VOL. y.
THE APPEAL.
PUBLISH ED EVERY FRIDAY,
BY SAWTELL & CHRISTIAN.
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HEMOVAI. !
PUNTERS WAREHOUSE !
WE now have the pleasure of informing
the planters of Randolph and adjacent
«onnties, that E. McDonald haserected anew,
large and Commodious Warehouse, on depot
Street, south side of and near the public square.
The location being more central and near the
business part of the city, will enable us to of
fer many more inducements to the planting
public than heretofore —where wo will be
pleased to meet witli onr numerous old plant
ing friends and customers besides many, many
new ones.
We have ample arrangements for the jecep
tion and
Step of Cotton anil Roots.
Thankful for past favors, we hope, with in
creased advantages and personal attention, to
give general satisfaction and merit a liberal
patronage. The latest published Commercial
.News will at all times be ut the service of our
friends and patrons.
Liberal casli advances made on cotton and
.goods in store.
Consignments Solicited.
Personal attention given to the sale of
■Cotton, Bagging. Ties, Salt,.Guano, Thresh
ing Machines., Cotton Gins, Wagons,
Buggies, Harness, &c.. &c.
Plantation supplies furnished atlowc t mar
Wet prices.
Wni'oii yard, well, rooms, fire places, fur
nished teamsters free.
We are looking forward with pleasure to
the speedy completion of two new Kail Road
thoroughfares to our city, which will doubt
less cause a great reduction in freights, there
by enhancing the value of cotton and making
•onr mai ket second to none in the interior.
Planters, look to your iute est ant tiling
■your cotton to Cuthhert.
e. McDonald & co.
augß-4tn
ANDREW
Female College,
CUTH3ERT GA.
0
rip HE exercises of tliis institution will be
I resumed on Wednesday. the 20tli ot Sep
tetule r next, mid close on Tliurertay before tlie
lost Sabbat li in J line.
The eebolustic yetir will be divided into
Three Terms, beginning 2*lill September, Ist.
January Hint lstof April;
REGULAR COURSE :
PKRTRKM. J**R ANNUM.
Primary Department sl2 0(1 s3lit4)
Preparatory ’* 15 00 45 00
Oolleviate “ 20 00 00,00
Diploma Fee, (paid on
graduatbitf) $5 CO
I mident.als 1 00
Hoard, Washing, Fuel
and Lights, 18 00
Regular tuition of and. lighters .living by the
ministry —no charge
Each hoarding pupil should be urnished
with a Ibble, Trunk, one pair of sheets, one
pair of Pi low-cases, one pair Blankets, four
liaud-Towels, over-slmes and umbrella.
EXTRA COURSE:
I’EIl ANNUM.
G reek andFiench, each S4O 00
Tuition in Music lit! 00
Use of Piano 8 lid
Drawing m and Pastel 30 00
Instrnc ion in Oi 1 Painting, 4 i 00
Calisthenics, conducted by a
lady t •> Cos
.Singing in Classes No charge
Extra course pursued at, the option ol Pn
•rents and Guardians Payments must be made
iu October, January aud April.
Each pupil should he present, a* the opening
of the School.
The undersigned having been elected Presi
dent of Andrew Female College, an old and
popular Institution, sends fraternal greetings
to the Colleges of the South, makes his bow
to the publb . and solicits sympathy and a lib
-tral share ot patronage.
Summoned to a high Htid holy work—that
of preparing the mindsand hearts of i lie you g
for the busiuess and pleasures, joys and sor
rows of life—lie w ill call to lus assistance
the best educators of the country, and address
jiiuiself to the task with all the zeal and in
dustry that lie can command. Should time,
whose verdict we woo, demonstrate that lie
ji-aunot preside with dignity and success—
i.liat lie is incapable of imparling .net ruction—
that he is is not in the proper place—that A.
F. C. dcies not return a substantial equivalent
•to its patrons-tlie President, will abandon
the enterprise and refund all damages reli
giously assessed.
Parents and guardians wishing to educate
girls should not forget onr healthful locality,
refined society, commodious and well ventila
ted buildings," beautiful grounds, magniticeni
grove, and reasonable rates.
JOHN B McGEHEE,
President. A F. C.
'Cuthhcrt, Ga., Ang. 16th, 1871, ts
VALUABLE LAND
FOR SALE!!
I offer for sale my Plantation on the Be
nevolence road, one and a halt miles from
.Cuthbert, containing
405 Acres,
known as Lots Nos. 227 and 228. There are
I3d acres cleared, balance we.ll timbered. —
Comfortable dwellings and necessary out
buildings.
Will be sold at a bargain.
