Weekly Georgia telegraph. (Macon [Ga.]) 1858-1869, October 16, 1868, Image 1

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Newspaper Page Textv;-/ /■ w-y j ‘ ?■ B fcr-jdf •; : ... . / : vB? .. ■ • * nT> t ' • > ^C.{ \ IgY & REID, Proprietors. The Family Joubkal.—News—Politics—Literature—AgriceItube—Domestic Affairs I j GEORGIA TELEGRAPH BUILDING. flBLISHED 1826.} MACON, FRIDAY, OCTOBER 16, 1868. VOL. XLIL—NO. 49 [For the Teleoraph.] fO .VF SWEET JULIETTE. or e. b. c. Lo'ruing dreams” are with thee now, ;' ..ji« unnumbered gild thy way; ’with young and beauteous brow, I ..’t that“ life is but a day.” j.- ot changes wo may meet, sake tho heart a living tomb; ■ b»w friends, like roses sweet, ,»n be shattered while in bloom. *e * girl, thy life should be |,u of beauty and of love; " be full of prayers for thee, Cijeli guide to joys above. ■s despair, which over leaves ,:,ir: a crushed and faded flower, Lrji: thee—for deep she grieves, i nighty is her silent power. •, i radiant rainbow be. ...{ when Heav’n is overcast 1 i ,pon a moonlit sea, . flijes and never feels the blast. Ijl'irtt*. vain are wishes such Jeep and fill my sonl— Lit your duty, ’tis as modi ' ,j u e'er o’er mortals roll. Inj, remember while you live, Fjj'tinc as brigbest starlets shine:) I- gt is human”—to forgive Ij* {nits of other hearts—” divine.” siJUreu, 1868. Ttidurs of Houston and other Counties. K cyear will soon dawn upon us, and l-jr reasons, we think this useful class : ought to have a consultation together, this, we know of no better plan than ild a convention or meeting in each y or Senatorial district, e object of this communication is merely ; the matter under consideration among raternity, the writer hoping that some Bent course will be adopted, and the d end obtained. .reasons for such a movement are abun- jnd obvious; we will, however, name at- or two: hr the new order of things there will it few except select or independent .. The Constitution forbids State aid yiren to these. Indigent children are ; unprovided for. Must the teacher, sow does, continue to bear the whole i their education ? He cannot, with tto himself. Yet it would be heartless *3 them away without first making an :o have them cared for in this respect, sited effort might do much good. In is well us noble philanthropy, demands a make it [.nice ut the price of cotton, and that sail labor, before the war, and respective prices at the.present, will :ow both have advanced. They are .most double what they were. The fall goods, including the necessaries his increased in the same proportion, j t pay of the teacher is actually less J : was before the war, as may be easily j '.ose days from three to four dollars a j : per month wa3 about the average i tuition; and the counties paid wo to three dollars per month, for idigent child. Now. the tuition is ;e in “green-backs,” and the indigent -ttleast one-fifth of the whole number i nothing paid lor them at all. The ids for forty pupils, one-fifth indigent, * the war, would be about thus: A per month or 335. per year 31120 ‘'per month or$30per year —• -*8 I«ttl 41360 w, it would be but $1120, in currency, nothing would be received for the eight tit ones; reduce this to gold value i w see the amount is $800, $560 in gold : bn it would have been before the war. -nity there is strength; let the teach- :tet then, in their respective counties, iking counsel together, by united effort it these and other evils. What say you ton f Uhovem. fiber 12tli, 1868. jcccessful Experiment.—Mr. Frank ?laced a lighted cigar to the bungbole vrel which had been used for kerosene j * day last week, to try the explosive ! a of that fluid, and was successful in :inent degree. The oil ignited and ex- i the barrel, doing no other damage « making a few scratches upon one of hj’s hands, and leaving him a solitary liiomsbed oberver of his successful, hut «ted discovery. We stood near the experiment, and Mr. 31. looked ia!” but didn’t exclaim it. We would him to use a longer fuse the next time <• a similar experiment Danger of Relying on Circumstan- r'lDENCE.—Yesterday noon, when the irk express train for this city was be- inrth Haven and Wallingford stations incer saw a bare-footed man, in his *ves, dart out of the woods near the ! d place something wrapped in a newa- n the track. I was too late to stop n, and the pilot struck the obstacle, iroved to be a heavy railroad iron bar, tat force, knocking it fifty feet anrl g the pilot On arriving here, word tn to the police, and Chief Chamber- down officer Cosgrove to investigate; a full description of the man, color of fins, hair, etc. He found a man whose every particular corresponded with ription, and whose bare feet exactly e tracks left by the would-be de- He was brought to this city and ed for examination, y, as the same train came along be same man who placed the bar or. k yesterday again darted out of the ■ ice, and throwing his arms above his find and let the engine strike him.— badly hurt, but not killed. He obe a crazy man. He says the Lord n to put the bar across the rail and 'would stop; and again, that if he frontof the engine it wouldstop for e was left in charge of officer Cos 'd will be properly taken care of by ids. But the evidence against that • was kept last night in tne station- ire was enough to have sent him to prison for life.