Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, South-Carolina) 1852-1852, February 06, 1852, Image 1
' THE CAMDEN JOURNAL
VOLUME 3. CAMDEN, SOUTH-CAROLINA, FEBRUARY 6, 1852. NUMBER 11.
' 3 THE CAMDEN" JOURNAL.
PUBLISHED SKMI-WEEKLY AND WEEKLY L!Y
THO'SM I nam
TERMS.
The Semi-Weekly Journal is published at Thrco
ir ?*i u/U'nnco nr Pour
JLlQUlin IUIU .r hi> i/vuu, [ni.u ,,,
Dollars if payment is delayed three months.
Tin: Weekly Journal is published at Two Dollars
if paid in advance; Two Dollars and Fifty Cents if payment
be delayed six mouths, and Three Dollars if not
paid till tho expiration of the vear.
ADVERTISEMENTS will bo inserted at the following
terms: For one Square (fourteen lines or less) in the
semi-weekly, one dollar for the first, and twenty-five
cents for each subsequent insertion. In tho weekly,
seventy-live cents per square for the first, and thirty-seven
ami a half cents for each subsequent insertion. Single
insertions one dollar. Somi-monthly, monthly and
quarterly advertisements charged the same as for a single
insertion.
yg~The number of insertions desired, and the edition
to be published in must be noted on the margin of
all advertisements, or they will be published semi-weekly
until ordered discontiucd and chargea accordingly.
FRESH GARDEN SEEDS.
r|"MIE Subscriber has just received a new supply of
I Fresh Winter and Spring; Garden
Seeds. As we test all our Seeds before selling them,
1 ? We
tlic puDiicmay purcuasu Hum ??u iviV>?>..w.
sell nothing that we tlo not feel assured will grow if
the necessary cautious are used. Our supply consists
in part of
BEANS?English Windsor, Early Mohawk, Early Yellow
Six "Weeks, Largo White Kidney, Refugee or
1000 to 1, Red French Speckled, Dutch Case Kuife,
White Dutch Runner, Large Lima.
BEETS?Early Blood Turnip, Long Blood, white Sugar.
CA BBA GES?Early York, Large York, Sugar Loaf,
May, Early Drumhead, Large late Drumhead, Savoy,
Early Dutch, Green Globe Savoy, True Green Glazed.
CARROTS?Early Horn, Long Orange.
CUCUMBERS?Long Green, Early Frame, Gherkin.
LETTUCE?White Cabbage, Silesia, Curled Ice head.
OKI OK?White'Fortugal, Large Red, Yellow Dutch.
PEAS?Early Warrick, Early June, Early Charlton,
Early Double Blossom, Codo Xulli, Dwarf Marrowfat,
Largo White Marrowfat.
RADISH?Long Scarlet, Scarlet Turnip, Black Fall.
SQ UA SH?Yeilow Bush, White Bush, Summer Crook*
neck.
TURNIPS?Large White Flat. Early Spring. Early
Dutch, Yellow English. Red Top Flat, RutaBaga.
CORK?Sweet Sugar, Six Weeks, Tusearora, with
Okra, Purple Broccili, Cauliflower, Celery, Egg riant,
Kale, Nutmeg, Melon. Parsley, Parsnip, Peppers,
Tomatoes, Rhubarb, Spinage, Vegetable Oyster.
Also, a large variety of choice I'loiver
Seeds.
SOO Asoaragus Roots. For sale bv
' FRANCIS L. ZEMP.
Jan. 9. 3 tf
Lewisville Female Seminary,
Ten .Tlile* East of Chesterville.
Rev. L. MCDONALD, Visitor.
MR?. A. S. WYLIK, principal: assisted bv Mrs j
Lewis, of the Columbia Institute, Tenn. and Miss ;
H. S. kei.logo, a graduate of Castleton Seminary, Vt. j
The scholastic year will be divided into two sessions '
of five months each ; the first commencing the 5th of
January, 1852, the second on the 22dof July.
The pupils of this seminary, in sickness are attended
free of charge.
For a circular containing full particulars, address
Mrs. Wvlie, Lewisville P. 0. Chester District, S. C.