For further particulars apply to or address.
sep29-tt W. E. WALL.
SNUFF & TOBACCO,
BY THE JAR AND BOX
Very IjiOttv, at
ALUSON & SIMPSON’d.
CUTHBERT SIK APPEAL.
The Shadows in the Val
ley.
BY H. L. FLASH.
There’s a mossy, shady valley,
Where the waters wind and flow,
And the daisies sleep in s inter
’Neath a coverlid of snow ;
And violets, blue-eyed violets,
Bloom in beauty in the spring,
And the sunbeams kiss lh» wavelets
Till they eeem to laugh and sing.
But in autumn, when the sunlight
Crowns the cedar covered bill,
Shadows darken in the valley,
Shadows ominous and still ;
And the yellow leaves, like banners
Os an elfin host that’s fled.
Lined with gold and royal purple,
Flutter sadly overhead.
And these shadows, gloomy shadows,
Like dim phantoms on the ground,
Stretch their dreamy length forever
On a daisy covered mound.
And I loved her ; yes, I loved her,
But the angels loved her too;
So she's sleeping in the valley,
’Neath the sky so bright and blue.
And no slab of pallid marble
Rears its white and ghastly head,
Telling wanderers in the valley
Os the virtues of the dead ;
But a lily is her tombstone,
And a dew-drop pure and bright
Is the epitaph an ungel wrote
Iu tlie stillness of til; night.
And I’m mournful, very mournful,
For my soul doth ever crave
For the fading of the shadows
From the little woodland grave ;
For the memory of the loved one
From tny soul will never pari.
And those shadows in the valley
Dim the sunshine of my heart.
South Carolina.
BY J. W. IIEWITT.
The star of thy fame bath departed,
There arc omens, blood-red in the sky ;
Thy fair daughters weep broken-hearted,
While thy gallant sons smother the sigh,
Tlie keen sword of power Hangs o’er tbee,
A black veil is drooping before thee,
The strength of thine arm
Succumbs lo the storm,
While the thoi gs of oppression still gore
thee.
The proud blood of Huguenot sires,
Who were thrown on thy wave beaten
strand,
Gave life to the fl'ckcring fires
That kii.dled onr dear Southern land.
Thy wise men were trained up to love thee,
Their eloquence failed not lo move thee—
When uprose the Right
To battle with Might,
And the flag that waved, taunting, above
thee.
Rut, where are the proud and stout hearted
Who rose to dissever the chains?
With the ghosts of the past they’ve departed ;
Os their names, scarce a record remains!
Their homesteads are now desolated,
Or claimed by the stranger they hated ;
While in their high place
Stands an ignoble race,
And Destiny's pen writes—“ 'tis fated ! ”
The sword and the sceptre of power
Are placed in a stern despot’s hands ;
The finger of Time points the hour
When strangers shall rule o’er thy lands.
For thou can'st not bear the cheek blushing,
Or turn back the pure spirit’s gushing,
When ly rants decree
That bent be thy knee,
Tiie groans ot thy gall ’d honor hushing.
Utah—A Tragedy of 1857.
Warrants are out for the arrest of
Brigham Young and his son, J. A.
Young, on the charge of murder, in
having ordered the killing of Rich
ard Yates. The indictments on the
murder cases are understood to be
founded on the testimony of Bill
Hickman, who was once termed by
the Gentiles a Danite or secret
agent of the Mormon authorities.—
Yates visited the Mormon camp du
ring the rebellion of 1557 ostensi
bly to sell gunpowder.
The Mormons regarded him as a
spy, and some weeks after arrested
him and placed him in the custody
of Hickman, at Salt Lake. D.
Wells then commanded the Mormon
troops, and Hosea Stout was the
Judge Advocate. On the way to
Salt Lake he killed Yates, as he
says, by an order from Brigham
Young and Joseph A. Young, and
at the instigation of Wells and
Stout. Hickman is also confined
now at Camp Douglas. He went
with the officers to Echo Canon, and
after pointing out the spot where
he bad buried Yates, assisted in dis
interring the remains.
A shipowner, in dispatching his
vessel, had a great deal of trouble
with one of his men, who had got
drunk on his advance wages. Af
ter vessel had accomplished her voy
age, on settling with the crew it
came to the man’s turn to be paid.
“Whatname?” asked the merchant.
“Cain, sir,” was the reply. “ What!
are you the man who slew his
brother ?” “No, sir,” replied Jack,
giving his trowsers a nautical hitch,
“I’m the man that was slewed.”
Lunches for Horses. —In the
grocery stores in the city of New
York, “ horse lunches ” in the shape
of bunches of clover are sold.—
Could not farmers learn a lesson
from “ city 7 folks ” in this, and pro
vide their teams with a “bite ” and
a rest often minutes in the middle
of a hard forenoon’s ploughing ?