—Hartford Times, Quality of wool is tested by taking a J' m the sheep’s back, and placing it on ■^representing an inch in length. If r ! n!s count from thirty to thirty-three r’l'ttce the wool i a tqual to the finest I Jtai” or Saxony wool. The staple is ■ : * C( tordingly as it takes a lesser num- up the same space. BOW WB GOT MARKZED. “Don’t fret, Jennie, lass; you shall have the ear-ring3, and something over for a frilled tuck, or whatever you may fancy. Come, take your choice, girl.” Jennie came slowly forward and rested her hand on her father’s shoulders, as she glanced listlessly over the wares which the peddler spread before her. “Hump! it’s not the ear-rings nor the tuck that she’s worrying about,” observed the mother, glancing up sharpely from the inspection of a gay chintz. “She’s taking on about the lad, Frank Duncan, who, neighbor Burwell told us, is to leave day after to-morrow to seek his for tune, as he says.” “And I hope he’ll find it,” said the farmer gravely. “He’s a good enough lad, and I’d have nothing to say against him if he’d give less time to books and more to work, so's to make money enough for a wife to live on. 'When young Duncan comes back with five hundred dollars in hand, Jennie, I’ll think better of him; but no daughter of mine shall marry a penniless man.” As the farmer spoke, he was slowly and care fully untying a well worn leather wallet which he had taken from the upper drawer of the old- fashioned bureau, with bras3 handles, which stood in a comer of the large kitchen. From a goodly sized bundle of notes he selected one of ten dollars, which he handed to the peddler. “I’ve no change,” he replied to some remark of his wife. “They’re tens and twenties—one hundred and twenty-five dollars in all,” he ad ded in a tone of satisfaction. “Jekyl’s done a good job with the cattle this year, and if the crop turns out as well, you shall have something better than that chintz, Hetty, for Christmas time—and you, too, Jennie, lass.” The peddler’s small, keen, black eye glanced furtively at the notes as the farmer smoothed them out upon his knee, and replaced them in his wallet. “Here is one hundred, clear, for the bank,” he observed, as he tied the wallet securely with its red tape string. “I’ll take it down to Logans- ville Thursday. Meantime, Hetty, put it away in the little box there.” Mrs. *Hallet deposited the wallet carefully ia a tin box, and replaced the box in the bureau drawer, which she locked, hanging the key on a nail which was driven in the back of the bureau itself. Jennie having selecled her ear-rings and a piece of lace for a tuck, sat down to sew the lat ter on the neck of her best blue delaine dress.— There was to be a “bee” at neighbor Burwell’s that evening, and a dance after; and though in no dancing mood, she would go, for she knew that Frank Duncan was to be there, aud this was to be their last meeting before he departed to “seek his fortune” in the city. Poor girl! it was her first sorrow; and we ail know how hard are such to the young, with their helplessness, their inexperience, and their igno rance of life. As she sat on the side of her little bed, sewing the lace on the blue dress, she looked and felt very sad. Much as she loved her par ents, she could not help thinking them cruel and unfeeling in this instance, when they must know how dearly she loved Frank, and that she could never, never be happy without him. He was so clever, so handsome, so good—and yet they ob jected to him because he was poor! As if she, or Frank either, minded poverty! Oh, if he had only that five hundred dollars that her father havo spoken of. Butfivehundred dollars; how in this world could Frank ever get that enormous sum ? Her mother’s voice, calling her to supper, aroused her. With country hospitality, the good dame had added some extra nice dishes to the usual evening meal, and she looked a little dis appointed at the peddler’s non-appreciation of the good things set before him. He seemed ab sent and restless, and declined the proffered night’s lodging, and said he must go “right on” to Logansville that night, in order to meet a friend whom he expected there. So, after join ing in with a fervent “amen” to the host’s after- grace,'and thanking them in a pious strain for their hospitality, he shouldered his pack and re sumed his journey. From the window Jennie looked wistfully out, saw his tall form disappear at a bend of the road about a mile distant, and dreamily heard her father remark: “I don’t fancy that stranger. Somehow he don’t look to me like a genuine peddler—not sharp enough at bargaining; not interested enough in his business. And then I noticed he never looks you right in the eye—always a bad sign.” “Well,” observed his little, thrifty wife. “I can’t say as I liked him the less for his easy bar gains. He don’t make much profit by them, though, I guess, judging from that old camlet coat of his, with its patched elbows and the old- fashioned long tail flapping about his heels. I can remember grandfather had just such another. But, Jennie, girl, if you’re going to the 1)66,’ it’s high time to bestir yourself. Why it’s nigh six o’clock, already.” II. It was a still, moonlight summer night, as Jennie Hallet walked lingeringly along the meadow path, homeward Irom Farmer Burwell’s. lingeringly—for her hand was clasped in that of Frank Duncan, and he wa* talking to her earnestly, as they passed under the shadow of the water-willows, or paused for a mement on the rustic bridge that spanned the meadow creek. “I’ll do it Jennie! Here I swear—’ “Oh, Frank, don’t swear.” “Then I promise—yes, here I promise, not to rest, day or night, until I have five hundred dol lars to show your father.” “But how will you get it, Frank?” “I don't know ; but I’ll find out away—only, Jennie, dear, I fear it will be a long time.” They walked on in silence. “I wish I were rich!” burst