January 6, 1852. 2 tf
ADM1n 1STfUT()R'S \i)TT( Ik ~
VLL persous having demands against the estate of
Joint S. Cunningham, deed, are hereby notified to J
present them duly attested, and nil persons indebted to i
said estate will make payment to
R. B. CrXXINOlIAM, ) . . .
W. C.CUXXIXGHAM, )'AU:"
Dec. 29, 1851 101 tf
LIVERY AND SALE STABLE. I
~\\^E respectfully inform the citizens of Charlotte!
T and the Travelling public that we have opened j
- t iirt'DV a via < \ r W. KV \ HT.K at which thev can he I
accommodated with Carriages, Buggies. Sulkies, and
Saddle Horses, to any point they may wish to go.
We would also say Stock Drovers can have good Lots
for stock and Provender at :ia low a rate as can be afforded.
Horses kept at the usual rates, by the day, week,
month or year.
The Stables are those known as Robinsons.
Persons stopping at either of the Hotels, will
always find a servant in readiness to show the Stable.
C. J. PRIDE.
It. MORRISON.
Charlotte, N. C. Dec. 8. 98 wGm
DK1 GOO I>S.
SELLING OFF AT CO;ST.
1 \7"E have ou hand a large assortment of WINTER
>V and EARLY SPRING GOODS, which wo
propose selling off at COST, and some styles LESS
THAN COST, so as to make room for a large assortment
of Spring and Summer <*ood?.
t Purchasers will find it tnueh to their interest to call
on us.
Wo have and will continue to keep the largest and
most select stock of Goods to he found in this market.
S. C. ? J. CHAMBERS.
Columbia, January 27. S It
executor's notice.
VLL persons having demands against the estate of
Col. Tillman L. 1)1 X ON, dcc'd. are rot pies ted to
hand them in properly attested, and tiio.se indebted to
the same to make payment to
WILLIAM DIXON, Kx or.
Dec. 13 07 \v3in
cop a rtners1111* notice^
rTM!E undersigned have this day associated themL
selves m copartnership under tbo namo of I'KKDKltit
dksausscrk. tor the transaction of Factorage
and Commission business in Charleston, for the sale of
Cotton, Rice, and other country produce. Orders tilled
with care, and forwarded.
OSWELL RKKDKKJOFIX
B. DkSAir.SSURE.
Office on A dyer's Wharf.
Chadeston, Jan. G 1852, 2 Im
bricks for sale.
ff^IIK subscriber has on hand it lar^e quantity of
ft. JL. GOOD BRICK, which maybe had on application.
January 23. J. F. SUTIlKRLANP.
new year.
r |"MIK subscriber having a laiye supply of Goods of
1. every description, win sen mum i-?
on a credit of one year at very moderate prices. He
will also sell for cash as low as any other establishment
in the place.
Feeling very thankful fortholiboral patronage in-stowed
upon him for the last seventeen years, he hopes by
strict attention to business, ami very low prices. t<> merit
its continuance. J5. W. BOXXKY.
J~^OR SALE?JJoy's Boots at cost.
Jan. 13. " E. w. BOXXE Y.
Answer to " My Life is like the Bummer Rose." \
The ileus ot night may fall from Heaven
Upon the withered rose's bed,
And tears of fond regret be given
To rnourn the virtues of the dead:
Yet morning's sun the dew will dry, ^
And tears will fade from sorrow's eye,
Air ?? I?
/tlU'CllOIl ? puiigs uc iuiicu iu nivcpj
And even Love forget to weep. J
The tree may mourn its fallen leaf, |(
And Autumn's winds bewail its bloom, 0
And triends may heave the sigh of grief
O'er those who sleep within the tomb. t
Vet soon the spring renews the llowers,
And time will bring more smiling hours; a
In friendship's heart all grief will die, c
And even Love forget to sigh.
