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STANDARD AND EXPRESS.
A . IIARWHALK \
YV. A. IJARHHALKj Kdl(r Md Proprietor*.
NOT ONE TO SPARE.
[The following beautiful poem will be fam
iliar to many of our readers, but it will bear
to be read again and again. It tells how a
poor man and his wife refused the offer of a
rich friend’s comfortable provision, if they
would give him one of their children.]
“ WbU* shall St lie? Which shall it be?”
I looked at John—John looked at me,
(Dear, patient John, who loves me vet,
As we.l as though mv locks were jet):
And when I found that I must speak,’
My voice seemed strangely low and weak •
“ Tell me again what Robert said !”
And then I, listening, bent my head.
H This is his letter: ‘ I will give
A house and land while you shall live,
If, in return, from out your seven, ’
One child to me for aye is given.’ ”
I looked at John’s old garments worn;
1 thought of all that John had borne
Of poverty, and work and care,
Which I, though willing, could not share;
1 thought of seven mouths to feed,
Of seven little children’s need,
And then of this. “ Come, John,” said I,
“ We’ll choose among them as they lie
Asleep;” so, walking hand in hand,
Dear John and I surveyed our hand—
First to the cradle lightly stepped,
Where Lillian the baby slept,
A glory against the pillow white:
Softlv the father stooped to lav
His rough hand down in a loving way,
When dream or whisper made her stir,
And huskily he said, “ Not her, not her.”
We stooped beside the trundle txxl,
And one long ray of lamplight slu'd
Athwart the boyish faces there,
In sleep so pitiful and fair;
I saw on Jamie’s rough, red cheek
A tear undried. Ere John could sixtik,
" He’s but a bahy, too,” said I,
And kissed him as we hurried by.
Pale, patient Robbie’s angel face
Still in his sleep bore suffering’s trace.
“ No, for a thousand crowns, uot him,”
He whispered, while our eyes were dim.
Poor Pick ! bad Dick ! our wayward son.
Turbulent, reckless, idle one—
Could he l*e spared ? “ Nav, He who gave
Bid us befriend hint to his grave;
Only a mother’s heart can be
Patient enough ior such as he;
And so,” said John, “ I would not dare
To send-him from her bedside prayer.”
Then stole vre softlv up altove
And knelt by Mary, child of love,
“ Perhaps for her ’twould better be,”
I said to John. Quite silently
He lifted up a curl that lay
Across her cheek in willful way,
And shook Ills head, “Nay, love, not thee ’
The while my heart beat audibly.
Only one more, our eldest lad,
Trusty and truthful, good and glad—
So like his father. “ No, John, uo—
I can not, will not, let him go.”
And so we wrote, in courteous wav
We oould not drive one child away’-
And afterward toil lighter seemed,
Thinking of that of which#we dreamed, —■
Happy in truth that not one face
J. as nttssed from its accustomed, place;
1 hankful to work for all the seven
Trusting the rest to One in heaven !
THE PAWNBROKER'S STORY.
Asa pawnbroker in a populous sub
urb of London, I have had occasion to
see painful, and sometimes not unpleas
lng phases of society. Just to give an
idea of what occasionally comes under
T^ r u D i^' Ce °f a P er ' son ' u my profession,
1 shall describe a little incident and its
(“nsequences. One evening I stepped
to the door for a little fresh air and to
look about me for a moment. While I
was gazing up and down the road, I saw
a tidilv-dressed young person step up to
our side door. Bhe walked like a lady—
and let me tell you that in nine eases
out of ten it’s the*walk, and not tiie
>!ress, which 'distinguishes the lady from
the servant girl—and first she looked
about, and then she seemed to make up
her mind in a flurried sort of a way, and
in a moment more was standing at our
counter, holding out a glittering some
thing in a little trembling hand covered
with a worn kid glove.
Mv assistant, Isaacs, was stepping for
ward to take the seal, when I came in
and interposed. The poor yoiing thing
was so nervous and shy, anti altogether
so unused to this work, that I felt for
her as if she had been my own daughter,
almost. She couldn’t have been above
eighteen years old—so frail and gentle a
creature.
“ If you please, will you tell me,” she
said timidly, in a very sweet, low voice,
trembling with nervousness, “ what is
the value of this seal ?”
“ Well, Miss,” I said, taking the seal
into my hand and looking at it—it was
an old-fashioned seal, such as country
gentlemen used to wear, with a coat of
arms cut upon it—“that depends upon
whether you want to pledge it, or to sell
it outright.”
“ I am married, sir,” and she said the
words proudly and with dignity, though
still so shy, and seeming ready to burst
outcrying; “and my husband is very
ill—and—and—.” And then the tears
wouldn’t be kept back any longer, and
she sobbed as if her poor little heart
would break.
“ There, there, my dear,” I said to her;
“ don’t cry; it will come all right in
time;” and I tried to comfort her in my
rough-and-ready way. “ I will lend
you, ma’am,” I said to her at last, “a
sovereign upon this seal; and if you wish
to sell it, perhaps I can sell it for you to
advantage.” And so I gave her a pound;
and she tripped away with a lighter
heart, and many thanks to me, and I
thought no more of the matter at the
time.
