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VOLUME I.
THE r'> '^i>^ ? - ' :
<gals!lMllw
The Legislature of Minnesota contains forty
members who are Patrons of Husbandry.
Cla-k county (Ga.) Grange numbers one
hundred and fifty-seven members.
The farmers of Gwinnett county, Ga., are
purchasing chemical materials in order to
manufacture their own fertilizers.
e
The misnomer “Granger,” as a term to desig
nate Patrons of Husbandry, seems to “stick”
in spite of its absurdity and the well
informed men to abolish it.
There are now twelve thousand subordinate
Granges of the Patrons of Husbandry in the
United States, with a membership of one mil
lion.
Knoxville will be the place for the next ses
sion of the Tennessee State Grange, which
meets on the third Wednesday of February,
1875 ‘
The Patrons of Husbandry in lowa have
purchased the patent of a harvesting machine.
They will make the machine themselves, and
sell it to members at a greatly reduced price.
Arrangements l ave also been made by which
sewing machines are furnished to the families
of Patrons fifty per cent, below the ordinary
prices.
The Tennessee State Grange, at its recent
session in Gajlatin, refused to adopt a resolu
tion, for the presentation of a memorial to Con
gress, praying that the volume of currency
may be increased in order to relieve the farm
ing classes, on the ground that it was not in
consonance with the views held by the Order
in reference to politics.
Maj. Heard, of Miller county, Ga., says the
farmers in his vicinity are hard at work, and
determined to get out of the “bog.” Mr. H.
gives his fellow Patrons the following good
advice: “ To work on bread and syrup, if they
can not buy and pay for meat; and, if they can
not afford to indulge in the luxury of syrup, to
live on bread, until they get out'of their pres
ent embarrassments.”
Now, that a number of so-called “ Independ
ent Granges,” “ Farmers’ Councils,” etc., have
sprung up in various States, whose aim is the
reformation of political affairs, and direct in
fluence upon political candidates, it Ix'hooves
the Patrons of Husbanday to look well to the
integrity of their legitimate purpose, so that
the illegitimate shoots of the movement may
not be confounded with the labor of the Pat
rons, and injured by their false references.
The Eitrly County (Ga.) Wetcs says: “The
publishers of The Georgia Grange have
determined to issue it hereafter as a monthly
publication, and have reduced the subscription
priii! from $3 to $2 per annum, or to clubs of
tifu'en or more, $1 50. The Grange is a
very interesting paper to either the farmer or
general reader.”
It has been decided by the National Grange:
“ 1. That on all questions involving points of
order, the Grange may appeal from the Master
to the house, but on all questions of constitu
tional law. the Master’s decision is final, sub
ject, however, to an appeal to the Master of
the State or the National Grange. 2. In the
subordinate Grange, a motion to adjourn is not
in order, but the Master should close as soon
as the time has arrival, or the business finished.
3. No business except initiation can be done
at oilier than the regular meetings, ami regu
lar meetings are those specified in the by-laws
as such.
Com men able Action. —The Ohio State
Grang< .with Uxx ming spirit, ivfustxl to ask the
railroads for half-fare privileges, or to accept
them when offered.
Patrons of Husbandry in that section of the
I ni<m aver that they are suffering injury
through the mom poly of railroads, and their
high freight tariffs ; hence they do not desire to
lower their feeling ot inde]wndent manho's!
by aiveptirgor asking favors of men who they
1 M>k upon and denounce as enemies.
> adbro^ i Ji » “
LILY OF LUXAPALILA,
OB;
■WHO IS SHE?
Written Expressly for “The Georgia Grange.”
BY JILiA BACON.
DEDICATED TO THE GEORGIA PATRONS OF HUSBANDRY.
‘ ‘ ’ ~ T ~'
CHAPTER 11.
LOST.
