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? THE CAMDEN JOIKA n,T? 1 ' ;> *' '?" !do *?7T ' ' " ' > : |-> ;>.! f (C !; f *i< . ,? >?; [NEW SERIES ] VOL.11. CAMDEN, SOUTH CAROLINA, WEDNESDAY, MARCH 10, 1841. 11 ' ; :^;/^J^pA_JVO. f4, -? " " * ?='C^yn?i????ngnmuj?i-j?ii^uj w .mnuxl-L'. Ju'? .-WW?mk Published every Wednesday Morning, by THOMAS W. PEGUES, Publisher of the Liia of the Union. At three dollar* in advA?.?;e; tf.reo dollars and fifty cents in six months; or four dollars at the expiration of the year. Advertisements inserted at 75 cents per square lor \lva first, and 37 1-2 for each subsequent insertion.? The number of insertions to be noted on all advertise ? i?J i.? f Ynonts, or they will be published until oruereu iu u"dUcontinued, and charged accordingly. One dollar per square will be charged for a single insertion. Semi-mo..inly, Monthly and Qurtcrly advertisoracnU will be charged tho same as now ones each in. ertion. All Obituary Notices exceeding six linos, and Communications recommending Candidates for pubic Offices of profit or trust?or puffing exhibitions, will be charged as advertisements. Accounts for Advertising and Job Work will be presented for payment, quarterly. 0"A11 Letters by mail must be post paid to insure punctual attention. poetryT ~~~1 ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY. No tears for thee! I cannot weep That thou art gone from sorrow; That thy young form shall rest in sleep, Till an eternal morrow. No tears for thee! I cannot shed One grief-pearl on thy tomb, Or think of thee as with the (lend, Sltrou'led in night and gloom. No tears for thee! Daar sufferer why, O! why should any mourn, That thou r/ast early called on high, ? To that celestial bourne. L No tears for thee! Triumphantly My voice would awake the song, Since thou hast gained the victory, And joined the Mood.washed throng. No tears for thee! Thy life hath taught Submission to Ilis will; Who, to tho heart of grief o'er fraught, Can whisper, "peace, be still." j AGRICULTURAL. From (he Yankee Farmer. ON THE APPLICATION OF MANURE TO TIIE SOIL. Mr. Editor: In a communication published in your paper last year, I endeavored to throtv some lisht on making and xaving Manure. I will now, as far as I know by experience, give some directions how manure should be applied. The making, saving and applying manures, is a subject of great importance, and is too1 much neglected by many farmers. Manure is most effective when applied in a green or unfermentcd state, to all hoed crops, and in all cases, when so applied, to be completely covered with the plough; in this way the fermentation goes on in the soil, and the crop receives the strength of the manure when most needed. I have learned that manure should not be moved from the heap, previous to its removal to the field intended for its reception; and when moved thither, it should be immediately ploughed in, or put into the hill, as the case may be. Some, who have the appellation of good farmers, haul out their manure in the fall, place it in large piles, to be put into hills, or leave it in small heaps, to be spread and ploughed in, in the spring.? Now, I think this to be bad husbandry.? Manure thus managed, is exposed to the rains and frosts; and by being completely drenched by the storms, thawing and freezing, and being washed away, becomes almost worthless, in comparison with what it might bo, if left in deposite till wanted for immediate use in the spring. A farmer might have his farm yard constructed with two apartments; in one yard, he can deposit his unfermonted manure; and in the other, ho can have a compost. By having the two kinds separate, he can plough the unfermcuterT manure in, and manure in the hill with the compost. On land from which i crop is expected, unfermented mau:/re should be spread broad-cast, and turned r tinder deep. (The question may be asked, how deep? I answer, as deep as can be conveniently ploughed with a common seed-plough?probably five, six, or seven inches,) and manured with a fine manure m the hill. "There is no crop," says Henry Colman, "drat will better reward the most liberal cultivation.'" >V itli regard to manuring of wheat, it is best to apply the manure to the land the preceding year for a hoed crop. If the crop is well hoed two or three times, the land will be clear from weeds, in a great degree, and will be in fine order for a crop of wheat. As regards the quantity of manure to be applied to an acre of tillage, many circumstances are to be taken into consideration, such as the strength of the soil, the kind of crop to be produced, (Indian corn requiring the largest quantity,) and the quality and quantity of the manure. The farmer, in making his calculations on this Eoint, should not apportion his manure tc is land, but shouid apportion his laud tc his manure. "We till too much land," is an expression in very common use. Suppose a farmer has manure at his command, to enrich well, two acres, and no more: would it not be better to apply all his manure to two acres, than four? Certainly it would; the expense of tilling two acres would be saved, besides the satisfaction tie would take in viewing his luxuriant crops, under judicious cultivation. I will close this subject by extracting a few wise remarks, from one who reasons from what he knows: "Let every farmer examine his farm* to see if there be not some mine of wealth ? 