The Copiahan. [volume], June 12, 1875, Image 1

About The Copiahan. [volume] (Hazlehurst, Miss.) 1869-1876

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VOL X. "IIAZLElH RSTrCOPIAir COUNTY. MISS. JOE 1875?) lo 42
IKadelmwi <£oi»aitau.'
^ujicE fc Mi AssExiiiCT i
Term) »>f Ssiteeiiption :
F> r annum, in advance,-$ 3 ‘J°
Six mouth*, in advance, — 1 •5tf j
—*
Kale* ot AirertW'"8 : i
Due square, ten line*01■ lemew
llrst insertion. .••••*..
EadM»dditione’*"^ltl,,n’-; - ;,U:
Vll bit !•**’*« on J reHematiou. Li ,
beral ten- >° vca,1> veitisors. j
pi OF HER H E A RT. i
“A light at last,” exclaimed!
fervently, the young Anicri-j
can who accompanied u Hus j
tfion embassador in the* third
stage from Uralsk,in the route
of a long journey southward.
‘Heaven he praised, we are
nearing a human habitation!*
Through the driving sleet
bis keen eye had discovered
the twinkling of a lamplight.
They had crossed thirty miles
of wintry desert without en
countering a sign of life. The
good news failed, however,to
arouse his semi dormant com
pauiou- w«figtiiiin tur
ned toward him a glance of
compassion. Throw it from the
sledge some miles ba'’k on
the day’s journey, the poor
embassador had sustained an
injury so painful that only
for the last hour, and under
the influence of opiates, ho
had ceased from moaning.
The isolated dwelling which
the travelers approached,and
where life sledge conveying
their baggage had arrived,
proved to l>e the house of a
liussian peasant. No sooner
had they passed its wind
guarded passages, carefully
lined with felt, and entering
from the intense e.ohl of the
outdoor air, into the no less
intense heat of the stove-war
med interior, than the cm
bassador fainted.
mt • .t . t 4
The energies of the Amer
ican were devoted immedi
ately to the care of his friend.
He had already ordered his
servant to bringthe medicine
chest from the sledge, and he
speedily selected and applied,
with expressions of tender so
licit u,ie,the properstimul’uls,
lotions and bandages. He
bad the satisfaction to see the
embassador slowly revive,and
to convince himself that the
injury was nothing more se
rious ilian a sprauicd ankle,
which delay In affording a
remedy, an untoward expo
sure liad rendered ucutedy
paini'nl.
"Not. only a handsome youth,
tall, straight, broad-shoulder
ed, and sunnily blonde, was
the voung American). Hartlv
Herne,but a dushing.sf irited,
merry-voiced individual,who,
as quickly as he found his
patient recovering, broke
fort h into pleasant sallies,
which had the effect to make
the embassador's face relax
from its dreary askew, and to
draw his big features into an
approach to a laugh.
It was nearly midnight
when the doctoring was fin
•shed. Tea had been steeped
in tiie great Russian tea-nrn,
and bad been swallowed in
prodigious quantities. The
embassador, muttering many
but not various adjectives of
deprecation,had been hoisted
upon the bed of state,the sole
Tamily bed, heir whispered—
namely, the fur-spread roof
ol the huge stove, where gra
dually his groans,in tlio sooth
ing spell of a skilfully con
nected draught, subsided into
satisfied grunts. Then Hart
ley Herne had leisure to stu
dy critically hissurronndings.
Hu was not long in com
prehending the contents of
the crumped chamber, nearly
one-fourth of whose space
M as occupied In* the mud fur
nace, whose flattened dome
Mas now peacefully graced
by his comrade. A table of
rude deal, occupying the cen
tre, supported his own con
templative elbows. A bench,
rough like the table,surroun
ded the room. On the dingy
Mall, betAvecn two double
glazed windows, hung a gild
ed picture of St. Nicholas.1—
In one corner a pitcher o£|
water, sacred to scanty ablu
tion, M as suspended from the
ceiling, and a shelf opposite
upheld a crude black stone,
representing a miscarvedOta- j
heitun idol.
!
