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4^ wtm rr a Wmf' S. B. The New Exodus, WHAT TWO RADICAL SCOUN¬ DRELS ARE ATTEMPTING. It is being reported in certain northern papers that a new exo dus scheme, having for its object the inducing negroes from the south to emigrate to the we3t, is on foot. The movement is said to be under control of one J. C. Browne, a philanthropic (?) Philadelphia Quaker, and ‘General’ W. T. Con¬ way, that Sams radical malignant who made himself so conspicous last year in deluding, for politi¬ cal purposes, so many of the color¬ ed race into seeking poverty and death in the bleak and frozen north¬ west. Friend Browne telegraphed to New York from Philadelphia, under the date of Tuesday last, that he had just returned from Louisiana and Alabama, and that thousands of the colored people are leaving those States pell mell. Gen. Conway, in an interview with a newspaper reporter, about the same time, places the number ready to leave at 100,000, and says that they are already organ¬ ized into companies and societies, and are ready to move at a given signal. He further says that the cause of lha exodus is the bad treatment, by the whites, of the blicks, who ‘are made desperate by their wrings,’ and that a company has been organized with one J. \V. Woodward, of New Rochelle, N. Y., at its head, and the exodus will be conducted on business princi¬ Seven hundred thjusand acres of land have beta purchased in New Mexico, and-more will be acquired as it is needed. Emi¬ grants from the south will be treat¬ justns any others.from the for¬ countries. Colonies will be es tablished, land will be bought and ‘..he condition of the blacks must improve.’ The animus of this movement is apparent It proceeds from no love to the blacks, because it is no part )f friendship to induce him to leave the home of his birth, and seek his future amid untried scenes. Iu the west he will not only be subjected to the trials of a rigorous climate, in a strange land, but he will be brought into active competition with a largo class of white laborers, whose numbers are every year increasing. And past experience has very clearly estab¬ lished the fact that the white man of the north and west loves the black man very dearly when he can do so without detriment, to himself ; when, however, his inter¬ ests are jeopardized then his love vanishes, The black man, in com petition with western labor, will very soon be regarded in the same light that the heathen Chinee is at present, and will receive in a few years equally as bad treatment.— Nor will his condition be much bet¬ ter in the wilds of New Mexico, where he will be regarded by sav¬ age Indians as legitimate prey, and where he will find that in many re spects he has jumped from an im¬ aginary frying pan into a real fire. The whole object of Messrs. Browne and Conway and all tbe of their genus, therefore, is not to benefit the blacks but to in¬ jure the South. They begin by vilifying the whites of our section, and publishing to the world that we oppress the negroes, when such as sertion has been proven false in every respect. If negro labor is so essentially necessary to the South, then it does not stand to reason that the Southern planter will estrange and drive away from him a factor on which his very ex¬ istence depends, and, while we are not specially familiar with the sta tus of the colored man in Louisiana and Alabama, we know that such assertion is false as regards Geor gia, for from the official figures published in the late report of the Comptroller General of this state, the blacks here are possessed at this time of wealth aggregating 35,- 764,294 in value and their wealth has increased $581,895 in the past year alone. That does not look much as if the black man in Geor¬ gia, at least, is maltreated, or that he is, if industrious and thrifty, in a starring condition. Gen. Conway thinks that if his exodus is carried out to its final consummation it will prove a very serious matter to the South. With ill-concealed exultation he says that when he has succeeded in running off our negro population the south¬ ern people will have to meet the problem ‘how to raise their crops,’ and he is evidently highly delight¬ ed at the idea that ’ it will be a problem very difficult of solution, and that suffering and poverty will return to our section. In this Mr. Conway is counting without