e
Thp sea may on the desert shore g
Lament each trace it bears away : "
The lonely heart its grief may pour v
O'ei cherished Friendship's last decay:
Yet when ail trace is lost and gone,
The waves dance light and gaily on ; jj
Thus soon Affliction's bonds are torn,
And even Love forgets to mourn. j
Hinltlniiii T ntsin nn<t her Lover. I
As there are warm pasture valleys and pica- ''
sant homes, sunny and sheltered, bosomed deep :l
among the loftiest ranges of the snowy Alps, so
gloomy though the gleaming peaks look in the
there arc in the Highlands of Scotland, bleak and F
distance. 11
'My father fed flocks and herds upon as lovely e
a slope of the Grampians as ever surprised a t(
traveller with its beauty, when, from the grim ^
passes, and over the mighty ridges, he suddenly ^
came across our vale. :l
Being a man of substance, my father had de- "
termiued that I should have a good education at J(
Edinburgh. I was, therefore, taken from under "
the earnest care of our p;istor, and sent to college
for the next five years. ri
I remember well the sadness that came over ^
me when this was first decided upon, for in quit- j;
ting that spot, which was to me all the world,
and entering upon an unknown region, attrac- * '
tive as was the picture that had been drawn to j v
me of it, I could not divest myself of a vague 0
tear, such as his who, traversing a dangerous v
road on a dark night, knows not what pit or
chasm may be in his path, open to receive his ?
unwary and incautious foot. But Iliad a source ''
of deeper regret. J
Jennie ('nine 1011 had the bluest eves?the
fairest hair, and the sweetest face that l" had ev- I =
or seen among the daughters of women. Her j
voice was as pleasant to my ears, when she car- i 11
rolled some of our mountain songs, as the whist- | s
ling of the mavis in the summer morning. She v
was a ncighlior's daughter?of far humbler j F
means than mine?and she had been my com- j
patiion from infancy.
I know not what spell if was that this sweet j '
child, but two yours my junior?she was so fairy I
like and little?had upon me. If ever beauty, 1 *'
youth, and innocence combined bad a willing : 1
slave, one that wotiId obey any wish, much h>s J )
a command?she had one in me. in my dream- ''
1 alwavs beheld her?in my waking moments 1
O
did the <aine, for I was rarely from her side.
\\ lu'ther my father, who was somewhat of a ! s
stern man, and seemingly little acquainted with j
what is meant by the tender-heartedness of young j *
lovers; (lovers! have I then confessed it i be it j 1
so.) I say, whether he disliked my tieing myself, !
as it were, to the apron-strings of a girl?a incro i '
child; whether hesaw that feelings deeper, strong- | ^
er, less liable to he broken, would spring tip be- v
tweeu us as we grew older; and whether he had i 1
in secret an objection to a future union between J
? * i i<? -1 I'd' i I .*1
.jcaiiu* aim inyseir, owing to ine uinercnce ui imr
possessions, and that he wished f to have an v
heiress at the grange as its future mistress, I do *
not know ; certain it is that he did not openly
say so; but I could not help looking suspiciously
on the matter, and believed in my secret heart 1
that the whole was a plot entered into fur the :i
purpose of severing us. j1
1 well remember the afternoon on whij?h this j1
point was settled between my father?my meek
mother was dead?and the minister, when the s
design was first told me, and that in two days I
should be off on my sturdie sheltie, with a body :l
of drovers that were going from t he ( Irampians '
southw ard in a day or two, that stunned and dismayed
I spoke not a word ; but when opportu- '
nity was afforded me, and 1 had recovered my- v
self, 1 stole quietly forth and wandered in my 1
old direction.
From where 1 stood dow n the sloping side 1 I
saw the comfortable shieling of John Cameron, 1
and me heart l.eat as I helield Jeanie ill her neat c
kirtlc kneeling to milk the floats that Geordie,
her elder brother had just driven to their rude,
hut comfortable sleeping place. I had eyes,
however, for nothing but .leauie, and there 1 '
waited until she finished, and Geordie, w;is in
with the animals, 1 .rot taring their beds of fern for "
tl.eni.ht, 1 1
1 descended and was soot, by her side; she
started when she saw me; her small face lighted
up with pleasure, and the next moment it was 1
dark again.
"What makes you look so pale, Allan ?" she \
said. '-1
"I am going to be sent away, Jennie," I re- 1
plied, 11
Her li] is tpiivered, her face grew white, and 1
her soft eyelids tell.