forth Duncan, pas sionately. “I never cared for it before, but I do now, for your sake—and mine, Jennie. If I had only one thousand dollars!” “A thousand dollars, Frank !” To her idea, he might as well have wished for the wealth of Monte Christo. “It is not a large sum, Jennie. Yet five hun dred dollars would purchase that pretty place near the old church, that you admired so much, and with another five hundred to stock it and begin. Oh, Jennie, only think how happy a little money could make us!” . “It’s no use thinking,” said the girl, sadly,— “And Frank, you are so. given .to thinking and dreaming that”—she looked up into*his face 'with, a tender half smile—“I am afraid you will never set to work hard enough to get even the five hundred.” “I’ll try, Jennie. Never fear of that.” They had now reached the bottom of Farmer Hallett’s garden, and here they paused awhile, exhausting a few more sentences. Then, with a sad„lingering adieu, they parted. It was eleven o’clock. Jennie heard the old kitchen clock strike as she passed slowly up the garden walk. She pansed at the gate and look ed back toward the meadow with a strange yearning and desolation at her heart. He was gone, and the world seemed very dreary to her. She feared it would never be bright again. So the young always think in their first disappoint ment. Turning at length to open the gate, her foot struck upon something soft and yielding. She looked down, and saw some dark object on the ground, nearly hidden beneath the low lilac boughs. Taking it up she saw that it was a coat—her father’s, she fancied—and with a mo mentary wonder as to how it had come there, she went softly into the house, taking the gar ment with her. As she stole up stairs to her own little room, she fancied she heard a slight sound below in the kitchen, adjoining her pa rents’ bedroom. She heard it again as she was retiring, and then a step on the little back stoop, and as she looked out of her window, fan cied that she saw a figure disappearing through the garden gate. She wondered who it could be. Was it some one looking for the coat? and turning to where she had mechanically dropped it on a chair, she examined it by candle-light. It was not her father's. It was a patched and faded long skirted camlet coat—the coat which she had seen worn by the peddler that evening. “He will come back for it, perhaps,” the girl thought, and she hung it carefully on a nail in the upper entry closet. But the peddler never came back for the lost garment. And it was understood why, when, on Thursday, farmer Hallet opening the bureau to take out his hundred dollars for deposit in the Logansville bank, found the tin box and the wallet safe, hut the money all gone. Search was made for the peddler, but in vain. No one had seen a person at all answering to his description, unless it was a pious Methodist preacher, who had passed hurriedly through Logansville on a journey to the West as a mis sionary to the Indians, and to suspect him would be a shame. Yet, sometime after, neighbor Burwell, read ing a description of a noted burglar, who had broken out of prison, and for some weeks past bafHed the detectives, remarked that he and the peddler must be either the same or twin broth ers, so exactly did the description tally with the appearance of the peddler. So the old coat hung unseen and forgotten in the back entry closet until Fall, when Mrs. Hal let, in her quarterly “cleanings,” spied it. “Jennie,” she said, “I wish you would take that old scarecrow away from here. I can’t abide the sight of it.” “What shall I do with it, mother ?” “Whatever you like. It’s yours, I suppose, as you found it; nobody will ever claim it.” “It’s to good to throw away,” said Jennie. “Suppose I take the long skirts and make a pet ticoat for old Peggy Bums? It is lined with woolen, and will make a warm garment for Win ter.” So Jennie took the coat to her room, and sat down in the October sunshine to rip up and re fashion the garmemt. She thought of Frank—she was always think ing of him now—and wondered whether he would ever make that five hundred dollars. Oh, that five hundred dollars! how it ran in her head, always! Rip! rip! Something opposed the progress of the scissors in the thick wadding of the old coat. Tearing it open, she drew out what look ed like a soiled greenish rag. It was paper, however, and as she unfolded it, she saw, to her surprise, that it was a bank bill—a fifty dollar bill! Another and another followed. Through all the body of the old garment were carefully padded these precious bits of paper, and Jennie Hallet, sitting in her room alone, counted them all out upon her lap—fifteen hundred dollars! She kept her secret—at least from her family. But some days after, she road into Logansville on horseback alone, as she was accustomed to do, and at the express office deposited a little package, addressed to “Francis Dilncan, Esq.” And by return mail came an anonymous letter to Farmer Hallet, enclosing one hundred dollars, “tQ replace the money unlawfully taken from him,” which incident set all the neighbors dis coursing on the power of conscience. And be fore Christmas, Frank Duncan himself made his appearance, and boldly asked Farmer Hallet for the hand of his daughter Jennie, mentioning, in answer to the father’s inquiries, that he had “more than fifteen hundred dollars in hand.”— And the next thing was, that Mr. Duncan pur chased the pretty place by the old church, and thither, in the Spring, took his young bride where they were as happy as new married people generally are. Jennie said that she and Frank only borrowed the money, and that it should be restored when ever the owner should appear. But they have as yet heard of no claimant. Isabella is Tears—Her Attempts to go to Madrid—Scene at the St. Sebastian* Railway Station.