER.
Before I conclude, a word mote in refer-
eDee to turning under the clover crop. As
already stated, yon do not pasture it the
first year, and yonr first crop is saved, the
next spring, after it is sowed. That year
yon may mow it twice; and the next year
twice. The third year, yon should eot the
first crop and 6ave it for hay, and yon
should torn tbe second crop nnder with a
two-horse taming plow, giving it to the
soil, and either sow it in wheat that Fall,
which is probably best, or cultivate it in
corn, the next spring. It should not stand
more than three years, without being tnrn-
ed nnder, as tbe fourth year’s crop will not
be a very good one, and the wild growth
and broom sedge will beoome troublesome
by the fonrth year. I may also remark,
that the crop out each year, which, in
Cherokee-Georgia, is ready for tbe mower
about the last of Muy, is much the best for
hay. Tbe second crop will make yonr hor
ses slobber, though the hay is very good
for cattle. The proper time to mow tho
crop, is when it is in full bloom, and a few
blooms, here and there, ofthe earliest, are
beginning to fade, preparatory to ripening
the seed. The old theory was toletit stand
until a third or half the blooms were fad
ing, bnt this is not the best, as the stalk
becomes rather hard and the hay is not as
good. If cut in fall bloom, wheu only a
few of the earliest blossoms are changing
color, your hay will be more nutritions and
better.
But I hate already detained yon too
long, Mr. President. My object was not
to make a speech, as I do not care to do
that, further than to offer a few practical
suggestions, the resnlt of my own experi
ence. If by any effort I can make, or yon,
or this Convention, we can wake np the
people to the great importance of this sub
ject, we will not have labored in vain. I
In reference to the quality of land best
adapted to its growth, I state that, in my
opinion, it does best upon stiff, Hack, rich
ritrer bottom, which needs no manure to
make a good crop. If yon pnt it on up
lands, and expect a good crop, yon must
mannre yonr land well before ycu sow;
and when it is once set with Clover, if yon
cultivate! it properly, yon may keep it pre-
petnaliy rich. If yon have poor lands, and
wuh to enrich them with Clover, yon most
tnrn over several successive crops in the
green state, giving them to the land; and,
f you have the patience, in this way yon
can soon improve it until it will produce a
good crop for nse, and may then keep yonr
and rich for the fntnre. Bnt yon need
not expect a heavy crop of Clover on poor
land, any more than yon may expect a
heavy crop of any other sort.
THEQUALITTOF LAND SUITED FQR PLQVEB,
And in this connection, I wish to say a
few words as to tho valne of the Clover
crop as a mannre. We have heard here a
very interesting discussion on tho subject
of commercial and domestic, or barn-yard
manures, daring wbieh many very valuable
suggestions and interesting statements
have been made. - My judgement, howev.
er,is, that Clover is the heat of Ml fertili
sers. It enfioheo the land, and continues
to k’eep it rich, if yen continue to alternate
the Clover with other crops, or to ran ft
a considerable portion of time in Clover.
The first two acres which I sowed in river
bottom, in Cherokee county, as an "experi
ment, were sowed in the middle of a corn
field, that it might be sure not to be pas
tured the first year.' With the Clover. I
sowed some Herd’s-Grsss seed. For three
‘•successive years I got heavy crops of Clover
from the land. Tbe Clover decidedly pre
dominated over the Herd’s>Grass. On the
fourth year, the crop was pretty equally
divided between tne two; and the fifth
year it was about three-fourths Herd’s-
Grass. This shows that the Herd’s-Grass
will stand longer than the Clover. The
latter should be plowed np every third
year. The Herd’s-Grais might be contin
ued (indefinitely, were it net that briers,
hroom-8efls,and other wild growth, will
spring np, and compel yon to cultivate the
Jjgnd to get rid of them, * In the fall of the
fifth.year,! hadthe two acres above re-
HOW TO OBTAIN SEED.
A word now onthesubject ofseed. Un
til last year, I have been baying my seed
each successive year, from Kentucky, be
came I did not wish to have the trouble
of cleaning the seed. Last Snmmerl nad
the second crop on ten acres set apart for
seed. I let it stand until tbe seed was
ripe, and had it mowed as I would mow
hay, and hanlded it np and pnt it nnder a
shelter. In the Spring, when I wished
to sow, I had it thrown ont with forks
upon the hard ground near tbe barn, and
a couple of hands took flails, such as onr
fathers formerly nsed in thrashing wheat,
and a few licks would beat off all tbe pod3
from a considerable bed of it. That was
thrown aside and another portion thrown
down, and by continuing in the same way,
I had the seed thrashed off of the entire
quantity. With the seed whieh grew off
the ten acres, I sowed abont sixty acres,
the past Spring, and got an excellent stand.
