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VOL. 1.5
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O. A. CANTRELL.
THEKE IS NO DEATH.
BY LORD LYTKIN.
There is no dealh ! The stars go down
To rise upon some fairer shore,
And bright in heaven’s jeweled crown
They shine forevermore.
There is no death! The dust we tread
Shall beneath the summer showers
To golden grain or mellowed fruit,
Of rainbow tinted flowers,
The granite rocks disorganize,
And feel the hungry moss they bear ;
The forest trees drink daily life
From out the viewless air
There is no death 1 The leaves may fall,
And flowers may fade and pass away;
They only wait through wintery hours
The coming ot May day.
There is no death 1 An angel form
Walks o’er the earth with silent tread;
And bear our best loved things away.
And then we call them “drad.' 1
lie leaves our hearts all desolate,
He pluoks, oor fairest, sweetest flowers;
Transplanted into bliss, they now
Adorn immortal bowers.
The bird-like voice, whose joyous tones
Make glad these scenes of sin and strife
Now sings an everlasting song
Around the tree of life.
Where’er he sees a smile too bright,
Or heart too pure lor taint and vice,
He bears it to the world of light,
To dwell in paradise.
Horn unto that undying life,
They leave us, but come again ;
With joy we welcome them the same,
Except their sin and pain.
And ever near us, though unseen,
The dear immortal spirits tread ;
For all the boundless universe
Is life—THERE ARE NO DEAD 1 .
Dr. Franklin’s Offer.— Dr. Frcnklin
made the following offer to a young
man : “Make,” said he, "a full esti
mate of all you owe, and of all that is
owing you. Reduce the same to a
note.° As fast as you can collect, pay
over to those you owe ; if you cannot
pollect, renew your note ev ry year
and get the best security you can. Go
to business diligently ; he very econo,
mical in all things ; discard all pikte
be industrious, waste no idle moments;
be faithful in your duty to God, by reg
ular and hearty prayer, morning and
evening ; attend to church and meet
ing regularly every Sunday ; and do
onto all men as you would they should
do unto you. If yon are too needy m
circumstances to give to the poor, do
whatever else may be in your power
for them cheerfully, but if you can, al
ways help the worthy poor and unfor
tunate. Pursue this course diligently
and sincerely for seven years, and if
you ore not happy, comfortable and
independent in your circumstances,
come to me and I will pay your
debts.”
THE PALMETTO SHIELD.
[Written for the Shtki.d.
HE MATURELY HIED.
- P*M*STTO, Ga., FeinylSlli., 1533. 1
Mr. JsdilQT.:?-H.*!'y years ago,
when l was a young man, I 1 ft my
home on the sea coast of Georgia, for
a tpnr through the sparsely settlements
.of lower Alabama After spending'
several wefcks rambling through the
Unbroken futests of that beautiful
cooutry, I found myself, one bright
September morning, fn a little village,
of eighty or one hundred inhabitants—
at that time, the Centre of fashion and
refinement of the surrounding country.
Here I made the acquaintance of a
young lawyer, who had just entered
the legal profession, aDd who had 10.
cated in that village but a shot time
previous to my visit. He was a genial
companion, an upright, whole-souled
gentleman,
I had been in the village but a few
days, when at a very early hour one
morning, news was brought into town,
that “Uncle Job Whaley” had been
found dead, lying upon the road leading
from the village to his home. The
news soon spread to the remotest part
of town, and the town folks, regard
less of sick, age i r condition, were,
in an evitable space of time, gathered
in a group to hear the news from the
very lips of the mm , who had found
the mortal remains of “Uncle Job”—
In Hie excitement of the moment no
one seemed lo know wlmt to do, or
where to begin. Finally an old gen
tleman suggested that the young law
yer be consulted, which motion pre
vailed—and in answer to the interoga
lories o! about twenty voices atone
tiin . My legal friend proceeded to
state, iii a very lucid mam er, that the
legal cour e, was to hold an inquest it
the place where the b dy was found.
