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managers :
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Tfrill FAR&EiS. :
The Cow-Pea and Peach.
As a food the cow-pea stands high, and j
is difficult to save, if attempted as in
curing other hay. There are two plans
that will obviate the difficulty, viz : after
cutting, put them in rail pens, having a
floor of rails in the bottom some six to
twelve inches above the ground, on which
place the vine to some two feet thickness,
and sprinkle it with salt, then a floor of
rails, on which put more vines and so on ;
the other is to pack away in your shed
or narrow house, pea-vines and oat or
rye-straw, layer and layer about, using
salt on the pea-vine. I bhve housed the
pea-vino the day cut. The vine is not
cut by cradling, nor would any one re
quire to be told it were impossible, if he
ever saw them grow ; nor would I sup
pose any one ever recommended it, un
less writing of one thing and thinking of
another. But they can be cut with hoe,
knife, scythe, or sickle, either of which I
should greatly prefer to the two-hor.se
harrow, or any such mode; for this rea
son, that the horses would waste a largo
quantity of the ripe pea, being generally
saved when about half the peas have
ripened. I have used the hoe and the
scythe, and think two hands can save
about as much as by any other plan,
though they may not go over so much
"round. The hand with scvlhe will cut
>3 *
as wide a swarlhas he can, not a wide
one truely ; the other hand will follow
and pull the cut vines back out of the
mower’s way. After remaining in win
rows from half to one day, house, either
in pens or narrow house as above. I
lived in a section of the South, where the
pea was planted alone for housing, and
have known from twenty-five to fifty
wagon-loads of the vine saved, I verily
believe, on an acre. I was raised where
peas, blackberries, and whortleberries
were articles of sale, and beg to be con
sidered as knowing a little of the culture
of the pea.
The Peach. —l have bods of this year’s
working that have grown two feet. The
stocks are from the seed of last year’s
fruit, and I am certain if the seed be
planted in good soil, and the stocks cul
tivated, that they will attain the height
of three feet by the first day of June
next, and be over one fourth ot an
inch in diameter. If allowed to grow
one year, they will be an average of three
fourths to one inch in diameter, and from
seven to ten feet in height; if budded the
second year, the grower will lose one
year any how in bearing, and the heading
be less certain, and the stock will be so
much larger, that two years must expire
before the scion will be of the same size.
Mr. Hatch, of Hatch & Co.’s- nursery,
assured me that he planted a peach-stone
or pit in March (I think) of 1843. It was
budded the same year, and headed down
to a proper head; this spring it had
blossoms, and measured one inch in
diameter and full seven or eight feet high.
The plan of budding on second year’s
stocks I have followed, and it may be
best with you, but I think it wrong here.
The failure in budding is full two to one
greater, and a loss of one year.
Many persons prefer to bud in August
and September, and fear to remove the
trees the next spring ; I have done it, and
removed them even to the distance of
one hundred miles. They were out of
the ground fifteen days, but carefully
packed in a box of Sarth. I would not
hesitate to bud in June, or even in May,
and to remove in October and November,
or February and March.
My plan to grow peaches, is to place
the stones in a box of earth as soon as
the fruit is eaten. Let the earth in the
box be kept as is the earth in field or
garden, by sinking in the ground ; in the
spring, about the time the seeds have
burst their covering, take up the box, turn
out the earth, and plant the seed or
young stock in rows three to four feet
apart and a foot in the row—keep the
earth well cultivated, and begin to bud in
June. Examine when the bark slips
easily, for it does so more readily at one
time than another, the season making a
AUGUSTA WASHINGTONIAN.
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A WEEKLY PAPER: DEVOTED TO TEMPERANCE, AGRICULTURE, & MISCELLANEOUS READINGS.
Vol. III.]
difference—if very dry and on dry soil,
not so readily. By doing thus, the peach
will bear the third season.
M. W. PHILIPS.
Log Hall, Miss., June 20, 1844.
American Agriculturist .
From the Southern Planter.
The Haw of Hooks.
