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TTTE^STOrrSR WATCHMAN, Established April, lg50. kBe Just and Fear not-Let all the Ends thou Airns't at, be thy Country's, thy God's, and Truth's." THE TRUE SOUTHRON, V stablish ed June, 1866J Cpnsolidated.^ug. 2, ISSI.] SUMTER, S. C., TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1882. New Series-Vol. IL No. lo. ?v *kH?t?*od every TwsAay, ' ^ - -BY THE-" ^Wt?km?n-and Southron Publishing > Covvpanif* STOT?R, S. C. TERMS: ?iro iTo?lars per a?inutn--in advance. 'ADVERTISEMENTS. -fW Square, first ?nsertioD-.....;.?.........$l 00 ?Cvery subseqnent insertion.?.?. 50 . Contracts for three months, or longer will be made-reduced rates. Ali commnnicatiouj. which subserve private interests will oe charged for as advertisements. Ob?franes and tributes* of respect will be charged for. : Marriage, notices and notices of deaths pub ]?3be?3reei For^Jobx-work or contracts for advertising address" 'Watchman arid Southron, br anply at tiie^?Ec^ito N..?. OSTE?N, s,,^^. . v Easiness Manager. WILMINGTON, COLUMBIA AND ^^^AXJG?STA R. R. CONDENSED SCHEDULE. TRAINS GOING SOUTH. DATKD No. 4S, i No. 40 Da?Iy. I Datly. . Leave Wilmington ' Lear? Flemington Leave Marion... ... A?e^Fterence^.. Air*??" Sumter...... -AT***; Col umbra... 9 50pm ll 10 ? 1 05 am 1 50 " 4 37 ? 6 40 ? Iii lOr-m 12. 19"" 2 04 am 2 45 " TR4INS GOING NORTH. No. 43, Daily. No. 47, Daily. LeaveTCol umbra........ -.. Ar^SnmteK^S.-..._1 Xeaye Florence^.-? Leave Marion .? Aj?ve Flemington.... Ar'vftWHming?on-^s... 12 55 pm 1 46 ? 3 54 " 5 25 10 00 pm 12 05 " 1 5C am 2 4CT? 4 56 " 6 20 ?? jrain No. 43 stops at all Station*. ?Sg 48^and 47 stops only at Brinkley';?, Wt5teT?Ie> Flemington, Fair Bluff, Marion, FloreceVTiuamcasville, Suitor, Camden Junc? tion ?i$d Kastover- ' Passenger*-: for Columbia and all points cn C. A G. <BL TU-C., C. AV A. R. R.. Stations, | . Aiken Jan erina, and all points beyond, should j take No. 48 Nigh t Express. Separate.^Pullman Sleepers for Charleston [ .?d^or>*o|^ra on trains 48 and 47." f Passengers on. 40 can iake 48 train from j F^orenee^for Colombia,' Aoga*ta and Georgia points via Columbia. All trains run solid' between Charlestor sn? i Wilmington: : -'- : JO?N F. DIVINE, General Snp't. ? T. M. EKERSON, Gen. Passenger Ag'r. ^Offffl-EASTERN R, R. CO. ^^^^^^^SiDENT'S OFFICE, 1 gTHEASTERN* RAILROAD CO. R^after tbis date the following Selie ^^oleciltbe^n^Sutidays.Included : Leave-Charleston. " Arrive Florence. 8 00 A. 3C ...~~.-..-.12 25 P. M. _ ll 40 A.. 4 2o p x. 8 30 p.. H...-._. 1 20 A. n. Leave Florence. Arrive Charleston. 2.45 A. M.6 50 A. M. ' TTHO A. u.6 35 A M. . U ^30>A. M^...^...4 00 P. M. J?fiTr st- -~ %Ti?in leaving,Florence at 2 45 A. it. will j slop only af/Eiogstreeand Moncks Corner. Train leaving Charleston at ll 40 a m. j will stop only at Moncks Corner, Lanes and JKn^?ree>* r ^ : CZ?TTBAL EAILEOAD SCE3D?L2. ; m I g ^SUNDAYS' EXCEPTED. I;Is^eCbar!esto0i...:?...........-ll 40 a m *"* **'^ Lanes.*..":......;.._^ 2 20 p oi j Arrive at Sumter...... 4 00 p m Leave Sumter...... ...._.;.......ll 30 a ra . ff*| _.? 1 25 p ra "?rnve at 'Charleston....'.'.. 4 00 p ra P. L.CLEAPOR, ? J. F. DIVINE, ^Gen'l Ticket Agt. GeoM Supt. li UND FOR SALE. ) ?m #* - . -?rjBBSIRABLE SEA-SHORE PLACE in i XJL Berkely County, 18 miles from Mount r Pleasant, comarmng 800 acres, part in culti- 1 . vation. -Situation healthy and laud produc 1 trie. Fish and game plentiful. Also my pl.-.ce tn the edge of Sumter, con? taining^) acres, with 6-room dwelling, and kitchen and pantry. Also? ?mall farm in the coantrv. iS . N. G. OSTEEN, _ ;Ang 8 Sumter, S. C. j I iBi?Bite Cotton Manfi GL j ??TT?N BATTING-1 PREPARED m ROLLS i FOR COMFORTS^ Q?ILTS AKD I . MATTRESSES. j j ??DCT1 AT - THE FACTORY AND BY j j merchants in Sumter at 10 cents per j I pound. - m\ Liberal discount to the trade allowed. D. JAMES WINN, - - *Sept19-ly_President. | RUBBER STAMPS NAME STAMPS FOR MARKING CLOTHING with indellible ink, or for printing visiting cards, and STAMPS OF ANT KIXD for sumping BUSINESS CARDS, 2NVEL OPES or anything else. Specimens of various Styles on hand, which will Co shown with pleas? ure:' The LOWEST PRICES possible, and forders filled promptly, y Call on C. P. OSTEEN. At the Watchman and Soatbron Office.. 8000 NEWS ATLAST! Walker's Specific Has Never Failed TO CUBE CONSUMPTION, BRONCHITIS, TONSILI? TIS, LARYNGITIS, and SCROFULA. >grjce $2.50. $5.00 aod $10.00, by mail. t/?e DO&le of his Rheumatic Remedy cures that disease in any form, ia. 10 days. Price by Expresses per Bottle. - DR. J. W. WALKER, July 25f_Franklin ton, N. C. M L. KIN A RD, OILOTHIKR, COLUMBIA, S. C. Our Patrons: The People. Our Study : Tltetr Interests. Our Maxim : Fair Dealing, j . Our Reicard : Success, j THE LARGEST STOCK ! FALL AND WINTER IN THIS SECTION. STEW GOODS. CORRECT STYLES. ?tEN'S SUITS, TOtJTH'S SUITS, BOY'S SUITS, ? Gents- F&m8hing Goods. Sept 12 DABBY AND HIS JOAN. "My work is done," retorted Joan ; "My work is done, your constant tone ; _ But hapless woman ne'er can say P My work is done, 'till Judgment^day." Here Darby hem'd and racked his head To answer what his Joan had said ; But ali in vain, her clack kept on ; "Tes^ woman's work is never done. "Yon men can sleep all night, but we Must toil." "Whose fault is that?" quoth he. "I know your meaning," Joan replied, "But, sir, my tongue shall ne'er be tied ; I will go on and let you know What work we women have to do. "First, in the morning, though