Dwel ing at lenglh upon the duties of
Coroner, Jury, etc, —the course
being ma k‘d out, the townsman im—
inediat' ly se about carrying out the
details. The young lawyer and my
self repaired to his office to examine
the law. It was eoneeeded on all hands,
that Uncle Job had no enemies, and
therefore Ins death resulted from
natural causes. My young friend
tin reft ire. In make a--- ',r
im ression, and to assist his memory,
drew up the skeleton of a coroner’s
inquest, to serve as a brief Very soon
we were informed that the Coroner and
Jury were ;eady to proceed with the
trust imposed on them by the
law Upon our arrival we found the
mortal remains of Uncle Job lying in
a very natural position, his head pil
lowed on a small fallen tree, with a
placid smile on his face, which seemed
to say “that no violent hand hath
hurried me into eternity.
The Surgeon made an external pod
mortem and pronounced no signs of
violence had been discovered capable
of producing death. Upon hearing
this the Jury moved a short distance
off and seated themselves on a large
pine log, to consider and make up their
verdict. While they were absent my
legal friend was busily occupied in
conning over his brief; that lie might
be the more familiar with the legal
terms.
The Jury, after deliberating about
an hour, returned and reported that
they had agreed upon a verdict, and
requested the “young limb of the
law” to reduce the same to writing.—
He immediately seized his pen, and
dashed off the verdict as follows :
We, the Jury, etc., (following the
old legal forms, then in use in that
State,) find that Job Whaley came to
his death from the “visitation f God.”
Here he layed down bis fen, and read
the paper to the Jury, When lie came
to the last clans —‘visitation of God,’
one of the Jurytnen standing by hint,
cried out: Stop! Stop Square!!
That won’t do lam an old man, have
lived in this country before logins left,
have seen a great many people die,
but have never seen God visit any of
them have no idea that he ever came
to see Uucie Job Now Squire, lam
sarn to this verdict, and we all say, o
the best of our knowledge and beliei,
that “lh Nateraly Died."
“J. W. M.”
Human knowledge iz not very koni'
prehensive, alter all—l have seen mep
who kould kalkulate au eklipse tew a
square inch, who kouldn’t cum within
thirty foot uv harnessing a Loss, — Bil
lings.
PALMETTO GEORGIA, FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 7, 1873,
Bill Arp ®n a Bust le.
[Fro** the Rome Commercial
See here, Mark Antony—if I was
‘you T-wonldeut take cm so about the
fashuns. They dount bother me. It’s
none of your business what the women
put on or put off so they behave them
selves and look just as purty as they
can. They are a heap better than
yon or tue anyhow, whether they be
have or not. I wouldent give one
woman for several men, no time, would
you T Now see him smile and pat that
off foot. If women want to wear bus
sels, let’em wear’em. I thought that
pnnears was best because they stuck
out sideways and wasent in the way
of leanin’ back when they sat down,
but they know which is the best side
to stick out on, and its’ nobody's busi
ness but theirs. They may wear any
thing they want to, bussels, and hoops,
and hangovers, and convexes, and col
lapses, and whimmadidles, and stick
outs, and topknots come down, and
anything else, so there is a woman
hid away somewhere inside of it all.—
It’s all a sham—that rubber bussel—
there ain’t no substance or backbone
in it. I’ve seen ’em flat and seen ’em
biowed up. There ain’t a bit of harm
in ’em, but I never see one on a woman
that I don’t want to hit it just hard
etiuf to make it pop I golly, wouldent
she jump high and holler? But I’m
not going to do it ; no sir, I’ve got too
much respect for women. Their bns
sels don’t hurt nobody, and I do de
spise to see a man always piekin at a
woman’s close. If they didn’t wear
something to disguise ’em the men
would quit business when they cum
about Pnrty woman always did
wear something to skeer the men away
Its been so forever. Durin the war
I seed one who j st dressed as nateral
as life, without any paddin or stuffin,
and when she cum along the boys jest
laid down and rolled over and hollored.
They waient fit, for bisness for a week
But I coundent bear to see ’em tied
up like they do in Turkey That would
mighty nigh kill me If I can look
into their bios ed countenances I can
put up with their fore riggin, and hind
riggin, and too riggin, and all. A
good sweet pnrty face speaks for all
be bn!! n'eevif the craft. I *
many nary girl on the earth till I sec
her face, and not then, if she didn’t
suit me. If the eyes, nose and month
are all right, nature is an endors r for
all the bailance. Paint ain’t nothin—
shape is everything. They can’t paint
a shape, nor a glance of the eye.