"Going away, Allan i" she said, wuiideringly. a
"Yes : my lather is going to send me to Edin- c
burgh to college." ' s
'And?and?when do you go ?" .asked Jeanie,
softlv, but without now looking up into my
face* o
tlTr. <1 dm' riP fll'll * *1 1111 fill .TautilA V T 42*11/1 flu M
Ill <1 uuy " i"" ) ?"* vii, vvaiuvi fuivi iui ii
I took her hand which was quite cold, "my heart t
is heavy and sad at t lie thought of leaving you. t
Vho will be my companion, a< you have been
?who will care tor me as you have cared ;
She had lilted up her hands to her face. She 11
overed her eyes, and 1 saw that tears came be
ween her fingers. I would have kissed them a-1
ray but I dared not, and I waited with a swell- :
ng heart tor her emotions to subside, Present- j
he crew a little calmer.
"You will soon find friends to love you, Allan? !
[innn forget me. dinna forget Jennie 1" and now
he fairly sobbed.aloud, carried away by the vio- i
?ncc of her feelings which were utterly beyond ;
ontrol, and my agony may be easily imagined.
I believed that it was 1 who was the sufferer, j
hat I alone was to endure the grief and sorrow. I
Vhat was my astonishment mingled with a pain
nd ]>le:isure, to see that my parting was of such ;
onsequence to her that it could so pain her. 2
I tried, incoherently enough I doubt not, to
omfort. her, and I found myself seated on the
;rey stone, with her beautiful head leaning 011 |
ity shoulder, and my arm clasped around her
raist.
She still wept, and my head swam with aeonitsioTi
of images and thoughts that wereas vague j
rid indefinite as if they were the offspring of de-.
irium. ! ;
Mere children as we both were, wc felt acutelv ' 1
he pain of losing each other's presence, and we i 1
loured out our mutual sorrows with a fullness j
hat left nothing to confess except that we loved; :
jved with that warm and youthful fooling that I
nnihilates time and space.
Perhaps after all we only believed we loved.
Even that, is something. We can forget the
ain. the iov. the rapture, and the delusive dream- j
igs of his first love-time ? Who can forgot, I
von if he would ; that nature and women wore
o him as, perhaps, they never were before ? Who (
oes not know the almost fierce violence of a i
oyish love?its imperious nature ; it" grotesque (
nd perfect selfishness, its absolute ferocity, in a j
tanner when its flaming and soul-coosuming |
vilousy happens by chance to be awakened 1 I j i
.0 well j j
Thus 1 loved Jennie with a violence that tor- !.
ified her. She herself was calm, pale, and spoke j
ut little after having made her dear confession, i
was wild and vehement, and kneeling at her i
iot with her hands in mine, my face turned up ;'
a hers. I poured forth every secret of my heart!
rith a sort of prodigality that savored much of j
gotism. What of that' If ever living being !
ros ever honest in his vow I was then.
1 left Jcanie and home?the. former most re- j
;rettcd?and was absent for some ten years at
last, without having once returned?ten long
cars.
We corresponded?Jcanie and I?at first re ularly.
then less frequently, and at bust, 1 know
iot how, some five years had passed, since I heard
rom her, and I said to myself resignedly, "Yes,
he li;us forgotten me?she is fatherless?she is
redded to another;" and, after a momentary ;
tang of regret, I said to myself, "Be it so?I will!
orgfl her entirely," and thus I was in a world j
I'tneut. !ind amusement, and i
Mil'' 1-ist its charms.
Hnt I was obliged to turn my frico homeward
,t. last. My father had died suddenly of appo- '
lexy, and 1 was liis heir. Mo was buried two j
nouths before T could return, and when I did so,
[ w:is with >t!eh mingled feelings of sorrow and
[ope that I could not analyze them.
The fir-1 few days passed over without my j
eeing Jennie. I learned that she had thrown tip j
! pale, thin, but very beautiful young woman?
hat she was n<?t married, and the old love sprang
ip in my heart with renewed force.
I heard too, that she was parcntless and poor, !
md had been forced to go into the service, id' a i
armor, some little distance oft who was very I
rilling to marry her, and then all my jealous
assious were aroused up.
If 1 needed uo other proof than this, that my
[flections were not dead, it was suflicient; but j
vithout having determined what course to purue,
1 intended to see her and learn from her own
ij?s, the reason of her silence.
It was on an afternoon just such another as
lie one on which 1 left her more than ten years
' 1 1 1 1?1 1 ? ----- 1*..4 A
itfo, inar i &?inri?'u ircuii Miunivi uumu) i,
licet with Jennie, without her having any inti- '
nation of it. ,
By inquiries I had malic, I know the exact '
pot almost its well as the time she would pass i
t certain lone spot returning from a market town
i few miles off, whither she had been sent by her ,
mister.