we feel As sick as drunkards when they reel Yes, feel sach pain through back and head As would confine you men to bed "We wield the brush and ply the broom ; We air the beds and right the room ; The cow must next be milked, and then We get the breakest for the men. "Ere this is done wnb whimpering cries And briskly air, the children rise; These must be dressed and dosed with rue And fed; and all because of you. "We must"-here Darby rose and scratched ^his head, And Sst retreated for the bed ; "And grumbling this as on he run ; "Zounds ! woman's clack is never done." At early dawn ere Pbcebu3 rose, Old Joan resumed her tale of woes ; Said Darby, "Thus ill end the strife ; Be you the man and I the wife. rTake"you the scythe and mtoy, while I Will all your boasted cares supply." ""Content," quoth Joan, "give me my stint;" This Darby did and out she went. Old Darby rose and seized the broom, ? And whirled the dirt around the room ; Then, baving'done, he scarce knew how, He tried to milk the oid briudle cow. The brindle cow did .whisk her tail In Darby's eyes, and kick the pail ; The clown, perplexed with" grief and pain," Swore he'd ne'er try to milk again. Th?n turning round in sad-amaze, He saw his cottage in a blaze, For as be chanced to brush the room, In a careless haste, he fired the broom. The fire at length subdued, be swore The broom and he should meet no more. Pressed by misfortune and perplexed, Darby prepared for breakfast nest ; But what to get he scarcely knew, The bread was speof, the butter too.. With hands bedaubed in paste and flour, Old Darby labored full an hour, But, luckless wight, he could not make The bread take form of loaf or cake. As every-door wide open stood, In pushed tbe sow in quest of food, A?:d, stumbling onward, with ber snout O'er set tbe churn-the cream run out. As Darby turned the sow to beat, The slippery cream betrayed his feet ; He caught the bread-trough La his fall, And down came Darby trough and all. The children, wakened by the clatter, Start up and cry : "Law, what's the matter," Old Jowler barked and Tabby meowed, And hapless Darby bawled aloud : "Return, my Joan, as heretofore, I'll play the housewife's part no more, Since now by sad experience taught, Compared with thine my work i^naught. ?ir ? "Henceforth as business calls I'll take, Content, the scythe, tfte plow, the rake, And nevermore transgress tbe line Our fates have marked whilst thou art mine. Then, Joan, return is heretofore, I'll vex thiue honest soul no more ; Let each his proper task attend, Forgive the past aud strive to mend." MAKRISD IN HASTE. 'I demand this, because I consider marriage with such a girl as I know Violet Du Hay ne to be, the only hope left of reclaiming you from a life of dissipation. On no other condition will 1 advance the large sum for which you ask. In spite of all that has pass sed, your affectionate mother, 'EUGENIA ARDEN.' . The written page looked as hard and unchanging to Max's fancy as its au? thor. There was that bill which Hardy had indorsed for him falling due with ! in three days. It would be total ruin to poor Hardy if it was not met. That must not be. Ile had drawn Hardy into this scrape, and he must see him harmless, at ail risks to himself. Max strode up and down the room, biting his long, fair mustache. I Marriage ! Ile had never seen his mother'^ ward. She had arrived at Arden after the estrangement between mother and son ; but, at all events, there was no one else he wanted to marry. What a lovely ince was. that girl's he had met at Mrs. Mont fort's recep? tion ! She had made him feel like echoing Geraint's, 'There, by God's grace, stands the one maid for rae !" 'Pshaw !' shrugging -his broad shoulders. 'A man could not be in love with a girl he had talked to for ene evening, whose very name he had failed to hear?' What use in reflecting? There was but one course open to him to save Hardy's honor and his own. He sat down, and duRhed off in heavy black letters : 'MOTHER : You are using the pow? er given you by my father's will-as you have always done-tyrannically. But I have no alternative-I accept your conditions on these terms : First, that the young Icely be told tint I am marrying as my only means o? obtain? ing a sum of money which is a matter of ??fe and death to me. Secondly, that the marriage take place to-mor? row afternoon. I will run down to | Arden on the 3 o'clock train. You j can have a clergyman waiting in the j grand drawing-room, who car- unite j the happy pair at once. Your son, | 'MAX ARDEN.1 j There never was a gloomier wed- j ding- A heavy fall of snow had im- j peded the train, so that the early j winter twilight was already falling : when Max Arden stood in the great, dim-room by the side of his veiled bride. The clergyman hurriedly repeated the ?olemn service. The responses were duly made, and it was done. 'Embrace your wife, my son/ si Mrs. Arden, with a vain attempt cheerfulness. 'Wife V cried the young tr?an, dra ing himself up to his full height, wi a flash in his eyes. 