The day which had dawned so promising :
for the hunters, gradually changed ; small gray
cloudlets floated overhead, then, collecting,
hung like a dark, dull canopy over the earth,
obscuring the sun, and presenting an aspect of
dreariness and gloom. A light, misty rain be
gan falling about mid-day; the wind blew keen
and cutting, and wailed dismally among the tops
of the tall trees. It was one of those chilly,
disagreeable days often foretold by old women I
blest, or rather cursed, with those barometrical
“ailments” —rheumatism, neuralgia and corns.
Barney awoke, and, muttering his concern at
the change in the weather, set about building a
rousing fire to make himself comfortable-
While sitting on his master’s camp-stool smok
ing a pipe, and indulging in the profoundest re- :
flections, the snort of a horse close behind him
disturbed his ruminations; he sprang from his j
seat with a howl, expecting every minute to be
tomahawked by an Indian. But lifting his)
ashy face, and, looking from behind the
baggage wagon where he had with ad
admirable presence of mind taken refuge
in his sudden alarm, he met the amused
look of a sandy-haired man, mounted
on a sorrel cob. Barney felt somewhat
reassured, and drew a long breath of re
lief at beholding no dusky Indian and
no uplifted tomahawk to be buried in
his skull. He was still in some trepida
tion, however, as the stranger seemed
to be in no hurry to make known his
business, and bethought it best to wake
up Jerry.
“Jerry ! Jerry ! you lazy black nig
ger ! wake up, dar ! and don’t be sleepin’ piSB
in de day time, disgracin’ yoursef and
de whole colored popylation of Georgia’.” pUwpj
“Is dinner ready, Daddy ?” whined
Jerry, yawning and stretching himself. j
“ How you specs dinner ready, an’ I
nobody put him in de pot ?’’ jfc [
“ AV hat you bin doin’, Daddy, all de
time I sleep ? ”
“Go bout you businiss, nigger!
Speck dis gentlem’ want his horse put W
up” *
“No ; I be’ieve not," replied the gen
tleman. Jerry had seen no gentleman.
He now got up, robbed his eyes, and
looked.
“AV hose camp is this?” asked the
man.
“ Marsters,” replied Jerry, with con
tempt for the “ poor white trash ;” but
the man turned on him a look that sent
the blood back to his heart, and the
sight of the butt of a pistol protru
ding from the coat pocket of the s:ran
ger, sulxhied hi-courage: heconcluded
to be more respectful, and answered immedi
ately :
“ Mr. Kos<iter’s, of Georgy, sar.”
“ What is your master doing in this coun
try ?”
“ Huntin’, sar.”
“ Did he come here to buy land?”
Jerry scratched his head for an answer.
“ I didn’t beam him say, sar."
‘‘.No, he didn’t; aint marster got two plan
tation in Georgy. What he want wid tree —
one way off here for?” spoke up’Barney. who
still thought it prudent to keep the wagon be
tween himself and the stranger.
“ How many hands does your master work ?’’
“ Law bress you. sar, 1 don’t rightly know.
Dere’s a even hundred on our place, and, down
on the lower plantation, I speck dere’s a hun
dred derv, Marster s a mighty rich man. sar."
“How many people came with your mas
ter?”
“ Dare’s Dr. Eastland—”
“ Is he rich, too
“ No, sar; he’s a doctor.”
“ Has he anv family?”
FRANKLIN PRINTING ROUSE, ATLANTA, GEORGIA, MARCH, 1874.
“None but one son, sar—mars Harry ; he’s '
wid us.”
‘‘Anybody else?”
“Yes sar; one more—mars George McAl
pine. He’s my marster’s brudder by his fust
i wife.”
“ Is he rich, and has he a family?”
“ He’s sorter rich, but he aint got no family,
’cept his house-keeper—old Miss Popcorn—
i an’ she aint no kin to him.”
“ Well, as your master doesn’t want to buy
land, I’ll ride on, and not wait for him. If
you hear of anybody that wants to buy a first
rate plantation, tell him to come to Barlow
Dick, at the Crow’s Shot-bag.”
The man then rode away. The two negroes
watched him until he was out of sight.
“ Good lawzy, Daddy ! does de crows in dis
country shoot, jes like folks?”
