Newspaper Page Text
J. A. TURNER, EDITOR. [
VOLUitE I.
|)orini.
The Challenges.
-At a meeting under a Commission of Bankruptcy,
at Andover, England, in July, 1526, between
Air. Fleet and Mr. Mann. Solicitors of that place,
some disagreement arose, which ended in a chal
lenge ; to which tho following poetic answer was
returned. The lines arc couched with piquancy
and force, and possess such a rich vein of poetic
humor, that they deserve , wo think, a reprint
in our columns.
To Kingston Fleet, Esq.
I am honored this day. Sir. with challenges two,
The first from friend Lnngdon, the second from you,
As the one is Xo fight, and tho other to dine,
I accept his “ engagement," and your's must de
cline.
Now, in giving this preference, I trust you'll admit
I have acted with prudence, and done what was
fit
Since encountering him, and my weapon a knife,
There is some little chance of preserving my life,
Whilst a bullet from you, Sir, might take it away,
And tho maxim you know, while ydu
may.
If however, you still should suppose I ill-treat you,
By sternly rejecting the challenge to meet you,
Bear with me a moment, and I will adduco
These powerfnl reasons by way of excuse:
In the first place, unless I am grossly deceived,
I myself am in eoueience the party aggrieved;
And therefore, good Sir, if a Challange must be,
Pray, wait till that eallenge be tendered by me.
Again, Sir, I think it by far the more sinful,
To stand and be shot, than to sit for 3 skinful;
From whence you’ll conclude (as I’d have you in
deed,)
That fighting composes no part of my creed;
And my courage (which though it was never dispu
ted,
Is not I imagine, too deeply rooted.)
Would prefer that its fruit, Sir, whate’er it may
yield,
Should appear at “the Table,'' and notin 11 the
Field."
Aud lastly, my life, be it never forgot,
Possesses a value which yours, Sir, does not;
So I mean to preserve it as long I can,
Being justly entitled “a Family Mann*;''
With three or four children, (I scarce know how
many,)
Whilst you., Sir have not, or ought not to have
any.
Besides, that the contest would be too unequal,
3 doubt not will plainly appear by tho sequel,
For e’en you must acknowledge it would not be
• - meet,
That one small 41 Mann of War ” should engage “ a
whole Fleet."
♦Mr. Fleet wa3 a bachelor, or, at all events a
single man.
Ifprtmg #lto.
Coons and Coon-Hunting.
BY JOE MAXTOR.
“And now October's brown liath clothed the wood,
And merrily the huntsman windsliis horn.
*'** * * *
When niprhi her sable garment has put on,
’Forth goes he with his deep-mouthed hounds
To chase the cunning coon, in the deep swamp.
’Through water, wold aDd field he wends his way,
A tortuous track, which keen-nosed dogs pursue,
•Until a refuge in some tree is found,
Which falls beneath the axeman’s sturdy arm.
And gives the game unto the clamorous pack.”
The first time I remember ever to
have heard of a coon, was when I was
no larger than a coon. My father had
rather a famous coon-hunter in the
person of an old negro slave, named
Dick. This same Ethiopian Nimrod
one night caught, in one of the apple
trees of my father’s orchard, one of
.the animals of which I am writing, and
I was told it was about my. size. As
long as I remained a child, I used to
tel) every one that “Uncle Dick” caught
a coon as large as I—forgetting that I
-was every day growing larger.
“Uncle Dick” made a grand stew
of the coop which he caught, and hearti
ly was it eaten by himself, and his fa
•\vorites on the plantation. Ido not
i remember whether I tasted of his coon
. ship on this occasion; but I have tast
,-ed of the raccoon’s flesh, and found it
-tolerably edible. It is not so good as
that of the opossum. Still, negroes are
fond of it, and esteem it a great delica-
The first coon which I over saw
caught was on Murder Creek in Jas
per county. I was quite a boy then,
and was staying with a friend in said
county. One morning this friend’s
overseer concluded he would gratify
me by taking me down to the creek
with him, and allowing me to witness
the catching of a coon, These animals
are so plentiful * there, "tliat some time
before we reached the bank of the
stream, the dogs had treed One. It was
just light, and it was not long before
the tree was felled to the ground by the
strong arm of the overseer. No coon
. was visible,'hbweVeri tKi'dogs
ran through the boughs 91“. the ./alien
as imicl> noise as if Pan-
.ppifchln fmtnml:—gtlintSf to literature, |j .olitics, mrir dtteal Miftcllaim.
