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iT Ki W! hißk-^ss^T ~ -=———— gwy L^Bsg^M^jajgfr e -~z.• ’*s. ’EJL «• —^-^-.^-^/"xZSse^z^s;*"- r "M .-3s? -* .- .a >■'x^wMb wl.iWWey.i k rOwEv .: A tii7TmlWs > IBROt V 11 2?S»*< C ®, 0 “ 1 € wi >3<gi^fe^:a»iiyy||SßßiW|WgfeicSMHF^^>»j»yjaHMfc»4BMWfe>^^ ; rv^ ■tt.^HW^wßMuliiMMiHwfeaB 1 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'” ■, : A',C ’ A I’w'iS JEfim v! ,ri - Sky- • 'itiS&agk '..ii ■) *iS| 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.