You may paint a house ever so white,
hut that don’signify what’s inside of
;t. But when you see bright roses and
poses and blossoms in the front yard
and a vine over the door, you may bet
your hat on the bailance. You needn’t
worry about the bussels nor back.—
Woman have been doin that way ever
since old Solomon wrote about ’em.—
If they do lean a little as they go it’s
all right. They can straighten up
when it’s necessary. No spinal disease
about that. Them’s the very sort what
can lift two bushels of meal without
crackin a bone. It’s only a passiu
fashuri, and will last till something
else comes along. Nature made ’em
that way, and you can’t change it.—
The more you the more you oan’t.—
The more y< u abuse their bussele, the
more they’ll stick ’em at you—so let
’em alone, I say. They’re all the same
about faßhuns, and the last one w ould
put them on if they had their own way
and plenty of money. I wish I was
just rich enough to give every lady in
the land a string of diamonds and a
hat fulof pears. Good gracious ! how
quick that Methodist disciplin would
be busted on the jewelry bisness.—
Well I do like, tc?* see ’em look pnrty
and so far as I am concerned, if i ibbons,
and flowers, and furs, end flounces will
help to do it, its all right Some of
the birds are dressed up mighty fine,
and I reoon their pride aint much of a
sin after all. But understand me,
Mark —I don’t hanker after bnssels,
the they do say it makes the nicest
little shelf for the arm to rest on in the
world, when a feller is dancin’ round
with his gal. Tiiat’ all right, pro
vided the fellei aint a dancin’ with my
gal ; if lie is, why he may take her
and keep her that’s all.
Bill Arp.
Delegates from eighty-five counties,
to the number of about two hundred
and fifty, will attend the State Agri
cultural Convention, which assembles
i in Augusta on the lltb.
AGRICULTURAL ITEMS.
The Farmers Vocation PerPetCaL
We need not fear that the human race
will ever cease to have ado iglit in the
cultivation of land—the raising of
grain and fruits—in planting trees
Men always did delight in the pleasure
of agriculture. It has Seen the chosen
pursuit of the -aid sand w isest men in
all ages. The pleasures of the hus
bandman have I een the theme of poets
and orators in evjry language and in
every laud. These pleasures, Cicero
tells us, are not checked by any old
age, and make the nearest approach to
the life of a wise man. And he tells
us that Homer lotted urns Laertes,
sootlifng the regret which he felt for
•t.’s son, by tilling the land and manur
ing it. Marcus Curius, after lie had
triumphed over the Sammies, over the
Sabines,over Pyrrhus, spent the closing
period of liis existence in agricultural
pursuits. Cincinnatus was at the rlow
when it was announced to him that he
was made Dictator. “God Almighty,”
says Lord Bacon, ‘first planted a
garden ; and indeed it is the purest of
pleasures ; it is the greatest refresh
ment to the spirits of man, without
which buildings and palaces ate but
gross handiworks.” Addison days a
gardner was the habitation of our
first parents before the fall. It is
naturally apt to fill the mind with
calmness and tranquility, and to lay
all its turbulent passions at rest. The
philosopher Bolingbroke was never so
happy, Pope tells us, as when among
the hay-makers on his farm. And not
alone in the refinements of rural life
will there bean interest. Farmeis
hold the world together. There may
be years when they seem to be of less
consequence Trade or manufactures
may allure some of them for a time.—
Bui there will ever be latent in every
n an’s breast a hope to end his days on
a farm. —Southern Press.
Cure of Horses —All horses must
not be fed in the same proportions,
without regard t their ages, their con
stitutions and their work ; the impro
priety of such a practice is self-evident.
Yet it is constantly done, and is the
biitii“o(f disease of atuo-x- kind. .
Never use iTid hay on account cf its
cheapness, because there is no proper
Hourishme t in it.
Damaged corn is exceedingly inju
rious, because it brings on inflammation
of the bowels and skin diseases.
Chaff is better for old horses than
hay, because they can chew and di
gest it better.
Mix chaff with corn or beans, and
do not give the latter alone, because
it makes the horse chew his food more
aid digest it better.
Hay or grass alone will not support
a horse under hard work, because
there is not sufficient nutritive body in
either.
When a horse is worked hard its
food should he chiefly oats—if not
worked hard its food should he ch efly
hay—because oats supply more nour
ishment and flesh-making material
than any other kind of food ; hay not
so much.
For saddle or coach hors'*, half a
peck of sound oits and eighteen
pounds of good hay are sufficient. If
the bay is not good, add a quarter of a
peck more oats. A horse which
works harder may have rather more
of each ; one that works little should
have less.
