Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

J lewis m. grist, proprietor.J ^tt $nbcjpbciit Jamil} ^ttbspapcr: Jfor tjtc promotion of t|e political, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of fjtt ? out j). ]terms?$3.00 a year, in advance. "VOL. 18. YOEKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 36, 1873. JS3"Q. 39. TELL ME, YE WINGED WINDS. Tell me, ye winged winds, That round my pathway roar, Do you not know some spot f Where mortals weep no more? Some lone and pleasant dellSome valley in the West, . Where, free from toil and pain, The wean' soul may rest? The loud wind softened to a whisper low, And sighed for pity as it answered, "No!" Tell me, thou mighty deep, Whose billows round me play, Know'st thou some favored spot? Some island far away, Where weary man may find The bliss for which he sighs ? Whore sorrow never lives, AUU lliCUU^Uip I1C V CI lUt'A i The loud waves rolling in perpetual flow, Stopped fo?* awhile and sighed to answer, "No !" And thou serenest moon, That with such holy face Dost look upon the earth Asleep in night's embrace, Tell me, in all thy round, Hast thou not seen some spot Where miserable man Might find a happier lot? Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in wo, And a voice, sweet but sad, responded?"No!" Tell me, my secret soul. Oh! tell me Hope and Faith, m Is there no resting place From sorrow, sin and death ? Is there no happy spot Where mortals" may be blessed? Where grief may find a balm, And weariness a rest? Faith, Hope and Love, best boons to mortalsgiven, Waved their bright wings and answered, "Yes, in Heaven! Seller. THE SQUIKE'S MISTAKE! bquire .uuaiey was in tns garden, puning weeds in his patch of tame strawberries, on the morning when he took a fancy for Ruth Lee's pretty face. She came down the road, looking fresh as a new-blown rose, in her plain calico dress and straw hat. Her brown hair, cut quite short, blew all about her face in little rings, and her blue eyes and bright cheeks made her as pretty a picture as one often sees. Squire Dudley saw her just as she came opposite the strawberry-patch, and called out "Good morning!" in his brisk, cheery way. "0, good morning!" she answered. "You almost scared me, Squire Dudley. I didn't see you until you spoke." . "Pleasant morning, isn'tit?"said the squire, coming up to the fence. Ruth had halted in the road. "It's beautiful weather," answered Ruth. "I told mother it was too pleasant to stay in doors, and started off on a visit." H A ?*A TfAH? r I r\ r\ tta! 9" O olro/l tllO xxic JUUI otian ucniuo JI J vo i uoavu vuv . squire, wondering that he never had noticed j what a fresh, charming face Widow Lee's daughter had before. "Our strawberries ?" laughed Ruth. "We haven't got one. Our old rooster got in one day, about a week ago, and picked all he could eat, and then coaxed the hens in, and between them they ruined our strawberry crop." "Too bad !" exclaimed the sympathetic squire. "Have some of these, Ruth. They are just ripe enough to be good." He picked some great clusters of ripe berries and handed them over the fence to her. "Thank you," said Ruth, smiling. "How nice they are. Mother was making great calculations on her strawberry jam. She was terribly vexed when she found out what the hens had done." "I've got lots to spare," said the squire. "I'll send some over to your mother." "She'd be much obliged to you," said Ruth. "If you have more than you want?" "Plenty of them," answered the squire; "plenty of them. Can have them just as well as not." "I must be going," said Ruth. "Good morning." "Good morning," returned the squire, look-; ing after her as she went down the road. "I i declare, there ain't a prettier girl in town j than Ruth Lee. I wonder some of the young j fellows haven't got her away from the widow.! If. I was young, now?" Squire Dudley stopped suddenly. An idea had just flashed across his brain. "I'm fifty," he said at last, after thinking ?uite busily for some miuutes. "I'm fifty, but don't look it. I don't see why I shouldn't try my luck, after all. Girls as young as Ruth marry men older than I am. I'm sure she'd make any man a good wife. Her mother is one of the finest women in the State, and she's brought her daughter up to know how ^ M \ 11 - .1 1 ___ J- T) to worK, ana De saving ana pruaeni. 1 in sure we need a good housekeeper. Mrs. Brown, she's old and fussy and crooked, and this way of living isn't half living. I do believe I'll marry her, if she'll have me. Maybe Charley'll say it's foolish, but I can't help that." The squire fell to weeding out his strawberries again diligently, and kept thinking about Ruth all the while. Long before dinner was ready he had fully made up his mind to propose marriage to Ruth, and bring home a new housekeeper and mistress to the great house whose mistress has been dead for ten years or more. Provided, of course, that Ruth didn't say no, and the squire thought there wasn't much danger of that; though why he should be so sure, I can't say. "Don't you think we need a housekeeper?" he said to his son Charles that afternoon, as they sat on the veranda. The Squire evidentlv 9fiw ar>mp now fpntiirp 5n lnndannnp fnr J ~~~~ " -XxWWX*. XX v..XX .M?v.cv?rv, he kept his face turned away from Charley's as he spoke. . "A housekeeper ?" asked Charley. "We've got one. What do we want of more, I should like to know ?" "Yes, I know," assented the squire, turning red in the face, and beginning to get a little uneasy; "but Mrs. Brown isn't such a woman as we need. She doesn't take an interest in the work as?as a woman would who?who had more interest in it." After which extremely logical argument the squire got more fidgetty than ever. "I understand that," answered Charley. "If she had a personal interest in the place, and in being prudent, and keeping things up, she'd do better than she does now. Now, she gets her pay for the work, and that's all she cares for. It's all we can expect of her." "Just so," said the squire, glad to kuow that Charley agreed with hira so far. "I've been thinking this morning that the best thing I could do would be to get some one who would take a personal interest in matters. I don't see as you intend to get married, and if you won't, I don't know but I'd better." The squire breathed easier. The worst part was over with. "You get