Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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j ac-, t.-^ TWO DOLLARS PER ANNUM. }. GOD .A^ND OtTH d?TINTHiT. ^ ALWAYS IN ADVANCBL VOLUME 3. SATURDAY MORNING, MAY 1, 1869. NUMBER iL THE HAI NTICI) WE?L "Ho promised to bring roe." Be promised to bring me." 'Chorused^thc wild, sweet thrush-voice of Margaret Lee, leaning from her chnm \>cr window among the vines, and look ing with bird eyes all alert down the road that wound into blucucss umong the hills. "What, pretty child ?" asked a plea <aant voice behiud hor. Margie tarhed, blushing brightly. "Qh, ho uid'nt say, A untie Nell, but it's something." And she then blushed brighter than ?ever under the kind eyes fixed ou her. And while the hot, eloquent blood was '.prickling the white forehead, and burn ing the bits of ours. Margie felt her face taken in her aunt'.s tender bauds, and a Ikiss was imprinted on her mouth. "God bless you, dear, aud grant you ^nppiuess!" It Was tho first direct reference- Mar gie's aunt had over mudo to her evident attachment, and the girl's heart leaped in her bosom, and then subsided, leaving her full of Q?lm gratitude. "Was eVcr any body as good as Aunt ?Noll?" murmured she, dropping her head upon the window sill, as soon ns she "was left ahme. "I was a little afraid j that she might not be satisfied ; and then 'what would I have done ?" The little fit of musing soon vauished, and she was again leaning among tho Vines, siuging: ??Ho promised to bring me, Ho promised to bring me." The sun went down over the "flowery lioads of tho hills"?the birds rose nod fell in their long flights across the fields to their nests, the river took the umber nnd red of the west upon its burnished line, and the frogs began calling in the ?marshes. Still no horseman rodo out Irom umong tho hills ; Margie began to j;row weary. ??The lights of the west faded, the uir ?rew swout with t^e frngrnneo-of* aoino riight bloeaourtog plant, nud cool with tho heavy fall of dew. Still tH) hoof full broke the summer sileuce. Margie grew restless at last, deserted Her chamber) und weut doWn to the porett. ?Uoh two boys came along driv ing a cowT "Jack liush't got llotnC JCt, has lie, Tommy !*' she asked one of them, know ing her question was useless. "No j he'll come past here, you know, witch lie comes," said Tommy, thwack ing Bessie's sides as she kept halting among the roadside clover. They Weilt on. Margie's faqe was se riously clouded. A breeze rose and tustlcd among the trees. It made her nervous aud lonely. "Aunt Nell," she said, going into the kitchen, "nothing could have happened to Jttck r "I think notj dyar. Perhaps he went through the meadows from the brook." That was it, then. He hud already reached home. A restful red flushed Margie's check. She stood a moment, smarting with the disappointment, and (hen gotlfjj up stairs again, tore off the bluecm'2S t\\,&. and white apron, and went to bed to have fl good cry. Mar gie's sorrows hud bopu very lew; she had not learned how to bcJli them. When awoLc, rather latb, Auni Nell wus iu her room. "Margie, ueur, they say Jack Lane hasn't been home all night." Margie's faex. showed torror. "Yes, Margie, I'm afruid something is wrong ?" "How do you know that he hasn't come Aunt Nell V "His father sent tip this morning to know if we had seen him. lie hud | some money with him, and it was impor tant that he should be buck last night to take op a note. They arc very much worried?his people. He wouldn't have staid of his own accord." "And ho promised to bring mc," be gan Margie, but stopped. The promise seemed of less importance now. somehow. All kinds of wild thoughts went through her head as she sprang up and began to dress. What could have become of Jack 'i Surely, she thought, combing out hor clustering hair with her tremb ling hands, be hud not boon murdered for his money ? Oh, no ; ho would soon come. It was impossible to believe the light dashed from his frank/ace. Noth ing could happen to Jack. Still, as she dressed, she was trembling as, in an ague, fit. All t)iat long duy thore was no news of him. There was nothing ? \e could do. His father and brother went to town. Before