'I have no wi This young lady understands t I terms of our bargain. I have ma ; her Mrs. Max Arden-to that y I could compel me, mother-but : j woman shall be wife in more th ? name to me whom I have not lov ! and chosen-ay, and wooed on r bended knees. Is my horse saddle Stevens? I return to town to-nigl In the future, as in the past, our pat lie separate. * * * * * Scene-the heart of the Bia mountains. Time-September, wb ! they are at their loveliest. Dramai personas-for one, a tall young ma j with a wide-awake pushed back frc I his good looking, sunburnt face, a gi j over his shoulder, but little thoug I of shooting in his mind. He w peering through the boughs at wha Only a girl whom he had once sei in town, and of late watched mai times from bis leafy covert, feelin t as Olivia says, her 'perfections wi j an invisible and subtle stealth creep in at his eyes." She 6at on"the other side of tl mountain brook, busily sketching and as he watched, her sketcii-bo< fell into the little scream. In a second he had sprung after i fished it out, and was presenting cvith a low bow, saying: 'May I n claim acquaintance by virtue of^th happy chance and our last meeting i'C 'Our last meeting !' The youi J lady shrank from him in undisguise tenor. .Good heaven, Miss Harding! ho j have I alarmed you ? Do I look lil I a tramp in my shooting-clothe6 ? I j deed I am respectable. My name Arden-Max Arden. I had the hom of an introduction at Mrs. Montfort reception> last winter.' A sigh of relief, then hesitatingly 'Oh, yes, I remember you quii well, Mr. Arlen ; but I-I-you mu excuse me-I have heard of you sine then, and I-I-1 'You have heard of me : nothing I j my credit, I fear/ he said, slowb j after waiting in vain for her to finisj 'and you wish to decline knowin me. Is it not so ? Well, I must sui mit to your decision, bitterly as 1 r< gret it/ Then he lifted his hat au left lier. Now which of his wild doings ha come to those dainty ears and brougl this blow upon him ? for blow it wa! He was surprised to find how sever j a one. For, after all, what di?l li j know of her ? And yet, with un rc; soning intensity, he longed to loo into her face once more, perhaps ii quire the reason of the soft, regretfi gaze that had followed him as h turned away. Patter ! patter I Big drops brok in upon irs meditations. A tm . pelting, blinding, mountain storm wy j coming up.. Arden hastened to tak refuge in a small cave he knew o: Was it ?iud chance or irony of fate The cave was occupied. A eketel book, an umbrella, a slim serge-cla figure; presented themselves to hi -view He began to retrace his steps 'Don't go away/ said the fair oe cupant, hastily. *I would not force my compan upon you/ he returned, stiffly. ?Pray, pray, don't let me drive yoi out into this pouring rain/ she entreal ed ; 'you are punishing rae severeb for my late rudeness. I was s< surprised and frightened then-I-'. scarcely knew what I said.' She put out her hand to detail him. Like a flash Arden's mind wen back to the last time ?soft fingers nae Iain in his-on that strauge brida day. 'If you grant me shelter, it is equi valent to accepting my friendship,' h< said, allowing himself to be drawi into the cave and ?eating himself sc as to shield her from the rain whicl ? now began to beat in. 'Now, you might almost as well bt ! outside as do that/ said the girl, re ! proachfully. 'What a deluge it isl [ peering out over his shoulder, i The damp air heightened her coloi j and sent little rings of golden brown j hair curling madly over her pretty j forehead, her violet eyes shone, and j her face-it was the fairest that 6'et ! tue sun shone on. Max Arden thought so as he an ! swered dreamily : j 'I wish it couid last forty days !' 'What a good conscience you must I have' gayly ; 'now, I should be too i afraid of being drowned with the rest j of the sinners.' j 'Miss Harding-' 'Who told you my name waR Miss : il ard i nie ?' o 'My guide, Luke Smith. He claims j to know everything.' j 'He certainly seems to know a great ; deal.' ! 'I am camping out near here, and i seeing you so constantly, naturally j inquired about you. It is a lonely j spot to see a lady.' j '1 am staying at the Mountain I house, six miles from here/ she ex ! plained. 'I drive over every morn i ing to sketch this lovel}- glen, and j tho carnage comes for me again at 4 j o'clock. I should be going to meet j it now but for the rain.' 'Blessed rain !' murmured Max. The young lady frowned and ap ! peared to regret the momentary inti j macy into which she had been drawn, i There was a few inimit?s silence j while she turned over the contents'of \ her portfolio. Once more nature ? favored Max. The wind blew a loose sketch to his feet, which he looked at ? in amazement. 'Why, it's me !' he cried, exultant and ungrammatical, 'and a capital I likeness, too/ 'You-you are quite mistaken in j any conclusion0 you may draw/ I stammered Mies Harding, blushing. ! and clothed with shame as with a j garment. 'You need not imagine I sketched you because-that is-you I are not to think-anything/ 'I don't. My mind is entirely va 1 cant except for a strong desire to possess my portrait. You probably do not prize it very highly.' 'I do not prize it at all.7 'And I would give-even unto the half of my kingdom for it. Would you give that riug which looks like an heirloom ?' Instantly it lay in her hand. 'Oh, no I I was onbj jesting. I cannot take it.' 'You must. You named your price and I agreed, so the bargain is concluded. It is an Heirloom, as you supposed ; and I rejoice to see it in your possession. 1 always meant' losing his head a little as he gazed at her flower-like face-'to give it to the girl I loved ; but now-' ' Well, now V ehe echoed, softly, with averted face. 'Now, I may never tell my love, because'-with an effort-'I am a married man/ 'Mr. Arden !'-angrily-'because^ of that foolish sketch you think ?hat" I- You say that this is a warning-' 'A warning to myself, perhaps.' .As if you needed any !' 