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A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c. Yol. XIII.WENSA MONN,AGS 15187No3. THE HERALD 18 PUBLISHED 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 scription. Professionri Cards. 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, Aftor'ney -at-Law, NEWBERRY, S. C. Office over Harmon's Store, adjoining HERALD Office. Oct. 25, 43-tf .1iscellaneous. ATLANTA MEDICAL COLLEGE, ATLANTA, CA. 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 formation. 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* MARTHA WASHINGTON 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 phy and.Chemistry. 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. GREENVTTJE FEMALE_COLLEGE. 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. NOTICE. 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 and prices. -April 4, 14-tf. EDWARD SCHOLTZ, WATCHMAKER --AND 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! td ELOE. 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 y involved. 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 father. 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 fusion. 'Thanks!l' 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,' Miss Stanwood.' '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 ted Maud. '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 shoulder. 'My darling ! 1 will see your father at once, and have all settled without delay.' 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 separation. '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 elsewhere.' 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 ;uilty secret. 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 ne. In haste, 'WALTER.' 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 anguished cry: '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 have incurred.' '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, lt .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 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 find out. Some one has estimated that each person on . the- globe would receive $2 if all the gold was par celed out. 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 few assets." "I'm practically uneasy on this point," as the fly said when the tailor stuck him on the end of a needle. How does a cow become a landed estate? By turning her into a field.4 Everything is going up in these ays, inclingn the thermometer. istdlarntcn. FOR THE HERALD. ABOUT FERTILIZERS. HOPE STATION, 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 ADVERTISING RATES.; - Advertisements inserted at the rate cf $1.00 per square (one inch) for first Insertion, and 75 cents for each subsequent insertion. Double column advertisements ten per cent. on above. Notices of meetings, obituaries and tribut s of respect, same rates per square as ordinajy advertisements. Special Notices in Local column 15 centS per line. Advertisements not marked with the num ber of insertions will he kept in till forbid, and charged aecordingly. Special contracts made with large adve: tiuers, with liberal deductions on above rates. -:o: JOB PRI1T'G DONE WITH NEATNESS AND DISPATCH. TERMS CASH. 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 - WAR. 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 hunder. 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 ,I'll bet." "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