night thoy roturned, bear iug tho news that Jack had lutt Lennox in tho aftorii??? riding his good roan, and in good health and spirits. Tho most hopeful could no longor hepo thut no catastrophe had occurred. Sot?e' thing fearful had certainly happened to Jack. And it seemed- impossible to find a clue to tho mystery. Horso and ridor bad completely vanished. There was no broken boughB or tracks of cracked horsc-sboc, or lost glove to traco thorn by. What was to be done ? When night came, Margie could hard ly bold her head up for the wcuriucss of crying. She sat on a low scat on the porch, resting her check on Aunt Nell's knee, listening and waiting for a souud upon tbo rond. Suddenly the gate clicked. She start ed up?there was a footfall on the waTk ?but it was onlyJonuie Barlow, the country gossip, coming. "Ob, Jenny 1 how could you scare mo so," she usked impatiently. "Higbty tigbty I but our young lady is out of temper. Well, well, it is try ing for you, Margie, but dou't give up. I reckon Jack Lane is safe enough. "Tis just some freak of his ; perhaps he's run uwny and gone to sea." "Nonsense," said Margie. "Jack bt out of his jackets." "Well, Judk is old enough to be tole rable steady?that's a fact?five ami twenty. I remember when be was born. He'll have a right smart place when the old man dies, up on the Barrens there." "You speak us if uotbing has hap pened, Jennie," said Aunt Nell. "1 think wo have reason to believe thut something has happened to Jack." "Dou't you believe it. llo'll turn up all right. Lots of trouble in this world is borrowed trouble. Lor, why, my h?s? band ucver cuttles home when he says he will 1 think it's a heap stranger what makes tin; music tu the old well. Why, ytyw OrtU ju.it b<m*r (Uu4uuim. I ?< J tru bear tell of furies when f was littlej and that's enough to tuukc a person believe iu them. You can't think anything natural makes music in a well sixty feet deep ?" '?Whetc is it.'' "Why, old Dudley's well in the mead ow ; uo one uses it uow ; it's dried up, I reckou ; but all tile neighbors have been [ dowu there this morning to hear the music coining up out of it. 1 wouldn't believe it Until I beard it for myself. I thought it was a cricket, or perhaps a b'ud got down there, but no cricket or bird that I ever heard, could jingle off 'Anuio Laurie,' and 'My Pretty June.' You'd better go and sec for yourselves." 'What do you think it is?" asked Margie, When old Jennie bad gone. '?I don't know dear. Wc might go down and see; the moon is coming up, and I presume there will be others there." '?Oh, Aunt, Nell, I dou't caro about the well." "But you bad better go, rather1 than to sit hero crying, Margie. Let me get a shawl lor you." So they wrapped up nud went down across the fields. Tho air was very damp but it was a bright shining night. Be fore they reached the old well, they saw a kijot yl'people crowded about it. They stool around t;1outly, though ono or two wondered aloud, and ^j'^c tried to laugh and said it was a trick?ventriloquism, or something of the s >rt. No one among tbo many doubters that there had been, dl-.believcd the tale then. The faint strains ntruck the ear quite plainly. It Was like cilia music, indeed. ! It was the '?Mistletoe Bough" that was being played merrily enough as Mar gie and Nell came up. j Suddenly it stopped and another air I was commenced. It was the more mo dern love ditty, "Margie by my side." Sharply a violent scream from Margie sounded. "Oh, it's Jack ! it's Jack !" she cried. "He's down tbo well. Bring ropes ! Ob, I know it's Jack 1" Everybody was aghast. Still the mer ry music tinkled its silver strains. "Oh, hurry!" cried Margie ''It's the music box that hu promised to bring mo onco. Ho has fallen in the Well. Some oue must go down to him." "Perhaps she's right," oxelaimcd Fur nier Brown. ' Bring ropes, boys, from my barn yondor. I'll go down mysolf, if nobody elso will. Hurry I" There wus haste aud excitement enough then. Bcioro the ropes were prepared for the deep desccut, Aunt Nell had been to the house, and returned with a bottle of wind. '(If its Jack, he has lain there for more than twenty-four hours, and must be weak and exhausted. Take this