married !" exclaimed Charley, in intense surprise. "Why, I didn't know that you ever thought of such a thing." "And I haven't till this morning," exclaimed the squire. "I got to thinking about it this morning, and the more I thought about it the more I thought it a good plan. You haven't any objections?' "Of course noi," answered Charley. "You can do as you think best. If you deem it advisable to get a wife, I have nothing to say further than the hope that you will get some one who will make you happy." "She will," said the squire very decidedly, "she will, I am sure." "May I ask who 'tis to be ?" inquired Charley. "I?I haven't asked her yet," answered the j squire, as red as a rose. "I'd rather wait! | until I'm sure of her before I tell you who it | j is. She might say no, you see, aud I should j j feel rather cheap." j Prudent Squire Dudley. That afternoon he ! picked a panful of his finest strawberries, and directly after tea started off across lots in the i direction of the Widow Lee's, with the berries | on his arm. It was dusk before he got to the | widow's, for he walked slowly. He had very ! busy thoughts for company. He was wonder- j ing what it were best to do. Should he pro-1 pose at once to Ruth, or should he see her i mother first, and talk with her ? He conclu-; ded that the last was the wisest plan. As he ; opened the gate noiselessly, he heard voices in ; the other corner of the garden, aud stopped a , moment to find out if it was the widow and.her 1 daughter. "T nooor liail nnv idr>n. nf if-, hefnre." said a 1 I voice, which he recognized as Charley's; "not; the least in the world. He said he hadn't j thought about it until to-day. I couldn't find out who he had in view. 1 hope it isn't old j Miss Sharp. She'd like to get somebody." The squire burst into a profuse perspiration ' at the idea of having Miss Sharp for a wife, j "He said he didn't see as I ever intended to i get married," went on Charley. "I didn't tell; him I had got me a wife picked out, but 11 wanted to. I'm sure he'd approve my taste ; in making a selection." "What nonsense!" laughed a clear, pleasant voice ; Ruth's voice, the squire knew, the moment he heard it. "If I'm going to be your wife I want you to quit laughing at me in that i sly way, pretending you're flattering me all the time!" "His wife! Good gracious!" The squire was so taken by surprise that he came near dropping his strawberries. So *X kA^ntAAn iknrv* 9 A n/1 Kfl 11 WUS Ull SCLUCU ucmccu tuciu i uv I had come near proposing to his son's intended wife! He felt cold all over, at the thought of it. How lucky that he did not take Charley into his confidence, and tell him who he had concluded to marry ! "I declare," exclaimed the squire, "I've made a mistake this time, sure enough. The rascal got the start of me. I'd like to know what I'm to do ? I've told him that I intended to get married, and if I don't, he'll likely as not mistrust something. Dear me!" The squire was in trouble. Another bright thought occurred to him. There was the widow. After all, she would be more suitable for him than Ruth would have been. She was somewhere near his own age. A fine woman. A smart woman. She would make a fine mistress for his empty house. Why shouldn't he marry her since he could not have [ her daughter ?" "I'll do it." exclaimed the sauire. bound to go through with the matter, since he had got so far. "I'll do it." He knocked. The door was opened by the widow, round-cheeked, rosy, and smiling. "Why, Squire Dudley! Good evening," she exclaimed. "I hardly knew you at first, you haven't been here in so long. Come in ; take this rocking-chair, and let me take your hat." The widow bustled about and got the squire a chair, and deposited his hat on the table before he happened to think of his basket. "0, Ruth told me your strawberry crop proved a failure, so I thought I'd run over and bring you a few. Strawberry short-cake don't go bad, this time of year." "I'm a thousand times obliged to you," said the widow, taking the basket. "I was so provoked to think the hens should spoil mine. Such a nice lot as I would have had." "If you want any to preserve, come over and get 'em," said the squire. "We've plenty of 'em. Mrs. Brown?she won't do anything with 'era, except as we use them in the season of them, I suppose." "You ought to have 'em done up. They're so nice in the winter. I would like to get some for jam ; and if Mrs. .Brown won t taKe care of them, I'll do them up on shares." "I wish you would," said the squire. "Things are all going to wreck and ruin about my place. 'Tain't to be expected a hired woman will take any interest in affairs and here he sighed deeply. "No; that's so !" responded the widow. It was strange thatthesquire had not found out how things were going to wreck and ruin i before. Mrs. Brown had been there evdr j since Mrs. Dudley died. The squire and the widow kept up a brisk : conversation, and at the end of an hour he ! was more deeply in love with the widow than | he had been with her daughter, and began to j wonder how he had been so blind as to overI look such a delightful woman for so long, j By-and-by the widow bustled out. aud pres; ently came back with a pitcher of last year's ! cider and a plate of cake. "Do have something to eat and drink," urged the widow. "If I'd known you were coming I'd have made a cherry pie; I remember you used to like my cherry pies." "I?I wish you'd come and make cherry pies for me all your life," blurted out the j squire, turning very red in the face again. "I?I came down to ask you to marry me, j Mrs. Lee." j After which innocent falsehood the squire j | felt decidedly relieved. "I'm sure I'd as lief marry you as any man," I answered the widow, blushing and looking as | pretty as a rose. "It's all settled, then," cried the delighted j squire, and kissed her plump on the lips just! as the door opened and Charley and lluth j came in. Allow me to make you acquainted with my j j new housekeeper," said the squire, bowing ! , very low to hide his red face. "And allow me to present my wife?that is I to be," answered Charley. "You take the j : mother and I'll take the daughter." I am happy to say that, under the "new ad- j | ministration," things are no longer going to j wret'tv. aiiu iuiu. ? ONLY A FARMER'S WIFE. j Two women sat together at sunset in the ; porch door of a white cottage that stood un-, der its "ancestral tree" and among its fields of wheat and corn, like a poet's vision of a i | quiet resting place for some weary, suffering i | human soul. And one of these two women had eyes to j see, ears to hear, and a heart to feel and ap-: predate it all. She was a tall and stately; < lady, apparently some thirty years of age? ! not exactly handsome, but with a grace of j ' air and manner peculiarly her own. The j careful toilet, the nameless air of elegance and liiYiirv. t.hfi nale cheek, the soft white hands. ; betrayed the city dame. While the weary ! glance in her large dark blue eyes, which even i I the quiet of that sunset hour could not drive ; away, showed that time had not dealt gently ! with with her and her heart's idol, but had ; thrown them, scattered and ruined, at her | ! feet. ; Pier companion was some five years her j junior, and many times prettier?a little! i round faced, apple cheeked woman?with j 1 dark blue eyes and dark brown hair, and a . rounded figure that was set off to the best ad- j ; vantage by the afternoon dress of tinted mus-, i liu that she wore. | j At present the pretty face was almost spoil-; ' ed by a querulous, discontented expression, j ! She was contrasting her own hand, plump ' I and small, but certainly rather brown, with I the slender white fingers of her city friend, j j all glittering with rings. "Just look at the ; ] two!" she exclaimed. "That comes of ma-; ! king butter and cheese, and sweeping, and j dusting, and washing dishes, and making beds j all the time. That man told the truth that' said that woman's work was never done. I know mine never is. Oh, dear, dear! To think that you, Margaret, should have married a city merchant, and be as rich as a princess in a fairy tale; and here I am planted for life, plain Mrs. Hiram Parke, and nothing in the world compared with you. I am sick of being only a farmer's wife." Margaret Von Howth looked down at her grumbling little friend with a sad smile. "Jenny, it seems to me, as we sit here in this quiet place and look out over all these pleasant fields that are vour own?it seems to .1 r _ _i?j i:i.? nie uiai you are annual. wiuaeu lu una. nn.c that." "I dare say you would never like it, Margaret. You would never wish to change places with me." "Perhaps not. Would you not like to change with me ?" 1 "Yes." "And be Mrs. Von Howth, instead of Mrs. Hiram Parke ?" Jennie hesitated. She dearly loved her handsome husband. "Well, I don't mean that I want to give up Hiram. I only mean that I wish he was a city merchant, instead of a farmer, and as rich as your husband is; that is all." "And that is a great deal. Jenny, if your wish could be granted, do you know what your life would be?" said Mrs. Von Howth, coldly. "What yours is I suppose. What any lady's is in your position." "But what is that life. Do you know?" "How should I ?" "It is a weary one, Jenny, with more genuine hard work in it than all your making of butter and cheese." "Oh ! Margaret." "And, Oh! Jenny, believe me, my dear, there are no people on earth who work harder than the fashionables who only have their own amusements to provide for. A long life of mere amusements is a dog's life, Jenny, at the best." "I should like to be convinced of it by ac tual experience," said Jenny, doubtingiy. "So I said and thought once. I have been so convinced. And it is all vanity and vexation of spirit, my dear." "But how ?" persisted Jenny." "How? In ten thousand ways. If you live in the fashionable world you must do as the fashionable world does. You must rise and dress, and shop, and lunch, and dress again and drive, and dress again and appear at certain balls, parties, concerts, exactly as your friends do, or be voted bizarre, and out of the world altogether. You, my poor Jenny, who are by no means fond of dress, what would you do at a fashionable watering place in the hottest days of August, with five changes of toilet between morning and night, and a French lady's maid to tyranize over you 11 ? - i nil* J all the time into tne nargain r "Horrors!" ejaculated Jenny. "Balls that you must go to in spite of fatigue ; parties that you must go to in spite of the heat; calls that you must make on people that you detest. Oh! Jenny, I should far rather be at home with the butter and cheese, if I were you." Jenny was silent. Here was the side of the bright picture which she had never seen or dreamed of before. "You love your husband, Jenny?" said her friend, after a time. Jenny opened her eyes wide. "Love him ? Why isn't he my husband ?" was her reply. Mrs. Von Howth laughed. "Some women in society might think that a reason why you shouldn't love him!" she said, drily. "And he loves.you, also ?" "I should die to-morrow if I thought he did not." "Tut, child. People leave this world when God wills it; not before. I dare say you would survive his infidelity. Many women j wan Virtttq litrorl anntt fViinora I UOIUIV; ;uu AM t*> M **TV,V* VMM* vv.fe4. w...?bv. "Don't talk of it, Margaret, I could not bear it. Why, he is all the world to me. How could I bear to lose him ?" "Then don't wish him to be a city merchant, my dear. I dare say there are many good men in the city?men who love their wives; but, on the other hand, there are so many temptations, especially in society, that I sometimes wonder not that so many go astray, but that so many remain true to themselves and their duty." She spoke absently, and her eyes had a faraway glance, as if they dwelt on other things. Jenny ventured a question. "Margaret, is yours a happy marriage? Do you love your husband ? And does he love you?" Mrs. Von Howth started and turned pale. "Jenny, I would have loved him?I would have been a good wife to him ; but he never loved me. He brought me to place at the head of the house, because he thought me ladylike and interesting; that was all. He told me so once though not quite so plainly as this. 1 And since then we have each taken our own way, independent of the other. I seldom see him at our house in town. I have my carriage, ray diamonds, my opera box. In the season ! I go to Saratoga, or Newport, while he favors i Long Branch with his presence. We are j perfect strangers to each other; we never j quarrel; and I suppose if I were to die to-1 on in/inncnln l\ln nnrlnumr 1 a week. Jenny, you