—Her Majesty and the King Consort arrived at midnight at the sta tion, followed in other carriages by their children and some ladies of honor. Her 31«j- esty was in tears and walked up and down in the portico, and the persons who had gath ered at the spot uncovered bat maintained a dead silence. “Let us go,” at last said the Queen, and she entered the railway carriage. The royal party being seated, the locomotive was attached, but, at the moment when the conductor of the train was about to give the signal tor starting, two dispatches were brought, and they must have been of exceed ing gravity, lor her Majesty immediately alighted, and to 31. Gonzalez Bravo, who im plored her not to return to hladrld, said, “It I could wear a man’s attire, I should at on.ee proceed to my capital.” Isabella then cov ered her face with her hands, and with streaming eyes regained the waiting-room, and thence her residence. The minister said to her Slajesty while conducting her back, “They are perfectly respectful, but all betray you.” The royal carriages having departed,. the Governor of St. Sebastian placed his own j at her 3Iajesty’s seivice, and returned to his j hotel on foot.—St. Sebastian Correspondent i Paris Temps. To destroy lice on cattle, camphor dis- { solved in spirits is an effectual agent, and j may be used at all times, even in very cold weather,-without the least injury to caflle. WITH HIPPOPOTAMI. The good ship Lone Star had been eleven months out, and her whaling cruise had not, as yet, proved very successful, when she ran short of wood and water whilst beating about the Mo zambique Channel under easy sale, and with all hands on the look-out for any sperm-whale un fortunate enough to heave insight. It was my first voyage as 3Iate, and I was pacing the quarter-deck in no very enviable frame of mind—for mv share in the profits of the voyage were promising to be Jbut small—when the Captain sent for me to join him in the cab in. Leaving one of our l^at-steerers in charge of the deck, I went below, and found my k oerior poring over a chart spread out on the saloon table. Well, Mr. Wylie,” said he, “whales are kind of scarce, so I am thinking of putting into the Comorin Islands for a supply of wood and water. Take a look at the chart.” I did so, and found that we were only about forty mile3 from the land referred to. Coincid ing with the Captain’s view, I received his in structions, and returned on deck to alter the ship’s course, and steer for the islands. That day we made but little progress. Toward noon the light and fitful breeze fled altogether, nor could our most ancient mariners woo back its coy presence with their indefatigable and su perstitious whistling. Slowly and regularly the trim Lone Star rose and fell upon the steady hearings of the glassy sea. Strange leaden-colored fish, of dolphin shape, but otherwise unlike any finny denizen I ever saw before, swam lazily around our motionless black hull; odd-looking jelly-fish, slimy and shiny, with huge and hairy feelers stretching far out to clutch their prey, floated amongst them; unwieldly, almost shapeless, and altogeth er useless sun-fish sculled slowly past us, with their two great side fins. Now and then, with a sudden plash of the smooth waters, a shoal of silvery flying fish would dart into the air, and skim swiftly along on outstretched wing, just dip upon the surface of the water again to damp their drying pinions, and then double off in another direction to elude their relentless and untiring enemies—the fierce Albicor and the nimble bonita—ever on their track, darting along a foot or sd' beneath the surface. Raven ous, unfaltering, and determined, these fish-eat ing fish would follow the frightened little fugi tives till some poor winged thing fell tired and despairing into the fang-glistening jawsjust thrust an inch or two out of the water to catch it.— Here the swift and glittering dolphin, swiftest of all fish, would chase the silvery prey with in conceivable rapidity, now and then revealing its course by immense bounds through the air, of ten of twenty yards and more; there, an ominous- looking, tall, black object, standing still and up. right from the water, told where lay the lurking and quieseent shark—for that ugly angular thing was his straight dorsal fin; while the gaudily-striped pilot fish might be seen shooting about beneath the vessel’s quarter, every now and then darting off to its savage lord and mas ter. Birds of gorgeous plumage, unkuown name, and curious cry, came ever and auon to gaze fora moment at our long black ship, and her taper stars, and then, off they flew among the brilliant little insects and splendidly-painted butterflies which were winging their frail flights across the bosom of the sleeping Mosambique Channel. However, during the early hours of the night, a light breeze sprang up, so that we made the land soon after midnight, when we Btood off and on till daylight, and then sailed slowly into the sheltered anchorage formed by the Comorin Islands and the neighboring mainland of Af rica. After coming to anchor, all hands went to breakfast, and when the cravings of the inner- man had become duly satisfied, I armed the crew of my own whaleboat, and set off for the shore on a reconnoitering expedition, in order to ascertain whether any natives—hostile or peaCa- ble—were to be met with, and also to pick out the most likely spots