11?i- ? i . :rl in the shape ol a man oeu; or, ui icasi, u there be not an accumulation, somewhere, of decayed vegetables, or some ingredients of sail, in which his cultivated fields are deficient. It is believed there are few farms that have not some advantages of this kind?some quagmire, perhaps, which may prove the making of tne farm. Vegetation draws her stores from the vegetable, animal, and mineral kingdoms, and there are no definable limits to her improvements. Our soil, instead of becoming less and less fruitful, as is the mistaken opinion of some, may, by a proper cultivation, be made more, and yet more prolific. Our earth contains the materials necessary to make her surface a garden. All that is wanting, is the diligent hand and the intelligent head, to make her plains and valleys, her hills and dales, green with thick herbage, and wave with the golden grain." I hope, Mr. Editor, the subject of makinsr. savinsr and armlmrut manure, will re O' " " o j x %/ coive a more careful investigation from those who are better qualified, and who have had more experience than the writer of this. On this subject, all good husbandry is based; witiiout a good understanding of this, our labors are almost futile.? I would advise farmers to inform themselves with regard to this subject; what they cannot find out by their own experience, they should learn from other sources,?take the Yankee Farmer, or some other well conducted agricultural paper,?therein you will find the combined experience of the best practical agriculturalists in the country, on this, as well as all other subjects, connected with agriculture. J. A. Rum/ord, February, 1841. PREPARATIONS FOR THE NEXT CROP. Wc were gratified to see on otrr recent visit to the eastern part of the State, that the Planters were bestowing greater pains in the manuring of their lands for the next crop than we have ever seen in that section of country before this. In some places where the farmers have not been able to procure a sufficient quantity of manure from their barn yards, they are hauling in straw and leaves from the woods and scattering them in their simple state on their fields. Heretofore, what little system of manuring there has been, has been confined mostly to the upland Planters, but some of the river Planters arc now carrying on an extensive plan of manuring, not only with the trodden leaves and straw from their barn yards, but also by hauling on their fields the rich alluvial deposit left by the freshets on their low grounds that are not cultivated. Wc had the pleasure of spending a night with Col. Taylor, who plants on the Walcrcc: he is pursuing the system of manuring more extensively than any Planter of our acquaintance, and with eminent success, so far as he has had opportunity for judging from the time he has been doing so. He will probably haul this season, from his barn yard alone, between three and four thousand loads of manure, besides straw in its natural state, and the deposit from some of his low grounds. Let this system be vigorously and untiringly pursued by all our Planters for ten years, and we shall see the now worn lands of Carolina presenting that rich verdure which in its earliest settlement attracted the emigrants from the old world, and induced them to flock to, a then wild and uncivilized country. Let planters, who are disposed to leave their native State for the fertile lands of the West, but to besto^v the same labor and expense in reclaiming their worn lands, which they would be compelled to bestow in clearing and preparing the heavy timbered lands of the West, and then add to this the expense of removal, and the sacrifice of many articles of property, incident to it, let them do this and they will find themselves settled on as productive plantations in Carolina as they would find olsewhore.?Trim). Advo. ? a i A dandy, who wanted the milk passed to him at one of our taverns, thus asked i for it:. "Landlady, please pass your cow ; down this way," To whom the lady > thus returned: "waiter, take this cow > down where the calf is bleating!" MISCELLANEOUS. From the Ladies Companion. THE WAR-WOMAN'S CREEK, j In Georgia and North Carolina, there j is hardly a river, creek, or stream, that has . not connected with it some old