will not wish to change places with me again. Your husband might: chaDgeas miuehas done, exposed to the same ; temptation. Thank heaven you have him as ' he is, a good, true man, who loves you ; and ; never mind the butter and cheese, Jenny, so ; long as your happiness and his is made up with , them." She rose from her seat and strolled up the ! garden path. Jenny did not follow. She sat on the step ; lost in thought. The riddle of her friend's j life was made clear to her. She had often , wondered why Margaret, iu the midst of all her wealth and luxury, should seem so sad.! She wondered no longer now. To be the wife of a man who had no love ! for you! What "lower deep" can there be ! than this for a proud and sensitive woman ? j Jenny turned with tears iu her eyes to meet j the stalwart husband as he came from the ; field. i "Well, little woman," he cried, and then , she got the hearty kiss for which she was ' lUUIVilJg. Yes, Margaret was right. The butter and cheese were of little consequence, while love like this made her task easy to endure. And the rosy-cheeked little woman beut fondly down over her "Hiram" as he flung ^ himself down on the porch seat, and fanned ! him, talked to him, brought him lemonade, and made him thoroughly happy and at rest. Poor Margaret! Happy Jenny! Never again would she wish to be more?only a farmer's wife! ? ? "Weather Wisdom.?When you wish to know what the weather is to be, go out and i select the smallest cloud you see, keep your ; eye upon it, and, if it decreases and disappears, it shows a state of the air which will be sure to be followed by fine weather; but if it! increases in size, take your great coat with you if you are going from home, for falling weather will not be far off. The reason is this: When the air is becoming charged with electricity, you will see every cloud at-! trading all lesser ones toward it, until it1 gathers into a shower, and on the contrary j when the fluid is passingoff or diffusing itself, i then a large cloud will be seen breaking to ! pieces and dissolving. ' IpsrcnattMus fleadiuij. BROKEN ON TIIE WHEEL. There is no State in Europe in which the barbarous punishment of breaking on the wheel is inflicted on criminals except Servia, one of the semi-dependencies of Turkey. In ! Servia they have three methods of punishing | murderers, highway robbers and incendiaries, i In the most aggravated cases execution by | breaking on the wheel is inflicted. In other I nnoM thp milnri+.d are tied to chairs, and the headsman runs a sharp knife across their throats and then breaks their spine. If there are peculiar circumstances of mitigation the culprits are shot by a file of soldiers. One of the most revolting crimes ever committed in Servia was the assassination of the whole family of a wealthy farmer, named Detrestisy, in Bialin District, about twenty miles from Belgrade, the capital of Servia. On the 24th of April, Detristisy, a man of forty years of age, his wife, Susannah, twenty-nine years old, and his three children, Frances, Kathinka and Arandeas, aged respectively twelve, nine and fouryears, were found in the house murdered. It was also discovered that the mother and the two daughters had been outraged. All the victims had been beaten with bludgeons and then stabbed. An active search was at once made for the , perpetrators. Two days afterward they were discovered in a forest about four miles from where the crime had been committed. They were Sebastulus Alexiry, formerly a non-commissioned officer in the array of the Sultan of Turkey, and Moses Alexander Worthstein, an Austrian. When they were arrested the officers found several hundred zequins and the watch of the murdered farmer in their possession. They were taken in irons to Bucharest. Upon being brought before the examining magistrate they denied any knowledge of the crira^T but the lash, which is there still used upon the mendacious criminals, was not long in eliciting confession from the tortured Werthstein. After receiving fifty lashes on the-bare back, he confessed that Alexiry and he had broken into the house of the farmer in order to rob him of three hundred zequins. They succeeded in forcing their way into the house, but were con fronted by him, whereupon a desperate scuffle ensued. The farmer fought valiantly, but they clubbed him, and then finished him with their dirk knives. Alexiry refused to confess, and remained firm under the torture of the lash, freely administered by order of the magistrate. Both Alexiry and Werthstein were fully committed. Their trial before the full bench of criminal judges came off on the 11th of June. It lasted but one hour. Both were found guilty of murder without extenuating circumstances, and sentenced to be broken on the wheel. There was loud applause in court when the sentence was pronounced. Alexiry listened to it without emotion. Werthstein, however, broke into loud screams, tore his hair and yelled for mercy. The officers of the court had to drag him back to his cell. The 14th of July was fixed for the execution. They were to expiate their doom on the old glacis of the fortress of Belgrade, upon which Prince Eugene of Savoy made once his famous assault. The execution was to take place at 8 A. M., and an enormous concourse assembled to witness it. The scaffold was circular, of wood, and the only distinctive feature about it was a St. Andrew's cross, slightly elevated aboye the platform. About half-past seven the executioners arrived. One was a heavy-built man, and the other almost a giant. Both were dressed in erreen flannel iackets and had their arms o %> bare. When the clock on St. Mary's steeple at Belgrade struck eight, there emerged from the gate of the fortress a procession headed by four horsemen. Next followed the carriage in which the judges and the priest were seated. As the procession emerged from the gate, loud shrieks were heard. They were those of Werthstein, who, chained as he was, hand and foot, screamed to Heaven for help. Under ordinary circumstances, his appeals might have had some effect upon the people. But, knowing the fearful crime which he and his accomplice had committed, there was not a voice raised in his favor, and the soldiers were rather encouraged to punch him with the butt ends of their muskets. When the criminals had been brought on the