down with you, Silas," fluid shd to the younger man who hud volunteered in old Brown's place "AH ready!?slowly," fluid Silas as they swung him down. They watched him descend, carefully guarding his luntern from the rocks. In a moment he bad disappeared. Steadi ly the rope slipped through the men's hands ; the noil upon the ground until it was spent. Tho signal for a wish to return?three jerks of ropo? was not given. "One, two, five, ten, fifteen miuutcs passed. Tbc mon almost avoided each other's questioning eyes. "I'm afraid the foul air has killed him. Hadn't we better begin to draw up ?" asked Brown. After a few minutes more, this was agreed npon. The rope camo up slowly. Whether Silas wus dead or alive, caution was needful; the sides of tho wall were rough. Three quick jerks suddenly relieved their minds of the burdensomo four.? They mudc a little more haste then, and finally drew Silas Jones up alive. "Well," ho said stepping upon solid ground, "Juck Lane is down there, but his hose has f?llen on him, and he can just breath, and that's all. I guess lto's wound up that litth: music box for u signal, for the lust time. I tried to give him some wine, but he can't drink. Some one must go down with mc, aud if that horse cuu't be drawn up, ho must be cut away piecemeal, that's all. Juck won't stand it more than hulf an hour longer." j Instantly there were a dozen ready to i go down. Three only went, taking hatchets to cut away the horse, if neces sary. His heavy flank was stretched j across Jack's brennt. Silas said. m?A was no room in which to displace him. The watcher's at the well's mouth were sick at heart long before the length of the rope came up again. Then Margie shrieked and Covered her face. Ghastly, haggard, stained with the clotted blood of the dead horse, on the breast of his sturdy friend Silas, rose Jack's face. Ho could not stand. They carried him home upon a stretcher. Taking a short cut across the fields the night before, his hoisohad tumbled head long into the well, which duck had en tirely forgotten. There, for twenty-four hours he lay, unuble to call aloud, pa tiently winding up tho little music box With one bund, and listening to the uier ry tunes, with little hopes while he wait ed death. He" Couid heul' the voices above him, in the pauses of tho music, but not for his life's sake could he utter a ery with the fearful weight upon him. At his rescue the box was forgotten, but when recovered from his injuries, Jack weht down the old well and found it. Margie would take no price for it to-day. '?I did not know you wore going to get me a music-box, Jack," she said. "It was long ago }'ou promised ; but when it began to play "Murgio by my side," the truth somehow flashed over me. 1 understood it all in a moment. Von ulitnys whistled that, you know, as you came down the road of an evening. It makes me cry now to hear it," yet smiling through her tears as he kissed her. Dolly.?A Western Drover's Story. My name is Anthony Hunt. I nin a drover, and I live miles and miles away upon the Western prairie. There wasn't n home within sight, when we moved there, my wife and I, and now we havn't many neighbors, though those we have are good ones. One day, about ten years ago, I went away from home to sell some fifty head of cuttle?fine creatures as I ever saw. I was to buy some groceries and dry goods before I came buck, and, above all. a doll for our youngest Dolly; she had never had a store doll of her own, only the rag babios her mother had made her. Dolly could talk of nothing else, and went down to tho very gate to call after mo to "'buy a big one." Nobody but a parent can understand how full my mind was" of that toy, and bow, whej the cattle were sold, the first thing, I hurried off to buy Dolly's doll. I foutrd a lurge ono, with eyes that? wonld open and shnt when you pulled a wire, and had it wrapped up iu paper, aud tucked it uu dor arm, while I hud the parcels of culied aud dcluitie aud tea nnd sugar i put tip. Then, late as it was, I started for home. It might hate been more ptUdcnt to stay until moriiing. but I felt anxious to get back;, and eager to bear Dolly's prattlo about her doll. I was mounted on a steady-going old horse of mine, und pretty well loaded. Night set in before I wta a mile from town, and settled down; dark an pitch while I was iu the middlej)f the wildest bit of road I know of.; I could have felt my way though, I rcpiembcrcd it so well, und it wus ulmost' like feeling it when the storm that haj been brewing broko, and tho rain pelted in torrents; five miles, or may bo six, from borne yet, too. I rode oil as fust aa I ctmld, but all of a suddcti I beard a little cry like a child's voice ! I stopped short aud listened?I beard it again. 