whence to obtain a stock of wood and water. Hoisting the sail, a light, fair wind soon wafted us to the nearest islet. But here noth ing rewarded our patient search. Low, impen etrable jungle, together with soft, black mud, marked with what astonished us, the footprints of some strange and monstrous beast, formed an altogether uninviting wilderness. Proceeding to the next and largest island of the group, how ever,we found abundance of good water, and a fair proportion of dry-wood trees for our purpose. Having selected a suitable landing-place, and seen no trace of inhabitants, I gave the order to shove off, and the boat’s head was once more turned toward her massive mistress, looming fair and tall, at anchor in the distance. The mainland was only a mile or so from where we now lay on our oars, and, as I gazed in that di; rection, the temptation to visit it—the curiosity to explore a strange coast—came strong upon me. “Well, boys,” said I to my crew, “what do you say for a stretch as far as the shore away there ? There is a leading wind, fair going and coming, and we might find better wood and water.” The latter expression of opinion was to save my dignity from suffering by any suspicion of idle curiosity. Of course, my men were only too delighted at the prospect of a run ashore—the islands being small, uninteresting, and uninhabited. Hauling aft the moinsheet, and keeping the boat away for the desired coast, Heft Long Tom, my boat-steerer, in charge, and stretched myself out in the stern-sheets, whilst the rest of the crew followed my example by throwing them selves into the most comfortable positions they could find along the thwarts. The breeze was gradually falling lighter, and for some time we sailed gently on, still and si lent, save for the musical lap-lap of the ripple3 against our bows. The soothing aspects of nature tended to throw me into a dreamy reverie, from which I was suddenly aroused by my boat-steerer’s exclama tion: “I saw a black skin shining in the sun jmt then, sir.” “Well, said I drowsily, “it’s only a bottle- nose or porpoise.” And I did not even take the trouble to raise my head above the gunnel. A few moments elapsed, and we had got ihtp shallow water, when Long Tom shouted; “There it is again!”, ;' Then my “Where? away Where away ?” I cried, star tled by his animation. “There away, 6ir,” pointing ahead; “and its no porpoise, nor bottle-nose, nor—nor anything as I ever seed afore, as wears thick skin!” And all eyes won now stretching to catch a glimpse of Long Tom’s wonderful discovery. “There she blows! There she blows!” came in chorus from my men, as the large black back rose slowly above the surface, rolled slowly over, with a motion just like that ot a sponting or playing whale, and then sank out of sight, only a short distance ahead. “Wait a bit, my lads,” said I. “Unship the mast; stow away the sail; then out oars, and we’ll soon see what it is.” My orders were promptly obeyed sturdy oarsman gave way with a will, and the light whaleboat was soon darting swiftly forward to were the object of our curiosity had last dis appeared. I was standing on the bow-platform, directing Long Tom at the sterring-oar, when sudden ly we brought up all standing against something hard, upon which the boat had run “stem on, like a noriwest buffalo,” as my mariner ex pressed it. “Stam all! Stam all!” As the boat was backed off, an enormous beast heavily raised its huge head out of the water, gave us a look, uttered a loud sort of snorting bellow, and then sank down again in the muddy water, through which we had not been able to discern it. “Holy sailor Bill!” I heard the how-oarsman say to his nearest shipmate. “What is it? I’m blessed if ever I saw such a thing afore, and I have been whaling, man and boy, nigh upon twenty years.” ‘Toss me up the iron, boys,” said I, interrupt ing the conversation, “ and if it comes within reach again, we’ll soon find out what kind of a creature it is.” A whaleboat is never without the gear of her profession, and so, when my men saw me handle the harpoon, they gave an approving shout, and eagerly gave way again in obedience to my order to pull ahead. ■\Vith iron poised and ready, I was intently watching for the strange monster’s reappearance, when my boat-steerer cried: “There they are, ’way in shore, there; ahull school ov ’em.” Sure enough, the glistening black backs tumb ling about in the foamy white water, showed where a number of the unknown fish, or strange amphibious animals were enjoying themselves. “Look out ahead, sir! Look out ahead!” roared Tom again. “There’s something just broke water.” The next moment I had darted my iron into a back as broad as that of a whale calf, and wa3 shouting: “Stam all! Stam all! Back water, my boys!” As the boat shot back, and the line ran out, the monster made desperate plunges to reach us. As it rolled and tossed about in its agony and surprise, I saw enough to know that we had fixed a.hippopotamus. Giving a succession of savage roars, and vain ly trying to grasp the firmly-holding iron with its tremendous teeth, the wounded beast sank down in the water, here only a couple of fathoms deep. Then, the air-bubbles rising to the sur face, as he breathed, together with the long crimson track, as he bled, showed us exactly the course that he was taking, and this was direct for his companions, sporting in shore. Our prey was at a great speed, considering his ponderous build, and we were compelled to fol low, or cut the line—the last thing I thought of. So, in a few moments, we fonnd ourselves right in the midst of the herd of hippopotami, whose