platform every stitch of clothing left upon Alexiry was torn off, and he was firmly tied to the St. Andrew's cross. Until this moment he had preserved his equanimity. But now the executioner drew from the green bag a sort of iron club, with a knob at its head. The fastened criminal looked wistfully at the man who was to torture him, and then put him to death. The executioner raised the iron club and crushed Alcxiry's right shoulder. The murderer gave a shriek, and made a desperate effort to free himself. He struggled desperately in his agc:.y, but the next blow which the executioner gave him?on the kuee-pan?elicited from the culprit a scream of pain that caused the blood of the spectators to freeze. After this infliction he seemed insensible, and the other blows that crushed his joints and the finishing strokes on his belly were given as to a dead man. Meanwhile, Werthstein, in his chains, had to look on. He rent the air with his lamentations, and came near fainting away when the executioner dealt ?lexiry the first blow. He flung himself to the floor, and begged piteously for his life; but, after the lifeless corpse of Alexiry had been detached from the fatal cross, he was dragged to it, and, in spite of his invocation, fastened to it like his accomplice. He yelled even before he received the first stroke with the iron club; but when that instrument of torture descended upon his shoul- i der-joint, he gave an unearthly scream, and the executioner's blow upon his knee-pan made i him howl still worse. For five minutes?an eternity under the circumstances?he continued his yells, and it was not until the executioner gave him three heavy blows on the abdomen that all was quiet, and Servian justice was satisfied. Railway Speed.?Fifty and sixty miles an hour for railway travel is oftener talked about than realized. A speed of sixty miles an hour for a regular passenger train has never been attempted, except in one instance, and that on a wide seven-foot guage in England. This rapid speed pleased travelers I very much, and many willingly paid the i large extra charge for being shot along over | the ground at a rate so great as to render the ! way stations of the accommodation trains al-! most invisible. But the railway company i soon found that they had passed the practi-! cable limit of the endurance of wood and ! iron. They found that the "wear and tear" j induced upon both road and rolling stock by ! such excessive speed was beyond the endu- j ranee of finance, and that high rate of speed was consequently abandoned. There are but few trains now running on ' . i, me Desc wiae-guage, auuigut nmua m ojughind, which average a speed of fifty miles an hour. The express traffic is usually done at the rate of thirty-five to forty miles, while the ! ordinary travel is about twenty-two. Railroad travel in this country is much slower, and necessarily so in consequence of j the lack of solidity in our roads and rolling stock. Our "lightning trains" scarcely reach, and very seldom excel, thirty-five miles an hour?in fact, our fast trains do not average j over thirty miles, while our general passenger traffic does not exceed an average of twenty. ! Freight trains usually run about sixteen to l eighteen miles an hour. THE PROSPECTIVE COTTON CROP. The September report of the Statistician of the Department of Agriculture at Washington, indicates a decline in the cotton crop prospect during the past month, in conse' quence of the presence of the cotton caterpilI lar, in portions of Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana, and of drought of moderate severity in Texas, Arkansas and Tennessee. The condition of the crop as shown by the average of returns received, is as follows: i Virginia, 97 ; North Carolina, 95; Georgia, '96; Florida, 32; Alabama, 88; Mississippi, I 90; Louisiana, 86; Texas, 94; Arkansas, 78; Tennessee, 92. Thus the prospect throughout the entire cotton area which favored a yield of five per cent, larger than an average proj duct, promises at the present time about ten I per cent, less than an average. The increase i of acreage over last year, and the unfavorable character of the season of 1871, still point to a material increase in the crop of 1872, while the possible extension of insect ravages or the early occurrence of frost, may modify the present expectation. The only counties reporting cotton in Virginia are Northampton, Southampton, King and Queen, Chesterfield, Greenville, and Patrick, and in these the average of condition has M 1A1 A MMunf a Q7 in uuuhijuu iruui iui iu au^uoi iw v? m tember. Returns from 38 counties in North Carolina average 101 in September against 97 in August. Mecklenburg holds its August estimate of 125, and Edgecombe has advanced from 75 to 100. Twelve reports are below 100. No material loss from insects is reported. The average of condition in South Carolina has fallen from 98 in August to 95 in September. Darlington, Barnwell, Edgefield and Fairfield counties, which together produced 90,000 bales of the crop of 1869, average 96, Darlington and Fairfield standing better than in August. Richland reporting 100 in August, has been visited by the caterpillar, which has reduced the average to 80. In August only twelve counties in Georgia out of sixty in reporting, returned condition less than 100, and the general average was 104; in September it is placed at 96. The insect ravages are becoming serious in several counties, especially in Lee, Twiggs, Spaulding, Schley, Baldwin and Marion counties. The decline during the past month in Florida has been from 96 to 92. The caterpillar appeared in Seewannee as early as July 15, and divested whole fields before August 15. Leon, Jefferson, Madison, Gadsden and TayI lor counties have also been visited. Only four counties in Alabama made retnmo holnro 10H in A ncrnst. the crenernl aver I lUillU WW4W II *wv D ? age being 107. Two-thirds of the present returns are below 100. Thirty-two counties average 88. Of the prominent counties the whole shows a decline from 110 to 67; Russell from 103 to 97, and Marengo from 90 to 70. Montgomery indicates an advance from 105 to 110. Two-thirds of th~ returns include a reference to insect ravages. The general average of Mississippi returns has fallen since the August report from 112 to 90. Warrenton has declined from 110 to 