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VOL. 111.
Hoe Your Own Row.
I think there are some maxims
Under the sun
Scarcely worth preservation;
But here, boys, is one
So sound and so simple,
’Tis worth while to know ;
And all in the single lice,
Hoe your own row !
If you want to have riches,
And want to have friends,
Don’t trample the means down,
And look for the ends;
But always remember,
Wherever you go,
The wisdom of practicing,
Hoe your own row 1
Don’t just sit and pray
For increase of your store,
But work; who will help himself,
Heaven helps more.
The weeds while you’re sleeping
Will come up and grow,
But if you must have the
Full ear, you must hoe!
Nor will it do only.
To hoc out the weeds,
You must make your ground mellow
And put in the seeds;
And when the young blade
Pushes through, you must know
There is nothing will strengthen
Its growth like the hoe !
There's no use of saying
What will be, will be ;
Once try it, my jack-brain,
And see what you’ll see !
Why just small potatoes,
And few in a row;
You’d better take hold, then,
And honestly hoe !
A good many workers
I’ve known in my time—
Some builders of houses,
Some builders of rhyme !
And they that were prospered
Were prospered, I know,
By the intent and meaning of
Hoe your own row.
I’ve known, too, a good many
Idlers, who said,
I’ve a right to my living,
The world owes me bread.
A right! iazy lubbe v ;
A thousand times, NO ;
Tis his, and his only,
Who hoes his own row.
Alice Cary.
AMONG THE KU-KLUI
I.
* Phil, what under the sun could have
induced you to ‘throw off’ on that charra
in s creature for whom you manifested so
Luoh devotion during our stay at Cape
Ai) last season ? 1, in common with
■ j O'body, thought it would terminate, as
j afrairs have a tendency to do, in
wed'.sing cake and cards.”
Pmlip Lennard and Mark Bates, brotli
- ‘porters and particular chums, had
e South to spend a short vacation,
| nt this particular time were smoking
|:‘^ r cigars and indulging in a confiden-
L, '“ ' Hat on a Richmond hotel balcony.
! jbd not throw off on her, Mark.
; ' is, lam the very one who suf
* r 0!: in that wav.”
‘hi, no, Phil, 1 can’t believe that,
/ : y s you gave her some good cause to
, ; you so. If appearances go for any
y. she was too deeply devoted to you
’ ! isle with you.”
admitting even as much as that, the
my attentions were considered
.. u ' : y superfluous, remains uuchang
igu may have been too diffident,
A ll ” is not a common fault of yours,
! v G*uar fellow. V. hy, in the name of
■|ge, d.iii t you propose
f re < My what I did, my boy; and for
“v iLuo.e [ received a polite refusal.”
AUGUSTA, GA., MARCH 19, 1870.
“Ah ! Were there no explanations —no
grounds for hope ?”
“There was a sort of an explanation. In
his reply he said ”
11 His reply ! What in the deuce had he
to do with your proposal to her ? And
who is he ?”
“Her guardian, Uriah Brown, senior
partner of the widely-celebrated firm of
Brown, Smith & Jones, shoe-peg manu
facturers in Massachusetts. You see, my
dear little Bessie’s father was the found
er of the business, and when he died,
leaving her an orphan, he placed her and
her fortune under the charge of his
partner, Brown, until she should complete
her twenty-first year. Bessie, like our
selves, was only on a visit to the Cape,
and returned home before I made up my
mind to risk a proposal.”
“You did it by letter, eh—and made
it the guardian instead of the girl direct ?
Egad ! I like the spirit of the girl in
refusing you when you hadn’t courage to
make your advances to herself!”
“Not so fast in your conclusions, Mark,
if you please. My proposal was address
ed to Bessie, and in due time a letter
came from the guardian, acknowledging
the receipt of my favor, and, for self and
ward, declining the proposal expressed
therein, on the ground that my worldly
possessions were inadequate; and, fur
ther, that a certain nephew of his own,
also of the name of Brown, bad been
chosen for her life companion. To all of
which he signed himself my obedient ser
vant to command.”
