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A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c.
Yol. XIII.WENSA MONN,AGS 15187No3.
EVERY WEDNESDAY MORNING,
At Newberry, S. C.
BY THOS. F. GRNEKER,
Editor and Proprietor.
Terms, $2.00 per .unutrn,
Invariably in Advance.
:G The paper is stopped at the expiration of
time for which it is paid.
17 The ?4 mark denotes expiration of sub
GEOBGE JOHNSTONE. F. W. PANT.
JOHNSTONE & FANT,
Attorneys at Law,
NEWBERRY, S. C.
Will practice in the State and United
States Courts for South Carolina.
July 25, 30-1m.
W. H. WALLACE,
NEWBERRY, S. C.
Office over Harmon's Store, adjoining
HERALD Office. Oct. 25, 43-tf
ATLANTA MEDICAL COLLEGE,
The Twentieth Annual Course of Lectures
will commence Oct. 15th, 1877, and close
March 1st, 3878.
FACULTY-J. G. Westmoreland, W. F. West.
moreland, W. A. Love, V. H. Taliaferro, Jno.
Thad. Johnson, A. W. Calhoun, J. H. Logan,
J. T. Banks; Demonstrator- of Anatomy,
C. IV. Nutting.
Send for Announcement, giving fall in
JNO. THAD. JOHNSON, Dean.
Aug. 8, 32-1m.
flTAis not easily earned in these times,
but it can be made in three months
355by an one of either sex, in any
~I5 prt ofthe country, wh~o is willing
t seaily at the employment ta
we furnish. $6per week in your own town.
You need not -e away from home over
night. You can give your whole time to the
work, or onyyour saemoments. We
have agnswh are maig over $20 per
day. Alwho engrage at once can make
moe fast. At t3ie present time money
canno be made so easily and rapidly at
any other business. It costis nothin to try
the business. Terms and $5 Out t free.
Address at once, H. HAI.r.Err & Co., Port
land, Maine. Aug. 1, 31-1y*
CO LLE G-E,
ABINGBOZi, - - - -VIEGINIA.
This institution, bemitifaly situated in
the mountains of Virginia, on the Virginia
and Tennessee Railroad, having accommo
dations for one hundred and ftyboarders,
for instruction in al the rnchesfalle
ral education. Country around aboands in
fine mountain scenery and excellent mine
ral waters. The College grounds are inter
sected with one mile of raised walks bor
dered with shade and fruit trees. The ex
tensive verandas and piazzas afford ample
room for exercise in bdweather. Cham
bers all carpet,ed and wenlfurnished. Music
depatent superior. Board and tuition
fr20 weeks $105. Session beis20th Sep.
temnber, 1877. WARRNDUi PRE,
July 25, 30-2m President.
F U R MA N ~UNIVERSITY,
CREENVILLE, S. C.
Rev. J. C. FUEEAN, D.D., President, and
Professor Mental and'Moral Science.
Rev. J3. L. REYNOI.Ds D.D.,. Professor Ro
m)T E T , Professor Greek Literature.
C. H. JUD5ON, Professor Mathematics.
J. M. HARms, Professor Natural Philoso
The 20% Sssion will open on Tuesday,
18th Sept., 1877.
- TUITION FEEE.
Incidental fee................--- - $ 500
Board,per month................... 15 00
For further informaio Addrs,
July 25, 30-4t* Secretary.
The 23d Session winl open on Wednesday,
September 12th, 1877, with superior facilhties
br highe cutur inaldprmn-Fa.
and snccisf1 eprience asTeachoerge
-Parents'wifl do well to consider the supe
iIor advantages offered by this Institution,
at rates 25 per .cent. lower than in most
~schools of the same grade.
Send.tor Circular. C.HJUSN
July 25, 30-4t Greenville, S. C.
To the Traveling Public.
The undersigned would respectfully in
form his friends and the general public,
that he has opened a BOARDING HOUSE
at-the corner of Nance and Friend Streets,
not far from the Depot. As the rooms are
well appc.inted, the table abundantly sup
plied with1 well cooked food, and the ser
vants polite and attentive, he hopes to give
satisfaction. . A. W. T. SIMMONS.