huge, unshapely heads were raising all around, whilst the wicked glitter of their savage-looking little eyes seem concentrated upon us with looks of wonder, fury, and surprise. Just then, unable to stay beneath the surface any longer, the wounded monster rose to breathe, and then turned upon us with a terrific roar. “Stam all! Stam all for your lives!” I shouted. The tough ash oars urged us clear of the sav age brute’s charge, but then the boat-steerer cried: “Hold on, sir! Hold water! Here’s half a dozen ov e’m astarn, coming right for us.” “Hold water, every man!” I roared. Then, espying a clear course to the right, continued, ‘Tull the port oars. So! Now give way of all! give way my lads! Pull for your lives!” And I was paying out line all the time. “But up from the murky water rose two. of the brutes, one on either side, only a few feet dis tant, and with huge distended jaws they rushed upon us. Snatching up one of the boat axes, whilst Long Tom left his steering-oar to the next man, and similarly armed himself, I sprang to where one of the hippopotami was almost touching the gunnel, and then, with all my strength dashed the keen axe blade into its flat, black nose.— With a roar louder than that of a half-dozen wild bulls of Madagascar, the monster vanished, spouting blood. Long Tom had also succeeded in driving off its companion, though not before tne latter had made a great rent in the side of the boat, and had also very nearly capsized her. A shudder ran through us at our narrow escape —we had no time for more. The rest of the shoal had now come np, and were making the foam fly in every direction as they dashed through the water to attack us. It was a terrible, critical moment. We could no longer escape by rowing, for the monsters were now all around. If once they should suc ceed in overturning our frail boat, we would as suredly perish horribly amongst them; their gleaming great tusks and wide gaping jaws would pitilessly rend and tear us limb from limb. ,, • >. Very fortunately, it suddenly occurred to me that I had somewhere read of hippopotami being frightened at the noise of firearms, though I well knew that their amazing tough skins were quite proof against ordinary spherical leaden bullets. 11‘Tick up your muskets—be'quick my lads !’* I cried, acting upon the inspiration—“Let each man chose an object; then fire all together.” Just as the fierce little pig-eyes were glaring close upon us, and the terrible white fangs were glistening in close proximity, the loud roar of our volley echoed across the water, and then the sulphurous smoke-wreaths hid the plunging monsters from our sight. At the same instant, however, one enormous beast reared his body half out he expected it would dash our weak boat to atoms, but, at the flash and noise of the gun3 it fell back, though even in doing so, it nearly cap sized us, and half-filled our little craft with w»> ter. When the smoke cleared away, our formi dable pursuers had, disappeared. After a mo mentary pause in thankfulness at our marvelous ly wonderful escape, the whaling spirit returned, and I said: “Pass me a lance, Long Tom, and we’ll settle the fellow we’re fast to, anyhow. Give way, my hearties, and let the two bow hands haul in the line.” Proceeding thus, we soon came up with the wounded beast. Then, for a moment poising '.the bright lance over my right shoulder, I sent *Tt deep to the heart of our unwieldly victim.— With a few tremendous roars, and after a last desperate struggle to reach us, the strange am phibious creature went into its flurry. After sinking for a few moments, it once more rose to the surface, and, like a dead whale, floated on its side. With considerable trouble we managed to tow our prise alongside the Lone Star. Upon measur ing the carcass we fouud it fourteen feet from stem to stern—or rather, nose to tail—and no less than twenty-three feet in girth. It was an immense brute,' sure enough. That night our mariners, long tired of salt junk, rejoiced over tender, succulent, and well-flavored hippopota mus-steak, for we found the flesh of the monster remarkably good, even delicious. Spanish Beauty. I had heard very much of the beauty of Spanish women, but indeed the half of the truth was not and cannot be told. Some times, heretofore, when standing half en tranced before Eurillo’s pictures, I have won dered whence came his ideal or inspiration; bat his 3Iadonnas and Magdalens only walk the streets of 3Iadrid and other cities of Spain* He had but to paint the portraits of his friends. Often have I stopped in utter aston ishment at such ravishing beauty. The fea tures, the form, the movement the expression, are Roman dignity combined with 31oorish grace; the stateliness of Zenobia with the voluptuousness of Cleopatra. Can it be that such summer evening twilight of repose can ever give place to the dark, stormy night of demoniac passion \ That vice, treachery, falsehood, lurk under that angelic exterior ? The statue of the Venus de 3Iilo in the Louvre, at Paris, and the statue of the Venus de Medici in the Tribune, at Florence, have divided the admiration of the world. They represent two types of womanhood, differing as nignt and day; the former strong, sensuous, affectional, devotional, and faithful friend, the constant wife, the devoted mother; the latter impulsive. The first typifies tho English woman, the last the French. A combination of the two constitutes the perfection of womanhood, as found in the Spanish Senora. She is evi dently the result of many generations of the finest culture. The climate, the scenery, the romance, the chivalry, the grand