Newspaper Page Text
JACKSON CO. PUB. COM’Y, )
Proprietors. t
volume y.
TUBLISnED EVERY FRIDAY.
ROBERT S. HOWARD, Editor and Publisher,
JEFFERSON , JACKSON COGA.
office, n. e. cor. Public square, up-stairs.
TERRIS OF SUBSCRIPTION.
(laec<tpvl2 months $1.50
44 44 6 “ 1.00
44 14 3 “ * 50
every Club of'J en subscribers, an ex
tra copy of the paper will be given.
RATES OF ADVERTISING.
Onr DoLLAR-per square (often lines or less)
for the first insertion, and SfiVENfY-FIVE CENTS
for each subseqaera insertion.
square is a space of one inch, measured
up and down the column.
&&~A 11 Advertisements sent without specifica
tion of the number of insertions marked thereon,
will be published till forbid, and charged
accordingly.
ftaf* Business or Professional Cards, of six lines
or less, Seven Dollars per annum; and where
they do not exceed ten lines, Ten Dollars.
£epf JWmtisemenis.
NOTICE TO CONTRACTORS.
WILL be let, to the lowest bidder, before the
Court House door in Jefferson, on Saturday,
the 16th day of August, 1879, the contract for
building the bridge across the Mulberry river,
near Oshields’, according to the following specifi
cations : Said bridge to be built just above where
the road crosses said river, on level with the bank
on Jefferson side, with 12 feet roadway, with one
fifty feet swinging span extending from abutment
sill on north bank ; one span from arch under
swinging span, extending well out on north bank,
supposed to be thirty feet long ; the arch under
swinging span to be built on mud sills thirty feet
long; upright to arch to be 12 by 12 inches, well
braced with timbers 8 by 10 inches, extending
well out on mud sill to within 12 inches of cap
sill; uprights in centre Bby 8 inches ; cap sills
12 by 14 inches, mortised half through so as to lit
on top of tenents on uprights ; five sleepers to
swinging span 10 by 12 inches; said span to be
well bolted with iron bolts and Swede iron $ inch
thick and 3 inches wide, to hold the same; five
sleepers to end span 6 by 12 inches; king post 10
by 10 inches; rafters 8 by 10 inches; flooring 14
feet long and 2 inches thick, to be well spiked
down with 5 inch stringers ; banisters fastened to
uprights, made of 3 inch scantling. 3 feet high and
8 feet apart, mortised through and keyed on under
side of flooring plank ; planked on inside with inch
plank ; 4 inch strip over top. All sleepers to lap
well on cap sills. * Timbers to be all heart but
mud sills, and sawed except sleepers to swinging
span, which may he hewn, if well and smoothly
done. All work to be done in a workmanlike
manner, as the work and all timbers will be in
spected before being placed in the water. Per
sons bidding off said contract will be required to
give bond for faithful compliance of the same im
mediately after the letting. Full and complete
specifications at this oflice.
July 16th, 1870. 11. W. BELL, Ord’y.
Jackson Sheriff’s Sales.
WILL he sold, on the lirst Tuesday in August
next, before the Court House door in the
town of Jefferson, Jackson county, Ga., within
the legal hours of sale, the following property,
to-wit:
A tract or parcel of land, situate and lying in
th 257th District, G. M., of said county, on the
wators of little Curry’s creek, adjoining lands of
J. M. Wilhite, A. T. Bennett and others, the same
being the place whereon S. G. Barnett now re
sides, containing three hundred and forty-two
acres, more or less. Levied on by virtue of a li.
fa. issued from the Superior Court of said county
in favor of H. C. Guldens vs. S. G. Barnett. On
said land there is a tolerably good dwelling house
and necessary out-houses, and a good orchard ;
about forty or fifty acres of said land in a high
state of cultivation, the remainder in old field and
forest land. Property pointed out by plaintiff.
Written notice given S. G. Barnett, party now in
possession.
julj-4 T. A. McELUANNON, Sh’ff\
, Jackson County.
Whereas, upon the report of road commission
ers, appointed reviewers to review, mark out and
report upon the public utility of making certain
changes in the Jefferson and Harmony Grove road,
that said changes will be of much public utility,
as follows :
First, a change around the hill at the creek near
Mrs. Morgan’s, on the side nearest to Jefferson.