It was sowed in the rongh seed chaff and
all together from seven to ten bushels to
tne acre, on fresh plowed land, sowed in
oats and brnshed in, as already stated in
the case of clean seed. The seed off Of
ten acres, if I had purchased it from Ken
tucky, woq]d hove cost mo about $100.
I therefore, recommend every farmer, after
the first-year, to save his own seed. Boy
yonr seed and sow the first few acres; then
set apart s portion of the second crop of
each year for seed, and save it, and pre*
pare it, and sew as above stated, and yon
will have no difficulty abont it Yon need
therefore, after the first year, spend noth
ing for seed; nor need yon spend any labor
on tl^e Clover crop, except the ample
labor of cutting and homing it This is,
certainly, mnch better, under the present
labor system, than onr old habit of break
ing np onr land, planting corn and culti
vating it all Summer, and pulling fodder
and then gathering ,the corn, hauling it np,
shucking it and throwing it into the crib
acd-carrying it ont in our arms in baskets,
and throwing it to onr stock. Instead of
all this labor, sow yonr hijlsido lands, such
as yon cannot weff mow, torn yonr stock
npon it in the Sommer, and unless In ease
of dronth, they will do well npon it all
Sommer, withont any of yonr labors Set
apart some of yonr land, bottom if yen have
it* to mow; cat and save the crop there,
and yon have nothing to do bnt to throw
the hay to the stoek, with a little corn,
and yon carry them through safely. There
is, thereibre no . comparison between the
two crops, so far as yonr stoek is concern?
pd.
If yon will sow a lot in clover and grass
near yonr stables, and will plow yonr horses
daring the Slimmer, giving them plenty
of Clover hay, and allow them to ran in
the pasture at night, with one feel jof corn
each day, yon may keep them in good or
der and work them all Summer.
The New York Sun of tie X3th, has
short article, under the above head in whieh
it tells how tbe Presidcn’s nepotism works.
As tbe Sum Is Republican, it may be eon-
rid: red good authority npon the subject,
and we give tbe article in fall, that onr
readers may see how it works.
One of the worthless relations of Presi
dent Grant, whom he appointed to office
because of bis relationship, is Dr. F. M
Lamper. He is a second oousin of the
President, and having been removed from
office as a ganger in Chicago on aecoont
of pecuniary dishonesty, he was selected
by his eonrin to fill the important post of
Receiver of the Land Office and United
States Depositary at Olympia in Washing
ton Territory. This appointment was
made by Grant in accordance withthe writ-
known system npon which he has acted
from the first, bqj which President Jeffer
son scorned, saying thst “the people can
never see with approbation officer, tbe dis
posal of which they intrust to the Presi
dent for pnblie purposes, divided ont as
family property.”
Tbe resnlt of this appointment of Lam
per to he receiver of pnblie moneys is sneh
that it nas been necessary to send a special
agent to the Tteasnry Department to
Olympia to investigate Lemper’s frauds,
and to take charge of tbe pnblie money of
which he is the nominal depositary. A
trustworthy correspondent writes as follows
to the Sun from Olympia on tbe 26th nlti
1 learn this morning that Col. Vernon,
special agent of the Treasury Department,
is now in charge of tbe safe and keys of
the United States depositary at this place,
although Dr. F. M. Lamper, second cousin
of the President, still nominally holds the
dace of Receiver of the Land Office, and
Juited States Depositary. It is generally
understood here that Lamper is retained
in his offices in order that he may draw the
salaries of abont $4,000 a year. There is
no donbt of his guilt; bnt no one thinks
that he will be removed. All this is con
sideration ofth's being a ‘cousin of U. S.’
as be styles himself.”
Sneh are some of the traits of the cor
rupt and debasing methods which Presi
dent Grant has constantly fallowed in his
administration. Never before, thank God,
was there a President so utterly shameless,
and never, it is to be hoped, will there be
sneh a one again?
thank you and the Convention for tbe at
tentive beariog which yon have given me.
For tho Rural Messenger.]
Tbe Fence Question.
HOW IT WORKS.