107. Madison from 105 to 77. Hinds from 100 to 60. Three-fourths of the returns are below 100. Insect depredations are serious in many counties. The average for Louisiana was 101 in August; in September 98. In Caddo the decline is from 90 to 50; from 100 to 72 in Concordia; from 95 to 80 in Claiborne, while in Madison, a prominent parish, an advance from 120 to 140 is reported. The caterpillar has been destructive in Tangipahoa, Marion, Red River, St. Landry and Concordia. Drouth has shortened the Texas crop, and reduced the average of the returns of condition from 103 to 92. Few reports of the presence of insects are received. In Tennessee drought has also been injurious, reducing the average from 104 to 92. rrn r> .? J L-11_ il., j.? ??? j ine iorras auu yuuug uuna ui iuc iup a>c | rapidly falling off, threatening a material rej duction of the crop. GENERAL WASHINGTON'S FARM. The farm of General "Washington at Mount Vernon contained in his days ten thousand acres of land in one body?equal to about 15 square miles. A great portion of it was a vast valley or basin surrounded by a range of hills; a third of it was a neck of land on the Potomac Kiver, with Hunting Creek Bay on the east and Donge Creek Bay on the west. These creeks are navigable for about two and a half miles up from the river channel, and certainly would have afforded the General great facilities, as they now do our farmers, in boating and landing manure or fertilizers on the ground, but it is not probable that the General did anything at this. It was divided into farms or fields, of convenient size, by deep ditches which may be traced now, and showing that one of them contained as much a 2,700 acres. These were situated at a distance of two, three and five miles from the Mansion House. The walls of a sixteen I square barn are now standing, and is quite a j curiosity; it was made of brick and quite large; situated three miles from his residence. He had two grist mills on the place, one run by water power having (I judge) a twelve feet wheel, and a race about two miles in length; the mills the foundation walls of which are standing, was at the head of the Donge Creek Bay, and it is supposed that boats ran right to the mill door. The other mill is said to have been propelled by oxen or horses. The General delighted to visit the farms above spoken of every day in pleasant weather, and was constantly engaged in making experiments for the improvement of agriculture. Some idea of the exteut of his farming operations may be formed by the following facts : : In 1787 he had five hundred and eighty acres I in grass; sowed six hundred bushels of oats ; | seven hundred acres of wheat; and as much I more in corn, barley, potatoes, beaus, peas,; , &c., and one hundred and fifty acre3 with j turnips. His stock consisted of one hundred ; i and forty horses; one hundred and twelve { j cows ; two hundred and thirty-six oxen, ! heifers and steers, and five hundred sheep. He constantly employed two hundred and fif- j i ty hands, and kept twenty-four plows going , during the whole year, when the earth and the state of the weather would permit. In 1780 he slaughtered one hundred and fifty hogs (I hope not the "Virginia Pine Rooters,) for the use of his own family, and provisions for his negroes, for whose comfort he 1 1 X J 1 nan great regaru. Of the ten thousand acres, but two hundred now belong with the mansion, and the Wash-1 I ington Farm has been greatly reduced ; but a ; small portion of this is now cultivated.? Country Gentleman. Opinions as are Opinions.?A journalist, j well known throughout the country, being in Washington, felt a curiosity to ask Wm. H. | Howard what he thought ot norace ureeiey. t "Greeley," replied the ex-premier, "is a man of rare gifts, of positive genius, indeed, but , lie lacks common sense. If he had a particle , of this quality we would have to hang him ; | but as it is he is harmless, for he is a d-d ! fool!" Some weeks after the same journalist j I happening in the Tribune office, inquired of I j Greeley his opinion concerning Seward. The ' t sage of Chapaqua thus answered: "Seward j has brains, great force and immense power. He could do anything he wished. He could govern this country as well as any man in the land if he were only honest; but the trouble : with Bill Seward is, that he is an infernal old scoundrel and can't be anything else!"?Cor. St. Louis Globe. "Whiskey Churning.?It may be interest' ing to connoisseurs to know that whiskey is given age in a variety of ways?by keeping it in casks; by clarifying with chemicals; by sending it on a sea voyage, so that agitation may add its powers to the natural fermentation ; by increasing the quantity of ozone, thus oxygenizing its elements; but a machine has now been presented which does in a few minutes the work of months; the violent agitation of the particles, and the extreme division of the essential oils which compose them, produce a change almost instantly. Its construction is ingenious and promises to revolutionize one of the largest interests of trade in the world. The machine is large and expensive, con-' sistiug of two cylinders, placed one behind the other, containing two wheels four and one-half feet in diameter, resembling circular saws, on which are arranged one hundred teeth, with a flat edge each, both revolving the same way; consequently when one is going down the other is coming up. At the point where they come together there is a space of one-half inch. The liquor, being fed on the beater going down, by a steam pump at a pressure of one hundred pounds to the square inch, is thrown on those going up, thereby submitting it to the blows of both, and as the wheel makes 2000 revolutions per minute, it gives us the number of blows struck per minute as 400,000. The effect produced on new liquor by passing it through this machine is quite astonishing. Almost instantly is acrid, fiery fluid converted into a smooth, palatable drink. All the effects of age, which formerly could be only obtained after great loss and patient waiting for years, are, by this wonderful machine, produced in an hour, and so completely is the change wrought that the most accomplished judges were wonderfully deceived, and pronounced the tested liquor always old and sometimes as really better than liquor of the same grade that