Second, a change near the place whereon Mrs.
llood recently died, leaving the present readjust
beyond the branch from the dwelling house on
said place and running nearly a straight line to a
point on the North Oconee river. 150 or 175 yards
below the present bridge, across said riverthence
nearly a straight line to a point opposite S. \\ .
Jackson's mill; thence the mill road about 200
vards; thence to the right across the creek just
below Mrs. Borders' dwelling-house; thence a
straight line to where Jackson's mill road inter
sects with the Jefferson and Harmony Grove road.
Unless good cause to the contrary is shown, on
the Sth day of August next, an order will be pass
ed granting said changes.
July 4th, 1879. IT. W. BELL. Ord'y.
MIOKGIA, Jiickoii County.
Whereas, J. B. Pendergrass applies to me in
proper form lor Letters of Administration on the
estate of N. 11. Pendergrass, late of said county,
deceased—
This is, therefore, to cite all persons concerned,
kindred and creditors, to show cause, if any they
can, on the lirst Monday in August. 1879, at the
regular term of the Court of Ordinary of said coun
ty', why said letters should not be granted.
Given under my' official signature, this June 23d,
1879. june27 11. W. BELL, Ord'y.
Q.EORGU, Jackson (Vunty.
Whereas, N. B. Cash makes application, in
proper form, for Letters of Administration on the
estate of Green Nance, col‘d, late of said county',
deceased —
This is to cite all concerned, kindred and cred
itors, to show cause, if any they can, at the regu
lar term of the Court of Ordinary of said county,
on the first Monday in August, 1879, why said
letters should not be granted.
Given under my oflicial signature, this J une 23d,
1579. june27 it. 4Y . BELL, Ord y.
j GORGiA, Jiaekfton Counly.
Whereas, R. J. Parks represents to the Court,
in his petition duly' filed, that he has fully admin
istered the estate of G. W. Shambly, late of said
county, deceased, and applies for Letters of Dis
mission from said estate—
This is to cite all concerned, kindred and cred
itors, to show cause, if any they can, on the tirst
Monday in August,-1879. at the regular term of
the Court of Ordinary' of said county, why'Letters
©f Dismission should not be granted the applicant.
Given under my official signature, this May 7th,
1879. 11. W. BELL, Ord’y.
Tlie People their own Rulers; Advancement in Education, Science, Agriculture and Southern Manufactures.
SELECT MISCELLANY.
JOHN WALTON’S FARM.
a story for the present time.
"Hadn’t you better subscribe for it?”
“ I tell you no. I hain’t got the money to
spare ; and, if I had, I hain ! t got the time to
waste over newspapers,” said Eben Sawyer,
with sonqe emphasis.
"But you’ll gain some information from it
in the course of a year, sir,” pursued John
Walton.
“ I tell you I don’t want it.”
“Well, what do you say, Mr. Grummet?
Shan’t I have your name ?”
"No, sir!” '
This was spoken so flatly and bluntly’ that
Walton said no more, but folded up the pros
pectus of a periodical which he had with him,
and then turned away.
Eben Sawyer and Ben Grummet were two
old farmers—that is, old at the business,
though they had only reached the middle
age of life ; and, after their young neighbor
had gone, they expressed their opinion con
cerning him.
"He’ll never make a farmer,” said Saw
yer, with a shake of the head, "lie spends too
much time over those papers and books of
his’n. He’s a leetle mite above farmin’,
that’s my opinion.”
"Them’s my sentiments,” responded Grum
met. " 1 tell you, Eben, the man that thinks
to make a livin’ on a farm in this country’ has
got to work for it.”
At this juncture, Sam Bancroft came past.
He was another old native of the district.
“We was just talkin’ about young Walton,”
said Sawyer.
“ I have just come from there,” replied
Sam.
"He’s been borin’ me to sign for a paper;
but he couldn’t come it.”
“ Ha, ha! So lie bored us. He’s gettin’
a leetle too high for a farmer.”
“ He’s rippin’ his barn floor up,” said Ban
croft.
“ liippin’ the floor up!” repeated Grum.
met. ‘‘Why’, Mr. Atnsden had the whole
floor put down new only about three years
ago.”
“The stable floor, I mean,” pursued Ban
croft. “ lie’s got a carpenter up from the
village, and his two hired men are helpin’.”
“ Whew ! I opine he’ll make a farmer.”
