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AXmtTSTA 'WASBXHCntQSrXAK* @ @ftes® jfawEt paiaeif: Srtwtei 5® gmumwce, 'Hiinilttwta ®ro® JMswEaw®)®* s&ipMt#j®s. I Vol. II No. 27-1 t 7 Zht Gffashfnfftomaii jl "WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY I * MORNING, BY | JAMES MctIAFFERTY, ;At the low price of one dollar jut annum, for ' a single subscriber, five dollars for a club of , •# s j tj or ten dollars for a club of twelve sub- | •jj scribers — payment , in advance. rll Communications, by mail, addressed to the ‘ publisher, must be post paid to receive atten- ’ tion. Bv the rules of the Post-Office Depart- 1 ■ ment, Post masters may frank subscription ■ money for Newspapers. lAdvertiskments will b* inserted at the follow- ; ing reduced rates: -For one square, not 'X | ecedino twelve lines, 50 cents for the first | insertion, and twenty-five cents for each eon- I ti nuance, if published weekly; if semi-monthly 37i; and if monthly 43} cents, for each con tinuance. 1 Yearly advertisers 10 per ct. discount. ~’ rr 'Jrgtr..J^r_-_J**s-*' I y ilt wi' a | From the Columbus Enquirer. Arboriculture. Messrs. Editors : —As a great propor- I tion of your readers are Agriculturalists, I and many of them somewhat engaged in horticulture and arboriculture, I thought it might not prove uninteresting to them to know through your valuable paper, something of my practice and experience in cultivating fruit. Almost every kind of fruit can be made ft) mature in this climate with proper care and attention. For instance, the soil that suits the Peach, can lie made to suit the Apple, Pear and Plum, taking care to manure annually with swamp mud, de cayed leaves anil lime—the lime should !>*■ applied sparingly. Plums, Apricots, (’berries, &c., should h>* placed in such a location that when the tree begins lo fruit, hogs, geese, ducks, <Sic. can have free access to the trees ; by these means all the falling fruit pierced by the curculio will be destroyed and that destructive insect, which so often des troys whole crops of the thin skinned fruits, will he kept under. I have no dif ficulty in producing the fine varieties of the Plum and Cherry And if we have no late frosts the coming season, to nip the bud and destroy the fruit, I shall he able to exhibit to those of your readers who are curious in such matters, speci mens that will make their mouths water. I hear great complaint of the failure of the tine varieties of the Grape ; and I attribute it to excess in pruning We are too prone to follow European sys tems—what suits in Fiance and Italy, may not suit here. That we have native Grapes superior to those imported, is now admitted by all who have tested them. And our native varieties do not require as much pruning as the foreign, (at least so far as my experience goes.) Three years ago, last Spring, I procured about 30 varieties of the Grape from cuttings, (and by the by, let me say, a cutting is superior to a root for propagation,) and the vines have done remarkably well, bul there are out of the whole lot but three varieties worth cultivating for their fruit, <fec. : the Catawba, Bland and Isabella. The vines of the three above named kinds fruited uncommonly full this season, and nil bid fair to ripen finely, but the wet weather coming on rotted the Isabella and the Bland, whilst the Catawba stood uninjured and yielded all enormous crop of the finest fruit I ever saw. The Ca tawba when ripe is a deep red, and hangs on the vine in clusters on a long single k stem, presenting a most beautiful appear ance. I gathered from my garden over one hundred and fifty bushels of this de licious fruit this season. 1 he Isabella does well in a dry summer. I manure my Grapes similar to my trees, only adding more lime. Mv soil is very poor and sandy, and vet I have no difficulty in producing the finest varieties of the Apple, Pear, Plum. Peach, Apri cot, Nectarines, English Cherry. Grapes, Figs, English Gooseberry, &c. &c. In short, this is the finest fruit-growing coun try in the world. I will close by recommending to your readers the dying Scotchman’s advice to his son, “Plant a Tree, Jock, it will e’en grow whilst ye are sleeping.” Charles A. Peabody - . Spring Hill, Ala., Nov. 8, 1843. P.S.-I hope these few remarks will] J ■■ AUGUSTA, GA. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 9. 