“ Sam, how did you like that
knife J sold you last week ? ” “So
so. Its not very sharp, yet you
managed to shave me with it,”
CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1871.
The Wife of Washington
in her Workroom.
BY JAMES PABTON.
There are fine ladies, it is said,
at present, who disdain the homely,
honarable duties of house keeping,
thinking it beneath them to attend
to the comfort, happiness and dig
nity of their families. If any such
there are, I should like to invite
them to look into the workroom
Mrs. Washington,at Mount Vernon,
the apartment in which the first la
dy of Virginia, in Virginia’s palmy
days, used to spend her mornings
at work, surrounded by busy ser
vants. Every great house in Vir
ginia had such a room in old times,
and ladies plumed themselves upon
excelling iD the household arts prac
ticed therein. This particular
workroom at Mount Vernon is de
scribed in old letters of the period,
copied and given to the world some
years ago, by the late Bishop Meade,
of Virginia.
It was a plain, good sized apart
ment, arranged and furnished with
a view to facilitate work. At one
end, there was a large table for cut
ting out clothes upon. At that time,
every garment worn by the slaves
had to be cut out and sewed either
by the ladies of the mansion-house,
or under their superintendence.—
The greater part of General W ash
ington’s slaves worked on
tions several miles distant from his
homo, and were provided for by
their several overseers; but there
were a great number of household
servants at Mount Vernon, besides
grooms, gardeners fishermen and
others, for whom the lady ot the
house had to think and contrive.—
At that broad table, Bat a skillful,
nice-looking negro woman, some
what advanced in years, with a pair
of sheers in her hand, cutting, cut
ting, cutting, almost all day and ev
ery day, the countless trowsers,
dresses, jackets and shirts, needed
by a family of, perhaps a hundred
persons. Everything worn by the
General or by himself, except their
best outside garments, which were
imported from Loudon, were made
in that room, under the eye of the
lady of the house.
All the commoner fabrics, too,
were home-made. On one side of
the room, sat a young cojpred wo
man spinning yarn; on another, her
mother knitting ; elsewhere, a wo
man doing some of the finer iron
ing ; here a woman winding; there
a little colored girl learning to sew.
In the midst of all this industry sat
Mrs. Washington, ready to solve
difficulties as they arose, and prompt
to set right any operation that might
be going wrong. She was always
knitting. From morning till din
ner—which was two o’clock—her
knitting was seldom out of her
hands. In this workroom, she usu
ally received the ladies of her fa
miliar acquaintance, when they call
ed in the morning, but she never
laid aside her knitting. The click
of her needles wasn’t always heard
in the pauses of conversation.
Her friends were surprised to see
her, after her eight years’ residence
at the scat of Government, instant
ly resume her former way of life.
They found her as of old, in her
workroom, with her servants about
her, knitting and giving directions.
One lady, who visited her after the
General’s retirement from the presi
deucy, gives an instance of her pru
dent generosity.
•‘She points out to me several
pairs of nice colored stockings and
gloves she had just finished, and
presents me with a pair half done,
which she begs I will finish and
wear for her sake.’’
Thus she contrived in one and the
same act, to make a present and
give a practical lesson in industry.
She was, indeed, a signal example
of that virtue, at a time when la
dies of wealth aud importance could
scarcely avoid practicing it. Site
used to speak of the time spent in
levees and oth_-r ceremonial duties,
as, “my lost days.”
The chief labor ol the mistress of
a house then was in training ser
vants. Mrs. Washington, like the
other Virginia ladies, had an eye
upon the families of her slaves—
and most of them had very large
families—and when she noticed a
little girl that seemed bright and
apt to learn, she would have her
come to the workroom, where she
would be taught to sew, and after
wards, other home arts. In this
way the house was kept supplied
with good cooks, chamber-maids,
seamstresses and nurses. Promis
ing girls were regularly brought up,
or, as we may say, apprenticed to
the household trade which they
were to spend their life iu exercis-
This training of servants was for
mcrly supposed to be part of the
duty of all mistresses of great hous
es, whether the servants were white
or black, bond or free. Ladies d'd
not then regard a house with all its
complicated and business apparatus,
as a clock, which, being wound up
after breakfast, would run twenty
four hours without further attention.