Jndfian { tradition. The title of the' present sketch i is taken from one of these?I believe one of the principal tributaries of the Nata- 1 halee river, in the Cherokee nation, North ^ it? mi? a. k.. | V/aronna. ine oiuiy, us iuiu uy mc ion ^ [ Indians remaining since the removal in ( the fall of 1838. runs thus: ( Many years ago, in the first settlement c of the country, a wandering party of their ^ tribe attacked the house of a j^tyttter 0 somewhere upon their borders, dutanjrbis absence, ana massacred all r.is children, j and left his wife covered with the mangled a bodies of her butchered offspring, scalp- j ed like them, and apparently dead. She n was not, however, wounded so ~bpdly as t| they had supposed; and no sooner did she t. hear the sound of their retreating foot- v steps, than disengaging herself from the a heap of slain, haggard, pale, and drenched j, with her own and the blood of her chil- p dren, she peered steadily from the door, p and, finding her enemies no longer in sight, J, hastily extinguished the fire, which, be- e fore leaving, they had applied to her ca- t( ? ... ?L! L i?i 1 1? i;? Din, DUl wnicn nuu, as yei, mauc m- Q tie impression on the green logs of which f( it was composed. Wiping from her eyes r the warm blood which was still reeking jj from her scalpless head, she directed her ^ agonized gaze to the bleeding and dis- n figured forms of those who, scarce an p hour before, had been playing at the door, ? and gladdening her maternal heart with f, their merry laughter, and as she felt, in p the full sense of desolation, the last ray of f( hope die within her bosom, there stole a over her ghastly face an expression as sa- p vage as was ever worn by the ruthless ? slayers of her innocent babes. Her eye gleamed with the wild fury of the tigress robbed of its young, as closing her cabin u carefully behind her, with a countenance ( animated by some desperate purpose, she ^ started off in the same path by which the e murderers had departed. Heedless of ^ her wounds and wasting blood, and lost v to all sense of hunger and fatigue in the ^ one absorbing and fell purpose which ac- gi tuated her, she paused not upon the trail jj of her foes until, at night, she came up v with them encamped at the side of the creek, which is indebted to her for its pre- g sent name. h Emerging from the gloom of the sur- ? rounding darkness, on her hands and a knees, she crept noiselessly towards the t| r? *' - I'?' r .-U/4, mil flii<lrpn>H lin. nrCj IIMJ Ui >T IK^Uf uo u uivnw?v*? ?p ? wards, discovered to her the prostrate j forms of the Indians, five in number, who, ^ overcome by an unusually fatiguing day's travel, were wrapped in deep sleep, with their only weapons, their tomahawks, in s! their belts* Her own stealthily advancing Jj figure, as the uncertain light of the burn- * ing pine fell upon it with more or less dfis- jj tinctness?now exposing its lineaments ? clotted with blood, and distorted by an ,, expression which her wrongs, and the sight of the desolators of her hearth-stone, ? exaggerated to a degree almost fiendish; and now shading all, save two gleaming,1 ^ spectral eyes?was even more striking * than the swarthy faces which she glared , k upon. Assuring herself that they were 'a fast asleep, she gently removed their toma- jv Itowks, and dropped all but one into thej ? stream. With this remaining weapon in her hand, and cool resolution in her heart, if she bent over the nearest enemy, and \ lifting the instrument, to which her own , ?ii?.uiWMn'erHimil sHIl adhered, with , ttliu 11C1 UlUUl^u u Vfw*. - one terrific and unerring blow, buried it ? in the temple of its owner. The savage * moved no more than partly to turn upon J his side, gasped a little, quivered a minute ' like an aspen, and sunk back to his former ( position, quite dead. Smiling ghastly in his rigid lace, the desperate woman left * him, and noiselessly as before despatched < all of the sleepers, but one, to that long ^ rest from which only the last trump can J awaken them. The last devoted victim, p however, was aroused to a consciousness; 1 of his situation by the death-struggles of j 1 his companions. He sprang to his feet, ? and felt for his weapon. It was not there,' j and one glance explaining every thing, he i evaded the blow aimed at him by the brave and revengeful mother, seized from ' c. Ki?fninnr hrand. and with it sue- |j U1U Hie a uuu.1.1^ cceded partially in warding off the furious1 < attack which followed. In a little time I they fell struggling together, the Indian t desperately wounded, and the unfortunate i woman faint with loss of blood and her extraordinary exertions. Both were too weak to harm each other now, and the wounded savage only availed himself of his remaining strength to crawl away.? In this piteous plight, the poor woman remained untill near