1 called, and it answered mc. I couldu't sec a thing; all was dark as pit cb. I got down ai d felt about in the grass?culled again, and again was answered. Theu I began to wonder. I'm not timid, but I wus known to be a dro ver and to hatfl money about me. It tulghl be a trap to catch mc uuawares aud rob and murder mo. I am not superstitious?not very ; but bow could a real child bo out in the prairie in such a night, at such an hour? It might be more than human. Tbo bit of a coward that bides itself in most men showed Hst'lf to mc then, aud I wus half inclined to run nway; but once more 1 beard '?.hat fry, and said I : ''If any man's child is hereabouts, Anthony Hunt is not the mau to let it die." - I searched aguiu. At lost I bethought me of a bolluw undHr the hill, and groped that way. Sure enough, I found a little dripping thing that moaned and sobbed as 1 took it in my arms. I called my borso, aud the beast cams to mc, und 1 ! nwuutuu, ttuu cucked if.,, UtiJ???Rknd. thing Under my coat us woll as I could, promising to take it homo to mammy, t It scotnud tired to death, and pretty soon Cried itself to Blsep against my bosom. It had slept there oter an hour when I saw my own windows. There were lights in them, and I supposed my wife hud lit thcui for my sake ; but when I got into the door-yard I saw some thing was the matter, and stood still with a dead fear of heart live minutes before I could lift the latch. At lust I did it, and saw the room full of neigh bors, and my wife amidst them weeping. When she saw mo she hid her face, "Oh, don't tell him," she said ; "it will kill hint." '?"What M it. neighbors ?" I cried. And one said. "Nothing now. 1 hope. What's that in your arms? "A poor, lost child," said 1. "I foUnd it on the road. Take it. will you. I've turned faint," aud 1 lifted the sleep ing thing and saw the lace of my own child, my little Dolly. It was my darling, and other, that I had picket! up upon the drenched road. Mj little child had wandered out to meet "daddy" und the doll, while her mother was nt work and whom they were lamenting as one dr.:'!. I thanked Heaven on my kuccs before them all. It is not much of a story, neighbors, but 1 think of it often in the nights, and won dor how I could 1 ear to live now if I had not stopped when I heard the cry for help upon tint toad?the little baby cry, hardly louder than a piiuirrcl's chirp. That's Dolly yonder with he'r tt/blhor in the meadow, u girl worth saving?1 think (but then I'm her father, and par tial, maybe) the prettiest nnd sweetest thing this side of the Mississippi. A Uf.ccipt Worth One Thousand Diu,i.Aits.?The Ohio Cultivator says the following recipe is worth $1,000 to every housekeeper: Take one pound of sal soda and o half pound of unslucked Htue, and put (hem iu a gallon of Water, boil twenty min utes, let it stand till cool, then drain off and put in a Htnall jug or jar ; soak your dirty clothes over night, or until they i>rc wet through, then wring thorn and rub on plenty of soap, and in one boiler of clothes well covered with water, add one tea cup-full of the washing fluid; boil half an hour briskly, then wash thein thoroughly with suds ; rinse, and your clothes will look bettor than by the old way of washing twice before boiling This is an invaluable recipe, aud every poor, tirod womuu should try it. Singular Attempt ut StllCitlo. Ad account of a singular attempt at suicide, by a woman, is giveu in the Bt. Louis Thnct, as follows : Ou Thursday morning, between eight and nine o'clock, Major Von Minden, who resides iu the Fourth Ward went out to his well to draw a bucket of wa ter. The well is full sixty feet deep, and the water is drawn up by an ordina ry windless aud^ bucket. When the bucket began to rise from the water, Major V. found it incredibly heavy?ten times as heavy as usual. Ho was surprised at this, but determined to sec what was the cause, tugged away ut the wiudless. Being blessed with a stout muscle, he .