Mar. 28, lS-tf.-.
POPE & ARIA
Announce to their friends and the public
generally that they are now permanently
located at Tarrant's old stand, on Mollohon
Row, with a stock of
almost entirely fresh and new, which they
propose to sell on the most reasonable
termer They invite attention to their stock
-April 4, 14-tf.
jTTEW'EL L El
A BACHELOR'S GROWL.
I'm a grumpy old bachelor,
Grizzly and gray,
I am seven and forty
If I'm a day.
I am fussy and crusty,
And as dry as a bone;
So ladies-Mood ladies
Just let me alone.
Go shake out your ringlets,
Go tinkle your trinkets,
And show off your w:es,
Bewitch and bewilder
Wherever you can;
But pray-pray, remember,
I am not the man!
I'm frozen to blushes,
I'm proof against eyes;
I'm hardened to simper-,
And stony to sighs.
I'ni tough to each dart
That young Cupid can lance;
I'm not in the market
At any advance!
I sew my own buttons,
I darn my own hose,
I keep my own counsel,
And fold my own clothes.
I mind my own business,
And live my own life;
I won't-no, the Dickens
Be plagued with a wife!
I walk forth in trembling,
1 come home in dread,
I don't fear my heart,
But I do fear my head!
My civilest speech
Is a growl.snd a nod;
And that-Heaven save me!
Is "charmingly odd !"
So ladies-dear ladies
Just hear me, I pray;
I speak to you all
In the pluralest way.
My logic is simple
As logic can be
_ If I don't marry you,
Pray-don't marry me!
And yet there's nine spinsters
Who believe me their fate;
There's two dozen widows
Who'd change their estate.
There's silly young maidens
Who blush at my bow;
All-all bent on marrying me
No matter how!
BY EVA EVERGREEN.
Maud Stanwood was eighteen,
petty and wilful-the two latter
caracteristics are very apt to go
tgether in our modern specimens
ffemininity-and had been the
rdiating centre of numberless
aux ever since she could remern
r. But despite their sighs.snd
otestations the little damsel's
art had remained obdurately
osed, until one memorable day
r more memorable, indeed, than
he could have dreamed of then.
Six weeks before, D-- society
had been thrown into a great flut
r by the appearance of a gentle
an who made his entree into their
ery midst like a conquering hero,
nd was flattered, feted, and courted
aordingly. Nothing was known
conerning him, save what he chose
o divulge himself, further than that
e came from that charmed region,
te city,' but his stylish attire, and
geral distingue air, was sufficient
commendation in the eyes of the
yong people, and indeed in many
fthe older ones, too.
He put up at the best hotel in
the place, and initiated himself into
ublic favor by at once joining the
oung men's 'Literary and Debating
Club,' from whence he easily ob
ained introductions to all the young
dies of the place. From the first
f their acquaintance, however, Mr.
eynolds manifested a strong and
umistakable penchant for Maud
Stanwood, whose father was one of
D-'s 'solid men,' and it wasn't
ong before she, flattered by his
preference and the conquest she
ad gained over her companions,
fnd her heart becoming hopeless
One-half of her friends congratu
lated her upon the splendid con
uest, and the other half, as was
natural, was not a little jealous aixd
n-humored at the downfall of their
hopes, but Maud was in a state of
oo blissful exaltation to mind that.
There was one, however, who look
d upon the matter with decided
disapproval, innd -that was Maud's
At first heittaken-nonotice of
he young man's attentions, or the
onsequent discussions his advent
into the town had given rise to, but
discovering at last that his ad
dresses were becoming marked and
significant, and that his name con
stituted the most frequent theme
upon his daughter's lips, he felt it
time to interfere. One afternoon,
herefore, as Maud was ebout sally
ng forth for her accustomed walk,
he called her into his study.