P. II. 3IEIX, D.D.
Mr. Editor:—In several of the late
numbers of your valuable paper, there
have been several communications in favor
of the no-tence law. Tis true there is
room for argument on both sides, bat as a
jeneral thing it shows a picayune selfish
ness iu the parties iu favor ot the no fence
system, and they are known as never being
satisfied with anything that they do not
control, from the rocking of the cradle to
the weilding of the great seal of the na
tion. Let the readers of yonr paper, bora
to the agricultural interest of Sonthside.
Virginia, look around and they will find
that I am right. They would hear the
babe cry npon the feeble breast of the
widow of some poor soldier—for the nour
ishment of life to soothe its gnawing hun
ger—whose bones now lie bleaching on
some distant field ; who with their discon
tented prattle, rushed these poor fellows in
to the jaws of death and a bloody grave;
they would to-day see their orphan babes
wend their way to a country poor-bonse or
a paupers grave, rather than see that wid
ow’s cow or pig nip the grass npon the
earth whic God hss given to famish food
freely for one as another. They are a sel
fish set, and I call npon any reasonable
person and he will ratify what I say-
ask whieh is the best, for the minority to
fence their covetous grounds (for they are
in the minority) in this eonntiy where tim
ber is cheap and plentiful, and ean be
raised in from six to ten years in any quan
tity, as in the ease of Svuthride, Virginia,
without trouble or labor, or for the major
ity to fence their whole domain ? Fenced
or nnfenced to please them, either because
they are not energetic enough to have
fences and still raise stoek npon the com
mon, or are better suited to fenoe their
stock, and want to raise the beef and ba
con to sell at their own starvation prices to
the poor man to add to his distressed con
dition, instead of trying to make him hap-
py*
And again, in a communication from
“Justice,” I would ask. have the real estate
owners of Sonthside. Va., from the days
of Captain John Smith to the present time,
been milled npon to give land to ruse corn
and wheat, or to furnish Trom their own
stares, bread and butter to real estate own
ers through compulsion or legislative acts?
If not, why thonld they ever? This is a
fair tost; let facts speak for themselves in
Vie ease.
I will here relate a circumstance once
occurring under the no-fenoe system. It
was thus: Farmer A’aox got beyond his
enclosed grounds, 'and consequently got
former D.’s crap. Former A. goes
his ox and is charged $3 for taking
him np. That will do for a beginning; $2
for one animal; the fenoe is broken; the
prioe is started; fair for one as another.
A abort time after this occurrence former
D. had some twenty or thirty sheep to get
ont on farmer A’s crop. Mr. A, will of
oonrse take good care of them, Farmer
D. comes after hi* sheep and wvfts t»
know tbe damages. Fortner A- «tX>,
yoq haye established the price of $3 for
an animal,' I most have the benefit also; so
former D. has to‘fork over $3 a.pieoc or
loose his sheep. So theso most be enemies
for life, and a heavy loss, S.
QrcmviUe County, Va.
We are permitted to make the following
extract from a private letter, read by one
of onr citizens in reference to this distin
guished Divine, and Professor of Franklin
College:
I am sorry to tell yon of the sad con
dition of onr mnch beloved pastor, Dr.
Mell. He has been very feeble all Som
mer, but attended to his duties, both in Col
lege and to his Churches. As soon as com
mencement was over, he commenced pro
tracted meetings in his Chnrches, at the
same time his wife was very sick, and very
often, after preaching be would go home,
get no rest at night, back next day, worn
out body and mind, and preach to a large
congregation; he eonld not give np while
there was so mnch prospect of doing good,
for there were at least 30 additions to the
two chnrches three weeks ago. One morn
ing in Ba'tJs Church, just after prayer-
meeting and before entering the pulpit, he
said he was very sick and most have medi
cal attention, and almost instantly fell, en
tirely prostrated, and had to be carried to
the boose of one of bis friends near by,
where he still remains in the same helpless
condition, with a little improvement, his
nervons system is completely exhausted.
We hope for the best, and hope that he
may yet recover, we cannot bear the idea
of loosing him.”
The following letter was read by one of
onr citizens and handed to ns for publica
tion that onr citixens may know what
oar Calhoun friends are doing in reference
to the contomplatedroadio Morgaoton.and
what tbe prospects are for its beiag exten
ded to onr eity, and tho steps necessary fer
us to take to secure that desirable end.