On the bench, under tha
gilded saint, were seated the
women who had watched the
strangers medical perform
ance with such admiring fas
cination. They spoke Rus
sian, and as our traveler was
no novice in that language, i
and had patiently acquaint
ed diimself with shell plira- j
«e£> cf gallantry as? usual!*'®
give pleasure, lie lost notime ;
in rendering himself agreea-'
o c
hie.
He did this the more read-1
ily since, although one of the
women was middle-aged and
ugly, the other was young
and pretty. Yes, in spitejif
her coarse garb, the critic
pronounced her decidedly and
even—after he had paid a
few compliments, and had
seen her dark eyes glisten,
her checks flush like the ri
pened peach, and across her
glancing white teeth her red
lips redden—“confoundedly”
pretty.
They talked of many things
and not until the host had
returned from his care of the
stock that conversation turn
ed upon one ‘objet do virtu,’
and the guest inquired the
significance of the black
shine.
‘It is Itcva’s good,’said the
elder woman, with an inimi
cal leer and a vicious empha
sis.
‘It is a curiosity,’ said the
host, glancing angrily at his
wife, ‘and my daughter here,
has a right *o it, since she
picked it up last winter in
the snow.’
‘It come to me,’ said the
girl, sullenly.
The guest aro«e and exam
ined the stone. ‘A meteor
ite,’ ho pronounced it, ‘and
an interesting specimen.’
When the host hinted, or
growled rather, that if was
bed-time, all retired to the
State bed except Ilcva. Mod
esty, perhaps, but more prob
ably the fact that the embas
sador took much room, caus
ed her to di tn mine to keep
watch that, night. »In rhe
dim firelight, the voung A
merienn, through his halt'
closed eyelids, saw her with
out surprise for his vanity
had perceived the attraction
lio Jtv'lSSt .'im J d*i*cv*r *1 iwl
nearer him, until at last she
I w^squiet iy seated by his side.
So the night waned. And
when indisputable slumber
was attested by a trio of sno
ring, Rev a whispered to the
stranger, who rested hut did
not sleep.
‘Wise youth, for you con
verse, i think, with the stars
and unravel secrets, have
you the willingness to help
a poor girl much troubled?’
The Hashing eyes <>1* the wild
beauty, her confiding air.
and the evident confessional
nat ure of her appeal aroused
the youth's cautiousness as
sensibly as his cordiality.
‘If I can help you,’ he said
not altogether sympathetical
ly, ‘with advice, perhaps 1
shall not be unwilling.’
‘Council me then, kind
stranger how I shall find my
way to the land native to my
fancy. 1 am not a Russian.
So is my lather, as likewise
my step-mother, but not I.
I am aKvighis. My mother
was a slave, taken in a skir
mish; a s’ave, also wife. She
j died in giving me life. Iwo’d
gladly, now that I compre
hend all things, exchange
gifts with her. Every day I
feel that I would prefer to be
far distant, for my step moth
or is not beloved by me, and
—shall I veil you1? I am be
trothed to a ruffian utterly
abhorrent. Do not give me
answer,’ she added, as lie be
stirred himself responsively,
‘but sleep, my stranger, for
you are wearied of your jour
ney; and while you sleep I
will hold vour band and con
duct you through the dream
world. Then the door will
appear to you that shall open
to give freedom to a girl most
unhappy, who would escape.
... f T If a 1
‘I must go on if 1 die,'tho
embassador said in a really
irascible tone. ‘We must
have horses if they are noth
ing more than skeletons. We j
must have a driver.’
‘If he is a death’s head,’ j
said Berne, ‘I agree will!
you; we shall go on, my
friend, this hour.’
At night-fall, a day intol
erable to the embassador, a
day made tolerable to his |
companion by the novelbean
tv, offspring of mixed races,
of the simple but charming
coquetry of the dark-eyed
daughter of the dcaert, the
t
HI' l"!*"1' ..Ill' -1!_l'
travelers resumed their jour-,
ney.
All night they glided along
over the shining compact
snow, the embassador peace- j
fully somnolent, and liis com
panion moodily wakeful, vex
ed by a pair of black eyes, j
‘burning yet tender.” He
gave himself for a night to:
the deli cions torment of one
regretful whim, on the mor-j
row lie would arouse himself:
from such weakness.