Having themselves actually per
formed all the operations of house
keeping, and having acquired skill
in their performance, they knew
that a good servant is not born,
but made; and they were willing to
take a world of trouble iu forming
a servant, in order that by and by
they might enjoy- the ease and pleas
ure derived from skillful service. I
must confess that sometimes, when
1 have heard ladies complaining of
the awkwardness of girls who, un
til recently, had never seen a house
hold implement more complicated
than a poker, or an iron pot, the
thought has occurred to me that
possibly, if they would take some
trouble to teach such girls theif du
ty, they would observe a gradual
improvement.
There is a tradition iu Virginia
that Mrs. Washington, with all her
good qualities, was a little tart iu
her temper, and favored the Gene
ral, occasionally, with a nocturnal
discourse, too much in the style of
Mrs. Caudle. The story rests upon
the slightest foundation, and it is
safe to disregard. Great house
keepers, however, are not usually
noted for amiability of disposition,
and ladies whose husbands aro very
famous, are apt to be over run
with company, which is not conduc
ive to domestic peace, nor does it
tend to curb the license of a wo
man’s tongue to remember that, at
her marriage, she brought her hus
band a vast increase, both of his
estate, and of bis importance in
the social system.
llow far George Washington was,
in his youth, from anticipating the
splendid career that awaited him !
He was by no means so favored in
fortune and family, as his biogra
phers would have us believe. Ev
ery reader, I suppose, remembers
the fine tale, which even Mr. Irving
repeats, of the youthful Washing
ton, getting a midshipman’s com
mission, and yielding it again to
his mother’s tears. There lay the
British man-of-war at anchor in the
river. The boat was on shore; the
lad’s trunk was packed; and, I
think, his uniform was on. But, at
the last moment, the tender youth,
overcame by his mother’s tears, de
cliried to go. Such is the romance.
The truth was this :
His motlTer, left a widow, w r as
anxious for the future of her boy,
fourteen years of age, whose only
inheritance was a farm and tract of
land on the Rappahannoc, of no
great value or promise. She w'as
advised to send the lad to sea, be
fore the mast, in one of the tobacco
ships that so often ascended the
broad rivers of Virginia. She was
for a while disposed to favor the
scheme But her brother, Joseph
Ball, a London lawyer, in large prac
tice, remonstrated against her sac
rificing her son in that way’, and
advised her to bring him up a plant
er.
“I understand,” he wrote, “that
you are advised, and have since
thought of putting your son George
lo f sea. 1 think lie had better be
put apprentice to a tinker, tor a
common sailor before the mast has
by no means the common liberty of
the subject; for they will press him
from a ship where he has fifty shil
lings a month, and make him take
twenty-three, and cut and slash,
and use him like a dog. And as to
any coucsiderable preferment in the
navy, it is not to be expected; as
there are always so many gaping
tor it here, who have interest, and
he has none.”
He proceeds to tell her that, a
Virginia planter, with three or four
hundred acres of land, and three or
four slaves, has a great deal better
chance ot winning a comfortable
and independent position, than even
the captain of a merchant ship —and
it was far from easy to get to Vie
captain. “George,” he concluded,
“must not be in too great baste to
be rich, nor aim at being a fine gen
tleman before bis time; but go on
gently and with patience.” Tlie
mother accepted this view of the
situation, and the boy was not cut
and slashed on board ship. He
learned, as we all know, the busi
ness of a surveyor, and practiced
that vocation until the death of his
brother gave him a competent es
tate.
He was Colonel commanding the
Virginia troops, twenty-seven years
of age, and shining with the lustre
of the fame recently won on Brad
dock’s field, when first the rich
young widow Custis cast upon him
admiring eyes. He was riding,
booted and spurred, in hot haste,
from headquarters to the capital of
the province, where he was to con
fer with the Governor concerning
the defence of the frontiers. With
in a few miles of his destination, he
vas pressed by a friend to stay to
dinner. With extreme reluctance
he consented, intending to mount
the moment the meal was over. At
the table he met the widow, and
was captivated. The horses ivere
pawing at the door, but the young
Colonel came not forth. The after
noon flew by, yet he came not- —
Evening drew on, the horses were
taken back to the stable—Col. Wash
ington had made up his mind to
stop all night. It was not till the
next morning that he rode away.
Within a year they were married
at the “White House,” which was
her home, and they took up their
abode At Mount Vernon soon after.
Her husband Lad left a vast estate
in lands, and foity-fiye thousand
pounds in money, oue-third of which
was hers, and now became the joint
property of Colonel Washington
aud herself. By their marrirge, he
became one of the richest men in
Virginia. She gained an excellent
husband, and her three children a
wise and careful father.