demonium had broken loose. I was
much disappointed in thus having love’s
labor lost—but soon my sorrow was
turned into joy. For one of the dogs
found a hole in the body of the tree,
and bayed at it in such a way as to
render it certain that the game was in
the hollow. Soon the overseer cut a
hole, where he judged the raccoon to
be, and, sure enough, out leaped the
fellow into, the mouths of a dozen
clamorous hounds. It was a young
coon, so there vas no fight between
him and the dogs. With a ‘severe
scream or two, he yielded up the ghost.
There was but little amusement in
catching this coon, for the dogs treed
him immediately, like they would a
squirrel, without trailing him' at all. The
beauty of raccoon hunting is the trail
ing, and the fight after the cunning
animal is caught. lie is always found
near water courses, and is a straggler
when found out upon ridges. The
Reason that coons seek water country
for places of resort is that they may
feast upon fish, frogs, muscles, ducks,
and such other inhabitants of the waves
as they can bring within their clutches.
They are also fond of fruit, and when
they cannot find such as they wish
upon the low-lands, they stray off to
the high-lands. They are fond of
grapes, muscadines, acorns, persim
mons, and, if we may judge from the
position in which ‘‘Uncle Dick” caught
one, of apples. In eating the musca
dine, they no more swallow the hull
than you or I would, but reject this
after devouring the pulp, with as much
care as if their grand-mothers, like
ours, had taught them it would make
them sick if the} 7 swallowed the coat
which contains the pulp.
I have treed as many coons up oak
trees, where they had gone to fnd
acorns, as in any other kind of trees.
They do not confine themselves to the
acorns of the swamp oak, but travel
oft* on the ridges where they may find
red oak and white oak acorns. They
fitlK persimmons, also, mostly on the
ridges. Where there are not too many
dogs, they will sometimes find their
way into the poultry yard, and then
wo to the hens and chickens. They
are not such frequent depredators,
however, upon the realm of roosterdom
as their more clumsy aad less pru
dent neighbor, the opossum, and the
mink, equally sagacious as themselves.
If you wish to hunt the raccoon for
the sake of destroying them, Spring or
Summer is the time for it. And it is
necessary, frequently, in new countries,
to hunt them simply for the sake of de
stroying them, on account of the dep
redations which they commit upon
corn, planted on low-grounds. They
are frequently as destructive in a field
of maize as a drove of hogs—bending
down the stalk, and eating off a little
corn, but leaving soon for another, just
as if their only object was to destroy*
Nor is it in new countries alone that
they so much abound as to become a
nuisance. Wherever the low grounds
on a stream of any size, remain un
cleared, they are found in great abun
dance. If the farmer then clears
up a. field upon this stream, and
plants it in corn, wo to his roasting ears
in the month of Juty. The raccoons
finding them a delicate morsel, prey
upon them both night and day. For
although, as a general rule, the c6on
is a nocturnal wanderer, still lie com
mences to perambulate during the day,
in the Spring time, when it is the sea
son of love, in search of the females —
and then, as the summer advances his
affections are turned upon something
to eat, and he continues his perigrina
tions in search of mulberries, black
berries, roasting ears, &c.
In the winter season the raccoon
never goes out. in the day time. But
when summer clothes the low-land for
est in its thickcoat of green, and the
dense foliage shuts out the rays of the
sun, then lie wanders about in the day
time as well as the night. You may
then pursue him in the thick cane
brake with dogs, catching him 011
the ground, or, treeing him, you
may send the leaden messenger to his
brain, and bid him tumble down from
the big fork of some huge oak where
the dogs forced him as a retreat from
their fangs, or y.diere lie had gone to
rest, before they struck his trail.