The very next day, the day before
Christmas, there came into our place of
business a very eccentric gentleman, who
had called upon us pretty often liefore,
not for the sake of pawning anything,
though he was generally shabby enough
to. But he was a collector—one of those
men who are mad upon old china and
curiosities of all sorts.
“ Anything in my way, to-day, Mr.
Davis?” he said, in his quick, energetic
manner, with a jolly smile upon his
face, and putting down the cigarette he
was smoking upon the edge of the coun
ter. The Rev. Mr. liroadman is a collec
tor of gems, and rings, and seals, and, in
fact, of any stones that have heads or
figures upon them. And I had been in
the habit of putting aside for him what
ever in this way passed through our
hands, for he gave us a better price than
we should have got for them at the quar
terly sales. “ The fact is, Davis,” he
said to me, “these things are invaluable;
many of them are as beautiful, on a small
scale, as the old Greek scriptures; and
some of them even by the same artists.
And they are made no longer; for, in
this busy nineteenth century of ours,
time and brains are too precious to be
spent on these laborious trifles.” Now,
although I had no stones of the kind he
wanted just then, it entered into my
head that I would tell him about the
seal which had come into my possession
the evening before.
I told him the story somewhat as I
have just told it to you. He listened at
tentively to. all I said. When I had done
he looked at the seal, and said, “ I observe
that it has been the heraldic emblem of a
baronet.” He then congratulated me up
on the way in which I had acted. He
asked, too, for this young lady’s address,
which she had given me quite correct,
and then he left the shop without another
word.
You must give me leave to tell the
rest of the story in my own way, although
it may be a very different way from that
whieh the reverend personage employed
in relating it to me afterward.
It seemed that it was a runaway match.
A country baronet's son had fallen in
love with the clergyman’s daughter in the
village where his father lived, and they
had run away together and got married.
Then they came up to London, these two
poor young things—for neither his father,
nor her’s either, for the matter of that,
would have anything to say to the match
—he, lull of hopes of getting on in the
literary and artistic line, and she, poor
creature, full of trust in him.
The project of living by literature did
not turn out as was expected. The voung
fellow without experience or friends,
spent much time ingoing about from one
publisher to another, and sending his
writings to the various magazines—
which I need not say were always “re
turned with thanks.’ - And then he tell
ill; typhus, I fancy, brought on by insuf
ficient nourish meht, and bad drainage,
and disappointed hopes. The registrar
general does not give a return of these
cases in any list that I am aware of; but
we see something of them in our line of
business nevertheless.
It was just at this time that Mr. Broad
man found out Mrs. Vincent, for that
was the name of the young lady who came
to my shop with the gold seal. Cam
bridge Terrace is not very far [from the
Angel at Islington, and there, in a little
back street of small, respectable houses,
inhabited by junior clerks, with here and
there a lodging house, Mr. and Mrs. Vin
cent lived.
They were rather shy at first of a stran
ger, and a little proud and haughty,per
haps. People who have seen better days
and are down upon their luck, are apt to
be so. But the parson with his pleasant
ways and cheery voice, soon made it all
right; and, in a jiffy, he and Mr. Vincent
were talking about college, for they had
both been to the same university. And
there was even soon a smile, too —a wan
smile enough—upon the poor invalids’
sharp-cut, thin face, with the hollow, far
away eyes, which looked at you as if out
of a cavern. He was the wreck of a fine
young fellow, too; one who had been used
to his hunting and shooting, and all the
country sports which make broad-chested,
strong-limbed country people the envy of
us poor, thin, pale townsfolks.
Mr. Broadman came direct to me when
he left them. I did not live far off, and
he thought that I might lend them a
neighbor's help. “Davis,” says he, that
poor fellow is dying; I can see death in
his eyes.”
“What is he a-dying of?” I replied.
He looked at me steadfastly a moment,
and I could see a moisture in his eye, as
he said, slowly and solemnly, “Of starva
tion, Davis—of actual want of food.”
“A gentleman starving in London, in
Islington, a baronet’s son, too! Why it’s
“these are the very people who do die of
starvation in London, and in all great
cities. Not the poor, who know where
the work-house is, and who can get at j
the relieving officer, if the worst comes t
to the worst; but the well-born, who
have fallen into destitute poverty, and j
who carry their pride with them, dive
into a back alley, like some wild animal
'into a hole, to die alone. Mr. Vincent
wants wine and jellies, and all sorts of
good things; if help hasn’t come too late.
No, no, my friend,” he continued, put
ting back my hand, for I was ready to
give my money in a proper cause. “ No,
no; I have left them all they want at
present, Davis. But I’ll tell you what
you can do; you can, if you like to play
the good Samaritan, go and see them,
and cheer them up a bit. Mr. Vincent
hasn’t forgotten your kindness to her, I
can assure you. And I think her hus
band would like to thank you too, and
it would arouse him up a bit, perhaps.”