'You are right. I am past that.' He buried his face in his hands. There waa a long silence. Then the girl said, in an altered voice : 'The rain has stopped think I will go.' ?jt ?f? ?jC Max Arden stood on the dark v?? randa of the Mountain house listening to strains of music from the ballroom, and watching the dancers daucing in time for queen among them moved the girl he loved How more tb?n fair she looked in her white evening dress. I Preseutly she seemed laughingly to dismiss her little court, and came ont alone upon the veranda. Max stepped forward. He had to apolo? gize for startling her, but he was afraid she was sick, he said, as he had j I uot seen her for so long. 'Only a week.' she auswered, cheer? fully. 'It is my mother who was ill ; but she has recovered now, thank you. So we are going to-morrow.' j 'Going where ?' with au eagerness : he could not repress. 'Why should I tell you, Mr. Arden V with cold surprise. 'That I may follow you. By what right ? Because I love you.' 'So soon V-incredulously. 'Ay ; 'even so quickly one may catch the plague,' ' he qouted, with a bitter laugh. 'And the pursuit of happiness is one of the unalienable rights of man, you know.' 'But when man fancies his happi? ness lo be a. woman and she does not like pursuit, has she no unalienable rights ? merrily. 'uo not jest with me.' She was silent for a moment. Then, i in soft, vibrating tones : 'No, I cannot jest. I have soroo ! Hiing serious to say to you, 'Mr. Ar? den. I, too, am married, and, alas! to a husband who casts me off. Hush, and listen. 1 was persuaded into a hasty marriage, partly by love of his mother, partly, perhaps, by-interest in him, which she had educated me to feel. Besides, I met him accidenlal-ly in society, and fancied I could-like him. Max, take your arm away. Believe me, I was not told by what means he was forced into marrhge ! What ! kneeling "to me, Max ? Sup? pose some one should come. Do get up.' 'NoY till you forgive me.7 'Well, in that case'-with pretend? ed reluctance-'I had better forgive you at once.' * * * * It is not five years since Max mar? ried in haste, but he has not yet re? pented at leisure- nor has his wife. She Couldn't Back. 'Back I say V The silvered foam of the sea was splashing in rhythmic cadence on the white sands of the beach, while here and there was a fleck of wavering light from the signal buoy on Sardine Shoals-that dreaded spot beneath whose treacherous waves so many goodly 6hips freighted with precious burdens .fy Cathay and Muske? gon had disappeared forever-brought into bold relief against the sky Giro? fle McClosky'sJofffoot as she stood by Bertram Perkin's side that soft June evening. 'You do not love me,7 said the girl, speaking slowly, 'or you could not ?speak so cruelly. On this beau? tiful night, when the hills are suffus? ed with amber haze, through which the stars glow and throb in silent splendor, we should think of naught but love-pure, passionless love, that will bind our hearts together in a chain whose ever link shall be a kiss ; whose every fold a sweet caress. For an instant the man did not re? ply. Then the girl stretched forth to him her bare white arms that glisten? ed like marble in the growing dusk, but he heeded them not. 'Will you not speak to me sweet? heart V she said, with an infinite pathos in the words. No answer came. Again the out? stretched arms pleaded mutely and with pitiful eloquence for the joy I that was never to be. Looking at j her with a haughty, almost Vice President Dari's expression on his I face he again said : 'Back 1 say.' With a despairing gleam in her ? darksome^yes, Girolle turned away and began to sob as if her corset I would break. 'God help me,' she ! said in despairing accents, 'I cannot I back.' 'Whynot?' ask o d Bertram. 'Because,' was the re])!}7, in tear stained tones, 'my polonaise is too j eternally tight.'-Chicar/o Tribune. Owing to thc weather the state of Central Kurope is in a more meian- J choly condition than it has been for tanny years. The whole of Northern j Italy is more or less under water, thc j Simpl?n and S plu gen are blocked by j the snow that has fallen, and the latter j lies a foot deep in all the Swiss can i tons, excepting only those of Vaud ?nd Geneva. The cattle are lying i dead on the bills], tho wine crop itnme ? diatcly cort h nod south of the Alps ! will have no actu;;' existence this year, ; aud what would have been the winter's ! hay is buried beneath the enow. INTENSIVE FARMING. Full Confirmation of the Story of the Fur man Farm-A Letter from Mr. Furman-Why his System urili stand Drought-His Formula, Etc. TFrom the Atlanta' Constitution,] It will be remembered that Mr. John P. Fort, while endorsing the general results achieved bj Mr. Fa rish Furman, expressed a doubt as to whether or not his crops wouhl stand a drought. Desiring to give the peo? ple exact information on this subject we asked Mr. Furman to write us his answer-if he had anyanswer-to tin's suggested objection. Ile writes us as follows : MIU.EDGFAILLE, October 2T. In reply to 'Man about Town,' in the Sunday's issuefof the Constitution a difficulty advanced by Mr. John P. ^Fort as an objection to my intensive system of farming is this, 'that heavy manuring renders a crop more liable to burn up from drought in summer.' I have this to say. Had Mr. Fort ever seer? me and had an explanation of my system, he would never, I