“ Ah, law ! I dunno what de crows do in dis
country ! ” answered Barney, coming from be
hind the wagon, and beginning to prepare dm-
I ner. “ I wish I was safe oaten it. I nebber
; res’, night nor day, for linking o’ some Injin
creepin’ up behind me wid a hatchet to skulp
me wid. Ugh ! ”
An hour afterward, the sound of several
horns, in concert, awoke the quiet of the wood>
) and our hunters dashed into view.
“Golly! Yonder’s marster and dem, for;
1 sartain.”
“ And O, Daddy ! I do speck somebody’s
done bin shot! Five of ’em lef de camp dis
morning, and yonder aint but four cornin’back.”
i / ) x'” ■,
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JUST I ROM THE HARVEST FIELDS.
Mr. Rossiter and the squatter rode foremost;
the Doctor and Harry brought up the rear; the
latter with a half-grown d >e strapped behind
him on his horse.
Meeting the negroes’ wondering gaze, Mr.
Rossiter inquired :
“ Have you seen your mars George since we
left iiere this morning, Barney?”
“ No, marster; aint seen a href ob him. Did
you loss him. marster?”
“ It is as I feared,” Mr. Rossiter said, turn
ing to the others. “George is lost, ami we
mast hunt him up ! ”
“Stop! stop! Mr. Rossiter,” interposed old
Ben, seeing that gentleman moving off “No
use to be in sich a harry ; we need a snack, so
do the horses; and this deer needs its coat
taken off C 'me, sir, a short restin’ spell aint
gwine to hurt our nagsand they'll bein better
c r.di ion to travel.”
Dr. Eastland agreed with the squatter, and
they all dismounted; but Mr. Ros>iter did so
reluctantly, at the same time observing :
“ It will be anything but pleasant ter George
to be compelled to stay a night or two in the
open air in such raw weather, which may con
tinue some days, from present appearances.”
“ No fear o’ that,” responded the squatter,
whetting his knife preparatory to assist in skin
ning the deer. “We’ll find him not far from
this camp —a matter of five or six miles, may
hap—tryin’ the puzzlin’ experiment of crossin’
the same ditch in a hundred different places
to bring hisself back here.”
“It is a bad day, nevertheless, for one to get
lost in a strange country and in such an unset
tled wilderness as this,” remarked the Doctor.
“ Whe —w! I reckon it is! ” replied old Ben,
with a prolonged whistle and a peculiar squint
ing ot both eyes. “If I don’t miscakilate, I
guess I got lost once myself in jest sich a beau
tiful day as this—in fact, beautifuller 1”
“ Tell us about it, Ben,” said Mr. Rossiter.
“ Well, you see, I sot out to go to a neighbors
who lived about twenty mile off—”
“ A neighbors ! ” interrupted Harry, laugh
ing.
“ Yea, and the nearest one we had at that
time. He lived in a sort o’ out o’ the way
place, tother side o’ Big Swamp. I was
somethin’ in a hurry, and thought I’d go the
nigheat way —through the Swamp—though I
wasn’t then acquainted with the route. I had
my fun alcngyjbr I never went anywhar with
out it; and my man, Betsy, had put a bit o’
meat and bread in my wallet. As nigh as I
kin cakilate, I was in the middle o’ the swamp
and going a right course, when I seed a most
lovely catamount creepin’ out o’ sight. Then
I begin to creep along arter, hopin' to git in
rifle range of the critter, but I tell .you he led
me a sweet chase ’fore he gin me a chance at
him. I followed him two mortal hours, I was
so interested. In chase forgot whar I was.
Howsumever, I got in gun shot at last; he
turned his broad side to me. I drawed a bead
sight on his hide and let him have it; he keeled
over ami kicked his last. I out with my knife
and whipped off his skin in double-quick time
jest as you set- me doin’ o’ this here deer's." j
“ But you left the wild-cat’s carcass for the
. the buzzards—"
“’Twern’t no wild-cat, Mr. Harry, ’twere a
catamount.”