and stirring scenes of Spanish history, have perfectly matured and developed the Roman and Moorish blood that flows in her veins, finer than poet or painter ever conceived. The brilliant, dark eyes and raven hair, coral lips, pearly teeth, the delicate complexion, the delicate shading and penciling of her eye lash and brow, the shapely features, the ex pression of affection and warmth, the repose and dignity blended in her expression, the grace of manner, are indescribable. Her flowing dress, mantilla, veil, and ..the fan, set off her beauties of person, and her ease of movement seems without effort, and more like gliding than walking. She is not seem ingly offended or affected by the extravagant flattery or compliment paid her, but accepts it in apparent innocent unconsciousness of its being anything improper any more than if it had been addressed to the lily, the rose, a picture, or any work of art. If she be art ful, she possesses the higher art of concealing it.—Cor. Church Union. A Contented Farmer* Once upon a time, Frederick, King of Prus sia, surnamed “Old Fritz,” took a ride, and espied an old farmer, ploughing his acre by the wayside, cheerfully singing bis melody. “You must be well off, old man,” said the King. “Does this acre belong to you, on which yon so industriously labor ?” “No, sir,” replied the old farmer, who knew not that it was the King. “I am not so rich as that; I plough for wages.” “How much do you get a day!” asked the Bang. “Eight groschens,” (about twenty cents,) said the farmer. “This is not much,” replied the King. “Can you get along with this.” “Get along and have something left.” “How is this ?” The farmer smiled and said: “Well, if I must tell you, two groschens are for myself and wife; with two I pay my old debts; two I lend away; and two I give away for the Lord’s sake.” “This is a mystery that I cannot solve,” replied the King. “Then I will solve it for you,” said the farmer. “£ have two old parents at home, who kept me when I was weak and needed help; and now that they are weak and need help, I keep them; this is my debt toward which I pay two groschens a day. The third pair of goschens, which I lend away, I spend for my children, that they may receive a Christian instruction; this will come handy to me and my wife when we get old. With the last two goschens I maintain two sick sisters, whom I would not be compelled to keep; this I give for the Lord’s sake.” The King, well pleased with this answer, said: “Bravely spoken, old man. Now I will also give you something to guess: Have you ever seen me before ?” “Never,” said the farmer. “In less than fire minutes you shall see me fifty times, and carry in your pocket fifty of my likenesses.” “This is a riddle that I cannot unravel,” said the farmer. “Then I will do it for you,” replied the King. Thrusting his hand into his pocket, and counting him fifty bran new gold pieces in* to his hand, stamped with his royal likeness, be said to the astonished farmer who knew not what was coming: “The coin is genuine, for it also comes from our Lord God, and I am his paymaster. I bid you adieu.” A Fortunate Bo?.—A boy living in Rome, Ohio, recently picked up a small bright stone from the grade in the town, which proved to he valuable. A Cincinnati firm offered him four hundred dollars, then four hundred and fifty dollars, and finally four hundred and seventy-five dollars for it. He took it to another establishment, however, who said it was either a ruby or a diamond, and very valubale, probably worth seven thousand dollars. He y sent it to New York to be disposed o£ Preparing Soil for Wbeat—Experiments and Drilling. Every farmer in Middle Tennessee should sow some wheat, and ifposssible more than he did last year. It ought to have been sowed before this time, hat it is not too late yet,and those who have not yet pnt in their wheat should do so how with as little delay as possible. A correspondent of the Rural World makes the following suggestions in re gard to the preparation of soil for wheat: “The finest wheat fields are a compact, thoroughly pulverized soil Clay is neces sary to give this compactness; also health to the grain. A soil largely composed of veg etable matter is not the soil for wheat, how ever much straw may be grown—it is only in an unusually favorable year for the berry, and freedom from rust that it will do. Then a well prepared soil composed of clay and lime, with less vegetable matter, will do equally well, as having a plumper berry; a better, brighter straw. The thing between the two is more or less relative throughout. Perhaps never are the two conditions alike throughout. * “As for working in manure under all or most circumstances, it may be good, and it may not. It is not good, to have a soil very rich for wheat A rich soil, therefore, cannot bear manure. We prefer a rather poor soil with good underdraining and sub-soiL Then, by applying a compost composed somewhat largely of clay, and distributing it finely and even over the soil, and thoroughly mixing it with the harrow—a many-toothed, heavy harrow, nothing more can" be desired. The process is simple. Elevated sites are the most desirable. Where sod is turned down it is best to leave it undisturbed, especially when turned in deep. In such case, manure (some at least) should be used, and theground worked more or less the season through. For the soil in such case is apt to be raw, being turned up deep from below, and needs the ac tion of the elements and the aid of manure. In suchxase the manure may be applied early. Raw manure will here help most Let it be worked in at once and fermented in the soil. The full strength then will also be had, and the gronnd and manure be in con dition when the time for sowing arrives.