And then Mr. Broadman told me, short
ly, something of what these t>vo poor
things had gone through—she, loving
and trusting him so; and he, half mad
that he hacl brought her to this pass,
and could do nothing for her.
Mr. Broadman wrote that very day to
the baronet, a proud, hard man, I’m
told. But the letter he wrote back was
soft enough, and melting to read; it was
so full of human nature, you see the
father's heart swelling up at the thought
of getting back his son; and bursting
through the thick crust of pride which
had prevented him from making the first
advances. And the parson says to me:
“Well, Mr. Davis,” he said, “there are
many people kept asunder only for want
of somebody to go between them, you
see, and make peace.”
And I said partly to myself: “ Why
shouldn’t Christianity itself be such a
generous peacemaker as that ?
“Ay,” replied Mr. Broadman “if
people only believed in it properly.”
That very day we got the Baronet’s
letter, I was on my way in the afternoon*
to Cambridge terrace to pay my respects
to Mrs. Vincent—and I had sent in a
few r bottles of good old part wine from
my own wine-merchant —at least as good
as coukl be got for money or love. Well,
when I got near the door, I saw an old
gentleman walking up and dow r n, a little
disturbed, apparently, in his mind at
finding himself in such a queer locality,
and as if looking for something or
somebody. A short, rosy faced
fellow he was, clean shaved as a pin, and
very neat and old-fashioned in his dress,
with that sort of air about him which
marks an English country gentleman
wherever he may be. Well, we soon
got into a talk, for I’d spotted the
Baronet in a moment, and he was anxious
to find out something about his son, as
soon as he heard I knew 7 a little of the
young couple.
“ And you, do not think, sir, that my—
that Mr. Vincent is dangerously ill?”
said the old baronet; and there was a
sob in his vioce as he spoke, and his
hand trembled as he laid it upon mine,
“ Here is the house,” I said, “and you
will be able to judge for yourself.”
We went in. At least the baronet
went into the room, trembling in every
limb with the excitement of seeing his
son. But when he set eyes on him, the
poor old man was so startled that he
could scarcely speak. His son saw him
and tried to* rise, hut fell back feebly
into his chair. “ Dear father,” he mur
mured, stretching out a thin, trembling
hand, “forgive ”
But the father was on his knees by
CARTERS\ ILLE, GEORGIA, MONDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 11. 1875.
the chair in a moment, clasping his son’s
head in his arms, and fondling him as he
had done when the man was a baby.
“ What have Ito forgive You* must
forgive me for being so hard, mv dear
boy, and get bettor soon, Wilfred, mv
son, my son!”
I had come into the room ; 1 could not
help it, I was so interested and excited.
But I saw that in the young man’s face
j which made my heart sink into mv
bosom like lead.
■ The young wife saw it too, and gave
one, two. three sharp screams, as if a
! knife had been thrust into her side.
Mr. Broadman saw it; and quietlv
kneeling down, commended to God—as
well as he could, for sobbing—the soul of
his servant departing this life.
And I well, why should Ibe ashamed
to confess it? I knelt down too, and
cried like a child; for the young man
had died in his father’s arms at the very
moment of recouciliation.
Southern Pacific Railway.
* Am' one, says the Los Angelos Herald,
: desiring to obtain any idea of the stu
pendous accomplishments of railroad en
, gineering should spend a few days at
rehachape Pass, investigating the oper
i ations of the Southern Pacific railroad
I company. About twenty miles of that
road is a succession of cuts, fills, and
■ tunnels. Within this distance there are
thirteen tunnels, ranging from one thou
i Band one hundred feet to a few yards in
i length. For the greater portion of the
way the road bed is cut through solid
l granite. The elevation is so great from
the present terminus of the road, at Cal
iente, to Tehachape Valley, that the
first mile and a half out of Caliente is
attained by laying down eight miles of
track. Higher up in the pass of the
j r °ad runs through a tunnel, encircles
the hill, and passes a few feet above the
tunnel. After completely encircling the
hill, and going half round again, the
track doubles on itself like a closely pur
sued hare, and, after running several
miles in the opposite direction, strikes
up the canon. This circling and doub
ling is for grade. Once the track crosses
the pass, and this involves the building
of a long and very high bridge. We
doubt if a more difficult and expensive
piece of engineering was encountered in
the building of the Central Pacific over
the Sierras than that which the South
ern Pacific is now struggling in Tehac
hape Pass. Another tremendous piece
ot work is the San Fernando tunnel,
which when completed, will be over a
mile and a half in length, and in places
over one thousand feet beneath the sur
face. Yet the company will accomplish
this great Avork, and run cars throuirli
from San Francisco to Los Angelos, by i
the Ist of next July. All the force that j
can be used is kept at Avork on the San
Fernando tunnel. In the Tehachape {
Pass five thousand men are employed,
and the force is being increased at the j
rate of one thousand Chinamen per j
week.
Saxon War-Babes.