1 arrived at the spot a considerable time boore
her, and took my position in the lonely glen .
vhither I should observe her bclbre her seeing
ne. There I waited with a gathering impatience.
1 saw at last with a wearied step, and an apx-aranec
of bodily lassitude that agonized me,
hat onee beautiful girl approaching. She was
hanged, mueh changed indeed ; and I thought
he remorse I then felt was like a knife in my 1
x?soiii. She was poorlvclad, thin, very pale, al- |
nost white, and there was a joyless despairing i
\j>res<ion in her face that haunted me for many a j
ong day after. If was more like despair than j
esignation, and I shrank from that meek and sad
iieo.
I had seen many a fair face since I had seen <
k in last. I had trifled with many a lieauty in
ny fiine, and I then knew?knew well?that J I1
i ii ii - - i .?J.aia/I .III.I I'
Kill lll:uIV cooieti, aim iic^iai , ."iv. .v..:,,.*
en her, and tin? seeret??t* our broken corresponleiiee,
Ix'jxun with silence and inattention <m my
art, had wasted her soul ami body, and that in i
dditioii to all this heart-breaking, eanio loss of
mreiits, poverty and a darkening of hope. !
I wept like a child as she sat to rest on a stone, |;
ind it was not until she arose, once more to pro- 11
eed on her journey, that I stood before her and j.
aid,
'\Seanie, do you riot hnow mel" I
She ?^avc an electric start, turned paler, <?UVC <
me faint scream, anil would have fallen, if 1 had i
lot caught her in my arms, and poured forth a j ;
orrent <>f passionate words to ears thou,dead to 11
heir sense, for it was some minutes ere she re-! <
ft
ncn ana i uioiigni iu:a i miuuiu n???- ?im
ut the time, but I had more to suffer, and I lived
mi "
'"'"They told you truly, Jeanie; but thank God,
what I meditated came not to pass. I am not
wedded. I love, but it is you, Jeanie?you
whom I have so cruelly forgotten and neglected,
that I still love. Will you forgive me?"
" I have, Allan," she interrupted me, meekly.
"Aye, but," said I, "can you forgive me safar
as to forget the past in the present?Jeanie. will
you be my brideWill you let me love you?
cherish you?make you happy ? If a life of devotion
can atone for years of neglect
" Allan," she said breathlessly," you mock me
?will the poor peasant girl be the wife of the
rich laird ?"
" Yes; that is v, hat 1 mean. I mock you not.
1 take heaven to witness; and thus I went on
with an increasing eloquence, till she laid her
hand in mine and said?
" I will."
We walked home beneath the light of the cold
bright stars, and that hour was the most delicious
I have ever known. In another week she
was my wife.
The First Baby.?In a novel "The Glenns,"
recently published, occurs the striking picture of
felicity, which crusty old bachelors will read with
interest:
"If 'the baby1 was asleep, no one was allowed
to speak, except on pain of instant banishment:
the piano was closed, the guitar was tabued, boots
were interdicted, and the bell was muffled. If
Mr. Vincent wished to enjoy a quiet cigar, he
must go out of the house lest the smoke might
hurt 'the baby;' and lest the street door might
disturb its slumbers, he must make his exit by
the back way, and roach the street by the garden
gate. The doctor was never out of the house?
not because the 'baby' was ill, for it was most
alarmingly healthy, but because she was afraid it
might be taken with some dreadful disease, and
no doctor near. If coal was placed in the grate,
either Mr. Vincent must put it in lump by lump,
with his fingers, or Thomas must cuuie up on
tip-toe, leaving his lx?ots below, lest the noise
should disturb the 'baby.' And yet he must not
take a bed in another part of the house, because
tin' baby might be attacked by the croup, or
might cry to have some one walk up and down
the floor with it in his arms, and then he would
not be within call. In short jvhen the 'baby'
slept, the whole house was under a spell, whose
enchantment consisted iti profound silence and
ur:!?r.?kvii stillness. and all \\ho camo within the
magic circle were at once under its influence."'
Anecdote ok Woi.cott.?Expressing my
surprise one day to Wolcott, that his satrical
disposition had not got him in more scrapes, he
told me he never \v;is in but one that seriously
alarmed Jiint. It was with a general McCormiek.