noon on the following day, when she was accidentally discover ed by a straggling party of whites, to whom she toldncr storv, and then died.? > After burying her on the spot, they mai some exertion to overtake the fugitive I dian, but unsuccessfully. He succeedt in reaching his tribe, and from hjs tale tl little stream, before mentioned, was cvi tfterwards known among the Cherokee tnd al9o by the pale faces, as the "Wa WOman's Creek." UNMITIGATED SCOUNDREI Marcus Cicero Stanley, the young ma vho was recently sent to the House < Correction in London for robbing M' Catlin at his Indian Portrait Gallon)', i no of the blackest-hearted wretches w lave ever beard of. The circumstance if his arrest in London are as follows: He had been on intimate terras \vit dr. Catlin, having, by his gentfemani ddress, ingratiated himself into his favoi \>r some time Mr. C. had been losin noney from his pantaloons pockets whil hey were lying in his dressing room a acned to the nail where his ciuiositie fere. The night on which Stanley \va rrested, Mr. Catlin, previous to cbang ig his dress, marked four sovereigns an Dur shilling faeces which lie left in lii ockets, and then secreted a police ma i the room to watch. But a few minute lapsed when Stanley came into the rooir Dok up the pantaloons; abstracted a pat f the money from the pockets and trans jrred it to his own, and then left th oom and joined the audience. The pc ceman followed him, and, after tellin, im he was a peace officer, asked whn loncy he had in his pocket. Stanle retended to be very much affronted a eing accused of doing wrong and rc jsed to tell. The Constable, howevei ersisted in his duty, and searching hin )und fi\e sovereigns and a half in go! nd sdver upon him. Two of the sove eigns and 6s. formed part of the marke loney. He was then taken into custod) On the trial Stanley said he did not in 3nd to appropriate the money to his ow se?he only intended to show it to Mi Jatlin after the exhibition, to convinc im how carelessly he left his propert xposed?said that had he intended rob ing him he would have taken his goli ratch which was in the same garment.lr. Catlip denied this, as since he ha uspected himself of being robbed h ad taken the precaution of secreting hi iratch. On the deposition being read ovei Itanley complained that the chief cler ad not usea sufficiently expressive lar uage in taking down his defence. H Iso appealed to the reporters to suppres ae case for the sake of his family in tbi oun'ry, which was highly respectable.le was sentenced to six months hard Is or in the House of Correction. Hut the offence for which ho is no\ uffering in England is nothing in compa ison to his rascalities in this country an jexas. Some two or three years sine e was in this city and cut even a create ash than the notorious Stith. We nes ear of him in i exas, cuncoruuu m m atal duel in which the lamented Lauren vas killed by Goodrich, in 1837. It ma >c recollected that some or five or si oung men slept in a room together i louston, among whom were Goodricl Stanley and Laurens. During the nigf i $1000 bill was stolen from Goodricl vho, instigated by Stanley, charged Lai ens with the theft. Highminded an lonorable and at the same time innocen he latter could not bt ook this charge an mmecliately sent Goodrich a challcng rhey fought with rifles and Laurens \v; filled?Stanley acting as his second. Jubsequently it was proved that Stanle limself stole the money, when Goodric at what he had don lonscieuuc-sii iv-iwi. - ? jecame dissipated and finally blew h >wn brains outSince then Stanley has figured extei avely in this city, and in fact all over tf xmn^ry. In 1839 he again visited Texa >vhere he stole a $600 bill from a con janion. He afterwards passed the bill, ivas identified, and Stanley was arrestee He found means to procure bail, whe :hinking he was too well known in th country and Texasr lie immediately le for England, where he has since been ii ing by his rascalities. We recollect Stanley here, a small b well made and genteel young man, wea ing his hair long, after the present fashio some year or two before it was introduct by any one else. His high family conne tions, education and prepossessing ma ners, gave him access to the best socict and his expulsion from it was always ( account of some theft or swindling trar TT* ? ' Unrr cinr?p f\ action, ins iamuy jiu> u )uli^ a<uw ? carded him, and lie is now in a situatii where lie can commit no rascalities least for a season. Our only regret that instead of six months imprison me; the English authorities did not scnten him to six score years and ten.?lY. Picayune. :u oil - 6'*(,? srfj vi vmi:i i' Jc RvTHBtt Mv$TERIj>fcs ajvd improbv n- ntE.?The following 1 it11e ;t>:t.oF^ roiii^anco jd, is from the Cinciojlaiti-Lsilgor< a- < ' T in . A few days since a lady and gentleman1 er arrived in this city from the south. - Tho Sj gentleman seemed to hare plenty of mo-" r- ney, boasted of bis real estate, etc; . The lady appeared to be a very quiet and; and pedfcearblc body, said b:it little, ahd u. seldom made her appcafhricc ;at tlie tabic' n of the hotel where they lodged. AftdH' >f being in the city two or three days, o/ie r. of the landlord's daughters suddenly be is came very much enamored of the ^y e above mentioned, and they. were at hji is most any tune to be found iflgeHfier iptH^i room oi tnc latter. , inc lanatonn ?aw no b barm in. their, being .in each. others copj.