his host, for the south,of all sections inr this country, will -be the least in* jured by his malignity. Planters in some sections may be enbarrass ed for a while, but just so long as the south can produce the best cot* ton in the world, and so long as cotton is in demand all over the globe, just so long will the neces sary labor be supplied, and the cot¬ ton will be produced. But even should Mr. Conways exodous re¬ sult in a decrease of production of the crop, who would be the most affected? Not the producer, for he would receive higher prices for his products, which would fully com¬ pensate him for the decreased sup¬ ply. The consumer and manufac¬ turer of the north, whenever the supply is not equal to the demand, would be the ones to suffer, since would have to pay largely in¬ rates for the raw material, for the clothing which they necessarily be compelled to In thus striking at the hat¬ south, Mr Conway would be in¬ on his own people a much blow. Besides this,in some respects the would be directly benefitted this proposed exodus. Not on will the shiftless and lazy ne alone join in the movement, the industrious and thrifty but if General Conway, Mr. and their minions have res succeeded in spreading discon¬ and dissatisfaction among 100, negroes, the sooner the south rid of their presence the better. are now simply obstruction¬ in the way of southern prog ; they are no longer to be re¬ on either as citizens or labor- ■ and their places will be speedi¬ filled by better men. Mr. Conway and all the rest of the malignant crew may as well ret. the fact now that they can as hope to successfully dam the Mississippi river as to stem the tide of southern prosper ; and he will find out that even if he should succeed iu depopula* ting the south of her negro citizens, will not permanently, or even for any serious length of time, re¬ tard her advance. This is destin¬ ed to become the wealthiest section of this great country in a very few years, and if our people are but true to themselves, all the machi¬ nations of all our enemies combin¬ ed cannot prevent this destiny from being fulfilled.—Savannah News. The Famous Duel of Winston Countv. Long ago in the days of our mili¬ tary glory, when S. S. Prentiss was the pride of Mississippi, and A. K McClung was in the height of his fame as a duelist, the ‘code of honor’ held a high place in the esiimation of a large class of our citizens. This was then the popular way of settling disputes and avenging insults. It looks like a shame that sensible men in a Christian country should adopt or approve this mode of settlement, and calling it by high sounding title —‘code of honor,’ when in fact it is a code of shame and disgrace. But so it w*s. About this lime there lived in Winston county, Mississippi, two young men about as unlike as two young men could well be. One of them, William Smith, was a tall, broad-shouldered, read-headed, rather flue looking young man, who was as proud as Lucifer, and always carried about him a double charge FORT VALLEY, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 10,1880. of dignity. Bill, as the boys called him, though such familiarity always hurt him, was always on the lookout for an insult. His feelings stuck out so far tliat it was impossible to get near him without running against one of them. Indeed he could not endure anything that gotio the way of his pride. The only wriy to gel along with him pleasantly, was to flatter, and feel like a contemptible hypocrite, which he was. The oth er young man, James Junes, called Jim for short, was a low, chunky, heavy set fellow, and rather hard featured^but he had in him a warm, true heart, and was the friend of ev ery-bodb and everybody liked him. He was a born wag, and loved a joke aud enjoyed a laugh, even at his own expense, which is a rare gift in pro¬ fessional jokers. Jim w as part Irish and had inherited the streak of wit of fuu characteristic of his race. At times Jim carried his love of fun too far aud hurt the feelings of people, especially of those who were a little sensitive any how. But nobody was more ready to make amends for tbe wrong done than Jim Jones. The fact is there was such a vim of hu¬ mor iu all he did that it was almost impossible to get mad at him, and harder still to stay mad. Jim joked into his troubles and then joked out of them. In the autumn of 18- 40, Bill Smith and Jim Jones met at a party given by the widow Foy.