In deference to the writer’s delicacy, we
omit his Dame, bnt state that he is one of
the most prominent and reliable men in
that county. We admire the zeal, energy
and liberality of onr Calhonn friends, the
action indicates business,and a determination
to bnild the road at an early day. We
earnestly hope that they may meet with a
good success all along the line, as they did
at their meeting.
Romans what will yon do or give, to
make yonr eity the terminus of the road,
whieh will secure yon the trade of those
montain countries, in addition to securing
the great thronghfare from New York to
New Orleans:
* Then the Queen looked into 1
‘Ok.Ut-tfltntiF but Mtinnaaat.Nd
immersed him in sleep, and pressed
heed with her wing, so ho swoke not.-
yigkU."
Deep in the lily its odor lies.
Hidden in besuty cold ss snew;(
Only tho 8<mth wind stoops s» it ties. I
Stealing svectneis thst dreams below.
Deep in the heart of the Arab tala
Sleeps the breath of a tenth diviaa
Open thy petal, lily pale, '
Hake tho splendor and perfume mime.
When tho rapture of life shall eall,
Low or load, through roy weary dream:
When ita Bps on my rlumber falls.
Its ayes of summer above me glaern.
Patient angel of strength end power.
Guarding ever my wandering way.
Poor thy sleep on the fatefal hour.
Hide mine syea from the dawning day.
Whan the thrill of it* kit
Life and blisa till tha sleep most flee,
' Press thy wing on my restless head.
Keep me sleeping and safe far that 1
Old and Men, far September.
As Irish Street Poet-—Abont thirty-
five years ago, a tall blind man nsod to
stand at the corner of Essex Bridge. Dub
lin, singing and reciting ballad*, whieh if
not very remarkable for wit, were more or
less attractive to hie audience on amount of
their singularity. The poet derived hi*
name, Zozimns, from the fact of bis having
composed a lyric on the-direovery in the
desert of St. Mary of Egypt bya pious ec
clesiastic called Zozimns. Hi* biographer
says he was usually dressed in » bony,
coarse, long tailed ooat. aad a rery-much-
worn hat, with exceedingly strong shoes.
He recited or declaimed peiee* of a sacred
torn, interpersed with odd asides to the
crowd, and always introduced himself with
sort of prologue:
Te cone end daughters of Erin, attend J
Gather round poor Zoximui, per friend;
Listen, boys, until y* hear
My charming song
One of his striking and effective read
ings, was that of a romantic version of tho
story of Moses in the bulrushes. This he
always prefaced by inquiring, “Is there a
crowd abont me now? Is there any black
guard heretic listenin’ to me?” Having
been satisfied on these points, Zoxunns if
reported to have delivered a series of stan
zas pf which the following may serve as a
specimen:
In Egypt’s land, npon tho banks of Hlla
King Pharoah’s daughter went to bath in style.
She tuk her dip, then walked onto the land.
And to dry her royal pelt she ran along tho
strand.
A bulrush tripped her, whorenpon ah* sew
A smiling baby in a wad o’ straw.
She (nk it np, and said with accents mild,
‘Taas and agerr, gifts, which av ye owns the
child V
Zozimns could sing of bis garret as gaily
Berangers
Gather ronnd mo boys, will ysr.
Gather round met
And hear what I hare to aay,
Before Onld Sally brings me
My bread and jng of tay*
I lire in Peddle-ellay,
Off Blackpits near the comb.
With my poor wife called dally,
In a barren dirty room.
Zozimns died April 3,1846. A period
ical iD Dublin has been recently started in
his name, aud bis countrymen have only
lately made an effort to resen* bis memory
from oblivion.
The Express office in EUis Connty Mis
souri, has been robbed of $20,000. Tbe
KaKlnxgotit. -
Calhoun, Georgia, 1
September 15,1871. j
Dear Sir:
Yonr favor of the 11th inst is before me
and contents noted. We had a large turn
out at onr R. R. meeting at Cnic-Eater
8prings. “
Joseph E. Brown and Cheif Justice
Lochrane made speeches, the encorporat
organized, opened books and reoeived about
$45,000 stoek subscribed.
Joeeph E., and other distinguished and
knowing ones says the Bailroad is bound to
bo bmlt, snd I think myself, that if the
land-oWneis on the route will commit their
interest and do their dnty,they will bnild the
read.
We were looking for a deligation from
Borne. I think the disposition of the
maps is to mske this the terminus of die
road at present.
Bat if bnilt, it is bound to tap the 8. B.