* lowly wound up the rope. As the bucket reached the top, Major Von Minden was surprised to fee the hand of a human being clinging to the rope. He almost let go Iuh hold in his surprise?but was enabled to Continue the hauling process. Soon another hand appeared, then the head of a woman with her long disheveled hair drippiug with water, and her garments saturated with cold fluid. Here was a genuine sensation, but Major Von Minden did not stop to won der over it. He only reached over the well-box, and grasping th* hul['drown ing woman, drew her safely out on terra finna. She was found half dead und too benumbed to speak, but after being , thawed out by the stove managed to ex j plain the singular occurrence. 1 She was found to be u H?henden wo I man, about thirty j'ears of age, who re sides in the neighborhood. She was married a few months ago, but some of her neighbors having slandered her good j name, it annoyed her so that she resolved I to commit suicide. She says she jum'p ! ed into Major V's well at 1- o'clock the j night previous, llend foremost, but the water was not deep enough to drown her. and after staying hi the well ull night, -?1..J.J ? a.,t tp,rt c(,xt u,?rniug at the first chance. The well is verj na'now, and it is singular she did not re ceive fatal injuries in the downward pas sage, but she only cut her ankle slightly. Taken altogether, it was most singular occurrence, aud it 1% n wonder the wo man was not killed or she did not perish iu the cold water. ??m>~~~* es? Envy.?Saith Socrates, descanting on ? e ivy coupled with malice : The greatest flood has the soonest ebb; the sorest tempest the most sudden calm ; the hottest love the coldest end ; and from j the dcepe&t desire oftentimes ensues the j deadliest hate. A wise mau^had rather ! be envied for providence, than pitied for ! prodigality. Revenge barketh only at the stars, and spite spurns at that she I cannot reach. An envious man wuxeth j lean with the fatness of his neighbors. Envy is the daughter of pride, the author uf murder ati'l revenge, the begin ner of secret sedition, and the perpetual tormentor of virtue. Envy is the filth of the soul ; a venom, a poison, or quick - silver, whteb consumeth the flesh, and dricth up the mn'rrOW Ol the hones. Mrs. Scott Siddons. the actress, was j lately telegraphed to in tho West to ! know her terms for playing the part of 1 Miranda in tb<> "Tempest," at the ; Twenty-third street Opera House, S?tc replied: 81.000 a week: third of the house clear once a week; $1.000 to break an engagement in St. Louis, and railroad expenses for three people from New Orleans " The manager, replied : ??Madam: Vonr terms arc much too low. You shall liavrr all that Comes iu the house ; Mr. Fi?k will present you with the opera house and 200 miles of the Erie Railway, besides what personal property he has accumulated iu a life of toil and self-denial ; also all that he may make for the next five years, which, if we may judge by t!ie past, will be no inconsiderable amount. If these terms .should not meet with \our approbation, it may be possible to make Gould give up what littie bo has, that the light of your refulgent genius may not be lost to the stage." An old Washington beau, who was engaged to a )-onng lady, on applying to be. confirmed in Church, recently, was refused by the Bishop. Who would noi lay his cousecrating hands upon a wig. On hearing of this the lady, who sus pected nothing of that kind, broko the engagement. La Cloche, a funny paper, was re cently confiscated in Paris for speaking of ' our vouerublc Empress." A True 'Woman. A few days since the New York World indulged in some pleasant pasquinade over the speeches delivered at a festival of the "Sorobis"?a species of feminine foolery now prevalent in New York city. A lady reader, howeVtir?a genuine one, two, from the ring of her sentences? take's