The watchman and southron. (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, November 14, 1882, Image 1
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.