But as I was saying, if you hunt the
coon for die Sake of destroying him,
Spring or Summer in‘your time. You
are then to start out about day-bre«V,
—— “U'fTtrouT rr..tn, FJtvon on ArrxcTio.v”
EATQNTON, GA., SATURDAY, OCTOBER 28, 1854.
and when your dogs strike a trail, you
are sure of finding the animal you pur
sue, in his den. Cut down the tree
where the dogs arc baying, and yon
will find from one to a half dozen in
the hollow of the tree which you, fell.
Is is light by the time your game is
caught, and you find before you a tame,
spiritless, lean and lank animal with
tfie fur nil off, which yields up the
ghost as soon as your hounds lay hold
upon him, without making one gallant
effort to save his life.
Frequently, however, as I have al
ready said, the coon is a wanderer dur
ing the day, in the summer season. I
have often come across them in thick
swamps, in the day time while I was
hunting the mink, in July and August.
It is very rarely the case that they will
then take a tree to avoid their pursur
ers. They generally run round and
round in the thick cane, and grass,
dodging the dogs until overhauled by
these animals—and then they make
but little resistance.
But when autumn comes, and the
fur of the coon has grown out, and be
come brown with the foliage of the for
est, then it is you may enjoy a hunt
after him in all its glory. October is
full early to commence —yet perhaps
not too early.
Night comes, and your sturdy arm
ed negro fellows Dick and Harry, arm
ed each with one of Collin’s keenest,
are ready to follow you, torch in hand.
Your horn sounds a merry blast after
your supper is over, and your clamor
ous hyunds raise an eager cry around
your feet, wending their way to the
banks of the neighboring stream. And
it must not be a large stream ; for if it
is, you will lose your game by his
swimming across to the other bank,
and leaving you on this side to cogitate
upon his superior skill in baffling the
waves.
It is a cloudless night, and the sky
is as blue as ever smiled upon the re
joicing earth beneath. Scarce a sound
is heard, but the note of some insect
that yet lingers upon the heel of sum
mer. Occasionally you hoar the low
hoot of the great horned owl, and now
it has broken into the most unearthly
shriek this side the region of the damn
ed. Involuntarily, and in spite of
yourself, every hair upon your head like
leaps up straight, and stands bristling
a sentinel upon his watch-tower to save
you from impending harm. But there
is no danger. The dark form from
which emenated the unearthly shriek
flits before you, and loses itself in the
swamp, just ahead.
But hark ! What noise is that ? It
js the shrill, clear mouth of Old Ring
wood. “Hie on fellows !” And the
loud holloa drives the other dogs like
a living torrent to their ring-leader of
a dozen years standing. Look out
now, thou brindled denizen of nature’s
-woody sane. Be ivare how, and where,
thou placest the sole of thy foot for the
hero of many a long chase and hard
fought battle is upon thy trail. Well
wilt thou need all the tricks, and all the
ehi-coon-ry of which thou art master, to
evade thy bitter foe. The mark uff the
claw of many a one of thy race is up
on the ears and the nose of old Ring
wood, and well helovestobite revenge
out of the bosom of every luckless
wight of a coon, so unfortunate as to
set foot upon earth, where he can find
a place for his nose!
“God bless him, he’s a big one” says
Harry, as he stoops dow r n and exam
ines a sand bank when we come upon
the stream. “But his track cornin’ dis
way. Better call ole Ring wood back,
hadn’t we Mas Joe ?”
“No, nigger,” interposes Dick “you
let Ringwood lone. He know what lie
’bout. He come back heself arter he
find he on do wrong end o’ de trail.”
“But I don’t hear Ringwood at all
Dick, do you ? The young dogs are all
opening like mad, but Ringwood is as
silent as the grave.”
“Ah, here he come now, mas Joe.
Golly, look at de bristles on he back.
He bound to get dat coon, certain.—
Wake up ole fellow —and a loud
hee-hee bursts from Dick’s lips as the
old dog strikes the right end of the
trail, and dashes on through the mud
and water at the top of his speed.
Soon the other dogs, up stream, mis
sing the yell of their leader, hold up
for a moment, to see where he is. Now
they hear, his faithful mouth down
stream, and here they come, yelling
and dashing forward like a-jmad torna
do in the direction in Which they hear
the mouth of old Ringwood.