And so they all -opined—with a reserva
tion. In short, there was something highly
ridiculous in the thought of a man’s thinking
to be a fanner and a student at the same
time, and all sorts of jests were discharged
over it.
John Walton was a young man—somefive
and-twenty; and, though he had been born
in the neighborhood, y’et much of his life had
been spent in other portions of the country.
His parents both died when he was quite
young, and his father’s farm passed into the
hands of a Mr. Amsden. But now John had
married, and he meant to be a farmer, and
his thoughts naturally turned to the old home
stead. lie found Amsden willing to sell,
and he bought—paying $2,500 down, and
giving a note and mortgage for $2,500 more,
which had been cashed by Mr. Piddon.
This farming district was upon a broad
ridge of land, which had been eleard for a
great many years ; and, though they were the
handsomest and smoothest-looking farms in
the county, yet they were by no means the
best. The summit of the ridge was crowned
by a ledge of granite, and the soil, over the
whole broad swell, was more or less wet and
cold. This was particularly the case with
John Walton’s farm, some portions of it be
ing wholly unfit for cultivation. There was
one field of over twenty' acres which was never
fit for plowing. The soil was so wet and
heavy that it had never been worked to any
advantage ; yet there was some good land on
it, and Mr. Amsden had gained fair crops
while he lived there.
Beti Grummet had a curiosity to see what
was going on in Walton’s barn, so he drop
ped in there. He found that the whole of the
floor, where the cattle stood, had been torn
up, and that they were digging a wide,
deep trench the whole length of the tie
up.
“ What is all this for?” asked Ben.
“Why,” returned Walton, who was busy
in superintending the work, and also in work
ing himself, “I am having a place fixed here
for making manure. I mean to fill this
trench up with good muck, and thus save the
liquide which have heretofore been lost. I
think, by proper management, I can get fully
double the quantity of manure which others
have got on this place.”
“ Do yon ?’’ said Grummet, rather sarcas
tically.
“Yes,” resumed the young man. “It is a
fact that the liquid manures, could they' be
saved, would fully equal the solids, both in
bulk and value; and when combined with
well-rotted muck, and some other articles
which shall take up and retain ail the more
volatile parts, I feel sure that they’ will afford
more fertilizing powers and properties than
the solid manures can.”
“ You don’t say* so! Where d’ye larn all
that r
“ Partly from reading and partly from ob-
JEFFERSON, JACKSON COUNTY, GA., FRIDAY. AUGUST 1. 1879.
scrvation,” answered John, smiling at his
neighbor’s open sarcasm.
" I don’t s’pose it costs anything to do all
this ?"
“ Oh, yes ; it will cost me considerable be
fore I get through.”
“ Yes, I should think ’twould 1”
“ I say,” he cried, as he met Sawyer short
ly afterward, "John Walton's about as nigh
bein' crazy as a man can be.”
“ Eh ?—crazy, Ben ?”
“ Oh, he's got his head full of all sorts of
nonsense. lie’s got his stable floor torn
away, and a trench dug there big enough to
hold more’n twenty car loads of dirt.”
“But what in nature’s he going to d#.?”
“ Why, he's goin' to save the as he
calls ’em. And he's goin’ to put in some
thing to take up the—the— vol —voluntary
parts.”
“ Voluntary parts ? What’s them, Ben ?”
“It was vol something. But I don’t know.
I wouldn’t ask him. I s’pose he just used
the outlandish word so’s to get me to ask him
what he meant, and then he’d show off his
lamin’. But I wasn’t so green.”
“ I wonder if he thinks he’s cornin’ here to
larn us old farmers how to work ?” said Saw
yer, indignantly.
“ lie thinks so,” returned Grummet.
"Then lie’ll find out his mistake,” added
the other. " You mark my words, Ben, he’ll
be flat on his back afore two years passes over
his head.”
And these were not the only ones who
looked for the same thing. The idea of a
man’s coming in there with any such new
fangled notions was absurd.
Autumn came, and after John Walton had
mowed over his twenty-acre field—some of
his coldest and stilfest land—getting hardly
enough hay to pay for the labor, he set the
men at work digging deep trendies all over
it. Me had two dug lengthwise, running up
and down the slope ; and then he dug quite a
number running across these. They were
quite deep and broad, and into them he tum
bled nearly all the stones that could be found
in the fields.