am satisfied, have entertained or ad? vanced such an opinion as applica? ble to that system. THE THEORY OF DROUGHT ON. CROPS Crops suffer from drought for two causes : 1. On account of an insufficient supply of plant food. 2. From lack of moisture to render the food, if present, soluble, and thus prepared to be assimilated by the plant. If food is supplied in plenty and of proper kind and enough moisture se? cured and retained to carry your crop through you are in no danger of drought. For example : Noone ever saw a crop of any kind that did not stand a drought infinitely better where au old hedgerow covered the field or a manure pile had stood in the field, than any other part of the farm. Now an old hedgerow is fertilized entirely by nature-the ground under a ma? nure pile is fertilized by man, and were it possible to make the whole field like the hedgerow or the ground under the manure pile, then the evil effects of drought would be directly diminished. Now tho hedgerow is manured by nature, bringing together an aggregation of organic matter and humus in the shape of decaying vege? tation, and the ground under the ma? nure pil?is enriched by the leaching into it of mineral matter from the pile -in both instances the humus and rainerai matter being disseminated through the soil. If a manure pile were allowed to stand on the hedge? row, adding mineral matter and am? monia to the humus already in the soil,-the benefit would be still more marked, and the plants growing on that spot would bc practically unaf? fected by drought Any experienced farmer will vouch for the truth o? this assertion. This is just what I endeavor to ac? complish in my system. My manure is a mixture cf humus, ammonia, (same as hedgerow) and soluble min? eral matter, (same as manure heap.) And a part of the kainit (1-3,) is com? mon salt-which is a great attractor of moisture. My method of applica? tion is such as after the first year to obviate any danger from drought Observe : My rows are four feet wide, every year I change the row twelve inches, so that in four years the rows are manured in the drill clear across. The fifth year I manure broadcast and turn under with a sulky turn plow set by machiuery six inch? es, and plant in the hill 1x4. Next year manure broadcast again and turn under seven inches, and so on, turning deeper every year, as I ap? ply humus until I get my soil twelve inches deep Then I will be able to set anj^&rdiiiary drought at defiance, and call for an average crop of three bales per acre. I have man}' letters asking me if it would not bc safe to begin with 4.000 pounds of compost to the acre the first year. That might be hazardous, but beginning, as I did, with 500 and in? creasing every year, as the manure becomes more disseminated through the soil, all danger is thwarted. F. C. FuKMAX. MAJOR MOSES MAKES FUKMAX A VISIT. j Major R. J. Moses, of Columbus, who could not take the entire story of Furman's farm, went to Mitledge ville that he might see for himself. The result of the investigation is told below : 1 read the statement of Grady in the Constitution, and although J knew him in general to be accurate in his main facts, I thought possible in stating the results of Furman's farming that they might possibly be co'oied by his vivid imagination. They interested , me more than anything he has lately j written, except his description of 'surf bathing,' and while my modesty j prevented me from verilying his | accuracy as to seashore amusements, J there was nothing to prevent my in- ! vestigating for myself his agricultural j report of forty acres to a mule. Ii thought somehow he had .mixed it up j with the old Radical promise of forty j acres and a mule, and . to solve all j doubts I went to see for myself-and j saw : The old Parish Carter homestead , near Scotsboro' on one of thc rod hills j for which Milledgcviile and its sur-1 roundings are historical. As I drove j up to the place which Mast visited in j 1S5T on an important law case that I j was attending to for Carter, whose j grandson, Furman, now occupies it, j a thousand old memories returned to j me, and among others the fact that j ! this place was selected by the owner ; of about 1,200 negroes, (who lived o*n j some of Carter's inch land in north i Georgia) because it. was too poor to ; be sickly-there was not rich lauri j enough anywhere in the neighbor- j hood to support a decent case of ?h??J j and fever, and ? doubt if its former , owner ever suspected it of having the \ ability to 'sprout peas,' and he was j under no necessity to improve it. The ? lands around the homestead, like thousands of acres in Georgia, lay out as arid as the desert. I ought to say before going fnrtber ? that when I arrived at Milledgeville ? 2,400 lbs. SO G5 i Of this compost Farman used 4,000 j pounds, adding another layer o? stable j manure and-cotton seed. A compost j of any smaller weight can be made j by a proportionate deduction on each j layer: Cost of cotton seed must be j greater now. The following is said to be very bencfi- j cial to hot house plants : Collect some ? soot from a chimney or a stove where J wood is use;! as fool, put it into an old j pitcher ::nd pour hm water opon it. When I cool, uso it to water your plants every ? few days. The effect npoo plants is j wend >rful in prod acing a rapid growth j of hcalt'ny shoots and a great number of, thick, richly-tinted leaves. ! 