1843. be the means of eliciting from older and I more experienced persons much valuable 1 information to the community. i Weeds, Leaves, and Mould. Can we prevail upon you to go to work y with one of your teams and a hand or j two, and collect some hundreds of loads t of these substances, and cover over the yard in which you intend to keep your ( stock ? By doing so now they will be- , come consolidated by the time you yard r your cattle ; and relv upon it, that they will m ike every pound of it good man- j ure by next spring; but if you desire that , there shall be no loss from evaporation. | of the gem-like liquid spread a bushel of plaster or charcoal over the mass once in \ two weeks, from the time you yard your stock until you cart out your manure in ( the spring. Bo sure, too, in forming your yard, to make it in the shape of n basin, so that none of the rich, fertiliz ing juice may be washed away. l.imc hi Agriculture. - The Danville Intelligencer states that Mr. Caldwell, near that place, raised the past season 300 bushels of wheat from a a field of 12 acres. Five years ago the product of the same field was only 30 bushels. In the meantime Mr. C. has spread 1500 bushels of lime on said field. Yankee Farmer. From the Maine Farmer. , Beware of short Collars. 1 Mr. Holmers: —On Sunday afternoon 1 last, a man put up at my house, who had 1 a sick horse. The horse did not appear ■ to be in much pain, but would not eat any ? thing; he had been travelling in a team, perhaps 70 miles. On Monday after ? noon the horse died very suddenly. He ? was standing in the stall, and as I sup -1 posed was about to lie down. I went out ‘ at the great door and in at the stable door 5 as soon as I could, and found him entire •ly dead. He .must have died without a I struggle. The owner engaged one of my horses to complete his journey. On 1 harnessing, I observed that the collar 1 which the sick horse had worn was too > small, and objected toils being put on ■ my horse; it was shifted and put on the 1 other horse. 1 On making a post mortem examination -of the dead horse, I found that the breast on tbe inside, and the lower part of the • shoulder appeared to be much affected, as s there were appearance of great internal 5 inflamation. There was no other appear -1 ance of disease or injury to be found in i him, and from this I am led to infer that s his death occurred. This should lead oth ■ ers to beware, and they may perhaps, pte ■ vent much loss to the owners, and much - needless suffering to that useful animal— -1 the horse. John Ladd. Winthrop, Me., Jan. 18, 1840. ' "Ivj 08 <0 £ULA N E ©¥i7~ 6 ■ . ’ Too Many Calls. . A SKETCH—BV MRS. M. E. BEECHER STOW. 2 It was a brisk clear evening in the lat t ter part of December, when Mr. A. re ? turned from his counting house to the t comforts of a bright coal fire, and warm • arm chair, and looked up to the ceiling s with an air of satisfaction. Still there I was a cloud on his brow—what could the 1 matter be with Mr. A.? To tell the 2 truth he had that evening received in his i counting room the agent of one of the ■ principal religious characters of the day 3 —and had been warmly urged to double 1 his last year’s subscription, and the urg t ing had been pressed by statements and • arguments to which he did not know well 1 how to reply :—“ People think,” solilo -1 quized he to himself, “that I am made •of money. I believe this is the fourth 3 object this year for which I have been re -2 quested to double my subscription, and - this year has been one of family expenses ' —building and fitting up this house, car ■ pets, curtains, no end to the new things to be bought. I really do not see how lam • to give a cent more in charity—then J here are bills for the boys and the girls i —they all say they must have twice as > much now, as before we came into this 3 house—wonder if I did right in building • it?” And Mr. A. glanced uneasily up » and down the ceiling, and around on the • costly furniture, and looked into the fire in silence—he was tired, harrassed and drowsy, his head began to swim—and r his eyes closed—he was asleep. In his > sleep he thought he heard a tap at the 1 door, he opened it, and there stood a plain, poor looking man, who in a voice singularly low and sweet, asked for a few moments conversation with him. Mr. 1 A. asked him into the parlor, and drew him a chair near the fire. The stranger looked attentively around, and then turn ing to Mr. A. presented him a paper. I “It is your last year’s subscription to.’ Missions,” said he; “you know all the I wants of that cause that can be told you; ; I I called to see if you had any thing more 1 to add to it.” < This was said in the same low and quiet voice as before, but for some reasons I unaccountable to himself, Mr. A. was I more embarrassed by the plain, poor, un- < pretending man, than he had ever been in the presence of any one before. He was for some moments silent before he i began the same excuses which had ap peared so satisfactory to him the after noon before. The hardness of the times, the difficulty of collecting money, family expenses, &c. The stranger quietly surveyed the spa cious apartment, with its many elegan cies and luxuries, and without any com ment took from the merchant the paper he had given, but immediately presented him with another. “ This is your subscription to the Tract Society; have you anything to add to it —you know how much it has been doing and how much more it desires to do, if i Christians would only furnish means—do you not feel called upon to add something toil?” Mr. A. was very uneasy under his appeal, but there was something in the still mild manner of the stranger that re strained him; but he answered that a!- 1 though lie regretted it, exceedingly, his 1 circumstances were such that he could ’ not this year conveniently add to any of his charities. i The stranger received back the paper ■ without any reply, but immediately pre ! sented in its place the subscription of the ■ Bible Society, and in a few clear and for cible words, reminded him of its well ‘ known claims and again requested him to add something to his donation. Mr. A. ■ became impatient. “Have I not said,” he replied, “that I 1 can do nothing more for any charity than l did last year '! There seems to he no ‘ end to the calls upon us in these days. 1 At first there were only three or four ob ! jects presented, and the sums required were moderate —now the objects increase 1 every day, all call upon us for money, 1 and all after we give once, want us to ! double and treble and quadruple our sub -1 scription ; there is no enif to the thing— I we may as well stop in one place as ■ another.” • 1 “ The stranger took the paper, rose, 1 and fixing his eyes upon his companion, ' said in a voice that thrilled his soul— “ One year ngo to-night you thought that your daughter lay dying—you could not sleep for agony—upon whom did you call that night?” . The merchant stared and looked up — there seemed a change to have passed over the whole form of his visitor, whose eyes were fixed upon him; he drew back, covered his face, and made no reply. “ Five years ago,” said the stranger ■ “ when you lav at *the brink of the grave, ; and thought if vou died then you should i leave a family of helpless children entire ; ly unprovided for, do you remember how s you prayed—who saved you ?” ; The stranger paused for an answer, : but there was a dead silence. The mer -3 chant only bent forward, at once entirely : evercome, and rested his head on the seat ' before him. The stranger drew yet nearer, and ’ said in a still lower and more impressive tone, “Do you remember fifteen years since, that when you felt yourself so lost, ' so helpless, so hopeless, when you spent days and nights in prayer—when you 1 thought you would give the whole world ! for one hour’s assurance that vour sins m * were forgiven you—who listened to you ’ then?” “It was my God and Saviour,” said the merchant, with a sudden burst of 1 remorseful feeling, “O yes, it was he.” “ And has he ever complained of being called on too often?” inquired the stran ’ ger,in a voice of reproachful sweetness; “say,” he added, “are you willing to . begin this night and ask no more of him, if he from this night will ask no more ofyou ?” “Oh, never, never, never!” said the merchant, throwing himself at his feet, but as he spoke these words the figure seemed to vanish, and he awoke with his whole soul stirred within him. “Oh God and Saviour, what have I been saying ? —what have I been doing ?” he exclaimed. “Take all, take every thing—what is all I have to what thou hast done