One of the most touching sights in
in connection with military matters
which I have happened to notice, is that
of the newly-enlisted men roaming the
streets during the day or two of grace
allowed them before donning the uni
form and beginning the long, weary ser
vitude of powder and ball. They are
permitted a license of behavior quite ex
traordinary either to soldier or citizen;
they are on the neutral ground between,
and* may have their fling for once. Po
licemen are blind to their escapades;
officers ignore them; people in general
smile good-naturedly, and pick them up
when they fall down. For it almost in
variably happens that the first thing
these unlx>rn war-babes do is to get
drunk. It is the traditional way of
passing the solemn period of incubation,
and appears to commend itself anew to
each successive brood. They wear green
ribbons in their button-holes, and stag
ger along arm in arm, crooning discor
dant lays, laughing or crying, and com
mitting much harmless, foolish, and pit
eous uproar. Many of them bring
smooth, inexperienced faces from un
known country villages; others are
already coarse and stolid; a few bear
traces of culture, but Gambrinuslays all
alike in the gutter. Occasionally, in
deed, from the midst of the beery bed
lam, a sane and sober pair of eyes meets
our own, making us marvel how they
came there. Perhaps the drunkards are
the wiser; the prospect is too sorry a one
for sober contemplation; it requires all
the enchantment that malt and hops can
cast over it to make it tolerable. But
what a rueful scene must to-morrow
morning’s drill be, with its Katzenjam
mer, its helpless ignorance, and its sav
age sergeant!— Julian Hawthorne.
Earth Worms. f
These insignificant and unattractive
creatures are of the greatest benefit to
the fields which they inhabit, though
many are supposed to the contrary.
They are humble but very efficient ser
vants of the agriculturists; and far from
injuring his meadow or his garden, they
devote themselves with praiseworthy as
siduity to turning over the soil to a
greater depth and more thoroughly than
can be done with the best appliances
know r n to science. These animals (for so
they are classified by the naturalists) are
scarcely more than animated tubes. They
seem to live by taking earth and earthy
substances in at one end and passing
them out at the oilier. This simple pro
cess of digestion is aided, how 7 ever, by a
mucous seeretion; and the w r orm has a
habit, when he has filled himself with
earth, of ascending to the surface, turn
ing round and working himself back
again into the ground. This operation
unloads him; and the process repeated
by millions of his fellow r s can not but
have very highly beneficial effect upon
the quality of the land. It is said by
Mr. Darwin that these worms have been
knowrn to cover whole fields to the depth
of thirteen inches in the course of eight
years. A slow process, to be sure, but so
are all the processes of nature. This,
however, is not all they do. They carry
their shafts and galleries to a depth of
several feet, and cross and intersect in all
directions, loosening the soil, opening it
to the air and water, and, in short, doing
all they can to help vegetation, without
preying upon it or injuring its roots in
the* slightest.
The “narrow-gauge skirts” is the west
ern name-for ’em.
THE ROAD AGENT.
An Im-MfMt o€ tttnjre Rid in* In Cltfnr-
Three San Franciscans—Messrs. W.
A. Von Schmidt and son and Robert ,T.
Tiffany—were the heroes of a rather ro
mantic adventure in the mountains the
other day. The time was two o’clock
Monday afternoon, the place eight miles
beyond Oroville, at a locality famous, or
rather infamous, for stage robberies and
lawlessness generally. The gentlemen
named, in company with five others,
were proceeding by the Quincy stage
toward Oroville, and in course of con-
A’ersation Von Schmidt said he had a
presentiment they would be stopped by
a road agent before reaching town. He
had hardly got through with his uncom
fortable remarks when they heard the
word “ Stop ! ” accompanied bv the click
of a gun-lock. Whoa !” said the dri
ver, as he brought his horses to their
haunches, and then the expostulation,
“ I can't well stop here,” —the stage was
slipping back—“ go on to the rise of the
hill.” “ Hold your jaw,” said the first
voice, “and throw off that treasure-box
quick.” “There’s the robber!” said
on; “I told you we’d meet him.”
And a little Spanish woman on the front
seat cried out, “ Misericordia, ladrones!”
and fell in a dead faint among the straw.
Tiffany looked out the side of the mud
wagon and saw an individual—a piti
able-looking chap, dressed in tattered
canvas clothes, with his head encased in
a piece of blanket that served the pur
pose of a mask—covering the driver and
the two trembling passengers who occu
pied the boot with a double-barreled
shot-gun. “Is that a robber ?” said he;
“why, he’s not a formidable looking
scoundrel.”
It Avas Tiffany’s first experience in
road agents, and he thought to SCC H
Claude Duval or a Paul Clifford on a
black horse. Meanwhile Von Schmidt
had dropped from the rear of the stage
with a tousty, large-sized Colt navy re
volver, in his hand, and drew a bead on
the highAvayman. Finding it necessary
to defend himself from this unexpected
attack, the latter withdrew his attention
from the driver and covered Von. The
driver whipped up his horses and Avas off
like a shot, leaving Von and the robber
to fight it out alone. The stage drew up
altout a quarter of a mile from the place
when Mr. Tiffany and Mr. Von Sahmidt’s
son both jumped out and hastened back
to the assistance of the gallant engineer.