“ Ami pray, what's the difference ? ’’
“ All the difference in the world : leastways,
as much difference as ’tween a tiger and a leop
ard. Catamount’s got some’at the longest tail,
and more like a house-cat. They are shorter,
smaller, got a rounder head than a wild-cat.
Sometime- they are shotted black, brown or
gray ami white, but uftener you'll find ’em
brindled or striped like a liger, and pretty ‘
much the s ime color —a sort of whitish, gray
ish. Wild-cat’s got longer legs, bigger body,
shorter tail, and head more like a wolf, and
some’at like a ’coon, ’taint much like neither,
only some’at. The color is a dusky red, and
white underneath. So you see a catamount
aint a wid-cat, no how you kin fix it! But
folks that don’t know from seein 1 , is apt to get
’em mixed up and think they is all one ; and
they don’t know any difference between wild"
cats, panthers, catamounts and lynxes, nor what
that difference is.”
“ You are right there,” said Mr. Rossiter.
“ It is a lamentable fact that, with the fine and
extensive field we have for the study of natural
history, there are so few reliable naturalists in
America. As far as practicable, it should be
made a principal and practical study in our in
stitutions of learning, even as it is Germany.’’
“ I quite agree with you,” said the Doctor,
“especially after having read an article in one
of our literary periodicals, in which the writer
assured his readers that it was all a mistake
about the pole-cat having an offensive smell;
that the Virginia negroes hunted them at night
for the purpose of eating them, being extreme
ly fond of the flesh.”
“Hello, Doctor! aint you stretchin’?”
laughed old Ben.
“ No, indeed. I saw it in print, and a good
many more things equally absurd and untrue.’
“ The man what writ that meant a
“ Certainly ; and described an opossum, but
)he didn’t know anything about either, you
sse.”
“In course not. I’d like to larn him
some thin’.”
“ Uncle Ben, I dare say you know
what a gopher is.”
“I’m so well acquainted with ’em,
Harry, that I kin almost say I was
raised in a gopher hole.”
L “ Well, I have heard them described
til as a furred animal that burroughs,
something like prairie-dogs or our sala
manders, as we call those beautiful little
clay-colored animals with side-pockets.
—Y ou know they have a pocket each
side of their jaws, in which they carry
MKu roots -”
es > I never seed but three o’ them
MNw critters, and two of ’em was washed o’
EfifiKfJ the earth by a freshet and drowned.
' are awful timid. I’ve watched
their hills for hours seed ’em workin’
up the dirt sometimes, but never seed
HHb?/ but one live one above ground yet.
f “ But you have forgotten your story.”
/■ “ O yes ; aha! Well, whar was I?
SBKa In the swamp, I reckon, whar I killed
I the catamount —not a wild-cat, remem
her. Well, as I wsu going to tell you,
I throwed the varmint’s hide across a
KM slung it across my shoulder
with my rifle, and then started off; but,
whenl came to look about, I didn’t
V* 1 know whar was goin,’ nor whar I was,
nor how I come to git thar, nor how to
git out. I look' d this way and that, here
and thar but didn’t see no landmarks
nor nothin’; so Ist down on a log,
eat my snack, drank a little water out of
a puddle, and then started agin. I wan
dend about looking for a Injin trail or
a wild hog path, till it got most too dark
to see; so I began to feel mad, and got
to cussin', and jest struck a bee-line any
how, and pitched ahead like all forty,
i looking neither right nor left until I run
afoul of a litttle slough, and if I crossed it
once, I must ha’ crossed fifty times, besides
trottin’ around it as often,and gettin’my brains
so flusticated I didn't know whether I was on
iny head or my heels ; and, believin’ old Ben
had gone crazy, I slashed and dashed ahead in
another direction, never stoppin’ till I tumbled
a summer-ault into one o’ them confounded
bayous, and be hanged to it. There, my story’s
done, master Harry.”