1 asked some of th? citizens about Furrnan's farm, and they 'smole' an incredulous 6inile, and wound up by saying : 'You had better see for your? self, it is only five miles off.' I be? gan to think I had been sold, but, havingflgone thus far, I hired a horse and buggy and took one of my incre? dulous Milledgeville friends along, so j that I might have a witness to prove Grady a-mistaken individual. On arriving at the farm we inquired for Furman ; he was at his gin, and we wont for him, passing through very excellent cotton, but not the kind that makes over abale to thc acre, and we thought 'we had him.' 1 felt rather sad, but my Milledgeville friend looked joyous ; he had on the 'didn't i I tell you so' look. We soon met Furman, and he commenced talking sulphates, bi-suiphates, humus, phos? phoric acid, solubles, and insolubles so fast that 1 called ?jim to a halt, quietly informing him that I had come for information, and that if he wanted rae to learn anything he must 'go 'slow.' Ile tried to but couldn't. Ile is naturally a fast mau, but there was no mistaking him wheu he said : 'This is my worst cotton, come along this way,' whereupon we followed him, or rather my friend did ; I couldn't, except part of the way. The storm had blown the cotton down and tangled it so tfiat my old legs could not untwist the twisting nor jump over it. without untwisting it. I literally saw a wilderness of cot? ton : one field on which, I think, he said he had frt?m 0,000 to 10,000 pounds of compost, locked like avast snow flake, aud judging from the num? ber of unopened bolls, it promised to keep a-snowing for some time louger. I am not much of a cotton planter, and 1 am not quite snre,l would have be? lieved it was cotton, if my Miiledge villefriend had not endorsed Furman as fully and emphatically as Grier endors? ed Grady, and as I now endorse all they ha\e said or dare to say on the won? derful products of Furman's sixty-five acres, off of which he had then, on the 9th of October, gathered forty-five bales, aud he and my Milledgeville friend said the balance of the season was good for thirty five-more, which would make eighty ; and that ten to fifteen bales was a moderate allow? ance for injuries done by the storm, so that the same seasons and the storm left out, the sixty-five acres was good for ninety-five to one hira dred bales. This was their opinion, iii which I fully concurred ; but being entirely unaccustomed to any such cotton fields, I was prepared to be? lieve anything, and if they had said the sixty five acres would make one hundred and fifty bales I should not have been any more surprised than I was to sec such an epidemic of cot tun bolls on any field less fertile than the Delta of the Nile. These facts, ? think, ought to be given to the farmers with this precau? tion, not to attempt the'first year to put -1,800 pounds compost to the acre as Furman did after five years at a cost of $14.25 per acre. They must first have gradually supplied the land with humus or decayed-? vegetable matter-unless their lands are already rich in vegetable matter-begin, as Furman began, with 500 or 600 pounds compost; and increase the quantity of compost annually as the j quantity of decayed vegetable matter j and depth of ploughing are increased, I and then there will be no disappoint? ment. I have told you what others have done, and I will tell you now what 1 have done in former years, knowing ! nothing about farming. I improved my hill until I received the premium al the Columbus Fair of $100 for raising four bales on f;ur acres, and I took a premium of $25 tor an acre of as good clover as 1 would wish to see anywhere, and, although thai was several years ago, the clover contin? ues to come up in the spots on the same land. 1 was'absent three years, got pos? session of my place late last fall, planted 50 acres in oats without ma? nure, seeding 100 bushels, and if the whole of the 50 acies made 100 bush? els in all I am not aware of it, and don't think I can prove it by any of my neighbors. I bought a small flock of sheep and did wonderfully weil with them io the winter. In the spring my sheep fold was 'lamb-full,' but by the time they got fat religious revivals commenced in a circle all around me, of which circle my farm was the centre, and now I haven't as many sheep as I started with, but nm in hopes my flock is in good spiritual condition, even if my profits are not large. I am feeding my land this year and starving myself, but I am full of hope and will tell you next yeai what I have done., instead of inarming you now of what I intend to do. In conclusion you may rely upon it as a fact that Faris?i Furman will gather this year from 75 to 80 bales of cotton, made with two mules and 18 days' extra ploughing, besides 500 bushels oats, SOO or 400 bushels corn, and hay in abundance, and oth? ers following his methods can do the same. Yours truly, R. J. MOSES, FURMAN'S roi?Mur.A. Laver. Cost. J..-1-30 bushels stable manure or rich earth from wood? or fence corners. estimated OOO lbs.$ . ! 2.-100 ?bs. acid phosphate. 2 12$ | 2. -200 !.->$. Kain it or Gerajaa s.'It. 70 ! 3._ooo lbs. (30 bushels) cotton seed... 3 75 ? 4. -200 tbs. phosphate. 2 25 j -I.-100 tbs. lc:iinit. 