We had passed the previous forenoon
alone together, when something 1 said to the
(ivnrral roused his anger, lie retorted. I was
more sarcastic than before, lie went away aud
sent me a challenge for the next morning. .Six
o'clock was the hour tixed upon; the ground to
be the (irccii, at Truro, which at that time was
sufficiently retired. There were no seconds.
Tl... .? MI\- rnnni li.iwnwie commanded
the Green. I had scarcely got off my bed to
dress for the apointment, when 1 saw the General
walking nji and down the river, half an
hour before his time. The sun was just rising
cloudily, the morning bitterly cold; which, with
the General's pistol and his attendants on the
ground before the hour appointed, were by 110
means calculated to strengthen my nerves. 1
dressed and while doing so, made up my mind
it v.as a great folly for two oid friends to pop
away at each other's lives. My resslution was
speedily taken. 1 rang for my servant girl.
"Molly, light the lire instantly; make somo
good toast; let the breakfast be got in a minute
or two."
"1 t'S, sir.
My watch was in a minute of the time, l'istol
in hand. I wont out the back way front mv
hou.-e, which opened on the Grocu. I crossed
liken lion,."ind wont up to Mel'orniick. lie
looked firm but did not speak. I did.
"Good morning to ye, General.*'
The General bowed.
"This is too cold a morning for lighting."
"There is hut otic alternative," said the General,
distinctly.
'Tt is what you soldiers call an apology. My
dear fellow, 1 would rather make twenty when I
was so much in the wrong as I was yesterday;
but I will only on one condition."
"I cannot talk of conditions," said the General.
"Why; then I will consider the condition assented
to. It is, that you will come in and take
a good breaktiist with iue, now on the table. I
am exceedingly sorry if I hurt your feellings
yesterday, tor I mont not to doit."
Wo shook hands hkn old tnonds, ana soon
forgot tin* dilYorcnces over t?';i ami t?; l>ni I
lid not like the pistols and that cold morning:
notwithstanding, I bolivc ninny duels iniijht end
is harmlessly, could the combatants command
the field as well as I did, and on such a hitter
old morning too."?[ .Vcc Monthly
covered from her swoon, and then gently unclosing
my hand*, she replied in a voice?Oh, still
so sweet, hut so mournful,
' Yes, Master Allan?I remember yon."
The sigh that followed was like the last fluttering
shiver of a broken heart. I was dreadfully
agitated.
44 .Jennie, my own, my only love," I said ; 44 my
*i \ mi v
poor, ln-uson oetroniea, win you iorgn^ mc?
pardon Tin*?the pain, the agony, I have caused
you "
' 1 forgive, you all?every thing! she calmly
replied* I hare long forgiven you and yours.?
They told me, Allan, that you had long forgotten
me! that you were wooing a tine lady and a
i ?i T"?I 1 ^ a.\ ..i i .i i.i .i:?a
[/*rem the Soil o/the South.]
Slow lo raise liao Price of Cottou.
Mr. P-ditor: It strikes mo that you must be'
; well pleased with the result of your labors when
' you rod the newspapers, and see the accounts of
1 "tine cotton crops from every section of our coun'
tiy, and the scarcity and high price of provisions,
As the object of your paper is to teach the planters
of the South how to raise large crops of cot-i
ton tjnd get 4 and o cents for it; to raise small
j crops of corn and poor hogs, if any at all, and
' pav one dollar j>er bushel f.?r the former, and 10
' and 12 cents for bacon, I say you must be well
1 pleaded to find that your suggestions are so genj
crally adopted.
But laying all jokes aside, do you not sometimes
think that your undertaking is a hopeless
j one?that of encouraging and advising the plan
! tors to raise au abundant supply or provisions ana
' stock of all kinds, as much cotton an they can
! after this is dotio, and improve their plantations
I so as to preserve aiul increase their fertility, and
[ keep them in a high state of cultivation? The
! cotton growing States can make, in an ordinary
! year, not only as much cotton as can be saved
| in good time, say by Christmas, but also a boun|
tiful supply of pork, cotton, oats, peas, and pbta|
toes, and I might add wheat. Is it done ?