“So ho, you have a rival; and of course
you have relinquished all hope in that
quarter?”
“I did not at once on the receipt of this
letter from Bessie’s guardian, for I could
not believe that it expressed her wishes,
and I was sure that she had no attach
ment for young Brown. I have written
frequently to her since, but I have never
received any reply, and I am at last almost
inclined to believe that she is Mrs. Brown
ere this, or has forgotten all about the
friendship formed at the Cape.”
“Or, most probably, that your letters
went into the pockets of old Brown, of
shoe-peg fame, and were never seen by
Bessie. Norris. Put the whole affair
down, Phil, as one of life’s romances
ended, and prepare for the next one.”
“Mark, I cannot forget Bessie so easily
as that. The fact is, I love the girl, and
1 wish to heavens I had gone up to Massa
chusetts in search of her instead of taking
this objectless trip to here.”
“In which case, my dear fellow, you
would have been running adverse to late;
for, as I am a sinner, that incomparable
creature stepping into yonder barouche,
is none other than your Bessie Norris!”
“Miss Norris here, in Richmond ! Im
possible, Mark—your imagination is lead
ing you wild.”
“Here, Phil, look for yourself; it is
Miss Norris, surely.”
“By heavens, Mark, you are right!”
And toe excited young man sprang over
the intervening chairs, through the read
ing room, and down the stairs, reaching
the pavement in time to witness the car
riage containing the young lady disappear
around the nearest corner.
When Phil Lennard returned to his
particular friend and travelling chum,
Mark Bates, who continued to occupy
the balcony and smoke his cigar in un
ruffled peace, lie had more to tell him j
about the young lady, Miss Norris. She
was stopping in the same house, he had
learned from the clerk, and was accom
panied by a maiden sister of her guar
dian, Brown, and the nephew Brown re
ferred to as her chosen husband. The
maiden lady, who acknowledged to thirty
years, and hence it may be correctly in-!
for red was fitry, bad been quite commu- 1
uicative about their affairs. It appeared !
that her brother Brown, of shoe-peg fame,
had purchased a landed estate away |
down in Georgia, and having a gnawing 1
desire to win new fame by learning the 1
benighted people down there how their 1
domestic institutions should be managed,
he determined to take up his residence
on this property. He relinguished the
active management of the shoe-peg busi
ness, and prepared to move his entire
establishment, including Miss Norris, his
ward, and the aforesaid nephew, Brown,
to this Georgia plantation that he had
bought; not from personal inspection,
but simply from such representations as
were made to him about it.
“Old Brown has gone on in advance
to prepare the place for the proper recep
tion of the ladies, and Bessie and her
companions will continue their journey
on the morning train,” Phil said in con
clusion to the attentive Mark.
“And the girl; is she single yet?”
Mark questioned.
“Not only single, Mark, but singularly
adverse to the poor nephew’s devotions.
She snubs him terribly, if all that the
clerk has told me can be relied upon. I
am inclined now to believe with you that
my letters have been withheld from Bes
sie by her guardian, and that she may
not be quite indifferent to me.”
Much more the two friends had to say
to each other relative to this particular
heart affair of Phil’s, and before the an
nouncement of supper interrupted them,
it was unanimously agreed by Mark that
“it was incumbent on himself and all
other members of the reportorial corps,
at whatever place stationed, collectively
and individually, to give all possible aid
and assistance to Phil Lennard in defeat
ing the plans and purposes of all persons
of the name of Brown, or- of any other
name or denomination whatever, to the
end that he might peaceably marry a cer
tain described Bessie Norris.”
•11.
The Brown party, to-wit : Miss Miran
da Brown, sister; Mr. Nathan Brown,
nephew; and Miss Norris, ward of Uriah
Brown, of shoe-peg fame, and more re
cently landed proprietor in Georgia, bad
secured comfortable seats in the train
bound South, Mr. Nathan shared Miss
Norris’ seat until he tired her with his
silly prattle and sickened her by his ef
forts to play the devoted, when she ex
tended an invitation to him that he could
not fail to understand, to join his aunt,
who occupied a seat forward, and leave
her in peace. So, while the old lady ex
patiated with her nephew upon the
grandeur of the “Burning Ford,” their
new home in Georgia, ami of the addi
tional dignity they must assume in con
versation and manner to give their South
ern neighbors a just conception of the
importance of the Browns, the young
lady seemed interested in nothing in par
ticular but her own thoughts.”