'I want to say a few words to
ou Maud,' he began, abruptly ;
'what do you know of this Mr. Rey
nolds, that the town is lionizing to
such an extent?'
The question took Maud by sur
prise, and the color swept in a scar
let wave over her face and neck.
'Know?' she stammered ; 'why,
as much as any one else does.'
'Exactly, and that is-nothing,'
returned her father, with a slight
curl of his lip; 'nothing, except
whatever remarkable or romantic
tale he may choose to invent, and
which is readily accepted by our
credulous town people. But it
doesn't satisfy me, Maud. I must
have more satisfactory knowledge
of the man's character and connec
tions before I would consent to re
ceive him as my son-in-law.'
'Papa-papa!' protested =Maud,
her face aflame ; 'the idea of '
'That will do, Maud. You un
derstand his intentions as well as I
do, despite that assumption of pret
ty innocence; and I tell you frank
ly that, from my acquaintance with
Mr. Reynolds, I am not at all favor
ibly impressed with him. He is a
thorough man of the world and
they are not the kind to select coun
try girls for their wives. I regret
most keenly that you are without a
mother to direct and advise you in
this matter ; but as it is you must
be content to abide by my judg
ment. There are plenty of worthy
men in this town without your tak
ing up with one who may be a mere
idventurer ; so if Mr. Reynolds
makes any matrimonial proposals
to you just refer him to me, and I
will give him an answer that will
settle him I guess. -That is all I
wished to say.'
Maud arose and silently left the
room; to give vent, however, to
her indignation, as soon as she was
airly out of hearing.
'All! I should think it was enough
-quite enough ! It's very nice for
papa to sit there and villify the only
man I ever cared for. Plenty of
others-as if I'd give a rush for any
of them! And he an adventurer !
dventurers don't wear such fine
clothes, and have plenty of money
to spend, and be so accomplished
%s he is. I didn't think father could
be so unjust and cruel!' and having
settled the matter entirely to her
own satisfaction, Maud started on
her walk-that walk which was to
occasion such results.
Half way down the village was a
pleasant lanerunning between some
farm lands, shaded by trees on
either side, whose projecting branch
es met overhead. It had been chris
tened by the more romantic of the
young people, 'Love Lane;' and
somehow Maud's footsteps had in
stinctively turned in that direction
of late. She had just gained it this
time, when she heard footsteps be
bind her, and as they drew nearer,
she turned, with a conscious flush,
to meet Mr. Reynolds.
For a moment, seized with a fit
of sudden shyness, she would have
hurried on ; but, as if- anticipating
her purpose, he stepped forward
and intercepted her.
'Don't run away, Miss Maud !
Won't you permit me to share your
stroll?' he said, with that easy,
confident air, which seemed to sub
stantiate his claim to being a per
son of importance.
'I don't know that I have any ob
jections,' Maud stammered, trying
to laugh in order to hide her con
He walked on by her side for a
few moments in silence, then bent
a significant look upon her.
'They tell me that this pleasant
little ramle is called 'Love Lane,'
'Yes, some of our young folks
called it so in sport, and the name
seems to cling to it.'
'And it has decided the future
destiny of many a couple, I dare
say,' pursued Mr. Reynolds.
'1 don't know but it has,' admit
'Shall it decide ours?' her com
panion said, bending his head sud
denly to look into her tell-tale face;
'say, Maud, shall we date our hap
piness from this auspicious place?t'
Maud trembled and turned part
ly away from him for a moment,
her father's words of disapproval
and admonition yet ringing in her
ears. But what young, impulsive
girl is willing to believe Lanything
detrimental to the man who has
captivated her youthful fancy ?
'Will you not speak, Maud ?' Rey
nolds urged. 'Look into my face,
darling, and see how I love you,
and tell me that you will be mine!l'
His arm stole around her waist,
his other hand held hers fast.
Maud's foolish little heart beat like
a trip-hammer under the magnetism
of his presence. Everything else*
was forgotten, and with a low whis
pered 'yes,' her head sank on his
'My darling ! 1 will see your
father at once, and have all settled
Her father ! That set Maud trem
bling again. She disengaged her
self, quivering nervously.