Near daybreak horsemen
approached. Swift riders they
wore, seven in number, who]
seemed . making speed with
express intent to waylay the
embassador,or to pounce w ith
plundcrous force' upon the
loaded sledge of tempting lug
gage that proceeded him.
The aspect j>f these horse
men as they rushed into clear
view, betokening hostility.—
The embassador, frightened
from bis lethargy, and bis
companion nervously alert,
lvpared to defend themselves.
As their horses were seized
and their driver, a gigantic
fellow, wrapped to his chin
in sheep-skin, \uis unceremo
niously dragged from his seat
Berne sprang from the sledge
and with his forefinger upon
! the trigger of his revolver,
made parley.
‘It is uotyou that we want,’
cried one of the ruffians who
had immediately dismount
ed; ‘it is your driver.’
‘Our driver,’ said the re
lieved embassador. ‘You are
welcome to lmn, friend, so
long as yon furnish us with
another. Let one of your
number take his place; and
make off with him and wel
come. 1 shall he glad to get
rid of the lazy dog, who has
slept at his post egregiouslv,
or we would have been by
this time breakfasting in K;v
zala.’
* iiiii Jiovuo ‘flit'c rfs a
reason for ins capture; I will
not consent to the kid ta
ping of an honest man.’
•You c mnot keep him for
he is purs already,’ cried the
chief of the band, scornfully.
At this moment the driver,
with a flourish of bravado,
began to east aside bis sheep
skin, tossed on the snow one
after another Ins fleecy cov
erings, and stood before
them a slender girl, her head
raised dauntless, her dark
eyes flashing her lip curled
with scorn.
The young American turn
ed pale with astonishment.
The exclamation died upon
his lip, ‘Reva!’
‘►She is mine ahead v,’ shou
ted the ruffian, whimi the
girl in her confession had ‘ut
terly abhorrent.’ He had
snatched from the hand of
Berne, in that moment of
surprise and sclf-pSsgftful-1
ness, the loaded pi*P* and
threw it on the smnv. Reva
sprang forward and seized
the weapon.
‘I will defend her with my
life,’cried Berne, as the stal
wart barbarian' closed with
him in combat.
But Reva cries, ‘Hold! lie
has said the word truly I be
long to him. Take off thy
clutch, Mersniche, from the
stranger. I am thine when
my father gyves me. I am
thine so soon as 1 perform
the task given by my father,
and bring these strangers to
Kazala.’
After some furl her parley
the sledge moved onward,
driven by one of the horse
men. Reva’s abhorrent ruf
fian formed with two faith
ful followers a dreary escort.
Reva loosly robed in her furs
crunched on the sledge floor,
leaning her head on ‘her
stranger’s’ knee, and weep
ing bitterly. In this style
the embassador’s cortege en
tered Kazala. ,
II.
A night see mo in a tent
pitched in the spring-touch
ed Asiatic wilderness a hun
dred miles south of Kazala; a
young man in the uniform of
an American officer bnsv
with papers at his improvised
dost; a Kirghis boy noiseless-1
ly removing the remnants of
a repast; the young officer, |
Heartlev Berne; the Knights
slave, his page, his servant,
his adored Reva.
At Kajala, Berne bad par
ted with tbe embassador to
continue bis journey to Khi
| va under native escort alone.
I It was not until two days
journey bad parted him trom
: tbe Russian peasant that tbe
I young American discovered
that tbe boyish attendant fur
j Dished by bis Kirghis guide
! was no other than the wild
beauty of the desert, who,
| with the impetuosity of Sub
let, passionately worshiped
him.
! It cannot bo denied that
: there was something iiijllart
| ley Berne’s nature thajp res
! ponded to the isolatioift|#||<|
idolatry of this desert 1%
nmnee. He was not inscnsi
hie to the charms or the now
beautiful and adoring Keva.
i Nevertheless her presence
| troubled him. His manner
toward her became daily
; more cold; bis brow darken
ed when she approached.—
I And she bad seen t lie meteor
1 cool and darken, she saw this
• 1 1 /II i i o
! idol of her heart resolve from
1 a star into a stone.