“‘llow little Charlie angel.’
It is the title of this very interesting
tract. Miss May I beg to recommend it for
your perusal ?”
She was startled from her thoughtful
ness by these words, and, looking up, she
saw bending over her a clerical-looking
individual, with white cravat and specta
cles. She mechanically took the tract,
and at the same moment the clerical gen
tleman raised his spectacles.
“Philip Lennard !” she exclaimed,
dropping the tract in the extremity of her
surprise.
Ilis only answer was to drop ino
the seat beside her, and tenderly take her
hand.
“Can this be real ?” she said. “What
purpose can actuate you in assuming this
disguise ?”
“A desire, Bessie, to avoid the evident
vigilance of your friends, the Browns,
over your movements. Ah ! Bessie, can
you have forgotten those days at the Cape
so soon ?”
“Forgetfulness seems to have existed on
more sides than one,” she said, dropping
her eyes.
“Forgetfulness ! Good heavens, Bes
sie, have I not written you letter after
letter, believing that someone of them
would win an answer from you ? But your
silence remained uubroken ?
“I never received a line from you,” she
uttered, with plain anxiety.
“Then you did not dictate that letter
of refusal which your guardian sent me ?
Tell me, dear Bessie, that you did not,”
he demanded in exciting tones.
“I—l don’t understand what you have
reference to,” she stammered forth.
“Shortly after your departure from the
Cape, Bessie, I addressed you a letter, re
vealing to you the love that had grown
up in my heart for you, and begging that
you would become my wife.”
“Ob, Philip, I never received it.
I ” but here she checked herself, and
hung her head in confusion.
It was at this moment that the old lady,
who was in the midst of a dissertation
on the ignorance and barbarity of those
Southern people, and the immense civil
izing and Christianizing influence the
presence of the Browns would have upon
them, that she bethought herself to see
how Bessie was engaged, and was terri
bly alarmed to find a strange gentleman
beside her, earnestly conversing with
her.
“Bessie, how can you forget propriety
so far as to converse with an entire stran
ger, and without consulting my judgment,
too?” the aged maiden whispered in her
car in a voice that could not avoid being
audible to the gentleman.
“I beg your pardon, madam,” he said.
“I am an humble dispenser of the rich
fruits of the Gospel to the benighted peo
ple of this portion of the Lord’s vineyard.
Ah, if we found such noble, intelligent,
superior people as the Browns, for in
stance, of that seat of all excellencies,
Massachusetts, settled here, we would find
less need for the gifts we bring. Per
haps, madam, you will be interested in
this little tract, that you will fiud to be a
compendium of all the wisdom contained
in Holy Writ. It is entitled ‘Wendell
Phillips’ Last Utterance.’ Again I beg
your pardon for having thought you mar
ried. One so young, beautiful and
piquant as yourself cannot be wedded so
early iu life, I should think.”
M iss Miranda forgot everything but
the agreeable words of the nice, pious
young man, and she bowed very conde
scendingly to him while she took his
tract.
“You mentioned the Browns,” she
said to him. “Are you acquainted with
them ?”
“Yes; as all of polite society are; that
is, I am acquainted with their high repu
tation. I had just been mentioning to
this other young lady, your friend, T pre
sume, some news about them that deeply
distresses me.”
“Distressing news ! Oh, dear me !
please tell us all about it, sir.”
“Well, you see, when down in Geor
gia dispensing to the persecuted such
Gospel views on their domestic relations
as owe their origin to New England
braius, 1 learned that millionaire Brown
had purchased ihe ‘Burning Ford’ plan
tation, and was intending to take up his
residence there with his young and charm
ing sister. The dreadful Ku-Klux have
heard of his coming among them, and are
preparing to take a terrible revenge upon
him.”