Rack feeding is wasteful. The bet
ter plan is to feed with chopped hay
from a manger, because the food is
not then thrown about, and is more ea
sily chewed and digested.
Sprinkle the hay with water that has
salt dissolved in it, because it is pleas
ing to the animal’s taste, and more ea
sily digested. A teaspoonful of salt in
a bucket of water is sufficient.
Oats should be bruised lor an old
horse, but not for a young one, be
cause the former, through age and
defective teeth, cannot chew them
pr perly. The young horse can do
8 ,, ; they are thus properly mixed with
saliva, and turned into wholesome nu
triment. —London Horse Look.
Hog Manure. —There is no manure
made on the farm equal to the excre
ments of swine. To what purpose so
ever it may be applied it will sustain
its reputation as one of the best fer
tilizers 1 A single hog during the
eighteen months of its existence will
make mure than twenty dollars worth
of manure, if it be furnished with the !
materials, and all the urine and excre
ment, saved ; but to effect tili-* purpose
the floor of the pen should he m ule so
that not a particle of the dr> ppings
can go to was e. For manuring corn
in the hill the manure made by fatten
ing hogs stands pre-eminent above all !
other kinds ; and the absorbents best I
to make manure for this purpose stand I
in point of excellence in tire following I
order: First sawdust ; next dried j
swamp muck ; then leaves, straw and i
other rough materials, which must un
dergo fermentation before they can be
made conveniently available to apply j
to cnni-hilta
Farmers, try the hog on his own
merit, give them plenty of sun but no
rain. Keep him decent by giving him :
a plentiful supply of the raw material
to work upon ; then apply the fruits
of his labor to the corn-crop, and his
cliost will he spen in the luxuriant
crop, while his carcass is snugly stow
ed in the meat barrel.
Draining Fields.—A correspondent
of the Ohio Farmer gives these direc
tions for draining fields without the
use of the spade : First stake out
the line for the ditch, then plow three,
four or five furrows, depending on the
size of lire plow and the depth ot th
ditch wanted, taking the last furrow
from where yu want the centre of the
ditch, then with a team and scraper
(a g> od road scraper answers very
well) scrape the earth each wdy, car.
rying it back one, two or even three
rods, if there is any low place to be
filled up, sloping the banks so that you
can drive a team and wagon or plow
through without any difficulty ; then
if the land is flat or level, plow at
right angles from the ditch in lands
fourteen cr sixteen paces wide, opening
the last or dead furrow into the ditch.
Plow in the same manner twice or
three times if necessary, bring the last
or dead furrow in the same place until
your land is dry, and in rolling beds
fourteen or sixteen paces wide. You
can then cross the lands or beds and
y; ur land will remain rolling and dry.
The Alan of Long Life.
lie has a proper and well proportion
ed stature, without, however, being
too tall, lie is rather of the middle
size, and somewhat thick set. His
complexion is not too florid ; at any
rate, too much ruddiness in youth is
seldom a sign of longevity. His hair
approaches rather to the fair than the
black : his skin is strong, hut not too
rough. His head is net too big ; he
has large veins at the extremities, and
lii s shoulders are rather round than
flat. His neck is not too long ; his
abdomen does not project : and his
hands are large, but not too deeply
cleft. His foot is rather thick than
long ; and his legs are firm and louud
He bus also a broad, arched chest, a
strong voice, and the faculty of retain
ing his breath for a long time without
difficulty. In general, there is a com
plete harmony in all his parts. His
senses are good, but not too delicate ;
his pulse is slow and regular.
His stomach is excellent, his appe
tite good, and his digestion easy. The
joys of the table are to him of impor
tance : they tune his mind to serenity,
and his soul partakes in the pleasure
which they communicate. He does
not eat merely for the pleaure of eat
ing, hut cacti meal is an hour of daily
festivity ; a kind of delight, attended
with this advantage, in regard to oth
ers, that it does not make him poorer,
but richer. He eats slowly, and lias
not too much thirst. Too great thirst
is always a sign of rapid self consump
tion.
In general, he is serene, loquacious,
active, susceptible o f joy, love and
hope ; but insensible to the impressions
of hatred, auger and avarice. His p -s
--sinus never become too violent or de
structive If be ever gives way to an
ger, he experiences rather a useful
glow of warmth, an artificial aud gen
tle fever without an overflow of the
bile. He is fond also of employment,
particularly calm meditation and
agreeable speculations, is an optimist,
a friend to nature aud domestic felici
ty, has no thirst after honors or riches,
and banishes all thoughts of to-mor
row.