This evening, as Berne
| bent studiously over his pa
! pers, lleva, her task done,
! threw herself upon a pullet
j-in the tent’s shadowy icress,
land pretended to sleep. /But
from time to time she east at
the American steiithv glan
ces. He too occasionally
glanced covertly at her.—
Whenever lie did so he sigh
ed. At last, sure that she
slept, he drew from his bos
om a gold encased miniature.
He set it up before him, and
as be continued writing, he
gazed upon it at the close of
each paragraph or page, every
time seeming to draw from
:t sometlrng calming, encoui
aging, inspiring.
At midnight an unusual
sound without his tent ar
re%al hi# attffetiwn. H<?9
sprang up suddenly, and par
ting j4® ,rtt|-tain« nf bis*
went out upon the moon lit
moor.
| ‘At last! at last! said m
j rather hissed, between her
closed teeth, in Russian pe
tois, the disguised page He
va, as with the coiling silent
ness of a serpent, she drew
herself from the shadowy
pallet to the lighted desk—
‘at last!’
She held in her hands the
miniature. She turned to
ward herself the gilded disk,
but she could not interpret
the engraved inscription, ‘in
ainore; Gertrude Atherton.’
She interpreted, however,
with the quickness of jeal
ousy, the signiticance of the
portrait. -
That night Hartley Berne
' jhjghmcd of Gertrude Aiher
|||oW? When morning came
Miis garment was not dusted,
his spurs not brightened, liis
repast not spread. His little
valet, his slave, his inamora
ta had tied. He saw he no
more. Once, farther on bis
journey, deeper in the South,
lie spent one night in the pic
tnresqno tent of a Kirgliis
prince, and fancied, as he
lay half-sleeping, fanned by
salubrious odors and soothed
by the dulcet tinkling of a
guitar, that in one of the
glancing forms of two young
maidens, called sisters, here
cognized liis vanished Reva.
Two years after Hartley
Berne’s adventurous pilgrim
age, when liisbride, Gertrude
Atherton, asked — as what
woman would not?—whether
in all his wanderings, in
heart and thought he had
been true to her, be answer
ed with love’s enthusiasm,
‘yes.’
And if Hartley Berne could
have seen at that moment
his passionate little idolater,
Reva, he would hardly have
known her in the sweet, sat
isfied wife ot the Kirgbis
chieftain, sharing with him
thesiuiplb happy days, mov
ing from point to point along
the river-kissed wilderness,
in his free nomadic life.
A man’s good fortune often
turns his head; his bad for
tune as often averts the
heads of his friends.
infancy stationery and perfu,
mery of all kinds at the drag store
of Jones & 0o; Crystal. 2
DOUGLAS & LINCOLN.;
y- '
|
» t©W.* {
No two men in modern times;
have exerted a larger infln- j
eijce on the destiny of this
country than Stephen A. j
Douglas and Abraham Lin- i
coin. They were born in the
depths of poverty,and by their
o«assisted energies t >ol»,egch,
tae highest position that Was
attainable, all things consid
ered. From small beginnings
they both became great, and
,ogt of their acts flowed great
foWtttains, whether for weal
time alone can tell.
in 1840 uyeor
.ding to my estimate of him at
['tt|HNM0was a “Slang-whan
tging Dera il mo-care” sort of
member of Congress,who had
I a vein of strongcommon sense
running thiougli all he said,
but whose great forte was to
make people laugh. I chang
ed that opinion before he be
came President.
j 1 first knew Mr. Douglas
in 1847. He had made his
magical speech in defense of
j den. Jackson’s conduct at X.
I Orleans; had received the
thanks of the old hero, and
had just begun to ride the
wave that sometimes wafts a
man into the Presidency, but
oltener breaks and leaveshim
stranded.
Mr. Lincoln went into re
tirement after one term in
Congress; but Douglas was
constantly in public view. I
knew him well, and came to
love him as a friend. He was
in 1856 my favorite candid
late tor the Presidency. His
I speeches in the Senate were
!often great; the one in reply
j to Chase,Sumner, Wade, Wil
son, and all the rest on the
Kansas- X cb vaska question,
j was among the sublimest spe
kdmensf of oratory ever listen
in that august, body.