— Bill was elaborately dressed in anew suit of cloth, his coat cut in the style then iu vogue which was with a ‘claw hammer’ tail. Ills pride was manifest and his immense dig¬ nity never seemed so prominent be¬ fore. Jim Jones was modestly at¬ tired in a new suit of homespun jeans, made out and out from the raw material by the deft fingers of his mother and sisters. It was gen erally known that Bill Smith, like a terrapin, carried everything he had on liis back, while Jim Jon s was laying up something for a rainy day. Jim was brim full of fun and was making things lively at the party. Unluckily for him he concluded to work a practical joke on Bill Smith He knew bow sensitive Bill was, but trusted to luck to pacify. Just before the dance was to commence he slipped ari und and pinned a large red bandana handkerchief to Bill Smith’s coat tail. Bill danced up and down the room two or three limes before he discovered that he was the cause of so much merriment. When he discovered the showy ap pendage dangling at his heels the fountains of his wrath broke loose and he vowed vengeance upon the man who had made such a specta cle in company. Jim, poor fellow, begged pardon, and then tried t<> laugh Bill into a good humor but it only made matters worse. The next day Bill Smith challenged Jim Jones to a settlement according to the code. Jim properly accepted the challenge, named the day two weeks off, fixed the place in a large Indian old field, and chose to fight with short swords on horseback, contes¬ tants to approach each other from opposite sides of the field at full gal lop aud to commence fighting as soon as they met. Bill Smith owned the finest horse in Winston county—a large, spirit" ed dappled gray. During the in¬ terval between the challenge and the fatal meeting, he put himself and his fine horse through a regular course of training in short sword ex¬ ercise. He spent from two to four hours a day in the saddle cutting and cleaving the air with his sword and in wardliug off imaginary blows, making imaginary thrusts. In his own mind he was a great hero, but to cool beaded people he looked like a fool—which he was. All thin time Jim Jones was at home at work keep¬ ing his own counsel and receiving the advice of his friends with a smile of indiffereuce. When any one told him, as plenty of people were ready to do, of tho preparations being made by his antagonist, and of his pompous boasts of what he was got ing to do and how he would make mince-meat out of .Tim Jones, Jim would quickly say, ‘I will run Bill off of that field.' The proposed duel was of course a profound sec rect, but like most secrets of the kind it spread far and wide, tot als ways under the lock and key of se cresy. When the fatal day came, as fatal days always do sooner or la ter, more than a hundred men were on the ground fully two hours fore the time of battle. It is won¬ derful that the interest of a fight of any kind, even a dogufight, will stir up the bosoms of some men .— Ten Smith minutes rode before the the -side time "of JjUi the upon field where those had gathered who sided with him in this affray. He was dressed up within an incli his life, and his fine horse now, richly comparisoned, never showed so well before. Bill’s friends tbouhgthim the very impersona¬ tion of chivalry and true courage, and could not repress a cheer as rode upon the gronnd, his sword gleaming in the sun light. f Presently Jim Jones rode up among his friends on his side T>f the field, astride a bob tailed In dian pony, known to be twenty years old. His whole outfit, sword and all, was in keeping with the pony he rode. Hanging across his saddle were six old tin pans and twelve large gourds—three pans and six gourds on each side of his pony. A broad smile spread over Jim’s face as curious eyes began to peer at his turn out. A deep voice said, “Ah boys, that is Jim Jones exactly—he will win the day.’’ Af ter some little parleying, the sec¬ onds—always willing parties to the crime of duelling, gave the word of command from their station in the center of the field. The contes¬ tants started at a gallop, though Jim Jones had hard work to get his bob-tailed pony under way.