“Whoop ! whoop ! whopee-e-e !”
bursts from the lips’of Ethiopian, and
Anglo-Saxon, and to loud halloas,
on, on rush the hounds yelling, yelp
ing, barking, and mouthing
until the very welkin rings and rings
again with the loud hub-bub. And
on rush we as fast as- we can, through
woods, briars, black-jack thickets,
swamps, water and everything else that
impedes our progress, taking every
nigh cut and cve*ry advantage we can,
to keep in hearing of the dogs.
Reader, lixe you this rushing
through briars, mud and vjater in the
dark ? What -think you of the glories ]
of coon hunting ? Yet a little longer
follow me, (upon paper,);and be “in at
the death.” 1
■
“Dick what de devil, you travel so
fast wid dat light dar hr ? Hold on
nigger, and let me git imy shoe out dis
mud-hole, here.”
“Yah, yah, Harry, low de name o’
God you ever git you j foot out your
shoe ? Your heel so long I thought
your shoe stay on till cfcy pull ’toft* to
bury you.” At this Dick starts back
to relieve Harry, and setting his foot
upon a spot too slippery to retain his
hold, up he slips, and tomes down flat
of his back, his axe flying one way,
and his torch the otberj
“Yah, yah, yah-e-e,-’ fairly roared
Harry. “Laugh at mfc will you, you
black rascal you ! I lay you laugh
t’other side o’your mouf, now. Yah,
yah, yah-ee ! Whoop !”
“Come, boys, get out of that!”—And
Harry and Dick get every thing straight
again, and we start forward.
“Confound that grape-vine ! Here
Dick cut down this ding-fetched vine,
and let me have my ean—which said
cap was oscillating back and'forth like'
a pendulum, out of my reach, having
been caught by a vine lowered to- a
considerable degree bt my running
head-long against it, aid which flew
up again, carrying myi head-covering
with it, after I had become disengaged
from its embrace.
Cap on, shoes right, all ready, and
off we start again.
“Can you hear the dogs, boys ?”
“No sir-ee,” is the simultaneous an
swer of both Dick and Harry.
We proceed a little farther in the di
rection in which we last heard the
dogs. Harry, who is a little in ad
vance, stops suddenly, and pricking
up his ears says,
“Hear ’em, mas Joe! Dey gwine
right’back. De coon doublin’.”
And sure enough the coon is doub
ling. Right back to the spot where
Ringwood first struck his trail is.he
wending his way, with all possible
speed. And right back upon the path
which we came, do we hasten our foot
steps, forgetful of all our troubles in
the assurance that his coonship will
soon take a tree.
“Treed by Gosh,” shbutsDick as we
come within a half mile of the spot
where we first stooped down to exam
ine the coon’s trail.
“Wait awhile, Dick, don’t “holloa
before you.get out of the woods.” I
don’t hear the main tree-dog’s mouth
3 r et. Those puppies dont know what
they are about.” *
And now the whole pack bursts
away again, thundering as if the coon
was within twelve inches of their
noses.
“Told you so, Dick. He fooled the
young dogs there. Up that tree he
went, but off he jumped again. That
was one of his tricks. But Buck has
witnessed too many such, and his nose
is too keen to be baffled in that way.”
“Golly ! how Buck do talk to him !
Speak to him, ole fellow, Speak to
him now,” bawled Harry at the top of
his voice.
Sure enough old Buck’s short,
hoarse bay tells plainly' enough that
the coon is certainly treed. On we
rush through the woods, and, after
long and rapid strides for one half a
mile, Ave reach the tree.
'■ “Bless God, its a big one,” ejaculates
Dick.
“Lazy nigger,” retorts Harry. “La
zy nigger, don’t think ’bout dc tree
now. Think ’bout de coon.”
And Dick is not to blame for feeling
a little desperate at the looks of the
tree. Before the tivq darkies stands
one of tffo largest, tallest poplars the
eye ever rested upon. Between four
and five feet will reach across the
stump when the trunk is felled. It
stnlncls upon the bank of the creek, and
from the bend of the body it will fall
splash into the water when it is cut
down. One dozen hounds are baying
and panting around its roots, with their
tongues lolled out, and the saliva
pouring in sluices'off of their ends.— '
Three good miles have they run, as
hard as dogs can let down. Some are
tired out, and are lying down, restless
ly rolling from side to side, first yelp
ing, then whining, then barking.