' Tbits stood these two great
ftttvteiii LHoH vrtren t+roybe
came rival canuuiutes lor the
fcPfiRed States Senate. The
j Republicans nominated Lin
coln, and Douglas was by
common consent a candidate
to li 1-1 his own vacancy. One
day this colloquy occurred—
•Douglas,’ said J, ‘theRepub
Means ill your State have giv
en up the contest I suppose;
1 see they have nominated
that Slang-whanging fellow
Lincoln to oppose \ou.’
Douglas: ‘1 have heard you
say that of Mr. Lincoln be
fore; you are greatly mistak
en. He is the liibslToi niida
ti>I'i limn in Illinois, itifil I
/would rather meet any other
cwo'nien they could present.’
This conversation put me
I on the alert, and 1 watched
j the progress of the canvass
j with the most intense inter
est. With humiliation I felt
constrained to admit in my
own mind, that my Iriejid
and favorite candidate for the
Presidency was being driven
to the wall.
Little by little I saw with
sorrow that he was yielding
point,after point,until finally,
I, wit!) ail his Southern
friends felt constrained to say
•you have yielded all that is
worth contending for;’—Just
^y^yrejiGininenced the fearful
trouble.
Douglas from being the pet
of his p irtv in the South, be
come an outcast. True bo
was elected to the Senate over
Lincoln. But bis success by
such yielding was bis own
nudoing. At once Lincoln
defeated, arose to the leader
ship, of a growing party, and
Douglas triumphant, sunk to
the leadership of a petty fac
tion.
"ifnw this state of things
was brought about, and what
have been the fearful conse
quences may bo understood,I
think, by reading what fol
lows. A misanthropic old
fellow is reported to have ex
claimed whenever ho heard
of a great social or political
catastrophe “Who’s the wo
max.”
I think I can point out the j
woman who in’oeently enough l
was at the bottom of all our!
troubles.
Mr. Douglas secured his
election to the Senate byyiel!
(ling points, and thus lost fa-,
vor with his party, and with
it, a cardial nomination and
an almost certain election to
the Presidency. He did more
— by yielding points iu the
face of the great American
public, lie not only destroyed
bis own prospects,but be gave
bis defeated competitor, the
weapons by which lie soon af
terwards fought himself safe
ly into the Presidential chair.
Why was this? and thereby
hangs the tale-of my story.
Douglas; 1 knewhim well.
; He had the moral courage to
I brave any danger, and if left
; t'> himself he would willing
! ly ha\'e accepted defeat, in
i defense ofjAvhat he believed j
to be right. Bat he was not I
I left to himself;—like Adam, j
and David, and Anthony, j
and,-well no matter who
!—lie fell under the influence
; of woman, and he was un
: done.
The tirst Mrs. Douglas was
a plain, well-bred daughter
of North Carolina. her
name no blame team bo at
iached. Her iat|»rt Hubert
Martin, was a''prosperous
tradesman,-and h*■ educated
bis daughter up to the high
est standard of faiodesL fe-a
| male aceoinone'
i did tlie honors%of.Afer hus
band's bouse iupftEjh%ijigton
with an ease, j^jd grille. and
elegance, so entirely free from
ostentation as to mafeo Uier
selt' universally esteemed and
» ' * ■
add greatly to her husband's
i popularity. But she died
i earlv.
I now come to tread on
; tender ground; but the truth
j ought to be told. Douglas,
! the great orafor and states
man had lost his honest, eon
tiding, unamhitieus little wile
I who would willingly have
! shared his fortunes anywhere.
| And being young and ambi
j tious lie naturally sought an
i other alliance.
.. TLajiuuuiul Mxa*. Djuyhya.
was Miss Ada Cults, the
nieee of Mrs. Madison but
I of no blood relationship to
i the Ex-President. She was
j young, bright and beautiful,
| when Douglas married her;
and with all a great belle
even in the Metropolis. But
she was ambitious; wonder
fully ambitious.