If any lady in Virginia could
claim exemption from the cares and
labors of a household, on account
of her wealth and social standing,
it was Mrs. Washington. She had
been an heiress and a beauty. For
generations her ancestors had been
persons of wealth and high consid
eration Her first husband possess
od a great fortune, and her second
was the most illustrious personage
of his time. But she deemed it a
privilege to attend to the details of
housekeeping, and regard the days
when she was obliged to shine in
the drawing-room, as “lost.”
Peter Holt’s Rock Heap.
BY CLAEA AUGUSTA.
Peter Holt’s wife would have
been a very happy woman but for
one circumstance. There is always
something, you know.
She had anew house, a lot of
new furniture, anew bonnet, and
various other things too numerous
to mention, but in themselves emi
nently calculated to raise a woman
to the heights of felicity.
But one thing troubled her vast
ly. Peter, her husband, had a most
disagreeable habit of digging rocks
and making rock heaps.
This digging of rock3 was almost
a monomania with Peter. He nev
cr seemed quite content unless he
was engaged in his favorite busi
ness, and as the soil of his farm
was four quarters rocks and the
rest dirt, of course the rock heaps
multiplied astonishingly under his
perservering system.
Now Mrs. Holt detested rocks.—
She never could clearly understand
what they were made for; but as
they were made, why not let them
stay where nature had pnt them,
and not make the world unsightly
by bringing them into notice ?
She used to talk a great deal to
Peter on his unfortunate hobby,
but he was one of those men whom
you can never t eason out of an idea,
and so he went on with his digging
—soiling his shirts, tearing his pan
taloons, blistering his hands, and
converting his farm into one mess
of rock heaps.
1
Under a locust tree by the garden
gate, in full view of the parlor win
dows, was a rock heap of enormous
growth Quite a pyramid for this
country. This heap gave Mrs. Holt
a keen pang every time she looked
at it. It took off her view of Wid
ow Jackson’s door yard ; and Wid
ow Jackson had a good many sweet
hearts, and of course it was nice to
be able to watch them, and see how
often they went, and how long they
stayed. But that rock heap made
it quite impossible.
Indeed, cvery-body spoke about
this unsightly thing, and wondered
whe 'e so many rocks came from,
and how long it took to dig them,
and what they were dug for ; and
discussed generally upon the
matter, so much that Mrs. Holt,
fairly hated that particular rock
heap. She begged Peter, with tears
in her eyes, to remove the rocks,
but he laughed at her. The land
was worthless, he said, and they
might as well bo there as anywhere.
He liked for people to see that he
hadn’t been an idle man in his time.
He guessed he had worked as many
hours a day as any other fellow !
One day Lanceburg, the village
near which the Holts resided, was
greatly excited by the arrival of a
fortune teller. Madame La Tours
was a wonder in her way. She
could tell everything one wanted
to know, and many things one
would not want to know—all for
fifty cents, and the strictest secrecy
observed.
Peter Holt was a credulous man,
and after madanie had flourished
for a few days, lie went to see her.
She told him wonderful things.—
Fame, fortune and happiness, were
to be his, and he was to live to a
great age, and he honored, respect
ed, and looked up to—etc.
But strangest of all, she informed
hitn that on his place was a pile of
rocks—close by the foot of a locust
tree, and beneath this pile was bu
ried a vast treasure of gold and sil
ver. If he would make this treas
ure his own, he must remove the
stones to a gulch not far off, which
she described accurately. lie must
do the work himself and take no one
into his confidence.
“It is a big pile,” said madame,
reflectively, “ and it will be a great
labor to remove it, but in the end
you will be rewarded with wealth
unbounded.”
“ Yes, ves ! you're right!” said
Peter, “ it’s a big pile, and it will
cost me a mighty lot of money to
bust it up, but I’ll do it, by jingo !”
Madame applauded his resolution
and Peter went home so full of his
prospective wealth, that though it
was seven o’clock of an extremely
hot August day, he set to work at
once on the rocks.
Ilis wife amazed beyond measure,
came out aud anxiously inquired
what he was doiug.
“ Never you mind,” said Peter,
loftily, “ I’m a man as knows my
biziness. Jest you tend to your
cooking.”
This was a stereotyped answer of
his whenever Mrs. Peter made any
suggestions, or offered any advice.
It was a long, tough job. Peter
used up one pair of pantaloons en
tirely, and wore his hands almost
to the bone, and got his horses so
stiff that they couldn’t be whipped
into a trot to save the world, but
he finished the business at last, and
the sole remaining rock was safely
deposited in the gulch.
“ Now for it!” said Peter to
himself, and rolled up his sleeves
and seized his pick to break ground
for the treasure.
At this time Mrs. Holt came out.
“ For pity’s sake, Peter,” said she
what are you about? Ypu won’t
have no trousers to your back if
you continue on in this way 7 .”