“A pooty expensive way of gettin’ rid of
your rocks,” remarked Grummet.
“It’s a better place for them than on the
surface, isn’t it ?” returned Walton, with a
smile.
" l’erliaps. But what on earth are y’e doin’
it for ?”
“Why, I’m going to see if underdraining
won’t improve the land.”
“ Uuderdraining ! What’s that ?”
“It is simply drawing off the water from
the surface. This land is cold and wet; but
if I can get the water to drain off among
these rocks, the sun may warm the surface
and give me an excellent piece of soil here
yet.”
But it looked very foolish to Ben Grum
met. He believed that “ what was the natur
of the soil couldn’t be changed.”
“ That’s a cur’us contrivance,” said Sam
Bancroft. He and Ben Grummet had been
at work for Walton hauling muck. He al
luded to a large vat at the back of the house,
into which ran a spout from a sink. This
vat was capable of holding several cart loads
of stuff, and was about half full.
“ That’s a compost vat,” explained Wal
ton, who had overheard the remark.
“ All the slops from the house—the soap
suds and such stuff—which most people waste,
I save by this means, and turn to good ac
count ; and, instead of throwing away’ refuse
matter, I put it in here, and let it rot and fer
ment and make manure.”
" But what's this charcoal dust for ?”
“ It answers two purposes, though by’ only
one office. It takes up the ammonia and oth
er volatile matter, and thus holding them for
fertilizing agents, and at the same time pre
vents the disagreeable effluvia winch would
otherwise arise from such a fermenting mass
as this.”
" That all sounds very well,” remarked Ben,
after Walton had left them ; " but, let me
tell you, it don’t pay ! He’d better let such
fandangles alone if lie ever expects to make a
livin’ at farmin'.”
Before the ground froze out, Walton threw
out most of ti;e muck behind his stable, which
had become well saturated, and filled up the
trench anew. •
The old farmers had a great many apple
trees, and made a great deal of cider; but
the fruit was of an inferior quality. When
spring came, Walton went to some of his
neighbors, and asked them to go in with him
and send for some good scions to engraft
upon their apple .trees. He explained to
them just the plan he had formed for his own
orchard. He had engaged a competent man
to come and do the work of grafting, and,
while they were about it, it would be cheaper
to get grafts enough for the whole neighbor
hood.
It was of no use. The old orchards were
just such as their fathers had, and were good
enough. So Walton went at it alone. He
had his trees all pruned and dressed, and
nearly all of them grafted to such fruit as he
thought would thrive and sell best.
A little while later, and Ben Grummet had
occasion to open his eyes. He found that
John WaltoD had contrived to have 104 loads
of manure, all of which had been made with
in the year. However, he finally shook his
head and said: ** Wait; we’ll see if it’s good
for anything.”
A little while later, and the grass began to
spring up on the twenty-acre lot as it had
never sprung np before, the two acres, which
had been plowed and harrowed up light and
fine, being the best crop of corn that was
grown in the whole county’, and all the man
ure put upon it was some that had been man
ufactured.
And so the time went on, and John Wal
ton was continually studying how to improvo
his farm. At the expiration of a few years
the new scions had grown large and strong in
,Ins orchard, and began to bear fruit. lie
had taken care of his trees, and they were
about to return him interest for the labor he
had done.
" Good gracious 1” ejaculated Eben Saw
yer as Ben Grummet and Sam Bancroft came
into the house one cool autumn evening, and
the three filled their mugs with new cider:
“have you heard about John Walton's ap
ples ?”
" I knew there was a man up to look at ’em.
but I ain’t hcered no more,” put in Ben Grum
met.
"Well, I was there, and hecred the whole
on it, so I know. I never would have be
lieved it. An orchard turn out profits like
that.”
" But how much was it ?”
“ Why, Walton was offered —cash right
down—ssoo for the apples he’s got on hand ;
and lie tells me lie sent nearly S3OO worth of
early fruit off a month or so ago.”
It was wonderful—more than wonderful.
But they had to believe it.”
"And look at that twenty-acre field,” said
Bancroft. “ Ten years ago it wouldn’t hard
ly pay for mowin’; now look at it. Think
o’ the corn and wheat lie’s gained there ; and
this year he cut more’n forty tons of good
hay from it.”