We had supposed that the absurd and
cruel practice of cutting out the haw
from the eye of the horse i’or the purpose
of relieving a faciei disease called the
hooks, had ceased amongst even the most
; ignorant of veterinary practitioners ; but
| the gentleman assured us that the plan
was frequently resorted to still in the
| country by those who should know-
I better.
The haw is an expansive membrane
with which nature has provided the eye
! of the horse for the purpose of removing
, the dust and other impurities that may
j chance to fall upon that delicate organ,
| and to cut it offunder any circumstances,
;is not less cruel than ridiculous. This
j membrane, sympathising with other dis
eased parts of the eye, frequently be- j
comes inflamed and swollen, and then it j
is, that instead of bathing it with cooling
solutions, it is called the hooks, and is cut i
out by ignorant quacks; and thus the
horse is deprived of their natural append
age, and is subjected to all the pain and
misery that the introduction of foreign !
substances is calculated to inflict upon
1 that sensitive organ, the eye. We would
j condemn the man guilty of this barbari- 1
ty to stand thirty minutes with a gnat in
his eye, his pocket handkerchief stolen, j
and his hands tied; he would be then
able to comprehend the extent of misery
he had inflicted upon an animal often
times nobler than himself.
It is true that the bleeding that follows
the cutting, sometimes reduces the in
fiamalion and gives some apparent coun
tenance to this barbarous practice—but
surely blood letting can be effected under
such circumstances upon better terms
than the loss of this valuable appendage.
~MDBOELILAMIE©iyi©-
Approach to Jcrulalein.
BY W. 11. BARTLETT
After the storm in the night, the morn
ing air was exquisitely fresh—the blue
arch of heaven most glorious. We felt
that we were in the ‘ land of the East,
the clime of the sun;’ hut a few hours’
; ride from the object of our pilgrimage.
| And beautiful were the gardens of Jaffa,
j through which we rode. Here the ‘ lof-
Ity palm’ rose gracefully into the sky,
I charged with her clusters of dates, and
rustling with the softest of sound in the
| summer air. The broad, dark-leaved,
overhanging fig dropped her fruit into
j the path. The golden citron, with the
delicate Vermillion-flowered pomegranate
and the clustering vine, richlv mantle
over the soil. Beneath the deep shade
i of the carob-tree the white-veiled women
| group around the fountain. The Arab
sheik, his dusk face, piercing eyes, and
white teeth, overshadowed by his golden
striped head-dress, comes by on his glos
sy Arabian, his gun and sword and brill
iant trappings glittering in the sun ; or a
i long file of camels, charged with mer-
I chandize, on which women and children
are generally seated, slowly paces on,
projecting their strange shadows on the
sand. Every object is novel and oriental
in character, and independent of its pic
turesque beauty, is linked by a delicious
association with our earliest dreams of
Biblical scenery and incident. Such
are the chances of Oriental travel; days
of weariness and nights of watching ;
; but then hours when enjoyment is in
j tense, and whose recollection is indelii
jble.
Three hours’ ride brought us to Ra- |
mala, beautifully situated above the plain I
| of ‘ Loudd,’ Lydda and Saron, (Sharon,) I
among groves of palm and olive. We j
made no stay here; anxious to arrive,
if possible, that night at Jerusalem; but
in crossing the plain we encountered Ihe
noontide heat of a Syrian sun, and were i
annoyed bv swarms of gnats, and parch- 1
ed by intolerable thirst. The water in j
our leather bottles was soon exhausted,
and had not the pleasant girls brought us
a welcome supply, as we passed through
the villages anxious to gain a few paras
from the passing stranger, we should have
suffered cruelly. In the afternoon, just
as we entered the hills, we came upon a
well by the road-side, most welcome to
us in ‘that dry and thirsty land.’ Grou-
AUGUSTA, GA. DECEMBER 21, 1844.