Never you mind, old lady : jest
you tend to your cooking. I’m a
man that knows what he is about.
I never was fooled or bamboozled
oy anybody iu my life.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Peter, submis
sively, “ I don’t dispute yon, Peter,
but i deem it my duty to tell you
that 1 paid Madame La Tours two
dollars and fifteen cents for tolling
you the story about the treasures
being buried under that rook heap.
And its my opinion that if you dig
till doomsday you’ll never find no
thing but more rock. But you’re a
man as knows his biziness and you
can dig if you want too.
Peter flung his pick at the locust
tree with such force that the handle
Mas broken in two, and one piece
like a boomerang, returned and hit
Peter on the shins, and brought
him down like a shot from a twenty
pounder.
He scrambled up, a little crest
fallen and taking the sympathising
Mrs. Peter by the arm and led her
into the house.
“ Look here, old woman,” said
he, “never you say anything to any
body about this ere affair, and here’s
twenty dollars to buy you anew
shawl. And hereafter, I’d advise
you never to mind me, but you just
tend to your cooking.”
3lrs. Peter took the money and
bought the shawl, and kept silent on
the matter of the rock heap, like
any other woman, until site got
ready to speak.— S r eic York hedy
cr.
Manuring; the Orchard.
Next lo starting the orchard with
good varieties, nothing is of more
importance than feeding the trees
liberally. The best variety in the
world cam.ot remain a good variety
if starved into disease, any more
than can a good variety of horses
or a good variety of cattle. What
would you think of the man who
would pay an exorbitant price fora
famous Jersey cow, reputed to give
eighteen quarts of milk per day,
and put her to pasture to obtain
her own feed upon one of our old
sedge fields, where broom sedge
was the exclusive growth ? Would
you not regard him as a very fool
ish dairyman, and don’t you con
elude that his eighteen quarts per
day would soon “ come out at the
little end of the horn ?” Well, the
case of the man who puts out his
fruit trees and leaves them to shift
for themselves in an old sedge field
is precisely a parallel one. No mat
ter how excellent his varieties, the
fine yield of fine fruit promised in
the nurseryman’s catalogue cannot,
under such circumstances, do oth
erwise than “ come out at the little
end of the horn.”
Now is a good time for ma
nuring the orchard, and it should
not be suffered to pass unimproved.
Old trees and young should have
their ratio is for the next season put
out to them now--we say now, and
why we say it is because our heavy
winter rains will soon come, and if
they find the manure upon the
ground they will carry a large pro
portion of it down among the small
roots of the tree, depositing it
where it can readily be taken up.
If you desire to do the thing
properly, dress the entire ground of
your orchard, and don’t be sparing
of the manure. It will bring far
better results than could possibly
arise from merely manuring around
the trees, for the small feeders, or
roots, run everywhere, and they
are generally, more numerous some
distance away from the tree than
they are close to it. Scatter broad
cast and put under by a very shal
low turning.
Old trees gone into decline from
neglect, may generally ho revived
by what is called “ trench manur
ing.” Commence within a few feet
of the trunk and dig in radiance di
rectly from it like the spokes of a
wheel, several narrow trenches, sink
ing them to the depth of three or
four sett, and extending them be
yond the distance reached by the
longest brauches. Fill these with
some kind of good and well rotted
coinpost, and cover the surface with
three or four inches of common soil.
If this is done now, or soon, the
compost will have settled together
and become a natural deposit, as it
were, by spiing, when, if the tree is
not already too far gone, to put out
leaves, its minute roots will burst
through the walls of the trenches
find themselves “in clover,” go to
work -with alacrity, and soon send
new life into every part of the
growth.
Almost any species ot manure
will be found beneficial to theorch
ard. Stable or barnyard manure
has few superiors; none, perhaps, if
a little ashes and lime are combined
with it. A most excellent orchard
compost may be made of swamp
muck, stable manure, hard wood
ashes, and litne. Where the lime is
not convenient, crushed bones may
be made to answer the purpose,
and leaf mould may be used in
place of swamp muck. It should
be heaped together and left to un
dergo a thorough rotting. —Mobile
Register.
“ Whiskey is your greatest ene
my,” said u minister to Deacon
Jones.
“Put,” said Jones, “don’t the
Bible say, Mr. Preacher, that we
are to love our enemies ? ”
“Oh, yes, Deacon Jones; but it
don’t say we are to swallow them.”,
A lad arrested for theft, when ta
ken before the magistrate and asked
what his occupation was, fraukly
ailswered, “ Stealing.”
-i Your candor astonishes me!”
said the Judge.
“ I thought it would replied the
lad, “seeing how many big ’uns
thero are in the same business and
is ashamed to o\yn it.”