“ But that nin' half,” interposed Sawyer.
“ Look at the stock lie keeps, and seo what
prices he gets for his cows and oxen ! Why,
he tells me lie’s cleared over $2,000 this year
on his stock.”
At this moment Mr. Walton came in. He
had grown older and was somewhat ’stouter
than when lie first became a farmer, and his
neighbors had ceased to question his oapaoi
ty, and had come to honor and respect
him.
“ We was talkin' about you, Mr. Walton,”
said Sawyer.
“Ah! I hope you found nothing had to
say of me,” returned John, as he took a seat
by r the fire.
“ Not a bit of it. We was talkin’ about the
wonderful improvements you’ve made on the
old place, and of the money you are mak
ing.”
“ But do y’ou think it wonderful ?”
“But ain’t' it?”
“Well,” replied Walton, “I don’t know
about that. But I’ll tcli you what Ido know ;
there is no class of people in the world who
may study the arts and sciences to better ad
vantage than the farmers, and yet, I am sor
ry’ to say, there is no class, as a class, occu
pying the same social position, who read and
study less. There are many honorable ex
ceptions, of course. Farming is a science—
one of the most deep and intricate—atod he
must be a man of more than ordinary capaci
ty who can master it all. But farmers must
not be afraid of books ; they’ won’t, if they
are wise, follow every’ advice which experi
mentalists give, but they may study, and rea
son and experiment for themselves. So 1
have done, and so I mean to do.”
“ He’s right,” remarked Ben Grummet, after
Walton had gone. “ What fools we was that
we didn’t go into that graftin’ operalion !” -
“And that under-drainin’,” added Ban
croft.
“ And that muck and compost arrange
ment,” suggested Sawyer.
“Well,” said Ben, with a serious face, “it
isn’t too late now. They say it’3 never too
late to learn, and I’m sure it hadn’t ought to
be too late to commence to improve after a
body lias learned.”
“True as a book !” added Bancroft.
“ Good evening.”
“Good evening.”
°
What Love Has Done.
In a certain district in Russia there is to
be seen, in a solitary’ place, a pillar with this
inscription : “Greater love hath no man than
this, that a man lay down his life for his
friend.” The pillar tells a touching tale,
which many of you must have heard. It was
a wild region, infested with wolves, and as a
little party’ travelled along it soon become
plain that these were on their track. The
pistols were fired ; one horse after another
was left to the ravenous wolves, till, as they’
came nearer and nearer, and nothing else re
mained to be tried, the faithful servant, in
spite of the expostulations of his roaster,
threw himself in the midst of them, and by
his own death saved his master. That pillar
marks the spot where his bones were found ;
that inscription records the noble instance of
attachment. But there is another nobler still.
There is another pillar, and on it I read :
“Herein is love, not that we loved God, but
that He loved us, and sent Ilis Son to be the
propitiation for our sins.” That pillar is the
Bible—the noble pillar of the Scripture—
written all over with loving words, and tell
-1 ing of salvation.— N. Y. Observer.
The Time to Fatten Animals.
So far as the temperature is concerned, the
fall of the year is preferable to the summer
for laying on fat. There is then little annoy
anco from insects. The appetite is keener,
and the system is not likely to be debilitated
on account of excessive heat. But in all
other respects summer-is the best season for
fattening animals. Green grass i9 not only
the cheapest but the best food for animals
whose flesh i3 used for human food. There
is no expense for cutting and curing it, or
for feeding it out. It is more valuable for
food when in a growing 9tate and full of rich,
sweet jpices than it will ever be again, how
ever well it may be cured. In the majorit3’
of seasons a large portion of grass is injured
before it is put in the barn or stack by rain,
dew or excessive drying.
The flesh of animals fattened principally
on grass is superior to that fattened on dry
food. The fat is more evenly distributed
among the harder tissues. In other words, it
is finely marbled. Epicures state that it is
more tender, juicy and of higher flavor. The
beef most prized in the London market comes
from the mountain regions of Scotland, where
the cattle feed on the rich grasses, but where
no corn and little grain can be raised. The
beef produced in Switzerland and the moun
tainous portions of Sweden and Norway has
also a very excellent reputation. It is tender,
juic}’, well marbled and of a delicate flavor.