'What is the matter?t' Reynolds
asked. 'Is there any doubt of your
father's consent ?'
'es,' she faltered.
'I will try him, at all events,' re
plied her lover, 'and if he objects,
we must take the matter in our
own hands. Will Maud be willing
to do that ?'
'I don't know what you mean?'
she answered, faintly.
'Would you be willing to go with
me where we may make our own
home and fortune, or must we 4be
parted forever?' he asked, bending
his face to hers.
Parted ! the thought was torture
to the infatuated girl, and she mur
mured 'yes' again, feeling willing
to endure anything rather than
'That is my dear, faithful girl!'
Be bent to kiss the trembling lips.
-Don't say anything to your father
until I see him, and if he refuses,
why, then we'll seek our happiness
He walked on half way to the
house with her, and then bade her
ood-bye, again enjoining secrecy,
while Maud went on and into the
bouse, all in a tremor with her
A fortnight passed. Every 'day
her father's demeanor toward herI
seemed more constrained and sus
picious. The subject was not again
%lluded to ; but at the end of that
time, Reynolds, meeting her in the
village, slipped a note into her
hand. Half an hour later, in the
seclusion of her own room, she
broke the seal, and read the few
lines it contained:
'DEax MauD :-I have seen your.
lather, and there is no hope for us ;
and as it is necessary for me to re
burn at once to the city, you must
,o with me, or bid me farewell for;
sver. If you will come, meet me
o-night under, the large chestnut
bree near the old town road, at nine
)'clock. If you love me, do not fail
Maud read the note three times,
rnd then raised her head, dashing
the tears from her eyes.
'Yes, I will go, for I cannot give
him up ! Papa shall not stand be
ween us!' and destroying the mis
ive, she left the room and went
down stairs, striving to hide her
really heavy heart and conscience
under an assumed cheerfulness.
She passed a sleepless night, her
mind racked with confiieting emo
tions of self-accusation at the du
plicity in which she was engaging,
nd vague apprehensions concern
ing the step before her. Every
hing seemed to favor her the next
day, however ; her father was away
from home, and no restraint was
put upon her actions. Toward af
ernoon, wearied out with the men
bal excitement of the past day and
uight, she threw herself into a
hair, and fell into a troubled sleep.
But the decisive hour came all
boo soon; and stealing from her
home like a guilty thing, she made
her way to the rendezvous. A tall,
uuffled form awaited her, and lead
ing her to where a carriage and
horses were standing, he lifted her
in, and they drove off.
On and on they went in silence
and darkness. For awhile the nov
alty of the thing diverted her at
tention, and then her conscience
rose with renewed strength and
power to reproach her for the step
she was taking, and held before
her eyes the dreadful consequences.
t first she crouched in one corner
of the carriage, too utterly wretch
d to speak, while the whole of her
previous life seemed to pass in re
view before her. The thought of
her mother, dead so many years ;
of her father, who loved her so
early, and who had so often called
her his only blessing ; of his grief
and anguish when he should return
to his home and find her gone ; and
lastly the man into whose bands
she had entrusted her welfare, and
who was a comparative stranger to
her. What had she done?i What
would be the consequences of this
step?i What could they be but
misery and wretchedness ? These
questions struck to her heart like
the point of a knife ; and at last,
unable to endure it longer, she
turned to her companion, who was
almost indistinguishable in the
darkness, and who had maintained
the same persistent taciturnity.
'Take me back, Walter l' she ex-.
claimed, brokenly. 'I was foolis1i
-wicked ! Take me back!I'
'It is too late now,' was the an
swer, as the horses quickened their
pace ; 'you have chosen your fate ;
you must accept it.'
'But where are you bringing me?'
she moaned, as the full horror of
her position seemed to burst upon
her ; 'oh, heaven ! what shall I do?t'
Her companion made no reply,
but only urged the animals faster.