70 Murder at Hampton. CHARLESTON, S. C., November 6. A special to the Ifeivs and Courier from Varnville, S. C., says: 'Yester? day morning policeman Reid of Hampton C. H., threatened to take a pistol from Jake Gant, a negro ; there? upon the latter went to Brunson, col? lected about twenty negroes and re-i turned to Hampton. Upon seeing j Gantt, Reid aga'n insisted that he should give up the pistol. There was six whites on the spot, Reid, Nowell, Gerald, Samuel DeWitt, i Major Canse}7 and H. A. Peoples, j Upwards of fifteen negroes fired upon Reid, who was almost instantly killed. The negroes then turned upon the other whites and severely beat and cut Newel. Gerald and DeWitt. Peo? ples jumped on his horse saying: 'I j will go to Varnsville and summons '\ help.' When he reached the edge of I town he was waylayed by two ne? groes who stopped his horse and ex? claimed : 'You are the damned rascal going for help to Varnsvllle.' Thereupon they dragged him from hie horse and stabbed him with a knife on the left thigh and side. They j were brutally beating him when, see I ing that he would probably be killed, j he resorted to the ruse of tailing on j an absent friend to come to his assis? tance with a pistol. This had the desired effect and, after cutting the bridle, they left him. The negroes had not the slightest provocation as Reid was discharging his duty. Threats were made by tlip negroes that many more whites would bite the dust by Tuesday r.ig'nt. A correspondent of the Neios and Courier gives the following particu? lars of the unfortunate affair : The most intense excitement pre? vails throughouUhe whole county, and j if matters grow" worse a .requisition j for troops will be made. V will en j deavor to give your readers as correct a statement of the particulars as is possible to do under the circumstances. There is a negro in the county by the name of Jocob (Jake) Gantt, a very restless, turbulent kind of fellow ; he always goes armed and harbors in his breast a great hatred for the white race. While in town he frequents liquor shops and is very noisy and loud-mouthed, consequently he is constantly involved in difficulties and is all the time at en*nity with the officers of the law, whose duty throws them in disagreeable contact with him at divers times. Well, it appear? that on Saturday evening last, Mr. Reid, the vigilant marshal of Hamp ! ton Court House, had some difficulty with . Gantt whilst endeavoring to enforce order and a proper decorum in the town. Among other things he told Gantt that ho full well knew that he (Gantt) constantly car? ried concealed weapons, that he must not come to town again armed, and that if he did he would rigidly enforce the law agaiust him. You see that Mr. Reid was willing 'to wink' at bis infraction of the law for that time if he (Gantt) would re? spect it in the future ; but, alas ! Gantt considered this leniency as an evidence that the officer was weak kneed in the execution of his duties. He left Hampton Courj House on the train for Beaufort, where there had been during that d-ay a great political demonstration, in which some of the 'big guns' of the Greenback-African party participated. Upon.his arrival at Beaufort and upon a statement, ex? aggerated of course, regarding his difficulty with the marshal at ]lamp? ton Court House, he was surrounded by a crowd of negroes, who declared their willingness to go back to Hampton Court Honse with Gantt and protect him in thc possession of his weapon, even should the use ol weapons be necessary to do so. It is asserted on good authority that McLane and Brabham assisted in arming the whole gang and advised them to me the weapons 'without stint.' While they were passing sta? tions on the road back to Hampton Court House some one of them would exclaim in a loud voice, 'That d-d son of a b-h Reid will bite the dust before dark.' This was on Sunday. Sure enough, as stated iu my tele? gram, he did bite the dust, poor fel? low, while trying to do his duly and protect his fellow-citizens from the lawlessness of a ruffian ly negro. As soon as Gantt made his appearance at Hampton Court House Reid demand? ed his weapon ; he quickly left him, and getting with his crowd returned with the result above mentioned. _ i nil im i il Til - -- The Blessed 3ridgets. A lady had in her empioj* an excel? lent giri, who bad one fault. Her face was always io a smudge. Mrs. ! tried to tell her to wash her face with- j I out offending her, and at last she re- j j sorted to strategy. 'Do you know, ! Bridget,' she remarked in a conS'ential manner, *itis said ifyou wash your face every day in hot soapy water it will make you beautiful? 'Will it? answer? ed the witty Bridget ; 'sure its a wonder ye never tried it, ma'am.' Another mistress who had just hired a new cook made a tour of inspection after she had kept her a week, and found a policeman locked up in the pantry. 'How did this mau ?et here?' asked the lady, j severely. 'I'm sure I don't know,' answered the girl: 'he must have been left over by ibe old cook.'-Ilagcrstoicn Ot the frequency of divorce in New ? Kngi and thc Interior says that 'it pro- ? bably comes of an over-supply of liter-] arv culture and an nuder supply of do- j mesticity-they are too literary and i too stingy. There is not enough va- j viet Y among then)-too much sameness ! of novel? ia the library and of boiled j beaus in the kitchen, it is not in hu- ? man uature to stand so much of'George ! Eliot along with so little to cat. Who j ever heard of a mau getting a divorce j from a Pennsylvania girl-one who knows tho mystery of fried chicken and wafnes ? or from an Ohio, Kentucky, or Indiana girl, who understands the true j inwardness of hot corn bread and fresh j butter ? or from any of their daughters j iu Missouri, Iowa, or anywhere in the j Northwest? JL?eai ana uumo. Quietly entering a barber shop, the stranger removed his. bat and coat and takipg a card from bis pocket wrote on it: 'I want to be shaved.' A barber stepped forward, read the card, and, pointing to a chair, said to his brother artists : 'Deaf as a brass kettle and dumb as an' oyster.' Tho man straightened himself out in tbe chair, when bis manipulator began lathering his face. 