“My gracious”! I have heard of the
awful things, they do on their enemies.
But Mr. Brown is a stranger to them,
and he has never done them any' harm.
Surely they will not" injure him.”
“Tne chief of the Ivu-klux has discov
ered that the pegs in the shoes of the
Federal soldier who killed his brother
were made at Mr. Brown’s manufactory,
and he has sworn to have revenge.”
“Oh, sir, what will they do with
him V :
“They will probably either take a slice
of flesh off him every day to feed their
dogs upon, or tie him up in a sack and
hunt him to death with bloodhounds, un
less, his beautiful sister shall be made
the victim.”
“Mercy ! what will they do with
her ?”
“The chief may take a notion to make
her his wife. Please miss, do not speak
very loud, or manifest any excitement,
for I am sure some of these people around
us are spies of the Ku-klux, and the least
word of alarm might bring death upon
us.”
“Gracious! I feel like fainting. Is
this chief of Ku-klux very old ?” Miss
Miranda whispered, with utmost intensity
of attention.
“He has not seen more than thirty
years, I should think.”
“Bear me ! lam Mr. Brown’s sister,
just going to meet him. I fear it is my
Christian duty to offer myself a victim
and be married to this chief, so that my
poor brother's life will be spared. Is he
good looking ?”
“Passably so. Report says that he has
twenty wives living, and he always treats
the last one kindly until he gets another.
I am very sorry, indeed, that you must
he the victim of the cruel, blood-thirsty
Ku-klux, and the twenty-first wife of
their chief.”
“Twenty waves and only thirty years
old ! O, he is a monster ! I—l never
shall be his wife. O, Bessie, I am killed,
murdered, and I shall make brother
Uriah leave this barbarous Cuuntry at
once. My poor brother fed to dogs, and
my poor self made the twenty-first wife
of an assassin chief! It is*too dreadful to
think of. and I shan’t ever submit to
it!”
The veracious clerical geutleman with
drew, having arrived at his destination,
while Miss Miranda indulged in smother
ed lamentations that would have risen to
a higher pitch had she not been in terror
of the Ku-klux spies around her.
111.
Uriah Brown, of shoe-peg fame, had
been delayed by bad roads and acci
dents to his conveyance iu reaching his
new home, ‘Burning Ford’ plantation.—
What he saw' of the country adjoining in
his journey over it, leading, as his course
did, through a section devastated by
Sherman, or amid lonely, desolate swamp
and forest, did not prepossess him favora
bly with it.
His first view of his new home was not
more satisfactory. ‘Burning Ford’ man
sion was a low, straggling mass of build
ing, that must have presented a very
picturesque appearance at one time,when
tin' building itself was cared for, and
the grounds surrounding it kept in con
dition. It had been used for a barracks
during some months of the war, and, as
a consequence, its lawns and shrubbery
were trampled down, its trees and fences
used for fuel, its chimneys blown down
and many of its r oms windowless. It
presented a most cheerless prospect to
one appearing before it with as exag
gerated views as to its grandeur, beauty
and high state of preservation and sump
tuousness as its new owner had been led
to entertain.
“Dear, dear me !” he exclaimed,
“there has been a mistake. I fear I
have allowed myself to be deluded in
this purchase, for, if I may credit what
is before me, ‘Burning Ford is not the
paradise I pictured it; but an inside view
may prove more palatable.”
He went upon the portico and ham
mered away at the door until almost in
despair. A voice coming along the hall
at last answered him.
“Gor a mighty, don’t kuock de door in;
how fast d’ye ’spect a chile to conn??'’ the
voice said, impatiently.
“Who he you ? What does you want ?"
the stout negro wench who had open
ed the door and stood before him ques
tioned.
“1 am Mr. Brown, you, new master,”
he said.
“]),* new m issa ! You be do new mas
sa? Yah, yah, ho.”
He could not understand why the black
woman should laugh so uproariously that
isro. i>