— They came swooping down upon each other, Jim s tin pans aiql gourds malting almost noise. When about one hundred yar Is apart Bill Smith’s fine horse stopped short, threw up his head and began to snort ominously. In a moment more he took the bit in his teeth and broke off obliquely across the field as if running for his life. Jim Jones filed right af¬ ter him, calling out at the top of his voice, ‘Stop, Bill, I’m not going to hurt you—stop, Bill, and let’s make friends.’ The company join¬ ed in the race which was continued for a mile and a half when the po¬ ny gaye out, and Jim had to stop. The friends of both parties came up convulsed with laughter, and crowned Jim Jones as the ‘prince of jokers,' and urged Bill Smith to an amicable adjustment of the mas¬ ter, as it would be a pity to kill a fellow as good natured as Jim Jones was. They made friends and lived and died on good terms. This duel cured Bill Smith of his pride, and helped to make a man out of him. This was the first and only duel ever foughtt in Winston county. Gilderoy. There’s Money In It The report which the ccpimis sioner of agriculture sent to tho Senate last year on the subject of sheep husbandry contains a great deal of suggestive matter with ref¬ erence to that industry in the south ern states, showing that th* area of the cotton belt, which it 262,- 269,440 acres, is preeminently adapted to the raising of sheep.— There the most valuable grasses for winter pasture grow luxuriant¬ ly, chief among which is the Ber¬ muda grass. On this va«t area there are to be found, according to the reports of the agricultural bus rea, but 2,883,000 sheep, not as ma¬ ny as are found in the single state of Ohio, where the expense of keep¬ ing them is largely increased by the necessity of bousing them and car¬ ing foiWem in the winter, a course which is obviated by the more fa< vorable clim ite and winter pastu rage of tho south. In New Eng land alone there are 750 woolen mills in operation, and tho demand for wool insures a permanent pats ronage for sheep husbandry. One company in Lowell uses 1,800,000 poundsof wool ft year? alfofeer mill at Lawrenpeville uses 3,000,000 pounds, another 4,000,000 pounds. The coarser varieties of wool, for carpet manufacturing purposes, are imported to the extent of 23,d00,< 000 pounds a year. Of the finer fleeces it is stated that a dozen 1 Ve w England mills consume an amount equal to the whole product of the state of Ohio. There is, therefore, abundant necessity for wool The report of the agri¬ cultural burea sets forth the neces cf'the maintenance of the high tariff on wool and informs wool growers that their success depends upon the maintenance of the high duty on woolen products. The fact is that the manufacturers got a duty of from ninety to one hun¬ dred per cent, levied on foreign woolen products, which they make consumers pay them, and threw a sop to American wool growers in the shape of a duty of thirty per cent, on imported raw wool. Some of them have since been clamoring for free raw wool, but they want to retain the big tax of 103 per cent, on imported woolen products— shown car pets especially. As we have they import annually about 23,000, 000 pounds of wool. To make things equal, the tariff on raw wool should be made protected prohibitory, spoliators so as to compel the to buy all their wool from American woo! growers. The present If Ameiican system is grossly unequal. under woolen manufacturers can sell Europe, as they assert, there is no need for protection to the amount of a cent. If the tariff was reduced to the revenue basis, then the mills would be kept running as usual, and the sheep would have to be raised to supply the wool. The southern states can grow wool at almost nominal expense, and a low tariff would make no inroads upon the profits of sheep husbandry.— They can grow better wool than that grown in Australlia, the great sheep-raising country of the world, and Aonoe the business needs no artificial- coddling.' The high'titriff woolen gave a false stimulus to manufactures during the war and for a year or two after. Men ev¬ erywhere built woolen mills, and the consequence was that the prod¬ uct soon greatly surpassed the de¬ mand, and there wa3 weeping and wailing among the protected, and a prodigious shutting up of mil’s. That is the way protection works. It is an unnatural process. The wool raising and wool manufactn - ring business in this country would be all right without the with protective the tariff. It must grow nat¬ advance of the country in pop and Americans should not forced to pay artificial prices their woolen garments.