it seriously, and goes for the odi tor in the following gallant style. UNO ALLANT EDITOR OP TM K WORLD: Sir:?Hear me for my cause; I come to defend my sex, but not to praise them. Because one highflown lady indulged in transcendentalisms, wby do you seize the opportunity to denounce female humani ty as a class of "pretty little fidgets," and "doddering, dismal little souls?" The great moss of women, O ! Editor, arc not members of Sorosis, nor auulirers of Anna Dickinson. They do not be wail their wrongs, nor clamor for female suffrage; nor yet arc their brains loca ted in their chignon, nor their souls de voted to dry-goods. They aro tho duti ful daughters, faithful wives and devoted mothers of the laud. For every "fidget whose horlfton is bounded by the nur sery or a milliner's shrip," I will find you a male mortal whose horizon is bounded by a billiard saloon and a spree, or who devotes quite as much anxious thought to the cut of bis coat, and the style of bis uncxpressibles, as the bell does to her train and panier. And for every man who "bears a cross and a bur den in the doddering dismul little soul ho has madly sworn to love aud chciish," I will find a true and devoted woman bouud to a brutal or unfaithful, or druuken husband ; hearing her burden patiently, though it drives* tho light from her eyes, and hope from her heart. I hope you will not tbiuk mc vain if 1 cite myself as a fair example of the mass of my sex. I claim to be simply an average Aniericau woman, neither above, nor, I trust below the great majority of wcui??o. Well, I am a wife, aud my husband, although possessing i?telligonce and information iufinitcly superior to mine, does not go to a club to escape i?y society, but spends bis leisure hours at home. 1 am motlicr of three babies, aud 1 take care of thctn. I dress ac cording to my means, and sufficiently iu the modo to avoid odity, but I doil't care three Confederate cents what "the style" is, or is to be. Moreover, I am a eons taut reader of the daily World poli tics and all. I took the latter study iu order to be able to talk with my hus band ou subjects that interested him, but 1 dare say I am better posted on tbo state of the country than ball the tilth' Who are playing billiards or muddling themselves with fusel-oil while I urn taking care of my babies and making my husband's shirts. 1 declare I am not a '-fidget," or a "doddering, dismal soul," und I furthermore declare that what I am the great mass of my sex are, while many arc greatly superior. And 1 fling down the gauntlet to any one who undertakes to prove the contrary. Iudignantly, yours, A SOUTHERN WOMAN. A pack peddler, just at dark, entered a bouse in Green Garden, Illinois, and asked permission to stay all night, which was refused. He tbeu asked to be al lowed to leave bis pack, aud left. Be fore, 'he family retired one of the females had occasion to move the pack. wh?**h hud been left in one corner of the sitting ?room, and discovered that there was something besides merchandize inside. The hired man was called, who com menced to perforate the pack with bul lets. He fired three times when a picrc ing shriek issued from it, ami unripping off the outside covering, a man with a large bowio knife and a revolver clinched in his hands, was found weltering iu his , blood. Two of the shots bad proved fa tal. Tbo neighbors were alarmed, but no trace of tbo peddler who left tbo pre cious pack could be found. It is sup posed the intention of the man in the pack was robbery and perhaps murder. Distressing Occurrence.?Wo arc pained to record the death, on tho 20th iust., of a little girl, aged about 10 yours, by the name of Lillic Harris, daughter of Major N. S. Harris, near Clinton, in ?his District, The littlo girl, we learn, was caught by a falling tree near her father's rcsidenco, dxfring a gale, and crushed instantly to death, it being ne ccssary to cut tho tree in two before the body of tbo unfortunate littlo ercaturo could be extricated. We deeply sympa thize with the parents and friends of the deceased.?Laurcntvillc Herald. WHftt frart AtH* 1?0irtk? When the Southern farmer, be lid large or sin nil one, will rightly compute the value of an