It is grass-fed beef. In these regions it is
difficult to keep cattle over the winter, as
food is scarce. They come out in the spring
in poor condition, but they are turned into
the rich mountain portions and immediately
begin to gain. By fall they are in prime con
dition for slaughtering. There is nothing
like grass for producing a superior quality of
mutton. Kentucky mutton ranks high in the
custom market on account of its excellent
flavor and its marbled appearance. The
sheep have the run of rich blue-grass pastures
that are often particularly shaded. They are
in prime condition before the frost kills the
grass. The process of fattening is only fin
ished off by the use of corn and oats. In the
prairie sections of the West corn has always
been regarded as the cheapest if not the best
food to use for the production of pork. Most
admit, however, that the flesh of hogs that
have fed on corn almost exclusively is not as
delicious as that of hogs that have had the
range of a forest or a pasture seeded to clover
or blue-grass. In the English market the
pork raised among the mountains of the south
is preferred ou account of its superior flavor.
Farmers who have cattle and sheep they
design to fatten for the fall and winter mar
ket will find no better time than the present
for affording them an abundance of feed. If
pastures do not contain a sufficient amount
of grass, it is better to turn them into a field
and allow them to do the work performed by
a mowing machine. The grass in its present
state will do them more good than after it
has been cut and cured. By allowing it to
be eaten now much hard labor may he saved.
Summer is quite as favorable a time as fall
or winter for feeding grain to animals de
signed for market. A ration of corn, oats,
meal or linseed cake once each day will do
much to improve their condition. Animals
of all kinds are likely to tire of one kinJ of
food, even if it is that of which they are the
most fond. Old grain affords an excellent
change from green grass. —Chicago Times.
A Word in Season.
Kilstein, a pious German minister, once
heard a laboring man use the most awful
curses and imprecations in a fit of passion,
without reproving him for it. This so trou
bled him that he could scarcely sleep the fol
lowing night. In the morning ho arose ear
ly, soon saw the man coming along, and ad
dressed him ns follows :
“My friend, it is you I am waiting here to
sec.”
You are mistaken, you have never seen
me before 3aid the man.
“ Yes, I saw you yesterday, whilst return
ing from your work, and heard j-oti praying,”
said Kilstein.
“What! heard me pray ? lam sure that
you are mistaken, for I never prayed in my
life,” said the man.
“And yet, if God had heard 3’onr prayer,
you would not be here, but in hell; for I
heard you beseeching God that lie might
strike 3*oll with blindness and condemn 3*oll
to hell-fire,” said the minister, calmly but
earnestly.
Tiie man turned pale, and tremblingly
said : “ Dear sir, do yon gall this prayer ?
Yes. it is true : I did this very thing.”
“Now, my friend,” continued Kilstein,
“as you acknowledge it. it is my duty to be
seech 3*oll to seek with the same earnestness
the salvation of your soul as 3*oll have hith
erto its damnation, and I will pray to God
that lie will have merc3* upon you.”
From this time the man regularly attended
upon the ministry of Kilstein, and ere long
was brought in humble repentance to Christ
as a believer.
“A word in season, how good it i9!”
"Be instant in season and out of season ;
rebuke, reprove, exhort with all loTfg-sufler
ing aud patience.” —The Lever.
\ TERMS, $1.50 PER ANNUM*
/ SI.OO For Six Months.
The Broken Link.
A man who prided himself on his morality
and expected to be saved by It, was constantly
saying: ”I am doing pretty well,.on the
whole. I sometimes get mad and swear, but 1
lam strictly honest. I work on the Sabbath
when I am particularly busy ; but I give a
great deal to the poor, and I never was drunk
in my life.” This man hired a canny Scotch
man to build a fence around his pasture lot.
He gave him very particular directions. In
the evening when the Scotchman came in'
from work, the man said : “ Well, Jack, is
the fence built, and is it tight and strong;?*’
I canna say that it is all tight and strong.”
Jack replied ; *• but it is a good average fence,
anyhow. If some parts of it are a little weak,
the other parts are extra strong. I don’t
know but I may have left, a gap here and
there a yard wide or so; but then I made up
for it by doubling the number of rails on each
side of the gap. I dare say the cattle will
find it a good fence on the whole and will
like it, though I canna say that it is perfect
in every part.”
” What!” cried the man, not seeing the
point, ** do you tell me that j'ou have built a
fence around my lot with weak places in it?