'This deaf cuss bas a cheek like ? stouc wall,' be said, when a general laugh followed. 'Stick a pin in him and see if be is entirely dumb/ said another, j The victim remaining undisturbed, j the following shots were fired at him by ! the delighted tonsorial artists: j" 'He needs a shampoo, his head is i dirtier than a cess-pool.' 'Shave bim with a stool leg, don't i spoil your razor on that stubble.' 'Gracious, what a breath! It Smells j like a Dutch band of music/ , ^r. 'fte ought to rent that nose for a lr> comotive bead-light,' &c. While all these complimentary, alla? ! sions were fiyiog about him. the opera? tion of shaving was finished, and the j ni an arose, put on his coat, and then turning to the astonished barber said : .'How much for the shave and com? pliments V . 'I-I-I-1/ gasped the astonished man, 'Oh, nothing-nothing, call again, excuse'-and, as the stranger j left the shop, the discomfited barbers swore they would never believe, in a deaf and dumb man again, until they had first fired a -ten-pound cannon about his ears.-Tillite Hall Times, An Unkind Reply. - There is a slight misunderstanding between McGinnis and hi* wife's moth? er. It came about in this way : Hos? teler McGinnis is thinking of taking a trip to El Paso for his health, but his mother-in-law has been telling him ?Eat there is danger of his being scalped by the Indians, 'and that be bad better stay right here in Austin. 'Nonsense/ replied Hostetter McGin? nis, 'there used to bc Indians on the j El Paso road, but they have all been driven off. I don't believe there is an In diau .in the whole country." . .Very well/ replied his wife's moth? er, 'when you get out on the' plains, aad one of those wild beasts comes at you whooping and yelling, then you will think of me.' * 'I don't doubt it/ replied Hostetter McGinnis and now the entente cordiale has been spoiled, and there is a coolness between them.-Texas Siftings. Tho Cats of Cairo. Among the curiosities of Cairo is an amateur branch of the humane society, for the special benefit of poor Puss. A curious legacy was some years ago left by a wealthy burgher to enlarge the permanent income of the cadi,' on con? dition of his nourishing and cherishing all the unclaimed cats in Cairo. Like most Mohammedans, be must have shared the feeling which made the Prophet cut off the wide sleeve of ??is robe, sooner ?than disturb a favorite cat which had fallen asleep thereon. Con? sequently a large courtyard has been devoted to their especial benefit, and here the 'nice, soft, furry creatures' lie and bask in thc sun and are fed at stated intervals, and altogether have a very good time of it. It is a curious fact, however, that although daily addition are made to this large feline home, the inmates rarely amount to mor? "than fifty. This (io the absence of sausage machines) is a vsrv remarkable pro? blem. I suppose that a candidate for tho office of cadi has to- produce a medi? cal certificate to prove ?bat be ts not troubled with that unconquerable aver? sion to dear old Puss with which so many of the masculine genus are afflict? ed.-Gentlemen s Mag?zine A New Proof that the Earth is Round. A new proof of the globular form of the earth bas been produced by two" .scientists in Geneva, Messrs. Dofonr and Farrell. They have called atten-. rion to the fact that the images of steamers aud the surrouodmg* moun? tains, when reflected upon tho surface of the immense lake, invariably appear? ed in a diminished size. Hence they' conclude that the surface of the lake" must be bent in a convex shape, other? wise it could not produce the same re? sults as a Japauese diminishing mir? ror or a convex lens. Of course' this observation ts not confined to tho" Lake of Geneva, but must be true of all great water surfaces which are sufficiently still aod placid to serve as mirrors.-London Post. A Circus Clown's Sermon. Tho Occident publishes the follow1ng: as the searching -sermon of a circus* clown, said to have been delivered re? cently at the close of thc ring perform? ance in a crowded tent in Virginia : 'We have taken in ?600 here to-day -more than most ministers of the gos? pel receive for a whole year's service. A large portion of this audience is made up of members of the Church. And yet. when your preacher asks you to aid him in supporting the gospel, you are too poor to give anything. But you come here and pay dollars to hear mc talk nonsense. I am a fool because I am paid for it. . I make my living by it. You profess to be wise, and yet you support me in my folly. Now, isn't this a pretty place for Christians to be in*? Dou't you feel ashamed of yourselves ? You ought to/ "The devil is dead," was tbe" motto taken by one of the windy orators of tba late Freethinkers' Convention. The Churchman pities the infidel crowd and exclaims over them: Poor, fatherless children'" 'Many good purposes He in tbe grave? yard. The tiiie of 'Commodore' has been introduced into the German fleet. It" will signify the commander of a station.