The latter Avas armed with a bowie-knife,
and Mr. Tiffany depended on a fence
rail. They had not returned many steps
before they met Von coming along with
his pistol still in his grasp, and keeping a
bright lookout for the probable compan
ions of the blanketed thief. “ Where’s
the robber?” avhs the anxious question.
“Gone!” wus Von’s calm reply; “in
full retreat up the canon.” On reaching
the stage, .the Col. addressed some re
marks to the stage-driver, more forcible
than polite, for running off and leaving
hi/lV ’flatfVhHT ftHYOW ih‘Lns&iic w>night,
he said, “ if you’d only held vourhorses.”
But perhaps it was better for all sides
that the shooting was so slow. The
treasure box that contained SIO,OOO was
saved and no blood spilled. The Colonel
and his party were heroes in Oroville
on their arrival', and a special disnatch
of thanks Avas received from Wells-
Fargo’s office in this city. The com
pany offer a rew r ard of SSOO for the ar
rest and conviction of the would-be-rob
ber. —San Francisco Chronicle.
The Mediterranean of Japan.
In the far east, lying betw r een the
islands w r hich compose the empire of
Japan—that ancient and mysterious
realm but recently explored and intro
duced into the circle of nations by the
greed or enterprise or western commerce
—there ebbs and flows and sparkles, with
a gorgeous beauty truly oriental, a fair
Mediterranean, known as the Seto Uchi,
or Inland sea. Though smaller by far
than its namesake of the west, it has
many physical characteristics much more
striking. It abounds in harbors, bays,
snug anchorages, deep channels, and
sheltering islands. Tt basks in a climate
almost perfect in its serenity and free
dom from extremes. The mariner fresh
from the chilly spring time and ungen
erous summer of our own islands, navi
gates its waters in June with a cloud
less sky—
“ Beneath a roof of blue lonian weather,”
unprotected by aw nings, and fearless of
the sun, which at the same season off the
Spanish or Italian coasts beats down on
those who sail beneath it with an un
supportable and even deadly fierceness.
Here are no tideless waters; a strong ebb
and flow, running to and fro between
fairy eylets, and round verdant capes,
with almost headlong fury, purifies and
freshens every inlet with an influx from
the wide Pacific ocean without. Re
markably free from storms and rain, the
frailest fishing boat is pushed fearlessly
out to the mid waters of its widest
Sarts. No sirocco blows across it to ren
er life scarcely worth having through
out the length of many an autumn day.
In fine w r eather the bosom of the sea
does not undulate sufficiently to rock
even the smallest bark ; yet there is no
lack of breeze. It should be the very
paradise of pleasure seekers. The
scenery is truly lovely: a Devon fore
grouna set in a background of the Alps.
Lofty mountains bound the landsctf|>e.
In summer, light, fleecy clouds hover
about the higher slopes; while through
dips in the stately range of heights,
glimpses are caught of still higher peaks
beyond, bathed in a violet haze, or dis
solving into the misty distance 7 Front
ing the water are pine-clad hills, with
the varied and fantastic outline natural
to a once volcanic region. Their sides
are seamed with valleys, in which nestle
pleasant villages, half hid in the varie
gated foliage of shady trees. The tem
perate zone meets the tropics in groves
and coppices of pine, and fir and cam
phor-wood, and graceful bamboo. Above,
the lilac waves in clusters, whilst under
neath the steeps are all aglow 7 with
azaleas in crimson masses. The quaint
gables and high-peaked roofs of temples
peer out from leafy groves, traversed by
glades of brilliant green. Streams gush
ing from the rocks trace silvery lines
upon the abrupt hillsides, Rocky prom
ontories, festooned with creepers, and
crowned wdth clumps of firs, just out
into the sea, and divide white, sandy
beaches, or form little coves and bays.
iHere a huge mass of gray granite stands
out as a monument of some ancient con
vulsion of the soil; there a succession of
grassy knolls and hanging woods uddu
lating baekAA'ard from the shore, intro
duces a park-like feature into the pano
rama. Art completes the picture. The
slopes of the mainland, and of innu
merable islands—
“That like to rich and various gems inlay
The unadorned bosom of the deep,”
are clothed Avith fields of waving corn, of
a really golden hue, in the dazzling June
sunlight. The style of cultivation is
high. The fields are arranged in ter
races, which climb in a long series of
steps the sides of hill and ravine, to a
goodly height above the lower ground.
Here and there the fields are dotted with
the brilliant emerald of tiny patches of
the young rice plant. Blue wreaths of
smoke rise from the bonfires of brush-
w r ood, lighted to bream the sharp-bowed
craft hauled up on the beach below.
The sea is studded with the boats of
fishermen, and flecked with the w’hite
sails of scores of native trading vessels.
—Fortnightly Review.
Raising a Dairy.
We spoil our milch cows in our calves,
many of us. There is too little system,
and what there is, is too often w rong.