This lady unlike her pre
decessor, the modest little
North Carolina girl, who
would have gone with her
husband into the obseurist
corner of the Union, could
not bear to leave Washing
ton society. She could not
sojon ui even for a season in
Illinois, though there might
have been found the halfway
house to the Presidency.—
Douglas deeply enamored of
his young and beautiful bride
yielded point after point to
socure his election to the
Senate, and this he did to
gratify his wife, though he
ought to have known he was
thereby sacrificing all his
hopes of higher promotion.
Such is the power of woman.
The defeat of Lincoln in
his senatorial contest with
Douglas, seeing that Douglas
had been driven from his
strong points in that canvass
gave Lincoln the nomination
for President in 18(i0. The
defection of Douglas to se
cure his election and thereby
gratify his wife’s temporary
I ambition, disrupted the Dem
ocratic'party and male Lin
coln’s election not only cer
tain, but easy.
My summing up is this:
Douglas was a man of pi nek;
he would have dared any
thing; his first, wifo would
never have mislead him; his
second wife through ambi
tion did. His defection broke
np bis party, and made Lin
coln President; that led to
civil war; that to emancipa
tion; that—well, to all that
we have before us.
If I ask “who is the avo
man,” can the finger of jus
tice point to any but one! I
acquit tier of all intentional
wrong. But I shall die in
the belief that it the first;
Mrs. Douglas had lived, her |
husband Avonld have been
President, and we should
have escaped all the avocs ;
that have fallen upon us.
May I not then repeat,
•■(Jioi t oaks from little acorns (trow.
Large streams,from little fountains flow.”
[Holly Springs South.
Important to Merch
ants.—The Clarion of last
week, has the following im
portant decision:
In the case of tho Canal
Bant of Now Orleans vs
Mrs. Virginia and A. D.
Banks, the United States
Circuit Court (Judge Hill)
at its recent term in this city
decided that a married wo
man is not liable for supplies
furnished a plantation of
which she is the owner, un
less she has ail interest in
the business of cultivating
the same; and if leased to
another, or cultivated by her
husband, on Ills own account
she is not liable for supplies
furnished to carry on such
plantation. Merchants and
supply men generally would
do well to make a note of
this decision.
~p» m "
Red Rust-Phoof-Oats.—
A correspondent of the Ru
i says of this
v stating that
i pine, sandy
land, poor and worn; and of
course badly treated in the
past. I have tried many va
rieties of oats, but for five
years have adhered to the
“red rust proof oats,” procu
red originally from Col. D.
Wyatt Aiken. I have nev
er seen a stalk of this oats
rusted; they grow less stalk
and heavier giain than anjjp
I have ever tried; matures
two or three weeks earlier,,
and thus escape the risk of
early summer drouth. On
very poor and worn lands,
Ayith no other manure than a
pea crop turned in by a doty
lie horse plow, I have made,
one year, twenty four aud a
half bushyk to the acre, an
[orircryear, thirty bushels tn1
the acre—a result never ap
proached by me with an\
other oats.”
Hark! “Listen to the
Mocking Bird !’’— Y'onder
oil t hat water-oak, how proud
lv her. balances himself on
the swinging bough. W"ill
he sing? Yes. Only heark
en. His notes are clearer
than the notes of a flute,
more shrill and ringing than
the falsettos of iho most per
fect flagolet, endless in vari
ety as if his octaves reached
into the ethery skies, and
modulated with a grace be
yond the range «»f words to
express. He takes up the
song of the thrush, the time
beat of the robin, tho carol*
ing of some distant swallows
too xaintly remote for our
coaise ears to hear, tho vic
tor call of the lark mount
ing into the face of tho sun,
the chattering of the blue
bird, and a score of remem
ber^ d cadences from summers
that are gone, and—hearken!
He transposes them into a
new creation. His original
variations surpass Gotstalk’s
grandest liberties with ‘home
sweet home.’ He swells his
mellow melodies into an an
them; it rises, falls, repeats,
strikes on, a very blessed ba
bel of confusing, bewitching,
captivating song, with notes
too quick for puLing time or
quivering heart to tell —a
miracle of melody. And all
this from the throat of a
stray mockingbird, one of a
million in the Mississippi
woods. If Govl has so en
dowed a wild warbler of the
forest, what rapturous sur
prises await us in the eter
nal morning when the new^
song shall strike our ravish
ed ears!