^ y pany, and therefore did.nof pay muehaitfJ r. tentjon to the affair. One al^moon g few days since, the two lathes, went ouV e to take a ride in a now carriage J which > t- Wats lately purchased. Night came; and r ? they did not return. Servants, fbotmfecp; is hostlers, and almost every body, about ihfcf place, started out in search of the two : d ladies, but nothing could be heard froAi is them. Some stfhhised that the horses had n ran away with the carriage, and probais bly killed those1'thatWer^' irr.it: others 1, were of opinion that they had got into the *t river and been drowned, f- In the mean time the gehtleman who 0 had come.to the hotel with the lady, who 1- was supposed to he his wife, made hirri-; 1 g | self perfectly easy. He neither took part it | in search for the lost ones, nor expressed y | any apprehensions on their account. Hay -, it j before yesterday a letter arrived at . the , 1-1 hotel for the stranger, and on opening it, i* . wno r<Minrl trv rfturl thilC/* .(t.Tnhn hnnt^ fHV . t, ?ao wU,m ^ lv.?v, ,..., B ...s , ), baggage over to Paris. Tell Mr.-??? d that my wife (his daughter) is perfectly .1 s well, and hopes hell come and spend the . d summer with us." The landlord, whobad r. been looking over the stranger's shoulder, i- suddenly exclaimed, "What does this n mean, sir?" "Why," said the man, "It \ means exactly this; two years ago yoit' e refused your daughter to Mr. , bey cause he was nothing more than your bar- 4 *- keeper. You likewise discharged him. d Since that time he has been" to the south - and made a fortune. lie came here d| dressed in female's clothes. He found e jthe affections of your daughter were still ' j Kinr. ?n tnkp. thp fp.llow. he . 11 UO Ir\J lltUil -M ?v...v ? . - _f has outwitted roc; but sir, who are you?" r, "Why, sir, I am Mr. 's footraao." k ?- The Past to the Future.?The foJ- . p lowing sentence, from President Quincy'a is Address, at the second centennial celeis brationof the settlement of Boston, issig* - nificant and impressive:?"The great con* i- parative truths, written in letters of living light on every page of our history,?the v language addressed by every past age of L_ j New England to all future ages, is this.? f] Human happiness has no perfect security e'but freedom; freedom none but virtue;': ir virtue none but knowledge; and neither :t freedom, nor virtue, nor knowledge has e any vigor, or immortal hope, except in the ( B principles of the Christian faith, and in y the sanctions of the Christian religion." Good Advice.?Ubey tne voice 01 1 those who love you; be kind to those who lt' counsel you; be affectionate to those who ' 1 beg you with tears to forsake every false jJ wrfy, and be willing to yiekl the feelings j of your hearts to the control of no bad f passion, but to the dictates of prudence , J and wisdom, and depend upon it, you will c | be blest through all the days of your life, I and peace and happiness will crown them __ at their close. y ~ Vv' ' h, Childhood is like a mirror?catching" e and reflecting images from all around it. Is Remember, that an impious .or profane thought uttered by a parent's lip may ope[j. rate upon a young heart like a careless le spray of water thrown upon polished ^ j steel, staining it with rust, which no after j' | scouring can efface. . ill ; .. ... J. WABASH TREATY. "> 0j The Sert'ate yesterday, in Executire session, as we are informed, ratified, > ,fi with' some slight amendments, the late ? treaty made at the Forks of the Wabash river, in the Stale of Indiana, with the Miami Indians. This was a most important measure to the State, as well as to r" the Indians, as by it the title to the ren? maining lands of those Indians lying in id that State, being about 500,000 acres, has c- been extinguished, nnd the removal of the n- Indians at an early day to the lands set v. apart for them beyond the Mississippi riv jnjcr; has been secured. is js. A smooth sea never made a skilful ma)n riner. Neither do uninterrupted piosat perify and success qualify a man for ttscjs> fulness or happiness. The storms of adnt, vcrsity, like tne storms of the ocean, cc arouse the faculties a:id excite the invents tion, prudence, skill utul fortitude of the voyager. <i C