— The good condition of the top-soil will thus at once give a good start to the grain; and the following season the sod, rotted, will do its work. With stubble, one plowing is sufficient—more would be harmful. It would bring up the old Boil to the top again with its stubble, and would make it too loose and mellow. One plowing, followed by the sub soil plow if necessary, is the best for stubble. Here, manure will also expedite the crop in the Fall—an important point. Sown rather late, and on good soil—manured if not rich enough—we are persuaded is the best plan taken throughout. It will cause the grain to grow at once, rapidly, and form a dense mass without running up into stalks, as would be the case with early sowing under favorable circumstances ot growth. Thus a protection will be afforded without harm Irom a premature growth, which must be avoided. The Spring growth will also be better, owing to the regulated condition*” A correspondent of the Southern Cultivator says an intelligent farmer of Georgia gives bim a method of growing wheat, which will be of interest to those who suffer from rust, .and whose lands ran together by the heavy rains of winter. It is as follows: 1st In September apply your manure broadcast, and break np the land thoroughly —the deeper the better, provided you do not turn up the sub-soil. “ 2d. Sow, during the dark nights in Octo ber, in drills two and a half feet apart. Be careful to lay off your land so that the Spring sun will be able to throw his morning rays directly on the rows. He says the dew causes rust, and the object is to dry it as early in the morning as possible. Sow "seven gal lons to the acre. 3d. When the wheat begins to boot, ran close to it with a long two-inch scooter, and thoroughly break up between the rows. Ob serve, write for this latitude, 811-2. “3Iy informant says he averages twelve bushels to the acre, and his neighbor loses his crop about every other year, and never makes over ten bushels. There was only a fence between their fields one year, and he made twelve or fifteen bushels, while his neighbor failed to save seed. "When the wheat is full grown the space between the rows is filled np.” This method is at least worth a trial. 3Ir. L. F. Livingston, of Newton county, Georgia, gives, through the Southern Culti vator, the result of an experiment made by a neighbor of his with his last crop. He sowed down, with the wheat, eighty pounds of salt per acre, and gathered a good crop of wheat, clear of rust, while all around bim made al most a failure. If salt will prevent rust, eve- ry farmer should know it and use it. Mr. George Cunningham, an enterprising farmer of the same county, in March last, sowed, as a top dressing, equal portions of salt and plaster, on a portion of a lot in wheat, as an. experiment; the effect was perceptible to all. The wheat thus managed was good, while that adjacent to it was very poor. These ex periments seem to demonstrate the fact that salt is a preventive of rust. As the cost of salt is trifling, compared to the losses sus tained by rust, all should test it for them selves. ' The Practial Farmer strongly advocates the drilling of wheat as preferable o?er the broad cast system. It says: “If any thing is settled in agricultural preaching and experience for the last twenty- five years, the advantages of drilling wheat, over broadcast sowing, is one of them.. In. this section, wheat is almost universally drilled in; but among onr subscribers in other sections, and especially the South and Southwest, broadcast seeding and covering with the common harrow it still mostly ia vogue. “In one of the Agricultural Reports from the Department at Washington, where statis- - tics of the crops from every section are col lected, there has been a remarkable agree- ' ment in stating that drilled wheat has been found not to suffer so much from freezing oat in Winter. This results from the seed being put in and covered at a greater depth than it can be with the common harrow, and also being covered with more uniformity. One to two pecks less seed is also required per acre; and it has also been found that drilled wheat stands up better at harvest time, from being batter rooted. It is diffi cult to give an increase production of one mode over the other, but there are few farmers who would estimate it less than five bushels per acre, while drilling often ia equivalent to saving of the entire, crop.— Grain drills have been greatly improved... within the last few years, not only being lighter of draft and easier to operate, felt have combinations to sow both fertalizer and grass seed with the grain.”—HashviUe Ban ner. . While California is producing $45,000,- 000 ib-gold, .she produces $6O,OO0,O0o ia . * ‘.w - < i ■ <• - ' V.v '. *■ , one enormous beast reared his body farm products, and $50,000,00 in manufac- signed in. of the sea, and every man shuddered,as tured goods. ‘ -.*- I®***P®^ * ’ r. " .A f •** . N >* * * ‘ - t *. * * <; ■ . ’ ' ' " * Vt. **- - .* • . .. . • , ,, >i. -K i. • '< f • \ A * » Native Skill.—Notwithstanding all that has been said and written of the “nau ve skill” of American engineers, the great project of an underground railway in New York has been entrusted for its development to English en gineers, and the contract has already been signed in London, looking to.an early com mencement of thegreat work.

Georgia Historic Newspapers

Weekly Georgia telegraph. (Macon [Ga.]) 1858-1869, October 16, 1868, Image 1