“ Rather an abrupt termination. What did
you do when extricated from your hydropathic
predicament ? ”
The squatter stared, lifted his eyebrows, and
then replied:
“ Looked to to see whar I was.”
“ I hope’your observations were entirely sat
isfactory.
“ I hope so," wasthe dry, curt response.
“ Did you see anything worthy of remark?’
“ Yes, a path.”
“ Indeed ! Quite an uncommon thing to find
in the woods. I suppose you took it ?” .
“ No ; I letfit stay whar it was.”
“ Ahem ! May I venture to inquire what
was your next mode of procedure ?”
“ Sartainly.”
“ Then what was it ?”
“ To follow the path.”
“ Really ? A novel idea! And, pray, to what
end did it bring you ?”
“ To the end of my journey, young man.”
The squatter threw Harry a triumphant
look, chuckled, winked at Mr. Rossiter and
the Doctor, who were laughing, wiped the
blood from the knife blade on the leg of his
trowsers, and commanded the two servants to
take the venison to the salt-tub.
“ I mast take a smoke now, gentlemen, after
so much skinnin’ and quizzin.”
Here he glanced at Harry, and burst into the
following strain :
“ ‘What a merry life does the hunter lead—
He wakes with the dawn of day,
He whistles his dog, and he mounts his steed,
And he hies to the woods away.
The lightsome tramp of the deer he’ll mark,
As they bound in herds along ;
His rifle startles the cheerful lark
That carols her morning song.
“ Bravo ! bravo ! ” exclaimed his pleased
hearers.
“Give us the rest of that song, old fellow,
and we will off on our hunt for the runaway,
George.”
The squatter complied, and, in a voice truly
melodious, sang the remaining stanza.
Z WANT TO BE A GRANGER.
I want to be a Granger,
And with the Grangers stand—
A homy-fisted farmer
With a haystack in my hand.
Beneath the tall tomato tree
I’ll swing the glit’ring hoe—
I'll slay the wild potato bug
As he skips o’er the snow.
I’ve bought myself a Durham ram
And a gray alpaca cow,
A ]ock-stich Osage orange hedge
And patent leather plow.
My boots are built of cowhide
And my pants of corduroy,
And if I were but young again,
I’d be a fanner’s boy.
Like all the honest farmers
Who with the Grangers stand,
I’m down on all monopolies
That desolate the laud.
To every hardy Granger’s hearth
Much greenbacks I would bring ;
And tliis old tune I’ll practice
As long as I can sing:
I want to go to Congress,
And with the Grangers stand,
A horny-handed fanner
With back pay in my hand.
As one of the beneficial effects of the organi
zation of Patrons of Husbandry, it was shown
by the members of the State Grange cif Ten
nessee, at its recent session in Gallatin, that the
farmers of what is known as the “Clarksville
Tobacco District Council,” which embraces
nearly one hundred subordinate Granges in
Tennessee and Kentucky, had made terms with
the warehousemen by which a saving to the
producers of tobacco, to the amount of .S2OO,
000 had been effected, as a reduction of from
two to three dollars per hogshead had been
made. The Clarksville district alone, which
is comprised of some seven or eight Granges
had saved $15,000, the figures given referring
to the business of the season.
The American Ar/riculturist, noticing the
change in the new Order of “ Patrons of Hus
bandry,” sensibly says: “This appears to be
a weak imitation of the Patrons of Husbandry,
the constitution and forms belonging to that
Order being mainly copied. Its ostensible ob
ject is to unite mechanics and laboring m< n
in a body like that of the Patrons of Hus
bandry, but its real object seems to be to trans
fer money from the pockets of those who earn
it to those of people who live by their wits.
The headquarters is advertised as being in New
York, but we have not yet seen any one who
has succeeded in finding the head men. It
looks liks a concern that will do no harm if
let alone.
Thirty-one Chinese have arrived at Bruns
wick, Ga., to work on the rice plantation of
Capt. A. S. Barnwell.
Sugar cane in the vicinity of Albany, Ga.,
is all planted, and in larger quantity than usual-
NUMBER 17.