ped around were a moitley host of tired
wayfarers. The Arab sheik, letting
down his leathern skin into the well;
drew water to supply his fainting steed,
drinking from a hollow stone. Flocks i
of glossy-haired goats and sheep, with
loud bleatings, surrounded the appointed
trough, which it required the constant
labor of several women to keep full.—
Caravans of camels, relieved of their
burdens, were reposing around, their dri
vers crowding to the well. We were as
weary and thirsty as the rest; and let
ting down our water-skins, took long
and repeated draughts of the reviving
element, and stretched in the shadow of
a huge rock, enjoyed a most welcome
‘siesta.’ In the afternoon we resumed
our course, threading narrow gorges, j
where a few resolute men might keep an !
army at bay ; and from thence ascend
ng hill after hill, round and rocky, yet
bearing on their summits neat villages
surrounded by olive groves and corn.—
Upon one of these we descended ‘ at shut
of eve,’ and its sheltered, beautiful ap
pearance irresistably invited us to re
pose. This proved on enquiry, to be
Liryat el Enab, the ancient Kirjath Jea
rim. On the (lat roof of the principal
houses the ‘elders’ of the village were
seated, quietly chatting and smoking in
the coolness of the evening air. We
applied for a resting place, and were con
ducted to the court of a mosque, in the
centre of which were a tail palm and a
fountain ; and shortly after the shiek, of
the iamily of Abu Cosh, sent us some
dishes for our supper, and came down
himself to visit us.
Notwithstanding our fatigue, and the
inviting nature of our quarters, we found
it impossible to sleep. We were but three
hours’distance from Jerusalem. Rising
at midnight, we pursued our way by the
light of the innumerable stars—glorious
in the blue depth of an Asian sky. Not
! a sound was heard but the tramp of our
horses’ hoofs upon the rocky pathway,
j The outlines of the hilly region were
jdim and indistinct; far grander than
j they would have appeared by the light
|of day. We came to a tremendous des
jeent, long and slippery, over slabs of
, rock, and deep gullies worn by the win
ter rains. With many a slide, and nar
row escape from falling headlong, we
reached the bottom of the valley in safe
ty, where we found caravans of camels
and asses, with their guides asleep by the
wayside, waiting for the morning light
to enter the city gates. We pursued
our way—an hour yet remained—that
hour was one of strange and indescriba
ble excitement. I had seen, by moon
light, the time-hallowed glories of the
I oh] world, and the wonders of the new;
j—l had stood alone at that hour, within
| the awful circle of the Colisium ; —and
| watched the lunar rainbow spanning the
I eternal mists rising from the base of the
i Niagara ; —but this night’s march across
i the desolate hills of Judea awoke a more
j sublime, more thrilling interest. I was
| approaching the walls of that city, (the
i scene of events which must ever remain
! the most touching in their influences
j upon the human heart,) which I had long
and earnestly hoped to and my wish
| was about to be realized. As the stars
began to fade from the heavens, and the
dawn to break over the eastern moun
| tains, I sought to pierce the gloom which
i wrapped the silent region around ; but
| nothing could he distinguished. It was
! not till the first red glow of the morning
glanced upon the eastern hill-tops, that
I caught sight of tho city. But there
was nothing grand or striking in the
vision—a line of dull walls, a group of
massive towers, a few dark olives, rising
from a dead and sterile plain ; yet, c
nough that this was Jerusalem—the Ho
ly City ; her mournful aspect well suits
the train of recollections she awakens.
We had to wait some time out the
| Jaffa Gate before admittance could be
obtained, and not a sound was heard
when we entered the silent streets.—
Within, the city is as dull as without;
ruinous heaps and mean houses meet the j
eye as we enter. The stern Tower of
Hippicus is on our right—a noble wreck 1
of the past.
Heroic Women of America.
The Lady and the Aeeows.
Among the American ladies who have
distinguished themselves in the course of
our revolutionary war, by the sacrifice of
self-interest to the public welfare, none is j
more celebrated than Mrs. Jacob Motte,i
of Carolina. The action by which she i
sacrificed her own propertytothe demands •
of patriotism, was so graceful, so goner- j
ous and free, that it has occasioned her
praises to be celebrated in all the histo
ries of the time. The incident took
place in the year 1781, when General
Greene and the active partisan officers,
Lee, Marion, and Sumpter, were dispu- j
ting with Cornwallis and Rawdon the;
possession of the Carolinas. The first
battle at Camden had already been
fought, when the celebrated seige of Fort
Motte took place.