Another dreadful silence ensued, a
period during which Maud suf
fered such agony as she never
thought possible. Those few words
seemed to have stripped the mask
from her enslaver, and shown her
the true character of the man into
whose power she had in her wilful
ness and folly betrayed herself. At
last the carriage stopped, her com
panion alighted, and then lifted
her to the ground ; and as the ac
tio eemed to giv her new vigor,
she br(ke from his arms with an
'Oh, father-father ! save me !
Where am I V
'Safe in your own home, my
child ! Thank heaven that such a
haven yet remains to you!' an
swered- her father's voice. With a
startled cry, she opened her eyes,
to find herself lying prone upon
upon the floor, from which he .had
bent to raise her, and giving utter
ance to a faint moan the over
wrought and utterly astonished
girl sank fainting into his arms.
When she recovered her senses,
her father was seated beside the i
lounge on which he had placed t
her, cl afing her brow and hands ;
and- when she would have spoken
he prevented her.
'Let me speak first, Maud ; you
are too weak. I discovered your f
intended elopement, and learned
also, that this Reynolds was worse
than I ever deemed him, and that
the officers of the law were already
apon his track. I have just returned f
with the intelligence of his arrest ; t
but had it been deferred until eve c
ning, I had intended to meet you f
in his stead, and save my misguided
daughter from the fate she would
'Then I have not-' faltered c
Maud, in wild bewilderment. C
'You have not left the safe haven
of your father's home, my child ;
God grant that you never may,' re
plied Mr. Stanwood gravely ; 'I
have been watching you all this f
week, and marking every move- t
ment, and this afternoon as I heard
the welcome news that the man
who would have wrought your ruin
was in the custody of the law, I
hastened home, just as you cried s
out in your sleep, and springing
from your chair, fell to the floor.
You may tell me now, if you choose,
what it was, but thank God it was
only a dream, and not the fearful
reality !' t
For a moment shame sealed
Maud's lips; then with a burst of
tears of mingled repentance for the
folly, and gratitude for her deliv
erance from the fate which she a
could now realize so vividly, she f
confessed the whole. C
'Then your heart was not wholly
alienated from the father who
would lay down his life, if need be, I
for your sake ?' Mr. Stanwood said, '
as she finished, and he folded her t
sadly and tenderly into his arms; ;
'he never asked my consent, Maud; ;
and let this be a lesson to you,
t~hat any one who would counsel ,F
you to leave your home under such ,
circumstances, would have no end g
in view but your ~ destruction.
'hank heaven for your deliverance,
.ychld, and letit be a warning
that you will never forget.' I
They talked together much ion- e
ger, while Maud besought the for
dveness that was freely granted.
rhree years later she became the E
Eappy wife of a good man, sanc- ~
ioned by her father's smile and c
blesing, and she never ceased to E
ook back with gratitude upon that ~
ay when she awas so mercifully
spared the wretchedness and woe
which could have been the- only I
INDooR SAFETY IN A THUNDER~ 2
STORM.-Mr. Latimer Clark, the
eminent electrician, gives the fol
lowing useful hints as to the safest
position people can occupy daring
a thunder storm: A person re- i
lining on a sofa or bed at a dis
ance from the walls of the room
could scarcely suffer injury, even
in a house struck by lightning,
but a most absolute security is C
obtained by lying on an iron or a
brass bedstead in which the head e
is surmounted by an iron erection
supporting the curtains. A person
lying or sleeping within such a
bedstead could not possibly receive I
any direct injury from lightning,t
even if the house were to be de
molished, as bis bed-stead forms
the most complete lightning-pro
tector which could be well devised.
A philosopher says he can't find i
out where the air leaves off and the<
earth begins. Let him fall back
ward from a fence and he'll soon
Some one has estimated that
each person on . the- globe would
receive $2 if all the gold was par
Why is a newspaper like a tooth
ache ? Because everybody should
have one of his own, and not be
borrowing his neighbor's.
One of the acute sayings of a hu
morist is: "There's a great deal of1
human nature in horse dealing, but
"I'm practically uneasy on this
point," as the fly said when the
tailor stuck him on the end of a
How does a cow become a landed
estate? By turning her into a
Everything is going up in these
ays, inclingn the thermometer.