“Make up your lights all around the
tree, boys, and while they are burning,
you can blow awhile, and then at it
with your axes. I don’t think the tree
is sound. It seems to me to be hol
low.”
“Wake up here Dick! Look ahea,
dis nigger sleep, bless God!” And
Harry slapped him upon the shoulder,
with his broad hand, such a blow as
made the woods echo.
“Look ahea, nigger, stop dat. I
broke your jaw now, quicker, es you
do dat again.”
“Well, Dick, you is de laziest nigger
dat ever I see yet. Aint bin stop two
minits, and here you is dead enough
to bury you. Chicken needn’t crow
for you. Jt take thunder to wake you
up.” ' :
“Come boys let’s have the light.”—
And soon a bright circle of lights is
blazing around the foot of the tree at
the distance of its length from the roots.
The axes are plied with a hearty good
will, and the woods and the hills ring
with the clear, merry sound of the
keen-edged steel. Every stroke of the
axe, and every chip that flies, puts
fresh life in the dogs, and they are now
rampant with delight. Every now
and then the stalwart neQTOf>s v .wipe off
the sweat from their brow, which seems
almost superfluous, as it is running off
as fast as it can.
“Gosh ! mas Joe guess right. Dis
tree is hollow,” says Dick as his axe
is sunk up to the eye in the old pop
lar. “How you come on round dar,
on your side, Harry ? Call dis chile
lazy will you ? Ding me es I couldn’t
cut more’n dat, when I was ten years
old.”
And cut more than Harry,
but not as much more as might at first
appear, for the shell of the tree is a
good deal thicker on Harry’s side than
on the other. However, as Harry has
been laughing at Dick about being la
zy, Dick now “has the grin” upon him,,
and is crowing considerably.
“Here Dick, do you hold Drive and
Katler, and I will hold Yenus and
Killbuck, to keep the tree from fall
ing on them. They are too young to
trust alone yet. Look out where you
stand, and don’t get out where the
tree will fall upon you. There now,
that will do. Drive ahead, Harry,
with your axe.
Blows from Harry’s axe fall thick
and heavy upon the tree. .The dogs
become more and more restless, and
when the tree cracks a time dr two,
their impatience knows no bounds. A
half-stifled.growl, mingled with a yell
breaks from one of the dogs which
Dick is holding.
“Be done, you infernal black ras
cal you. Bite me will you ?” And
Dick slapped Katler such a blow on the
side,as made him sound like a barrel
that had been struck. Yell after yell
escaped from the mordacious canine,
as he stuck his tail between his legs,
and fled through the woods, as if old
Nick was after him.
“Ah, Dick, couldn’t you hold that
dog? There isn’t one on the face of
the earth I couldn’t hold, and keep
him from biting me, if you would give
me a good hold on the back of his neck.
You Killbuck, be still you scoundrel
you!”—and Killbuck almost demon
strates that I am mistaken in what I
have just said.
/‘Humph.! Katler gone borne to
get some sperits o’ turpentine to take,
sence he bite Dick. Dick’s dead pisen
to any decent dog. I lay Katler don’t
bite him no more' ,, sence he got one
taste of him. Yah, yah, yah-g-e,”
“Down, with the tree, Harry, and
you, Dick, as soon as you let go Drive,
when the trey tohehes the ground,
,Bgif2e old Ilingwood ; and, Harry, do
you hold Buck, or wo' shall have no
fight oiler all our trouble,”
With one tremendous crash the phi
Ipoplar Jail? with its boughs ip the
■■■-
water, five or six feet deep. As soon
as it touches the earth, I let go the
dogs I am holding, Dick discharges his
one remaining animal, and seizes Ring
wood, while Harry grabs Buck just as
he jumps into the water, and hauls
him ashore again. A|little ways be
low I cross on a log, and get on the
other side of the creek.