was known to be ripened by time. The changes produced by this machine are still more marked, if possible, on new wines than on the stronger liquors. One single treatment will give all the effects of age, at once smoothing the liquor and developing the boquet. The whole operation takes place : in an air-tight compartment, and, of course, no lo3S can possibly ensue. This, of itself, will effect an immense saving. Symptoms of M aidenly Celibacy.? When a woman beghs to drink her tea without sugar?that's a symptom. When a woman begins to read love stories abed?that's a symptom. When a woman gives a sigh on hearing of j a wedding?that's a symptom. | When a woman begins to say that she's refused many an offer?that's a symptom. When a woman begins to talk about rheumatism in her knees and elbows?that's a | symptom. When a woman begins to refuse to tell her age?that's a symptom. ! When a wonjan begins to find fault with her looking-glass, and say it doesn't show her features right?that's a symptom. When a woman begins talking about cold draughts and stops up the crevices in the doors and windows?that's a symptom. When a woman begins to say what a dreadful set of creatures men are, and that she wouldn't be bothered with one for the world? that's a symptom. When a woman begins to change her shoes every time she comes into the house after a walk?that's a symptom. When a woman begins to have a little dog trotting after her?that's a symptom. When a woman begins to have a cat at her elbow at meal time, and gives it sweetened milk?that's a symptom. When a woman begins to say that a servant has no business to have a sweetheart? that's a symptom. When a woman begins to rub her fingers over chairs and tables to see if they are dusty?that's a symptom. When a woman begins to go to bed with her stockings and flannel night-cap on?that's a symptom. When a woman begins to put her fingers before her mouth when talking to any one, for fear they would see she is losing her teeth?that's a symptom. ? To those who are bent on matrimony, but have not found a suitable partner, we offer urgent advice. Let them pack up all their property and start immediately for the mountainous districts to the extreme east of Hungary. They will find that at this season of the year a fair is held of marriageable young men and women. From all quarters long trains of chariots wind their way to the plain of Kalinosa. They are laden with household furniture, and followed by the cattle of the family. In the midst of these goods may be seen the young lady whom her family has brought to seek a husband at the fair. She is dressed in her best, with brilliant silk scarf and scarlet petticoat. These caravans take up their position one after another on one side of the plain, while on the other side a cavalcade of young men approaches and deploys along the whole line. The men?young j Wallachians, for the most part?are dressed in their best goat skins and make what show of horsemanship they can. After both parties have taken up their respective quarters opposite each other, the fathers step forward and begin to negotiate marriages for their children. The questions asked on these occasions are, we fear, of a somewhat sordid character. "How many bullocks ?" "How much money ?" "Your daughter's furniture looks rather old; that chest of drawers does not shut properly. I must find something better than that for my son." Such would doubtless be a correct report of the conversation held in this primitive if not poetical Arcadia, previous to clinching the matrimonial bargains. The business is, however, carried out with a promptitude equal to its frankness. As soon as the parents are agreed, a priest, who is always at hand, is summoned. He chants a hymn and gives his benediction, the bride then kisses her parents, mounts the chariot, and starts for some unknown village with a husband whom she has never seen before, the j furniture and cattle which her parents have i allowed her as a marriage portion following j in the rear. - ? Tiie Valley of Death.?A spot almost as terrible as the prophet's valley of dry bones lies just north of the Mormon road to California, a region thirty miles long by thirty broad, i and surrounded, except at two points, by in- j accessible mountains. It is totally devoid of i water and vegetation, and the shadow of birds ! or wild beast never darkens its white, glaring j sands. The Kansas Pacific Railroad engi-' neers discovered it, and also some papers which i show the fate of the lost Montgomery train, j which came south from Salt Lake in 1850, j guided by a Mormon. When near Death's j Valley some came to the conclusion that the j Mormons knew nothing about the country, so : they appointed one of their number a leader, | and broke off from the party. The leader 1 turned due west; so with the people and wagons and flocks he traveled three days and tion ftoononrtorl intn hrnrtH A'llllr>V whoSG treacherous mirage promised water. They : reached the centre, but 01 ly the white sands, bounded by scorching pe. ks, met their gaze. Around the valley they wandered, and one I by one the men died, and the panting flocks i stretched themselves in death under the hot sun. Then the children, crying for water, died at their mothers' breasts, and with swollen tongues and burning vitals the mothers followed. Wagon after wagon was abandon ed, and strong men tottered and raved and died. After a week's wandering a dozen survivors found some water in the hollow of a rock in the hill. It lasted but a short time, when all perished but two, who escaped out of the valley and followed the trail of their former companions. Eighty-seven families, with hundreds of animals, perished here, and now after twenty-two years, the wagons stand I still complete, the iron-works and tires are 1 * --t- A. J ? AmIanaIaJ alr/\lAfnno Tin q!