for me ?” Joseph C. Neal, Author of “Charcoal Sketches ,” and the editor of the Pennsylvanian , and withal one of the cleverest geniuses in the whole list of our acquaintance, has |hoen defeated in his election to Congress, t He bears up manfully and thus discours jeth : 1 “And yet it is sometimes a comforta ible thing to be defeated. One walks ihome after such a disaster with no parti- I jcular care upon his mind. He is perfect ly free from solicitude. He can go to bed with no fear of having his minority ( slumbers disturbed by the roaring shouts of a lamp light procession. It is not ex pected that he should shivcringlv arise at I two or three o’clock in the morning, to make thankful speeches for the honctr which has been done to him, or to invite ! Tom, Dick and Harry, to come in and soil his carpets and drink his wine. He can take his meals and read the ‘returns’ in quiet, unannoyed by either bell or ! knocker. He is not required to give ‘cold cuts’ and savory collations to celebrate ! the triumph. On the contrary, all past election expenses are dispensed with in : his case on account of the ‘cold cut’ pre ’ viously given to him at the polls. When > he walks forth, his way thro’ the streets ris clear and unembarrassed. Nobody r squeezes his hand and asks for his influ j encc. He is not obliged to perplex his . brain in the coinage of piquant replies in . answer to flat and wearisome compli -3 ments. Success must smile, but defeat 1 may indulge in his humor. f “And then what cares he for securities. He is safe enough in himself. His af r lairs, too, may stand as they arc—no . winding up and packing up, no changes 2 to disturb his household goods or to dis . tress adhesiveness. No winter at Wash -1 ington or sojourn at Harrisburg to be pro -2 vided for. no perplexities about other peo . pie’s business, no cogitations about how to remain popular, and to satisfy all the [ world and the world’s wife. He who is 1 defeated, may think as he pleases. He 2 is neither compelled to have opinions nor .to define positions. lie has no dignity . to support, pinching him under the arms 1 and rendering him as uncomfortable as an 2 unaccustomed coat, and whether he isde , inocraticor aristocratic in his deportment, > nobody knows nor cares. “Who then, let us ask, who would not .be a defeated candidate? Who would s not be like Jaflier. ‘in love and pleased with ruin ?’ It is for the ‘constituency’ to repent of blunders, not for him, the free, ’ the untrammelled, the independent, the ’ un-voted for. If the affairs of the Re public go wrong, let others weep—‘thou I can’st not say I dit it.’ ” — Sav. Sun. 1 Tile School Master Abroad. The Baltimore Clipper tells a good ■ story, of which the following is the sub- I stance. A board of ‘School Commiss ' ioners,’ who encumbered a consequential i little village in Maryland, being in want of a teacher, advertised in the newspapers r for ‘a well disposed moral man, who was , capable of teaching the dead languages, 1 and did not chew tobacco or drink whis - key.’ After a fortnight of this adverti ,■ sing had been elaborated, a rawboned Yankee made his appearance, with a knife and pine stick in one hand, and a . Cape Cod Protection, alias a cake of gin gerbread, in the other, and held the fol t lowing dialogue with the Committee aforesaid:— j ‘ Well, sir,’ said the chairman eyeing the candidate from head to foot, ‘do you possess the necessary requirements for a public school teacher ?’ t ’ ‘ I guess I do,’ answered Slick, whit* tling his stick. ‘Do you understand Latin?’ asked one of the Committee men, a Dutch farmer. ‘I guess I do,’ replied Slick again, , rounding the end of the stick with his :• knife. , ‘Well lets hear some of your Latin,’ said the chairman. ’ * Quimbo hie quashicum, et punkinitum ' iimgun,’ said Slick, drawing his coat ’ sleeve slowly under his nose. ) ‘Humph!’ exclaimed the Dutchman, ’ ‘ish dat Latin? Who’s te author?’ ‘Josephus replied Slick; ‘he says in his life of Governor Hancock, * Sic tran ! sit gloria Monday morning—llancocki i bus quad erat demonstratum.” ‘Dat’s goot!’ exclaimed the Dutch -1 man, rubbing his hands, ‘ tere never vas better Latins!’ , ‘Now, sir,’ said the chairman, ‘I sup- < 1 pose you understand Geography ?’ 1 ‘I guess I do,’ said Slick, sharpening i i the end of his stick. ' * How far have you been ?’ i [One Dollar a Year. ‘ As far as the District of Columbia.’ ‘What State is it in V ‘ A state of despiration.’ ‘ What latitude are we in ?’ ‘ Accor din ’ to the themometer, we are ten degrees below zero.’ ‘Which is the most western point of North America.’ ‘Cape Cod.’ ‘Good. Now, sir, let us know how far you have studied mathematics. — What’s the area of a square acre of land V ‘ That depends upon the quality,’ repli ed Slick, snapping the blade of his knife. ‘Well, suppose it be good corn land?’ ‘ Why it depends upon the number of hills.’ * Say—five hundred.’ ‘ Guess you might as well tell a fellow how many grains to a hill V ‘ Five.’ ‘ Then accordin’ to Euclid, it would be 742 feet horizontally perpendicular.’ ‘ Excellent! Pray, sir, where are you from ? ‘ Staunton, down in the Bay State— and I can do ’most any thing.’ ‘No doubt, but there is one thing you cannot do; you cannot humbug us.— You can go ’ The Scourge of New Orleans. “The New Orleans Republican of the 28th ultimo, contains a very interesting article of statistics of the Yellow Fever, for the present season. It presents over ' lour columns of close printed names, in ! small type, and is a melancholy record of the unmerciful ravages of this dreadful 1 plague. The list comprises the names of ’ 826 persons, whose birth places arc thus ’ summed up :—Germany, 227 ; Ireland, ' 205 ; United States, 128 ; France, 58 ; ■ England, 22 ; Scotland, 12; Italy, 7; ■ Switzerland, 5; Sweden, 4; Spain, 3; ■ Nova Scotia, 3 ; Denmark, 8 ; Poland, 2; ' Prussia, 2 ; Canada, 1; Sicily, 1. Os ' the small comparative number of native ! population, only two are set down as hav ; ing been born in New Orleans, and of the ' remainder 9 out of 10 are stated to be from the Northern and Western parts of the Union. It is also shown that nearly ' all the victims were persons in the vigor 1 and prime of life—the greater number ' being between the ages of 18 and 45. Os ’ the whole 826, only 19 had passed their fiftieth year, and only 105 were women. ; The inference from these interesting facts, (says a correspondent of the Ala bama Tribune) is, that the causes which • produce the disease are entirely innocu > ous to natives—that it originates solely : in local agencies—that vigorous and ful ' ly matured constitutions are more liable 1 to it than those verging to decay or rising to virility—that from the small compara tive number of women which it destroys, exposure, dissipation of all kinds, and im prudence invite and aggravate it. To give strength, however, to these deduc- J tions, it will be necessary to know what proportion the local born population holds to the foreign.born, and what is the com ’ parative number of the two sexes.” , A Daguerre Picture made by Lightning. In the volume by Mrs. Child, entitled ■ “ Letters from New Y r ork,” she quotes 1 the following passage, professedly irom a i book written a hundred years ago by a i Virginia cavalier. It seems that nature • had given a pretty clear hint of picture • making by the single medium of light, : long before Daguerre was thought of. “Ofail the effects of lightning that I J ever heard of, the most amazing happened iin this country in the year 1736. In the i summer of that year, a surgeon of a ship, whose name was Davis, came ashore at ■ New York to visit a patient. He was no sooner got into the house but it began to s rain, with many terrible claps of thunder. . When it was almost dark there came a , terrible flash of lightning, which struck i the surgeon dead as he was walking about the room, but hurt no other person, ' though several were near him. The same time it made a large hole in the trunk of a pine tree which grew about ten feet from the window. But what was more snrprising in this disaster was, that on the breast of the unfortunate man who was killed was a figure of a pine tree, as exactly delineated as any limner in the world could do it—nay, the resem blance went so far as to represent the color of pine, as well as the figure. The lightning must probably have first passed through the tree before it struck the man, and by that means have printed the icon of it on his breast. But whatever may have been the cause, the effect was cer tain and can be attested by a crowd of witnesses, who had the curiosity to wit ness this wonderful phenomenon.”