Gods ! what a rumpus there is in
the water. There is the old coon right
in the middle of the stream, and ten
dogs baying and barking around him,
as if they would not leave two parti
cles of his flesh together. Ratler, in
stead of going home “to get spirits of
turpentine,” as prophecied by Harry,
has returned, and is doing battle man
fully. The old coon behaves himself
gallantly. See how his undaunted eye
flashes from one of his enemies to
As each successive dog ap
proaches him, he boxes right aud left,
and moves from one point of attack to,
another with the rapidity of thought.
His claws seem to be omnipresent, and
a dog can’t even touch the point of his
tail without receiving a good slap.
All this time the very heavens seem
rent* in twain by the clamors of the
dogs and our loud, long, repeated hol
loas.
See that puppy now ! How reck
less he is ! How little he knows what
will be the consequence of his temeri
ty ! Right tip to the coon he rushes,
and opens his mouth to seize him.—
Quick as lightning the coon darts upon
his enemy, seizes him by the nose with
his teeth, and plants one fore-paw in
each eye. Down they both go into
the water, the waves close over them,
7 ' ' * 7
and hardly a ripple disturbs the sur
face of the stream at the spot where
they went down. The other dogs
swim about in amazement at the loss of
Al? Pi TV if) Z> ctn tJ V« lifu L'M’t
while others still look for him in the
water. By and by, twenty feet down
stream, the dog and the coon make
their appearance on the surface of the
water, not more than a few feet apart.
The puppy makes for one bank, puf
fing, blowing, sneezing and. buffeting
the waves as if nearly drowned. The
coon makes for the bank on which I
am, under cover of some tussocks of
bullrushes in the shade cast by my
torch.
“Here he goes boys ! here! here!
whoo-e-e ! whoop !”—And again the
dogs dash in the water pell-mell, hel
ter-skelter, yelling, barking, howling
and snapping as if the very devil were
in the foray. Again and again do
the dogs rush to the attack, and again
and again are they soused in the water
and repulsed. One dog alone contents
himself with staying upon the bank a
spectator, half-howling and half-bark
ing.
“Bet he don’t trouble dat coon no
more. He got baptizin’ miff to make
his salvation one time,” said Dick.
For thirty minutes • have the dogs
been fighting the coon in the water,
and now they grow less and less
clamorous. And now they are back
ing out one by one, and hardly a dog
puts tooth to the brave foe. And now
he leaps from the water to the bank,
and is in the act of running off’, while
not a hound dare lay hold upon him.
“By thCxAt, boys, let loose Ring
wood and Buck, or all our sport is up.”
Like shafts from the bow of the light
ning, the two dogs which have been
held in reserve, pounce upon their
brindled foe. Am\ now Greek having
met Greek, comes the tug of war. The
coon rears upon his hind legs as erect
as a boy and boxes right and left.—.
Well do the two old dogs sustain each
other in their assaults, and well, for a
minute are these assaults parried.—
But with a half growl, half yell, King
wood succeeds in getting his enemy by
the throat, and pinning him to the
earth. Buck, with his ponderous jaws,
seizes upon his breast, while the other
dogs emboldened by the’ example, of
the two old heroes, rush in and seize
him 'by the legs, sides, belly and
wherever else they can get a'hold.—
One loud, long shriek of despair from
the coon announces that it is all over
with him. One loud, long simultane
ous whoop from our trio bespeaks tile
result, With a shrill blast of the
horn, we w;end our way homewards—
I to dream of the' pleasures of coon
hunting, and Harry and Dick to dream
of the 'nibo, pot of flesh, dumplings
aud broth which they and their
{TERMS, $2,00 A YEAR
NUMBER 28.
fellow servants will regale themselves
after their game has lain long enough
in salt to approximate being tender.
June 16, 1851.
g^rimltra!.
[No. I.]
Gov. Broome, — Dear sir : The ex
periments alluded to in your commu
nication in the July number of the Cot
ton Planter, as conducted by myself
and which have led to an improved
system pf plantation economy—as .1
have it in practical and successful operar
tion upon my farm—unay be said to
have orignated, in theory, as early as
1889. Where I was raised, as you
know very well, (in Edgefield District,
S. C.) I was accustomed to see Cotton '
grow on very little weeds, on very nar
row rov. s, and crowded thick in tho
drill. This system of Cotton planting
and character of Cotton weed, which.is
to this day generally prevalent in Car
olina and Georgia, needs no comment
here.