& P. R. It,, end if tbe Romans want the
intersection at Borne, I do not see where
any serious objeotiou eonld arise.
Death of Col. James F. Dowdell.
—We regret to learn of the death of this
useful citizen and highly cultivated Chris
tian gentleman, which occurred at his resi-
in Auburn, AK, yesterday morning: He
has for a long time, been suffering much
from doepepris and braaohi is, snd for tbe
lest three weeks has been more or less con
fined- to his bed. The evening previous to
his death, we learn set np in hu bed snd
read'his newspaper. In the night the
disease assumed a violent type, and he died
in a few hoan afterwards. CoL Dowdell
represented that District in the Congress of
the United States one or two terms before
the war, and for several years since the
war, and until his health failed him, oc
cupied the position of President of fheEast
Alabama Male College at Auburn.
[From the Ch»ttinoog» Timer.
J. C. Stanton, late Snpt. of the A. & C.
. R., arrived in this city last evening on
tbe Nashville train.
He was en route for Montgomery, Ala
bama, whither he is going to play bis last
tramp cards, by attempting to foreclose
the second mortgage, ent off the floating
debt, including that due the laborers, snd
effect a sale of the A. & C. R. R-. to somo
parties who will assume the State's endorse
ment.
He has no money with which to psy tho
honest debts of the road incurred nnder
his management, and has neither the abil
ity nor the will to raiee any money to pay
Yet he bad the sublime and andaeity
remain in this city and to face his for
mer dopes, boldly proclaiming that be bad
no money, bat that be would bold the road
for five years, and prevent the State of Al
abama from running it
We rather like his ebeek. We do not
intend to abase him, because be is it this
time fatally dead, eo far as his connection
with the A. & C. R. R- is concerned; and
only m-ing abont to save fuoeral expenses.
He is a very heallhy looking corpse, it is
true, and has bongnt himself a new whits
hat, bnt still he is dead, and it would be
meaner than we are capable of being to
abnse a corpse.
Moreover, some of his friends fearful
that we would say something that might
encourage bis enemies to mistreat him, sent
ns yesterday, within ten minutes after his
arrival, a bottle of Mrs. Winslow's “Sooth
ing Syrup,” which the envelope states eost
them 35 cents. Of course we eonld nos
take advantage bf their poverty by abus
ing their friend after they had spent all
their available funds in theattemptto mol
lify the Times, and so we will let Mr.
Stanton off easy, in tbe first place beesnw
he is dead; and in the second place, because
the soothing syrup has had its effect.
So far as the question of his ever having
anything farther to do with the A. A C. R.
B. is concerned, that fa tmsgcspUll. It is
impossible, because he is dead. We may
have had something to do with kiHing him,
bnt if we have anything to be sorry for of
that kind, we are glad of it. ^
Mr. Stanton will propahly start tor Mont
gomery this evening, and we advise hit
friends to go and see him to*day, and bid
him an affectionate farewell; for, in all
probability, they will never see him again
after he leaves Chattanooga this time, no-
less they go where he is.
We have no ill will toward him now,
for all differences should be bnried in tha
grave. We forgive him for all the wrongs
he has perpetrated on this community, for
he has also conferred many benefits non
the eity, it may be unintentionally, hot
still they remain with ns after his death.
His predictions now are amusing, hot,'
of coarse, entitled to no more credit than
the effusions of the spurt of Shakspeare, oa
reported by any spiritualistic medium.
We wish Mr. Stanton a pleasant jooi»
ney to Montgomery, where Gen. Clan tea
will protect him, until be is thrown ont of
the court; and after that a safe trip to Ida
home in Boston, where he msy live in
peace, until he finds' another place that
needs development.
He has developed ns to onr entire Bias-
faction, snd we can part with him with
gltdoen now.
In eoneloding this brief erbitnsry notice
we treat that Mr. Stanton will. pardon ns
for onr obtruding npon his attention, his
looted advice—
virtuous and yon will be happy.”
We entreat him to take these few lines
home with him to Boston. A careful study
of tbe great moral principles involved in
them will make him a wiser and happier
Vale Stanton.
A Pittsfield woman of presence, visftiaff
the New Lebanon Shakers the other day,
asked tbe ten year old cow hoy if ha thought
die could get into, the “round hare,” the
hoar bring rather late. -She doubt* yet
whether the boy really misunderstood her,
when, after adriiberate survey, he remarked:
“why, I gufes so; there was en awful big
load oi hay went rn just now.”
I
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