TRIER MD TRUE.
Another True Story of California
Life.
In the year 1851, there were
among the early American settlers
of California two brothers named
Thompson, who having come thith
er from the Eastern States at the
beginning of the gold excitement,
three years befere. and labored con
jointly for the more generous fa
vors of fortune, without commensu
rate result, decided at last to sepa
rate for a time ; the one to go to
the mines and wgrk for the frater
nal partnership, while the other re
mained in the city and improved
such chances as ordinary business
should offer. By such an arrange
ment two promising fields would
be worked at once, and its wisdom
was equally obvious to both young
men; but when it came to the ques
tion of which should assume the
hardships and perils of a miner’s
life, neither exhibited an alacrity to
name himself for the adventure.
To decide this delicate point they
drew lots, by which formula of fate
the elder Thompson was doomed to
become the miner, and accordingly
procured an outfit and prepared to
leave the city. Before taking tho
latter step, however, the miner elect
chose to bring a little romance of
his California life to a climax by
w’Ctlding a young eastern woman,
w’ho, like himself, had left home to
woo fortune on the Pacific coast,
and, although he could not take her
with him into the wild, comfortless
life of the mines, the satisfaction of
feeling that he had at least secured
her for himself, and had a beloved
brother in whose care to leave her,
gave him more courage and inspira
tion for his departure than might
have been possible for him as a
bachelor. Wedded he was, then,
and after the honeymoon of heroic
brevity he consigned his bride to
the protection of Lis brother, and
bravely marched away with pick
and shovel to the gold fields of the
North. Eager as he naturally was
to dig his prize fron. the earth and
hasten back to the greater prize left
behind, he was firmly resolved to
deny himself wife, brother and
home until he could indeed he the
bearer of some share of wealth. So
when his first essay in the mines
did not prove wholly satisfactory,
he went sturdily onward into the
Indian country, and amongst the red
men added hunting and trapping to
his mining pursuits. Thence mov
ing still further northward, he
reached Fraser river when the ex
eitement about the auriferous yield
of that locality was at its height, and
there succeeded in digging no less
than two hundred ounces of the pre
cious dust, w r hiuh lie at once sent to
his wife and brother in San Fran
cisco.
From them he had thus far heard
nothing on his travels, for it had
been agreed that they should not
write until he should ho in some
place reached by regular mails; hut
no\^* e was impatient to learn how
they regarded his present, and felt
sure that they would devise some
means of forwarding their written
congratulation. The feeling was in
vain, however, no letter came ; and
after months of waiting, the finally
indignant Thompson wrote to a
friend in San Francisco with enqui
ries respecting the silent ones. The
answer came that they had recently
disappeared from the city together,
having apparently in their posses
sion a considerable sum of money,
obtained no one knew exactly how.
The miner of course knew whence
the money came ; but such intelli
gence of its seeming effect upon
those whom he had held dearest in
the world appealed to his apprehen
sion in a most sinister sense. lie
believed that he was doubly betray
ed ; that his wife and brother had
basely and heartlessly practiced the
blackest treachery against him,final
ly using the gold he had sent to help
them beyond his reach. Heartbro
ken and desperate the poor fellow
thought no more of any goodly for
tune for himself, but cared only for
such wandering wild adventure and
savagery,as should divert him from
all retrospective and tender
thoughts.
He joined an expedition to the
Great Slave Lake, as it is called,
and remained in the wilderness be
yond reach of mail or messenger
for several years. Returning final
ly to Victoria, or Fraser river, he
went with another expedition to
Idaho, and there and in Montana lie
was lost until as late as 1866. From
the latter year until 1868 he was a
resident of Salt Lake City, going
from thence to the onco famous
White Pine mines of Nevada, about
eighteen months ago. Fortune
smiled not upon his generally listless
efforts; he had a life of comfortless
vagabondage, and the twenty years
of his absence from San Francisco
wrought such lines in his face and
whiteness in his hair as forty hap
pier ones could not have produced.
Some two weeks ago the broken,
hopeless and embittered man visit
ed a mining camp pot far distant
from the town of Eureka, Nevada,
for the purpose of joining a compa
ny fitting out a trip to Arizona, and
there, says the Eureka Sentinel, tell
ing his story, he was fated to be de
livered at last from the delusion of
twenty miserable years. Jn the ex
pedition preparing for Arizona was
another ma n Thompson, who,
though neither recognized or recog
nizing at first, proved to be no oth
er than our miner’s recreant broth
er. When the poor vagabond die*
NO. 47
covered this, despite his wrongs, ho
fell upon his brother’s neck and
cried like a child; and not only did
that brother receive and return the
caress without shame, but he took
the earliest opportunity to reprove
the other for leaving his wife and
brother to suppose for nearly a score
of years that he was dead.