Says the Raymond Ga
zette : The Democrats and
Conservatives of Copiah coun
ty are to meet in county con
vention, at Hazlehurst, on
July 5th, for the appointment
of delegates to the State con
vention and tlie nomination
of a county ticket. The in
tention is to clean out radi
calism in that county next
fall, and it will be done.
If your bees are swiirmiug go to
If**iway’s and gek-a bee "inn,
SEDGE ILLY.
The Jackson: Miss. Times'
says: MY. Jones, a plan tor, re
siding five miles southwest of
Jackson* purchased a cham
pion mower and a Thomas
rake of Messrs B rougher <fc
Brown Jo ho used exclusively'
in mowing his sedge field and
he proposes to'make a largo
quantity of sedge hay. lie
reports that two* Germans
! who planted on his place last
! year, mowed the same fields
Lv hand last year, and sold
four hundred dollars worth of
hay, which was more than
they realized on their entire
crop of cotton., Mr. Jones
| proposes to prefit by the les
son,and other planters would
do well to folloyv his exaiirpIC.
There is no doubt but that
sedge grass cut while young
and tender, will make fully
as good hay as is cut from
the prairies of Kansas and
the other Western States,nit
on which the farmers depend
almost exclusively to yvinter
their stock.
[ (JIUB (HiASS HAT.
j Suystflie Farmers Vindica
tor: Crab grass should becnt
for hay when tho seed is in
the milk, and not exposed to
dew or rain, and when prop
erly cured,it makes far bettor
and more nutritious bay—
liner, sweeter and less stalky,
than the baled Northern hay*
even if you are able to buy
bales that are uniformly go jdL*. '
and not falsely packed with
inferior and musty trash.
A field of pretty good land
fiom which an oat or wheat
crop has been harvested, will
commonly bear an abundant
crop of Crab grass if well
plowed and harrowed and in
this way realize to the farmer
two crops in one year.
There is, in fact, not the
smallest difficulty, here in
Mississippi,?!* the way of any
farmer supplying a store of
fotaga ample for his own
^tock, from his own land,and
a better article than lie cajy,
buy iu the towns atone^and a
_mc\\ iu our
judgment is ttptmost inde
fensible cxpeimffuvo of mon
jeya Mississippi farmer can
| make. \
The Coluinbijs Democrat >
says: We wool l not intro?
duco extia^eous questions in
►to^fe^anTSgsj'bnt we advise fca
white men of all the counties
to nominate no man for fe^is
lator or supervisor who favors
any measure that *il± in
crease expenditures, debt, or
taxation. There are many
good men that are altogether
wrong in regard to questions
of this nature. How is no
time for plausible projects.—
Our people are poor, and are
like to remain so for some
yeais, and every man must
for the present koep his air
castles in his own brain,or,at
least, not attempt to build*
them on terra firma at the
expense of the tax-payers.—
Whitt wo must have now is
the most rigid economy and?
even parsimony in expendi
tures.
*r
Col. Henry Musgrove i*
shipping from his garden in
this city vegetables to the
Chicago market. His first in
stallment. of English peas
sold for $4 00 pei> bushel..
—Clarion.
We copy the following ox- *
tracts from the Columbus
Democrat: The peach crop of
Copiah county will net the
growers $300,000* if they
have luck with shipments.—
An establishment to can
fruit ought to be started in
overy peach growing county..
From our friends in the
country wo learn that the
crop prospect is cheerful.—
Wheat is beginning to ripen,,
and promises a tine yield,.
The Abordeen Examiner re
ports the chintz bug in Chick
asaw, and that wheat harvest
ing will be commenced im
Monroe this week.
Sumner county Las had »
rousing political meeting and!
nominates S. N. Berrvhill,.
editorof the Columbus Dem
ocrat, for State Treasurer. S..
N. Berryliill ean have our
vote and good will for,that
important position.— Okolo- l
na Southern States.
It is vain to hope to please
all alike; Let a man stand
with his face in wind diroo
tion ho will, he must necess
arilv turn his back on otu*
half the world