A calf does not Avant to be fatted if in
tended for a milch cow. It does not
want to be scrimped in its food. It does
not want to be fed the wrong food, or in
the wrong way. All these are common
errors. With pure blood among breed
ers, more pains are taken. The same
pains are to be taken with stock intended
for the dairy, whether thoroughbred or
otherwise. Particularly in the native
cow' is benefit received from care in rear
ing, developing thus the original good
qualities which are more or less latent
through generations of abuse, as the
“native,” as originally imported, Avas of
good blood, and the individuals selected
and brought over were choice speci
mens.
The calf wants to fed with food con
genial to calves. The mother milk is
the best in the start, to be followed by
skim milk and hay tea, given warm as
the milk from the cow, so as to prevent
souring. In a few weeks a little hay
will be eaten. This should be tender
(grass aftermath excellent) and bright,
free from dirt and mold, and unbleached.
The calf will soon take to it and do well,
the milk meanwhile continued. When
the season for grass arrives, turn out.
I have known the best success with
clover, turned in when the plant is ad
vanced, and fed until in blossom.
Care should be taken so as to avoid
overfeeding on the one hand, and un
derfeeding on the other. The course be
tween is the only wise course, the object
being to secure the full growth of the
animal, all that it is capable of, in the
time allotted for this growth. If this is
neglected, there will be loss according to
o\nn;rtJ be replaced. It is
general farmer.
A full growth will give you a cow,
from the birth of the calf, in two years.
If ill attended to, it will take another
year, thus losing a year’s feeding and
crre to attain the object, which is milk.
Early maternity will also favor an early
development ot the lacteal functions,
which will thus become enlarged and
and established. This is how well known
to the experienced darymen.
Not only during the summer, but the
fall and winter, and all the time, without
abatement, is this care and attention to
be given. There is to be no let up, for
this is loss—no exposure to the cokl fall
and spring winds and rains, which are
very hurtful to the shivering calves,
especially the first fall.
It pays to take care of the calves, and
it is the only way that does pay. I have
never known it to fail—fairly fail, as is
the case with ill-kept stock—but have
met with gnneral good success, in some
cas<jß the most highly satisfactory. Select
from a good cow; and if the male is good
—from a good cow or a good milking
strain—all the better. These things can
not be overlooked.
A word more as to feeding. I have
recommended, first, milk from tire cow t ;
then skimmed milk; this should not be
skimmed too close, that is, when the
milk is sour; let it be done when the
milk is yet sweet. Then, if the hay is
tender and nutritious, I have found the
fec;d (including the hay tea) sufficient
for health and growth. This with the
best calves, and until pasture or ad
vanced clover is substituted for the hay.
If, however, the calf needs it, a little
meal, fine ground or well cooked, daily
giyen, will supply the want. Oat-meal
stands in high favor. Too much meal,
however, is worse than none at all. In
this wav, the cheapest and best dairies
can be secured. The better and cheaper
the blood, the more profit. Get thus a
good dairy, and keep it good. It wants
constant care and attendance; no over
feeding ; no abuse; no suffering; but
generous and kind treatment.—Corre
spondent Country Gentleman.
Cure for Sheep-Chasing Dogs.-
Many people will assent heartily to the
principle that the best possible eure for a
sheep-chasing dog is to kill him at the
earliest practical moment; but there
may be exceptional cases. A correspond
ent of the London Field seems to think
so at least, and relates an instance where,
after other attempts had failed, a fine
Newfoundland dog was cured by tying
him to two old Scotch rams, and left to
such amusement as he could extract
from their society. The result was an
extensive ramble over hill and hale,
hedges and ditches, and diversified, of
course, by the discordant views each
ram and the dog entertained as to the
route of enjoying the best scenery.
When all three were very tired they
were loosed, and nothing thereafter was
so extremely offensive to that dog’s
tastes as the society of sheep.
Yesterday, when a couple of excur
sionists were strolling through the market
the girl looked longingly at the fruit, and
the young man, after a struggle with him
self, purchased several large plums and
divided with her. “Do you doubt my
love, Millv?” he asked, as they chewed
at the fruit. “Noap,” she replied, her
mouth “plum” full. “Because,” he con
tinued, “if I didn’t love you T wouldn’t
be around buying boas plums at five cents
apiece, would I?” She seemed satisfied.
—Detroit Free Press.
Farming on Shares.
This custom in the old cotton belts of
the south grew out of two causes which,
at the time we saw no way to
aA'oid —first, from a want of money to
pay Avages with, and secondly, because
the negroes had been advised by the Bu-
reau Agents not to farm in any other
manner. These, Ave say, were the two
leading causes that led'to it, and con
firmed, as Ave thought, by the belief that
it was really the best method of secur
ing the negroe’s Avork. Experience, how
ever, of a disastrous nature, has shown
the error of the plan, and the time has
certainly come when farmers and plant
ers must adopt a different system, even
if it should involve the necessity of cul
tivating less ground. This custom has
practically resulted in the negro becom
ing the proprietor of the crop ; and all of
us who were accustomed to the negro
when a slave, and under good training
and order, know that it was seldom one
could be found, of sufficient knowledge
and force of character, to make even a
“ Driver;” and but a small proportion
of those who had that particular sort of
executiveness were at all calculated to
say when and how a crop should be
pitched, planted and worked, out Side the
direction of the planter himself. Yet,
in the face of this, we now find them
placing their entire planting interests in
the hands of one negro, whose only re
commendation is that he can command
perhaps one to six hands. The effect of
which is, that the proprietor has to bear
the brunt of the ignorance or idleness of
the entire number, instead of one. The
tenant or rent plan is onlv the same
thing under another name, and, if possi
ble, a plan containing more risks. For
Avhile working on the share plan, there
is some semblance of obedience to proprie
tary authority, how r ever tenderly it is
to be touched. While the tenant plan
at once surrenders the entire control.