The gold had been received, but
without address, or a line to tell
whether it came as a living man’s
gift or a dead man’s legacy. No let
ter from the miner had ever reach
ed wife or brother, though they had
sent one to him. The wife had felt
at last obliged to conclude that her
husband was dead; the gold he
sent her had been his dying gift,
and w ith the money’ she bought a
valuable farm near San Jose, where
wearing tho w’eeds of widowhood,
she still lives. As for the brother,
he spent portions of tho last fifteen
years in pursuit of some trace of
the miner, hoping at least to find
his grave and sanctify it with a
fraternal tear; but now r that he ac
tually saw the living man before
him, nothing w r as left for them but
a rushing journey to a certain val
ley farm near San Jose, where the
best, truest and staunchest would
at once become the most surprised
and happiest little woman iu the
world. “Ere this,” concludes tLo
story, “ there has been a meeting 1 .”
The decline of life will pass in ease,
comfort and happiness for a ipau
who for twenty' years believed him
self the victim of woman’s perfidy.
Tam in g of the Bride
groom.
Mr. Spillman had just married
second wife. On the day after the
wedding Mr. S. remarked :
“ I intend, Mrs. Spillman, {.p en
large my dairy.”
“ You mean our dairy,” my dear,
replied Mrs. Spillman.
“No,” quoth Mr. Spillman, “ I
intend lo enlarge my dairy.”
“ Say our dairy, Mr. Spillman.”
“ No, my dairy.”
“ Say our dairy, say our—
screamed she seiziug the poker.
“ My dairy ! my dairy ! ” yelled
the husband.
“Our ditiry! our dairy! ” screech
ed the wife, emphasizing each wqrjj
with a blow on the back of her
cringing spouse.
Mr. Spillman retreated under tho
bed. In passing under the bed
clothes his hat was brushed off,
He remained under cover for sever
al minutes, waiting fora lull in the
storm. At last his wife saw him
thrusting his head out at the fpos
of the bed, much like a turtle from
its shell.
“ W hat are you looking for ? ”
exclaimed the lady’.
“lain looking for our hat, my
dear,” says he.
VARIETY.
A dry goods firm on churcl) street,
advertise domestic crashes. Is it 4
Chicago invoice ?
Measures are on foot for stocking
the open plains and prairies of the
West with trees.
The hilarious moon was so cheat
ed at the clearing-off last night that
she got quite full oyer jt,
No matter how prosperous thejr
business may be, whalers and la rtf*
makers always have trying times.
Anna Dickinson has pocketed by
her lectures since 1860, the snjjg
little sum of SIB,OOO, and Olive
Logan who has hoop lecturing three
years $40,000.
At the lunatic asylum of LeopoL
dified, Hungary, forty or fifty male
inmates, whose cases are not hope
less, are drilled twice a week hi iiijb
itary tactics, for the promotion qf
their recovery.
Two interesting agricultural en
terprises are in progress —one the
cultivation of oranges in California,
and the other the establishment of
an olive grove qu the St -John
er in Florida.
Anew Jersey woman discovered
her lost little boy in a Gipsy camp,
and attempting to recover him, was
assaulted and beaten off by the vdijt
laws. The boy begged to" be allow
ed to go with his mother.
An illiterate farmer wishing to
enter some animals at an agriptilH?
ral exhibition, wrote to the Secret*,
ry as follows : “Also enter me for
the best jack ass. lam sure of tafe.
ing the premium.”
Boston has 148 churches, of
which 27 are Unitarian. The Meth
odists copie next with 22. The
Baptist have 17 churches—the same
number the Romanists; the Episoo
palians 16, and the Presbyterians 7.
A Goni passionate Boston
seeing a vegetable vendor beating
his horse, cruelly, cried out, “ Have
you no mercy ? ” to which the as
tonished man replied, ‘ f No 14am;
I’ve nothing left but greens and en
bumbers.”
When Troy was in its infancy
they proposed christening it Yam
derhayden but better counsel pre
vailed. Since that time a pareftjl
statistician has learned that 2,806
barrels of ink and 453 years time
has been saved in writing her name,
“ Jenny,” said a landlady to hpp
help the other morning, “was there
any fire in the kitchen last night
while }ou were sitting up ? ” ‘*Ou
ly just a spark, ma’am,” was the re,
ply. The landlady looked suspi,
ciously at Jenny, but the innocent
darling went on scrubbing and ‘hurti*
tiling *• lvaty Darling.”