Why you might just as well have built no"
fence at all. If there is one opening, or place
where an opening can be made, the cattle
will be sure to find it and will all go through.
Don’t j'ou know that a fence must be perfect
or it is worthless?”
“ I used to think so,” said the dr} r Scotch
man ; “ but I hear you talk so much about
averaging matters with the Lord, it seemed
to me we might try it with the cattle. If an
average fence won’t do for them, I am afraid
that an average character won't do in the
day of judgment. When I was on shipboard
and a storm was driving us on the rocks, tho
captain cried. ‘Let go the anchor’ But the
mate shouted back, ‘There is a broken link
in the cable.’ Did the captain say, when he
heard that: ‘No matter, it’s only one link.
The rest of the chain is good. Ninety-nine’
of the hundred links are strong. Its average
is high. It only lacks one per cent, of being
perfect. Surely the anchor ought to respect 1
so good a chain, and not break away from it.”
No, indeed ! he shouted, ‘ Get another chain P
He knew that a chain with one broken link
was no chain at all; that he might as well
throw the anchor overboard without any cable
as with a defective one. So with the anchor
of our souls. If there is the least flaw in the
cablo, it is not safe to trust it. We would
better throw it away and try to get anew one
that we know is perfect.— Christian Synosure .
Silent Influences.
It is not necessary that we shall be public"
speakers, or writers, or functionaries in order
that our influence shall be felt about us. These
outward means of influence are more direct
and apparent, but not more positive and sure’.
Our looks, our words, our actions, nay, even
our silence, speak of our characters. Wo
are impressing ourselves upon others. Our
seniors, our equals in age and standing, even)
the little children about us, are receiving im
pressions of our characters. We are breath
ing a silent but strong influence into many tl*
soul, which goes direct from our characters:
Are not our responsibilities fearful, so greafr
and constant is our influence? Hence the
vast, the inexpressibly vast, importance of
possessing good characters. Our characters
are not for ourselves only, but for others. If
they make us happy, they produce a similar
happiness in the minds of all with whom we
associate, differing only in degree.
Think of our friends, relatives and neigh-'
bors, the dear little children, the circles in
social and business life we enter daily, weekly,
yearly ; think how many we meet with, speak
with, and thus influence from year to 3-ear,
all through our lives, and then calculate the
amount of influence we each one of us csert
upon the world. And then think that, through
all whom we have thus affected, our influence,
in a smaller degree, is carried to all whortf
they do or may influence, and thus outward
and onward, till it may be that generation
from generation, even through eternal ages,
shall feel the wave of influence which we have
set in motion, and then endeavor if we can to
realize the responsibility that rests upon us.
If our character is bad, oh ! what a weight of
wickedness and misery we shall cause ! but
if good, how pleasing the thought that we aro>
thus instrumental in sending tide after tide
of joy and peace out on the wings of our
virtuous influence to purify and gladden"
i human hearts in countless thousands and fop
as many ages.
—There is a species of stinging scorpionr
found in the river bottoms of Western Texas,-
Immediately after the birth of her 3’oung, the*
female places them in a basket-shaped recep
tacle on her back, where they at once attach
themselves and begin sucking her blood. Of
course, the mother soon succumbs to this im
filial treatment, and begins to droop. .The
young ones are by this time sufficiently nour
ished to demand more substantial food, and
the3* kill their mother and devour her. Should
one of the young ones become detached from
the living nest, it is at once killed and feast
ed upon by the mother. Thus it seems that,
while the female willingly sacrifices her life
for her offspring, ret she does not hesitate to
kill them should they be so devoid of instinct
as to refuse to remain where she places them
after birth. While this is going on the male
parent stands around, evidently " bossing
the job.”
When to Water Horses.—Those Who
have the care of horses should let them have
what water they want to drink before feeding
them oats or corn, and if half an hour or an
hour before, so much the better. If the lat
ter are fed to them first, and they are allow
ed to drink a good deal of water soon after,
much of the oats or com consumed will be
washed or carried through the stomach, into
the intestines, without being digested, when,
instead of benefitting the horserthey do him
a positive injury, frequently causing colie in
flammation of the bowels, etc. A small quan
tity of water after a feed would be attended
no snch results, but the stomach of Clm
horse is small and cannot hold much feed amf
water at the same time. —Rural World.
NUMBEIi 8*