A long train of cars left the general
passenger depot in Atlanta on the
sixth inst., filled to its utmost with
negroes bound for Arkansas,
{NO. 35.
Story of Poor Little Stepliert
Girard.
The man lives in Philadelphia wlio
when young and poor entered a bank,
and says lie “Please, sir, don’t you
want a boy ?’ And the stately per
sonage said, “No, little boy, I don’t
want a little boy.” The boy whose
heart was too fall for at erance, chew
ing a piece of licorice stick he had
bought with a centstolen from his good
and pious aunt, with sobs plainly audi
ble, and with great globules of water
rolling down" his cheeks, glided silent
ly down the marble steps of the bank-.
Bending his noble form, the bank man
dodged behind a door, for he thought
j the little boy was going to shy a stone
iat him. But the boy picked up aonie-
I thing and stuck it in his poor ragged
jacket "Gome here, little boy,” and
the little boy did come here ; and the
bank man said, “Lo, what pickest
thou up ?" And he answered and re
plied, “A pin.” And the bank man
said, “Little boy, are you good ? ’ and
he said he was. And the bank man
said, “How do you vote ?—excuse me,
do you go to Sunday school ?” and lie
said he did. Then the bank man took
down a pen made of pure gold and
flowing with pure ink, and wrote on a
piece of paper, “St. Peter,” aud asked
the little boy what it stood for, and he
said, “S dt Peter.” Then the bank
man said it meant “Saint Peter.” The
little boy said “Oh !”
Then the bank man took the little
boy to his bosom, aud the little boy
said “Oh 1” again, for he squeezed
him. Then the bank man took the lit
tle boy into partnership, and gave
him half the profits and all the capital,
and he married the bank man’s daugh
ter, and now all he has is all his, and
all his own, too.
STORY OF ANOTHER GOOD LITTLE BOY.
My uncle told me this story, aud I
spent six weeks picking up pins in
front of a bank. I expected the bank
man would call me in and say, “Little
hoy, are you good ?” and I was going
to say “Yes and when he asked me
what “St. John’’ stood for I was going
to say “Salt John.” But I guess the
bauk man wau't anxious to have a part
ner, and I guess the daughter was a
.-Brm, a’jnr -OTTC.-Ony ™-ro vnrter tm, TUX*
tie boy, what’s that you're picking
up?” Says I awful meekly, • , rins.’
Says he, “Let’s see ’em.” And he took
’em, and I took off my cap, all ready
to go in the bank, and become a part
ner, and marry his daughter. Bu* I
didn’t get an invitation. He said,
“Those pins belong to the bank, and if
I catch you hanging around here any
more I’ll set the dog on you !” Then I
left, and the mean old cuss kept tin;
pins. Such is life as I find it.— Marie
Twain.
The Poor old Bachelor —ln the ni l
times it was considered unpatriotic in
a citizen to remain a bachelor all his
days. By the Spartan law, those
citizens who remained ba helors a Per
middle, were excluded from all offices,
civil and military. At certain feasts
they were exposed to public derisions,
and led around the market-place.—
Although, generally speaking, ag<- was
usually respected in Sp 'r’a, yet this
feeling was not manifested tow&ids
old bachel is. “Why should I make
way for you,” said a Spartan youth to
a gray headed old bachelor, you will
never have a son to do me the same
honor when I cm old? The Roman
law pursued the same policy towards
old bachelors. They had to pay extra
and special taxe . Under Augustus
a law was enacted by which old bach
elors were made incapable of acquii ing
legacies and devises of real estate by
wiil, except from their relatives. In
cannon law old bachelors are eujo nod
to marry, or to profess chastity, or in
earnest to become monks.
The latest verdict rcorded wa s
upon a gentleman who expired in a
fit of inebriation. The jury 'return *
ed, "Death by hanging—ronn Ia rum
shop.” This was savage, and devoid
of regard for the gentleman’s family
in a similar case in California the
verdict was more gracefully and con
eiderately put : “Accidental death
while unpacking glass.”
The newly discovered tin mines near
Sun Diego are reported very rich.
Several hundred pounds of the ore
have been brought to San Francisco
for assay. As the work progresses
the ledge increases in thickness and
the ore in richness.