The new mansion house of Mrs. Motte,
situated on a high and commanding hill,
some distance above the junction of the
Wateree and Congaree, had been made
the principle depot of the convoys from
Charleston to Camden, Fort Granby and
Ninety-Six. It was surrounded by a
strong and lofty parapet, erected along
its inner margin. Captain McPherson
commanded the garrison, which usually
consisted of about one hundred and fifty
men, but which was now increased by
the accidental arrival of a detachment
of dragoons. This body, on its way to
Camden with despatches for Lord Raw
don, had entered the fort a few hours be
fore the appearance of tho American
forces, led by Marion and Lee, to be
seige it. On another hill, opposite to
the north side of the new mansion, stood
an old farm house, in which Mrs. Motte
had formerly resided, and to which dis
missed by Capt. McPherson. Upon this
height Lee was stationed with his corps,
whilst Marion occupied a position on the
eastern declivity of the ridge on which
the fort stood. A six-pounder, despatch
ed by Green to the aid of Marion, was
mounted on a battery by that officer for
the purpose of raking the enemy’s para
pet, which Lee was preparing to attack.
By the 10th of May the works were
in a state of such forwardness that it was
determined to summon the commandant.
On the same day Rawdon had evacuated
Camden, and proceeded to Nelson’s fer
. ry ; for tho purpose of crossing the San
j tee and relieving Fort Motte. Greene,
on the other hand, advanced to the Con
garee to cover the besiegers. Under
these circumstances, McPherson, though
destitute of artillery, replied to the sum
mons that he should continue to the last
moment in his power. In the evening a
courier arrived from Greene, informing
Marion of Rawdon’s movements and ur
ging upon him redoubled activity. On
the 11th, the British general reached the
country opposite Fort Motte, and at night
encamped on tho highest ground in his
route, that his fires might convey to the
beseiged the certainty of his approach.
The large mansion in the centre of the
trench left but a small part of the ground
within the works uncovered; burning
the house therefore, must force them to
a surrender. The preparation of bows
and arrows with massive combustible
matter was immediately commenced.—
Lieutenant Colonel Lee and every officer
of his corps daily experienced the most
cheering and gratifying proofs of the
hospitality of the owner of the beautiful
\ mansion doomed to be thus destroyed,
j whilst her politeness, her tenderness, and
her active benevolence extended to the
lowest in the ranks. The destruction of
private proverty was at all times pecu
liarly distressing to the two gallant com
manders, and these considerations gave
a new edge to the bitterness of the scene.
| But they were ever ready to sacrifice
| feeling to duty, and Lee forced himself
| to make a respectful communication to
j the lady respecting her destined loss.
| When the intended measure was impart
;ed to her, the complacent smile which
j settled on her features at once dispelled
the embarrassment of the agitated officer,
while she declared that she joyfully gave
her house to the good of her country,
and should delight to see it in flames.
Shortly after, seeing accidentally the
bow and arrows which had been prepared
she sent for Colonel Lee, and putting in
to his hand a splendid bow and its apa
ratus, which had been presented to her
husband by a friend from India, begging
his substitution cf them as probably bet
ter adapted to the purpose than those pro
vided. Lee was delighted with this op
portune present, and quickly prepared to
end the scene. The lines were all man
ned, the battery doubled, and Dr. Irwin
was sent with a last summons to surren
render. McPherson listened patiently
to his explanations, but remained inflex
ibly fixed in his determination of holding
out to the last. It was now midday of
the 12th, and the scorching sun had pre
pared the shingles for the conflagration.
When Irwin returned, three arrows were
— - ..i ... .m
WASHINGTONIAN
TOTAL ABSTINENCE PLEDGE.
We, whose names are hereunto an
j ncxej, desirous of forming a Society for
: our mutual benefit, and to guard against
! a pernicious practice, which is injurious
: to our health, standing and families, do
? pledge ourselves as Gentlemen, not to
drink any Spirituous or Malt Liquors,
l Wine or Cider.