In the year 1838, I emigrated from
South Carolina to > Alabama, with no
other object in view but the practice of
Physic. In the summer of 1839,1 vis
ited the plantation of a friend, on U- ~
chee Creek, in East-Alabama, where I
saw Cotton growing on what is known
in your State and Alabama, as sandy
hammock. The rows were five feet
wide, the stalks stood from 18 to 30 in
ches apart, average about 6 feet in
height. This Cotton differed so mater-. *
ially from the Cotton which I have beenjl
accustomed to see in Carolina and
era Georgia, that I became interested
in determining the true cause. At
that time, this land only differed from
the land on the adjacent of piney
wood, in the superior fertility of its soil.
To the eye it has cxacLy the appear
ance, —when it had boon in cultivation
a few years,—r-of sandy, piney woods
land. I lived at the time near this
plantation, on sandjlpiney woods land,
Aaftil, ;T- Kljjfr iin
opinion, that if I wild make the soil of
my piney woodsland as rich as this
hammock, it-wouM produce just such
Cotton. Withoi* any fixed or definite
idea of the moppey which I might ac
complish this I set about pre
paring the mfaufre for an experiment
—even thejsed|or the experiment, I
had proc^^R^JL'iivum- Lanct's, how
ever, of n| interest to this subject, pre
vented thj£>expcmpent till 1841. The
idea was so ridiculed and hooted at,
in its very; incipieticv, that I did not
myself have the strongest faith in
its succefc I knew very little about
Cotton planting at the time, and every
planter, with whom I conversed on the
subject, gsye it as an opinion positive,
that u manure would up!”—
I examinedg|everal agricultural papers
on the subjft||whero I found but lit
tle said aboutißotton at all, and not a
word about majoring laqd for Cotton.
I commenced in Ala
bama in 1841, anal|MHfi:nined to com
mence experimentsJßpcli I did in a
very small way, idpfn the result was
a perfect triumip. This t however,
wason too small m scale and I said but
little about it, emtermining the next
3'car to institute ® experiment on a
scale sufficiently «ge to determine the
matter. For thopfxperiment, I select
ed three acres opine land, as poor in its
natural state, a*nny land I have ever
seen in
five to six year® -1 prepared fifteen
hundred bushelKof compost manure—
stable and horselife, manure. This I
put up in a squarJßpk early after the
first of Januar 1 might know tho
exact quantyjjraiiK have it in a con*
vient forn»r hauling on land.
The ndp difficulty I had to encoun
ter was 4pe mode of applying the ma
nure land. I made innumerable
caloiilajßhs and fixed upon- various
plans won paper, few of which pro
misedjpy convenience on the field. I. ..
deteJPfined however, governed by the
exnjrment of the year previous, to lay
m wows 5 feet wide audio navei the
stairs stand in the rows 33 inches,apart.
I wund this to give me 2940 stalks
pwaere of 70 yards square, which ia
a wry convenient planter’s aero, I as
eemined by trial, thafji half gallon of
mjnurc could be very conveniently
twen on a small shovel /oy a negro,
f»m a cart load of manure, and de
picted in the hill, buy I found upon
cumulation that this would consume
bufqfcbout 200 bushels Wr acre, of my
which I felt (very confident
would iliiLgrow Cottony on my poor
pine to the Cotton I had
seen three qn the rich li
chee about
300 .bushels out
and spread broad castalMfeland, and
plowed it in in the
up. After the laud was befeefnp, which
was done deep and wellfwith %n ex«
eel lent plow, 1 had anomer diffiiulty
to encounter, which w m to dejmsit
the manure intended for %e hill,. suK
fieicntly deep in-the bed jjtoid at the 1
exact distances intended iomaach hill.
It was an experiment ami
connected with it was and
without precedent. IjrOpencd eac!k
i-idge qy- ted. with ag shovel plow