Under this last system the negro is sup
plied with a mule or mules, under the
appearance of sale, and supplies of all
kinds advanced, with the only chance of
reimbursement, depending on the suc
cess of the negro in, to him, the new T arts
of planting and proprietorship.
Sometimes this is attended by partial
success, but in the very large majority
of instances, in failure of crop —large in
debtedness, Avhich he is unable to pay—
the mule badlv damaged, by ill use and
starvation, and, in most instances, re
turned, and quite often in the abandon
ment of the crop before gathering; this
last being practically done, by idleness
and neglect. Whenever the negro finds
that his indebtedness for rent, supplies
and stock are likely to exceed the value
of his crop, he feels no more obligation
to continue work.
Our planters knoAV these things just as
well as Ave do, yet they seem not to re
gard the severe lessons of experience.
How to plant, Avith the negro for the la
borer, is the question. Both question
flrtrl nri'iwpr arp sirrmlp Rut nni- nlnnt~.
Employ them for money Avages, a cer
tain portiou payable at the expiration of
every month, the remainder at the end
of the year—either working them in
large or small numbers, as may be most
convenient, we preferring the small num
bers Avith a w'ell chosen white man to
Avork in the lead, and to act as a
kind of foreman under the proprietor.
If, then, an idle hand has been employed,
he can at any time be discharged with
only a prospective, but not an actual loss,
as is the case Avlien farming on shares.
The facts Avhich Ave have here urged
upon the cotton planters are of the most
serious character, as is shown in their
pecuniary condition and in the appear
ance of their homes —for a share cropper,
or a tenant, ahvays refuses to assist in
improA'ing the place, having no further
interest in it, he thinks, than for the
passing year; Avhile with hired hands a
man keeps his stock and cribs in his own
hands, directs his own planting, and im
proves his place as he sees proper. These
are only a few of the facts involved, but
sufficient to demonstrate the truth of all
Ave say, as proven by the experience of
every planter who has tried either plan.
—Rural Texan.
The Value of Vivisection.
While the practice of vivisection can
not be defended when the torture is in
flicted *n the lower animals, simply to
exhibit truths already fully settled and
demonstrated, its utility in original in
vestigation can not be contradicted.
This is amply proved by the results to
which it has lead. In summing up the
benefits to practical medicine a accuring
from vivisection, in a speech recently
delivered before the British Medical As
sociation, the president of that body,
Sir Robert Christison, noted among
others the following:
By means of the most extended series
of vivisection on record, Orfila placed
toxicology on a scientific basis, and gave
to the world a knowledge of the action
of poisons which has been directly in
strumental in saving thousands of lives.
To experimentation on animals as to the
nutritive value of nonnitrogenous sub
stance, the goodly fellowship of anti
vivisectionists who have a tendency to
gout or gravel owe the accurate dietetic
treatment of their ailments. Sir Robert
himself discovered through vivisections
the mode in which oxalic acid poisons,
and the means of counteracting its ef
fects ; determined the rapidity of action
of prussic acid; ascertained by exper
iment, first upon himself and subse
quently upon animals, the physiological
and toxic effects of Calabar bean, now
largely and usefully employed in med
icine ; in an important medico-legal case
he established the guilt of the accused by
proving upon animals the fetal action
of laburnum bark, the substance ad
ministered, the effects of which had not
previously been investigated.
It was at the house of a well-known
doctor of divinity, and the little toddling
girl, who did not like to see her aunt trim
a lighted kerosene lamp, had come hon
estly by a somewhat modified theory of
predestination. “Take care! take care!
or we’ll get blowed up in the sky, and then
God’ll sav, “Girls what are you in such a
hurry for?”
In putting up stove-pipe remember
that the elbow was made to fit the oven
door, and that six blows from an ax will
knock thunder and lightning out of any
joint.
VOL. 16-NO. 4-2.
SAYINGS AND DOINGS.
POPPING THUS QUESTION.
If you love me, tell me so ;
I have read In your eyes,
I have heard it In your sighs.
But ray ▼Oman’s heart replies,
If you love me, tell me so ?
Should I give you Yes, or No?
Nay, a girl may not confess
That her answer would be “ Ye*”
To such questioning, unless
He who loves her tells her so.
If you love me, tell me so 1
Love gives strength to watch and wait;
Trust gives heart for any fate;
Rich or poor, unknown or great—
If you love me, tell me so!