FOR THE HERALD.
LEXINGTON Co., S. C.,
August 4, 1877.
MESSRS. EDITORS: We intend to
nake some random shots at the far
ners' imaginary guardian of Ceres
he phosphatic enormity now jeopard
zing agriculture. In tampering with
his immortal companion of the late
epealed mephitic Lien Law, we plot
io intended detriment to the country
n endeavoring to drive it so massively
rom its rural haunts, thereby com
aratively draining, the revenue swim
Ling that channel to the public treas
Lry, nor execute a scheming device,
rom personal prejudice, to ransack
he growing wealth of phosphatics,
ly so far as concerns the public weal,
or the condition of the heart must be
:ept in a healthy state .to prevent the
elaxation of dependent members. To
lear the rubbish that clog the wheels
f progress is our aim, which must be
ffected at the hazard of every thing
Ise to prevent the destruction of all,
hen, with a sound core, all must pros
ier. In claiming that guanos, fer
ilizers, phosphatic composts, acid
ihosphates, bone dust or whatever
1se you may be pleased to call them,
to a general end the same with about
,s much difference as chicken fried
,nd chicken stewed) are a greater
urse as manipulated on our poor lands,
of which the greater bulk are) we
rill not attempt a chemical analysis of
heir component parts, and therefrom
ihilosophize upon the subject, but
rill argue from observation and posi
ive facts. Why did, and do guanos
ttain such popclarity among those
or whose (dis) advantage they were
reated ? Because they stimulated,
ushed off, and enabled the crop to
ut on and mature at an early date.
his is true, and is the only reputation
hat maintains the damning powder
ow. The sole office of this poor land
trichnine is, that of a stimulant.
It makes the roots shoot down
d out for food, which draws in the
ertility of the.soil and shoots it into
e weed above, without carrying any
here or leaving any remunerative store
ehind. Elated over appearances the
heated farmer applies this propeller
f fortune again and with nearly as
~rand a crop as before, with the
me result. Carried away, he in
reases his supply, but the harvest
asson brings him a little behind the
irst year's trial. Here he is ready to
hift the responsibility from the im
riortal companies on the shoulder of
rod, or the laborer, by "its being the
rrst crop year since"-' way back
:mewhere, or "the land wasn't half
rorked," and continues. The whole
ruth, with no secret to shirk, is that
hose phosphates, or rather guanos,
[raw the strength from your lands
rithout bringing or leaving any assist
nce, which operation is repeated until
he land is entirely exhausted instead
i improved, 'neath a sheet of fertili
ers. To do good they must have an
hundance of vegetable matter upon
rhich to work. Hence, paradoxically
peaking, they are best used where
east needed. That is, on our very fer
ile soils where we have an abundance
f vegetable matter, they may be used
small quantities. to rush the crops
if to an advantage with no detriment
o the soil, since the amount returned
rom the weed exceeds the amount
Iestroyed, thereby leaving the land at
ar with or on qp increase from last
Tear's fertility, with a better crop in
he crib or gin-house. To be better on
ich land than on poor seems at
rariance with all reason. But when
he amount of vegetable matter means
hat fertility the soil has, and returning
regetable matter to, signifies nothing
nore than enriching the soil, the dis
~ordant elements seem harmony agter
1ll, since these guanos, a stimulant,
estroy this vegetable matter with
t any reniovating effects upon the
and. To illustrate: Take do acres
if land of equal fertility, with the
ame seed, (say cotton,) and work
ike. Plant one of them eith heavy
uanic stimulant annually, and the
ther with no manure save that scraped
rom the weed of the cotton, for five
rears. The sixth year use no manure
Lt all, except the trash of the pre
eding year's crop. At the end of the
rear the acre unaided will produce a
m.Aar ecrop than that nurtured
under the loving tyranny of plutonic
solubles, because, in the one case, the
land has been rifled of its vegetable
matter without any return; and, in
the other, the exhaustion is very
gradual. The crop is pushed off in the
one case, and makes only its early crop,
as highly guanoed londs are unable to
stand drouths as those not so; but, in
the other case, the weed develops
gradually, puts on heavily, and ex
hibits a crop oftener, than not equal
in proportions plus the expenditure
for fertilizers, freight, hauling, and
fertile wastes of soil. Hence, our
conclusion that guanos are our worst
enemy to poor land. How, then, must
we tinker with our porous sands for
a livelihood? While we tear down,
we are ready to frame relief for this
needy people in presenting a plan by
no means costlier, and far more bene
ficial to both land and farmer, if it is
antagonistic to the flow of wealth into
the pockets of fertilizing interests.