/]q I orignc, auu lllC UUIICVCICU oacKvuuo uv uiuvj by side.?Springfield Republican. ? A Hundred Years Ago.?One hundred and ten years ago there was not a single white man in Kentucky, Ohio, Indiana ana Illinois. Then what is the most flourishing part of America was as little known as the country around the mysterious Mountains of the Moon. It was not until 1775 that Boone left his home in North Carolina to become the first settler in Kentucky. The first pioneers of Ohio did not settle until twenty years after that time. A hundred years ago Canada belonged to France, and the population did not exceed a million and a half of people. A hundred years ago the great Frederick of Prussia was performing those grand exploits which have made him immortal in military annals, and with his little army was sustaining a single-handed contest with Russia, Austria and France, the three great powers of Europe combined. Washington was a mod eat Virginia Colonel, and the great events in history of the two worlds, in which these great but dissimilar men took leading parts, were then scarcely foreshadowed. A hundred i years ago the United States were the most j loyal part of the British Empire, and in which, within a score of years thereafter esI tablished the great republic of the world. A hundred years ago there were but four newspapers. in America. Steam engines had not been imagined, and railroads and telegraphs had not entered into the remotest conception of man. When we come to look back at it through the vista of history, we find that to the century just past has been allotted more important events, in their bearings upon the world, than almost any other, which has elapsed since the creation. How a President is Elected.?We have several times been inquired of in regard to the manner in which a presidential election is made, and inasmuch as people forget such details, we will briefly recite the moatu operandi : Ctntn !o fn a a manv ?>1 Aofnrfl uauu kjbawu JO ^UVIM^U W HU M<MU^ V-?WW->? for President and Vice-President as it has Senators and Representatives in Congress. In each State the electors are chosen by a plurality vote. But a candidate for President, in order to be successful, must have a majority of all the electors. The electoral college, as now constituted, consists of 317. 159, therefore, are necessary for a choice. If there be three candidates for President [ and neither of them receives a majority of the electoral college, then there is no choice, | and the election goes to the House of Representatives. The House must confine their choice to the three highest candidates voted for by the electors. The Representatives vote by State, and each State has but one vote; so that the power of Delaware is as great as that of New York. Each State has one vote. A candidate, to be successfbl, must receive a majority of all the States, or nineteen States. If the delegation is divided, the vote of the State cannot be cast and is therefore lost. Teach the Women to Save.?There's the secret! A saving woman at the head of the family is the very best savings bank established?one receiving deposits daily and hourly, with no costly machinery to manage it The idea of saving is a pleasant one, and if the women woula imbibe it at once, they would cultivate and adhere to it, and thus when they were not aware of it, would be laying the foundation of a competent security in a stormy time and shelter in a rainy day. The woman who sees to her own house, has a large field to save in. The best way to make her comprehend it is to keep an account of all current expenses. Probably not one woman in ten has an idea how much are the expenditures of herself and family. Where from I one to two thousand dollars are expended an uually, there is a chance to save something if the effort is made. Let the house-wife take the idea, act upon it, and she will save many dollars?perhaps hundreds?where before she thought it impossible. This is a duty, yet not a prompting of avarice, but a moral obligation that rests upon the woman as well as the man. 4 4 Snuff-taking for Bronchitis and Consumption.?Dr. John Murray, one of the best known among European medical authorities, asserts that he has seen the progress of consumption arrested by practicing the habit i of snuff-taking, which is equally efficient in the case of bronchitis. He says that by tickling the lining membrane of the nostrils, snuff acts as a powerful derivative and counter-irritant, and its use will tend to preserve the more important and susceptible pulmoni ary mucous membrane from harm. The j sneezing which succeeds the unaccustomed application of the article, and the cough which is induced when, by chance, some of the lighter particles get into the throat, may, ^uA Ap oama arro 1 ] in fkn lilm man* lie LUIU&Oj ug \Jk oviuo WTUii <u vuw ?iuv ?* ner as sea-sickness is believed to be in effecting the elimination of albumenoid matter? the precursor of tubercle?from the lungs before it has had time to fill the air cell and minute bronchi, and coagulate. + - . Elections in New England States.? The State election which occurred week before last in Vermont, gave a Republican majority of 25,000 as it is claimed; and the State election in Maine which took place last week, gave a Republican majority of about 15,000. At the last previous election, Vermont gave a Republican majority of 21,309, and the Republican majority in Maine was 10,631. The Republicans consequently claim an increased majority at the recent elections, though this claim is made in the absence of the Democratic returns, which may be increased in equal ratio with the Republican vote. The elections, in these two States at. all events, do not have that bearing or significance in the Presidential contest that some politicians attribute to them, so far as relates to affecting the votes of other States; and it has never been claimed by any one that Greeley could carry either of the States which have just voted. The "Alabama" Claims.?A dispatch from Washington, dated on Saturday last, says that a telegram has been ;eceived at the State Department from Hon. J. C. Bancroft Davis, agent of the United States, that the text of the award of the arbitrators at Geneva has been publicly announced there. The United States receives the gross sum of 815,500,000 for losses sustained by the acts of the Alabama and Florida, and of the Shenandoah, after leaving Melbourne. It will be recollected, that by the terms of the treaty, the award is payable in gold at Washington, within one year from the date of the award. ? ? Sore Mouth and Tongue.?Thr dratnsee borax, 2 sugar of lead, 1 ounce alum and 1 pint sage tea, will cure a sore mouth and tongue. It must be used as a wash. ? tt&F Never speak uuless you have something to say, and always stop when you get through, gays Davy Crockett.