While smoking on a powder keg,
He dropped a cinder down ;
Then rose he like a meteor
To wear the golden crown.
Gone to meet a fellow who struck a glycerine-can
with a sledge hammer.
Grasshopper? have appeared in Af
rica in great numbers, ana the natives are
making dried beef of them for winter use.
The fact is, to do anything in this world
worth doing, we must not stand back
shivering and thinking of the cold and
danger, but jump in and scramble through
as w ell as we can. —Sidney Smith
After a while is a halcyon day,
When the love w* have lavished our bosoms
shall bless:
Then shall be true every hand that we press,
The hearts we confide in, the lips we caress,
After a while.
“What can I do to make you love me
more ?” asked a youth of his girl the other
evening. “Buy me a ring, stop eating
onions, and throw your shoulders back
when you walk,” was the immediate re
ply.
The tides of life uneven flow,
And ever betwixt weal and woe,
We drift and waver to and fro.
Because the gods will have it so.
I see the great ones prostrate lie,
I see the beggar lifted high,
And none his destined fate can fly,
And all in vain we strive or cry.
— Euripides.
O, if the good deeds of human creatures
could be traced to their source, how beau
tiful would even death appear: for how
much charity, mercy, and purified affec
tion would be seen to have grown in dusty
graves !—Die kens.
“How strange!” said Mrs. Spilkins the
other day, “Leander has only sent me a
single line since he left for Long Branch.”
“Only a single line, ma,” remarked the
youthful Matiades, who is studying ge
ometry; “that’s something without a par
allel.”
Go look in the banks, where mammon has told
His hundreds and thousands of silver and gold ;
Where, safe from the hands of the starving and
poor,
Lies pile upon pile of the glittering ore;
Walk up to the counter—ah! there you may stay
Till your limbs have grown old and your hair turna
grav,
And you’ll find at the bank not one of the clan
With'monev to lend to a moneyless man.
A niece of Jefferson Davis lately
visited Washington, and was shown
through the immense law library at the
Capitol. On being told that it was the
largest of its kind cn the country, she
quickly said: “Well, if all these
volumes were put into three or four and
the Bible placed on top of them, the
country would be better off.’’ This will
no doubt interest lawyers.
aevilSsfi” wa8 T CAUght untTcr th'e New
York steamship wharf on Monday after
noon. He in some way got under, but
was unable to find his way out from
among the piling. Some men. at work
upon the wharf heard the splashing which
he made and fired several shots at him,
but as they seemed to have no effect, a
harpoon was obtained and his capture ef
fected, fifteen men being required to tow
him to the shore. The blood which
escaped from him colored the water tor
about ten feet on either side. He was
sixteen feet in width and fifteen in length.
His fins were four feet long, and his tail
about the same length and not much
larger than a person’s finger. His mouth
opened to the width of two feet and was
eighteen niches in length, and projected
from eacn side of it waft a feeler about
one foot wide and two feet long, which
he rolled up and unrolled at will.
So far as can be ascertained, there has
been only one of these singular fish caught
in this region before this one.. Previous
to the war one larger than this was cap
tured near Center street wharf. Fer
nandina (Fla.) Observer
A Great Help to the South.
The New Orleans Picayune says :
The Louisiana grange agency will ere
long be one of the features of New Or
leans. Not only does it furnish supplies
to the farmers of the state at bottom
prices, but it also induces shipments of
the produce of western grangers to our
doors, and sends them in return the pro
ducts of our soil. The angency has also
an office at the stock landing, with yard
and pasturage for cattle of all kinds.
This branch of the business has been
very successful, and the correspondence
from this state, Texas, Kentucky, ect.,
indicates for the future a large increase.
The saving to the planters in ordering
through their grange agent, not only
their groceries and dry goods, but agri
cultural implements, wagons, stoves, sew
ing machines, etc., on all of which they
receive the full discount, furnishes them
with a surplus available for improving
their homes or farms.
A grange cotton factory in or near
Natchez, Mississippi, is proposed, with a
capital of $60,000, in $25 shares.
The granges of Nevarro county, Texas,
are building a large warehouse at Corsi
cana, the county seat, on the Texas
Central railroad.
It is said that the Texas grangers saved
a million of dollars last year by shipping
and selling through their own agents, and
many have got forehanded who never
were so before. Great numbers of plant
ers usuallv put all their profits into the
hands of storekeepers and usurers. The
writer saw a laay at Cincinnati lately
who said that she paid 30 per cent, to a
banker of Vicksburg for money to gather
her eottoc.
In California" the' grangers seem to
have gone into banking just in time to
save some of their deposits from the
great collapse.
“The grangers’ bank of California,”
says the Pacific Enrol Press, “seems to
be getting on as well as could be ex
pected. The granges are 1 now taking
hold of business in a more thorough
manner than ever.”
All this seems healthy, ,r and full of
promise for the country. The danger
from political and commercial tricksters
is evident enough, but the order is ad
mirably adapted for the repelling of ma
rauders, and it is to be hoped that the
Patrons "will be able to correct mistakes
as fast as they become generally ap
parent.