Every planter who knows anything at
all knows that land which can grow
nothing else will grow rye and peas.
Now, the great necessity is to obtain
a supply of vegetable matter. Yes,
this is an absolute necessity, and must
be accomplished by direct or indirect
vegetation. Since, then, our ordinary
lands will grow peas and rye in abun
dane, we select these commodities as
direct instruments to supply the wast
ing fertility of,our soil, thus : After
grain has been harvested, sow the land
with cow peas. When these have
grown a great quantity of vine turn
them deep under, and when small
grain planting season arrives, broad
cast with rye and plow under as be
fore. When this has grown a great
deal of weed lap under and let lie un
til the time for preparation is neces
sary. The hungry soil now has an
abundance to feed upon for the year.
Upon these crops of rotting trash the
pregnant seed are sown. The result
might not be.so evident the first year,
but time to thoroughly rot must be
given, and a repetition of the same or
a part of the same process year after
year will bring an astonishing increase
of fertility annually to the once ex
hausted land. Of course, cotton fields
must be taken hold of as soon as the
produce is off, which will admit of but
one enriching crop-the rye. But,
says some unthinking or unmathemat
ical farmer, it will take all a man
makes to prepare his land. Let us
see. What does it cost you per acre
to fertilize your exhausted sand hills
and fast wasting glens ? If you fer
tilize your lands to do them, in your
opinion, justice, you will put no less
than from 200 to 250 and 300 lbs. to
every acre, which equals from $5.00
to $6.25 and $7.50. To have some
standard value we will say it costs
you $5.00 in money per acre. Taking
hold of the $5.00 in your pocket we
will apply it to our purpose. One
half bushel peas is a gracious plenty
for an acre of ground, at $1.25 per bu.
is 62ic.; plowing under, 50c.-you
furnishing the stock, which you do in
both cases; turning under when vine
is ready, 50c. Again, for the second
operation, ji bu. rye at $1.25 per bu.,
621c.; plowing under, 50c.; and 50c.
when the weed is large enough for
turning under-total $3.25, plus $1.75
for good measure in case of stringent
computations. The land is now ready
to undergo the regular routine plow
ing to which it would be subjected if
previously untouched, with no change
at the year's eiad save larger incomes
and increased fertility of the soil. But
lazy agriculturists exclaim, "That takes
more work than I will be able to give
it; for at that rate I. would never get
my land prepared in time." True,
if the system of scraping over thirty
five or forty acres of land for what
can be raised on fifteen properly culti
vated, is still followed. Agricultural
economy is to work a lit,tle and work
it well. No one-horse farm should
exceed fifteen or twenty acres, to be
properly cultivated. Land should be
subsoiled at least once every two years.