acre, and set the proper worth by it, we may then expect that ma terial and real wealth to the State that is only now imaginative. We call ourselves an agricultural people, and admit that the wealth of b'iir State lies iri its pro ductions. To a great extent, we may' say altogether, that as a people we are dependent upon our cotton, rice, tobacco crops for what money we make. As to our corn crop, we hardly feel like count ing it iu, if wc judge from the thousands of bushels that arc bought siipply the demands of our people, 'and the thou sands of dollars wo send out of the State for that article alone; not counting the millions of pounds of bacon that we buy also from the West. Every man that cultivates a few acres of land, imagines that he must put half or two thirds in cotton as the only thing that will bring ready money. We could not have a word to say about planting cotton, if each acre planted brought a bog: but wtieti tie know that it takes from three to fotfr aer*s of our Worn lands to t?ak? a bag, wc feel that it is labor and money thrown away, and that the fanner has never for a moment sat down and calcu lated the worth of an acre well manured and well worked. An acre of land well manured, well takett enre of, is worth from $50 to $60. An acre that will bring twenty-two bushels of wheat and thirty bushels of corn the same year, is worth $100 ; and any pains-taking farmer enn make an acre produce that. The manure drop ped in stables or yards by horses, cows, hogs, sheep, &c, will manure one acre well. We speak of the small farmer* the man with but little stock. Care and economy are all that is needed to sate manure; but so long as wo drive along in our slip-shod way of risking and sav ing manure, wc may expect but poor returns from the soil. . tfxte?m*ll far mcr could be induced td taRe' naif the p'ains the New England farmer docs oli his place, there trouTi hot lie a farm in Baldwin county that would not he worth at least $20 to the acre. But what we desire to call the espec ial atteffttbu of our farmers to is til* lia portance of manuring at least tftic' acre well and planting it in something that will bring him $100 clear. It can be dom. and done easily, but there must be system about it. Let the small far mer who reads this look at the nearest city or town tt? wWch he trades, and see what article of provisions sells readily. Take, for instance, sweet potatoes j every body eats them, and they have* a ready sale ; they keep well and can be sold by the wagon load or bushel, at from fifty cents to one dollar. A farmer knows how many bushels an acre will bring, and he kriovrs that he eau get a huudred dollars an acre', even at fifty cent - a bushel. Take the ground pea ; it will sell readily dii? bring a good price; take onions, take Irish potatoes, take peas. Put the acre iu anything but cotton, a?d it will bring more money than cotton would. Much manure is sometimes saved and wasted by trying to manure ten or twenty acres, when it should have been put on one of five: Farmers get discouraged and say it won't pay to save manure, because they have tried it, und their crops were a fiilure, und failed because they tiied to do too much with too little, just as a foolish housewife would try to make one blanket cover three beds.? Southern Re~ vor uer. - inn, ;~ artrrn ?* - A Sensible Man,?A young fellow in England has settled abroach of prom ise suit, brought against him by a most eligible damsel, in a new way. The dam ages were laid at jCo.000, and she gained thain iu full. Whereupon the defendant addressed the young lady a note, saying: I have behaved infamously, but if you will only forgive and forget, we may be happy yet. The orrly objection which my friends hud to you is UoW removed. They can fisy no longer you nro without h peony, since you have ?5,000 of yo?r own." And she mnrriod him. Judge Green has decided, at the April term of the Court of Common Fleas at Lexington, that the Homestead Act does not divest n licit secured try judgment obtained prior to tho adoption of the Constitution. Tho decision was appealed from, and goes to the Supremo Court. ? Phoenix. Great activity is reported at all the American Navy Yards.