—Couri¬ Journal. RAISING HAIR. Syracuse Sunday Times. It was one of the by-laws of Heartache’s Heavenly Hair Rais¬ that it be used liberally be¬ retiring, rubbing it well the scalp. Just before he to bed the man bolted the door, put the cat into the came in whistling the waltz, danced up to the shelf, and pouring out what supposed to be his hair fertili¬ zer, he mopped it all over his scalp, stirred it well in around the of the little hedge of hair at back of his neck. The glue bottle, by an unhealthy was nearly the same and size as the hair sap bob He went to bed. ‘George,’ said bis wife, turning face to the wall, ‘that stuff you putting on your hair smells a pan of soap grease.’ ‘Perhaps I hod better go up and sleep,’ snarled George.— ‘You’re mighty sensitive! You expect that a man can put stuff on his head that 'Will make hair grow, and have it smell essence of winter-green,would you V They went to sleep mad as Turks. This particular bald-headed man jjk e a great many other bald-head ed me », had to get up and build tHe fires: When bn arose next morning the sun poep'ed in at the window and saw tbe pillow cling fa tho bride of his head tiko a great ^hite chignon. At first he did realize his condition; ho thought it must have caught on a pin or button. It looked ridicu¬ lous, and he Would throw it back on the bed before his wife saw it? so he caught it quickly By one ebd and yanked. ‘Oh 1 Ob! Damation to fish hooks, what’s been going on here! Thun¬ der and lightning!’ and he began to claw at his scalp like a lunatic.— His wife sprang up from her couch and began to sob hysterically. ‘Oh, don’t, George! What is it?— What’s the matter ?’ George was dancing about the room, the pillow now dangling by a few hairs, his scalp covered with something that looked like sheet copper, while the air was redolent of war-like expletives, as it a dic¬ tionary had exploded. With a wo¬ man's instinct the wife took in situation at a glance and exclaim ed : ‘It is glue f The bald-headed man sat down in a chair and looked at her a mo¬ ment in contemptuous silence, and then uttered the one contemptui ous word: ‘Glne?» Now b’egan a series of processes and experiments unheard of in the annals of chemistry. ‘Jane, you miist soak it off with warm water. I’ve got to go up to Utica to-day.’ ‘I can’t, George,’ she replied in a guilty tone,‘it’s water-poof.’ ‘Yes, I might have known it; and I suppose it’s fire-proof too, ain’t itr He scratched over the smooth plating with his finger nails. ‘It’s as hard as iron,’ said] he. ‘Yes—he said it was good glue!’— repeated she innocently. ‘Can’t you skim it off witH your razor, George?’ ‘Don’t be a bigger fool than yon are, Jane. Get me that coarse file in the wood shed.’ It may be imagined what follow¬ ed, and now, as the bald-headed man sits in his office, he never reo moves his hat, for his entire skull is a howling waste of blistered des¬ ert, relieved here and there by oa¬ ses of black coat plaster. Appleby’s Troubles. What a Jersey Bridegroom got for fifty cents. When magistrate Martin called up John Appleby yesterday, there stood up the meekest and apparent¬ ly the meanest-feeling specimen of humanity that ever yearned to go home. When tho ten o’clock train left Burlington yesterday morning it had as passengers the aforesaid John and his wife, which article of household economy he had owned since the night before. When the ferry-boat reached hor slip on this side of the river John and Tillie up the street, He said: ‘Sweety, pet, s’posin’ you and me stop into one of these ere eatin’ stores and fill up. I never wanted somethin to eat wuss in my hull life 'ceptin’ that day I got lost in the woods lookin’ alter dad’s old heifer.’ Tillie was agreeable, and they entered. Appleby resolved to spread himself. ‘That there’s the programme, Tillie,’ he said, and then he told her ‘jest to tell the black feller to tote along whatever she wanted,’ but he didn't mental¬ ly expect to spend more than sev enty-five cents for the whole lay¬ out Tillie took a hair pin from store . curls » and j punched , , two or three holes near the top of bill of fare and two or three more about an inch from the bottom and told the waiter to ‘bring in all tbem things between fee punctures.’ He smiled, and went down and told few cook that a couple of speo neys Were up stairs, and had or dered a thunderin gorge and to get it up lively, In about fifty minutes there appeared to the as tonished gaze of the rustics tea, coffee; chocolate, ham sandwitches, oysters in every style, turkey, wild duck, three kinds’ of soup, vegeta bios ad lib, meat and other, stuff including two bottles of champagne No. 2 z ■pale ale and a saucer of Havana se gars. .‘Pt»is to me,’ said John, ‘they kinder do things up right at" this tavern, and I’m cornin’ right here whenever I get to town__ That ere keerd outside reads: ‘A' square meal for cents and if this’ here aint’t square, for them figures; I’ll chaw pumpkin vine, till I spit* seeds. Then did that unsuspect¬ ing couple go to work on the solids and Appleby, after the fourth swig of Clicquot ‘elder,’ whictr he drank«wt of the bottle; wanted 1 fc? lean over and swap kisses with Til-' lie, and said he could lick any man that laughed. Then they ate some more, and John wanted to sell 1 - what was left of the feed to a Bow officer for twenty cents. Next he tiled tb wrap a broiled chicken up in a copj? of the Burlington En terprise, but it slipped through and spoiled his pants. Appleby wasn’t any too good hn. mored when he asked ‘how much the whole durned thing was,’ and when the gentlemanly cashier re¬ plied $8.40, John reared around and tore the buttonhole out of Mg' paper collar. ‘Mister, ’ said he, yon can’t play none of those ’ere tricks on me. Mebbe I look green, but T kin lick any man that wants to’lock me like that fur a feed fur two, and one on 'em a delicate female. We ain’t eat all the Stuff, * nohow, and you kin set it out’to them fellers with high collars and trace chains onto their watches. I’m just a-go¬ ing to pay you fifty cents, accor-r din’ to your sign. Do you s’pose a man’s slummick kin take in all that stuff and grind it up proper?’ The cashier tried to explain that the things h id been ordered and must be paid foT, but got tired ou! at last.— Then he sa’idr ‘Now look here, old melon sqnasher, I’m fired of fooling with you, and you just di-gorge that eight forty or I !1 hand you ov> er to an officer.’ ‘Will you?’ yelled Appleby- I'm ‘you cornin’ wax-end bended old' roosteer; far you,’ and then he jaroped the counter arid they clinched, and tried to get each oth¬ er’s head in the cream freezer, while the rest of the guests bet hats and segars as to how it would come out the odds being about ten to four on Appleby. Then the show case weDt over, and the cashier and Appleby were mixed up with jellies, bakes and confectionery; with while Tillie pels ted the waiters segments of aps pie pie and custard, yelling to John to ‘give it to him good/ Somebo¬ dy went tor a patrolman, and .when he got Appleby to tbe station-house’ tho turnkey invested fifty ceDts in’ court plaster and oysters for his eyes. His bail was $1500 for assault and battery. He had had enough, and simply horse remarked, ‘Darn sich a one the town, yellow anyhow.’ An hour la¬ ter maria carted him sadly away among the rest of its load of sin and Tille look a train for home.— Philadelphia Norh American. People who t ike midnight stfolW on railroad tracks shouldn’t be of fended if tho coroner doesn't recog¬ them. A little girl who was much potted said: T like sitting ott, gentlemen’s better than on ladies’; don’t ma?’ Patriotism is is a glorious thing its way, but we observe there always the most candidates for office that has the best pay. ‘How shall I have my bonnet asks Maria; ‘so that it agree with my complexion?’ yon want it to match your f *ce, it plain, replied the hateful Hattie. He didn’t know it was loaded?. There was only three fingers in it,’ but it carried away three of his.— He says he can get along yery well with his work, though he is a little short handed. . before ? wo the f n “ tribunal r , B ^ T? before '' >e<Jded which life ^ ‘ th hfrve institmed proceedin for a judical seperatrori. ‘I am sure,’ says the lady warmly] ‘that I can 1 8ee what he has to complain are two bosoms with a St* T* * ** A daWeston family has a Colored 8ervaat that, while very atleritive to' her duties, has never been known to' give anybody a civil answer. Pore ly as an experiment the lady of the' house brought hor a new calicodresri arid gave to her, saying: ‘I am glad' to'have the pleasure, Matilda, ol' giving you this dress.’ ‘Yer monk hab had dat pleasure long ago efyef had had any rogard foah my feeH ings,’ was tho gratcfril response;