If the plan of fifteen or twenty acre
farms were adopted, with the prepara
tion herein specified, no longer the cry
of "wasting industries" would agitate
our frantic shores. Other plans can
be pursued in which we will give
phosphate companies a shade to fade
gradually through. After you have
followed our prescription you can
with safety and profit apply the sur
plus $1.75 per ace in aanos, as you
now have the vegetablegniatter there,
and a little stimulant will greatly ac
celerate the crop's growth without
injur to the land. Or, (to tboe8
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Special contracts made with large adve:
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DONE WITH NEATNESS AND DISPATCH.
who have more'cotton seed;than they
need) I acid phosphate or any other
fertilizer, composted with I cotton
seed-per weight of each-and let
rot before application, is an excellent
manure. Or, the old pine straw,
horse stable manure custom is a beat
ific coat to ehaggy soil. In either
case the land must be thoroughly
pulverized. by deep preparations for
planting, followed by thorough cul
tivation. Yet we are constrained to
award the palm to our first plan as
better subserving, at the same time,
both the needs of the land and wants
of the tenant. The recklessness with
which our farmers are impoverishing
our fertile soil is the cause that
brought us before the public at this
time in order that it might be brought
to the consideration of an organiza
tion, the State Agricultural and Me
chanical Society, now about to hold a
meeting in the up-country, whose
discussions are the farmers' interest,
and, since the people expect advice
from them, we submit to their serious
onsideration if it would not be wise
for them to endeavor to correct the
abuse through a memorial to that
rder of which they are the corporate
ody. Very respectfully,
J. FLETCHER HOBBS.
A REJIINISCENCE OF THE
One morning a party were sit
ting at White Sulphur, and the
onversation had fallen upon the
late war. Personal reminiscence
was in order. Each was the hero
f his own hair-breadth escape,
and the sequels were blood and
Within ear-shot sat an old grey
oated Virgaxian, attentively lis
tening and turning his quid re
flectively between his teeth.. At.
length he spoke:
"Gentlemens, you've all been.
brough a heap, but they haint
none of you had a wuss time nor
"Which ide was you on ?" asked
"Nary a side, gentlemens, but I
had a very hard time," and the
old fellow, drawing out his quid
of reflection, proceeded :
"Wall, when the wa' fust broke
out, I didn't know much about it
oow. I was a studying it out,
but hedn't come to no judgment.
One night my darter, Mary Ann,
was took powerful sick. The doc
tor he wrote a script, and told me
o go .right off and get it. So I
bridled my old mar', and started.
Wall, gentlemens, when I got I
reckon, 'bout three miles from
ome-it was monstrous dark
some one called out halt!-and 1
hilted. Fust I knowed I was a
prisoner, and the boys was 'round
thicker nor June-bugs. Sez they:
'Who are you fur?' Sez I: 'Gentle
mens, darter Mary Ann, she-'
Sez they: 'Dam Mary Ann! Who
are you for ? Speak out ! Hurra
for somebody ! I studied a minit,
an' sez I, ona a ventur' like, 'Hurra
for Jeff Davis!' They sez, mad as
hornets, 'I told you he was a d-d
rebel. Git off that mar' I'
"Gentlemens, I haint telling you
no lie when I sez tliey took me off
y ma', and bucked me over a
log, and gin me 500. It hurt me
powerful bad; I was nonstrous
sore. I mounted my mar' and
started. I hadn't got more'n three
miles when I heerd another voice
call out, 'halt!l' an' I hilted; and
ain the boys had me. 'Who are
you far ?' sez they. Sez I, 'Gen
tlemen, my darter Mary Ann is
powerful sick, an' the doctor-'
'Dam the doctor, who are you fur ?'
Hurrah for somebody!I'
"I wan't goin' to be kotched
agin' so I jest took off my hat, an'
sez as loud as I could, "Hurrah for
incoln !' 'There!' sez they, mad
der nor blazes ; 'I told you he was
a d-d traitor!i Git down off that
mar'.' Gentlemens, I haint tell
ing you no lie. They took me off
that mar' and bucked me over a
log, and, jest whar I was sore,
they gin me 500 mo'. It was
monstrous bad. But I got on an'
went along. Jest as 1 was a comin'
into town, another man called out,
'Halt !' and I hilted. 'Who are you
fur ?' sez he ; 'hurrah for some
body.' Gentlemen, I wan't never
agoin' to be kotched agin. I jest
se, 'Mister, you jest be so kind as
to hurrah fust, jest this once.'"
Somebody in a Buffalo paper ad
vertses "Wranted-A yong man