An answer is readily procured by taking Columbus
as a criterion for the past year, and inquiring
how many hogsheads of bacon have been
brought hero, how many bushels of com from
the west, and how many of wheat ? Bacon lias been
sold as high as fifteen cents, corn has brought from
eighty-five cents to a dollar and a quarter to a
dollar and a half per bushel. Nothern hay has
been so'd at one dollar and seventy- five cents
per hundred in our streets. Why is this??
Men had just as well acknowledge the truth at
once, and say they plant their best lauds in cotton,
too few acres in com and oats, and pay no attention
to'the raising of hogs. The high price of /
cotton during the last season has caused many a
farmer to have a scant supply of corn for the next
year; and not the dry weather that was experienced
during the pa?t year. It is true, the
drought aflcetd com crops seriously, but in many
instances on adjoining plantations, where the
land was equally fertile and well worked, one man
has an abundance of corn, and another a meagre
supply. What is the reason ? There is but one;
and that is, one planted a sufficient quantity of
land to produce corn enough if the seasons were
not very propitious, and the other planted just c
nough, provided tne seasons were genial, i ass
the planters if it is not time to change this order
of things 1 You will hoar a man at any time, who
has cotton to sell complain that the English Spinner
and the Northern manufacturer are attempting
to purchase it for less than he thinks it is
worth, when if you would visit the plantation you
will see poor mules, an empty smoke house and
; three-fourths, it' not four-fifths, of his land planted
in cotton. He is one of those who neglect
, every thing for cotton, help swell the receipts,
, and reap for their labor a low price. Does he
make more clear money than the man who raised
his own supplies, and makes cotton a secondary
consideration ? Does he clear as much ? I appeal
to those who have tried both, to answer the
question.
He has to take his five and six cents cotton
money, and buy another man's ten and twelve
cents bacon and dollar corn.
Think of it that with a soil and climate adapj
ted to raising almost .-very article of food for
j man and boast, the necessaries of life particu;
1 y, our people should buy meat produced in Teni
ncsscc, Kentucky, Ohio, and Indiana and hay
grown in Now York and Maine. "What a Commentary
on Southern enterprise and agricultural
skill! Let every planter determine that he
will ever after feed his family and negroes on
Southern raised corn and hay?make what cotton
he. can besides this, and I will guarantee
there will he no complaint about the price of
ziAftiiti I ilutilr nil tltnt wn* iu>^<KC<irv fiil' tin*
I V""V,,,t ......... .... ..
planter's convention in Macon to say to them,
was,?make your own supplies, and you will
find a remedy for for the low price of cotton.
Arator.
"The Faithful Execution of the Law."?
The Philadelphia I'ennsylvanian makes the following
comments on the conclusion of the long
farce of the Christiana trials. The "finality of
the compromise" is beautifully illustrated by
i those proceedings.
"We learn frum the Lancaster Intelligencer,
I that the Christiana murderers and rioters have
| been finally discharged, and the grave charges
preferred against them entirely abandoned. This
ends the whole proceedings. The United States
court may have done their duty and the grand
jury of Lancaster county may have discharged
tln.ir .il.lii'ntinns lmt tlif> truth 5s lt.lln.lble. that
v...... f...l 7 _
the -murdering ot one man, and the serious
wonuilinoj' of another, still remains unvindicated.
The laws of this State were recklessly violated
?the Constitution and laws of the United States
were trampled under foot, and a citizen of another
State ruthlessly assassinated by a band of
desperate fanatics?and yet not one of the murderers
were discovered or punished. And all
this occurred in Pennsylvania?in the midst of a
people proverbial for their devotion to the common
interests of the entire country?in the broad
blaze of open dav?and, no one lias been punished.
There is a neglect somewhere?there is a
flagrant violation of duty, the precedent of which
will W influential tor future trouble and disorder.
The Christiana riots, resulting in death and
bloodshed, w ill long be remembered with shame
bv the people of this State, and regarded with
indignation l?v the citizens of the whole Union.
The otli-iided majesty of law. and violated dignity
of order. have Wen cither ignorantly or contemptuously
neglected: and wherever the fault
* .* ? ?;n i ? i ja.i ?
lies trie rcinuuuuu Will ue uir;iuuu.
jC-fT"Mr. Judnh Touro, a wealthy Jew of New
Orleans, has made a donation of ?1,000 to the
tire department of that city.