[N T o. 23
i successively fired at different parts of tho
roof. Ihe first and third kindled into a
blaze.
McP. ordered a party to ascend to the
top of the house and stop the conflagra
tion by taking off the shingles. Bqt
i Captain Finley’s six-pounder completely
■ raked the roof; the soldiers were driven
down, and the brave Briton hung out the
white flag and surrendered uncondition
ally. The conquerers and the conquered
soon after appeared at Mrs. Motte’s,
where, by invitation, they partook to
gether of a sumptuous dinner, in full
view of the smoking ruins—the unaffect
ed politeness of the patriotic lady sooth
ing the angry feelings which the contest
had engendered, obliterating from the
memory of the gallant whigs the recol
lection of the injuries she had unavoida
bly sustained at their hands. When
Rawdon finally afiected the passage of
the river, he found a ruined post, and pa
rolled officers, the captors having divided
their forces and moved off—Lee against
Fort Granby, and Marion to Georgetown.
Wc have seen in the possession of
George Bancroft, Esq., of Boston, splen
did miniature of Mrs. Motte. It is a no
ble countenance, indicating strong in
tellect, and that lofty frankness and cour
tesy which were so remarkably displayed
by her during that glorious and heroic
age of our country w hen American la
dies were at once the prompters and ex
amplars of brilliant deeds of chivalry.—
Lady's Book.
Mrs. Child’s Description of Ole Bull’s
Niagara.
At length the Norseman appeared,
amid the most rapturous applause ; and
the piece commenced with an allegro
movement, whose varied, abrupt, and ca
pricious character most appropriately in
troduced us to the rapids. It was, in
; lact, their absolute counterpart. The
| short ecstatic leap of the water from rock
!to rock, was expressed by sudden and
eccentric tones. Already did he carry
his audience with him; their excited
countenances showed the agitation of
their feelings. But anon, a subdued
and slower instrumentation, brought us,
breathless, to the very edge of the preci
pice, where a momentary pause, a dead
calm, as it were, takes place, between
the hurry scurry of the rapids and tho
plunge of the mighty cataract. Then,
at once, thundered forth from the orches
tra, silent till now, a volume of sound—
so deep, so full, and so sustained, that to
nothing earthly could it be likened, save
to the roar and tumult of the great Horse
Shoe Fall itself. Loud and distinct
above all, was heard the mighty master’s
bow, ns though he ruled and directed the
very spirit of the storm. To our poor
mortal ears, he seemed the incarnation of
a chaos of sound, and wo felt ourselves
whirled away, and borne breathless down
into the abyss of waters. What to us
were Polk and Clay ? You shall soon
hear at length on the subject. I will
onlyjust tell you of his climax. At the
whirlpool, how think you that he pictured
to our ears the never-ending strife and
struggle with which objects reel to and
fro therein, and stagger about convulsive
ly, and yet move not downward with the
hurrying stream? How, but w'ith one
varied and long-protracted shake of his
bow, that lasted by my watch forty-seven
minutes and a half! Il’any of his mu
sical tableau were lost upon some of the
dull souls around him, this, his crowning
I effort, was undeniably and universally
triumphant. Some said, in the common
! phrase, that it was a most ridiculous like
ness; others, varying another phrase,
| observed, that it was too true to be good,
i But these last I pitied. There must be
| some common people. I went home bat
tling with the foam and the spray, and
felt almost annihilated by the Cimmerian
darkness of the cavern of the winds.
Don't Grumble. —He is a fool who
j grumbles at every little mischance.—
I “ Put the best foot forward,” is an old and
a good maxim. Don’t run about and tell
! acquaintances that you have been unfor
tunate. People do not like to have un
i fortunate men for acquaintances. Add
to a vigorous determination, a cheerful
spirit; if reverses come, bear them like
a philosopher and get rid of them as soon
as you can. Poverty is like a panther.
Look it steadily in the face and it will
turn from you.
Five church edifices, of unusual dimen
sions and architectural magnificence, are
now in course of construction in the
city of New York.