Chapter II: Part 2

Having planted first-class, one-year trees in well prepared soil, cut them down to stubs eighteen to twenty-four inches high and let them branch close to the ground, for if there is a single reason for growing a long-bodied tree I have never heard it. On the contrary, there are many reasons against it. Let every twig that starts grow the first year, for they will be needed to furnish leaves to assimilate the food taken up by the roots, and to return the solid part to increase the growth of trees and root. You have now only the question of cultivation, and that should be the best that you can give. Plant the orchard in some suitable crop, preferably a low growing one, that requires hoe work, but leave ample space next to the trees for continuous cultivation, and keep that space clear of grass and weeds, for the trees cannot compete in their new surroundings with these gross drinkers of the water that is in the soil, that will be so badly needed to start their growth. Should the summer be dry, keep a dust mulch by frequent cultivation with light harrows or sweeps until the fall rains come, and if your soil is reasonably fertile, the growth the trees will make will be a surprise and pleasure, and the hardest period in growing your orchard will be a thing of the past. Get all the information you can from practical fruit growers; study the bulletins of the National Agricultural Department and of the State Experimental Station; read the papers and magazines that treat of these subjects; seek every available source of information; and having digested the opinions and practices of others, formulate your own opinions, map out the course you believe most suitable to your surroundings and follow the dictates of your own judgment. Continue this line of action through the coming years, adapting your methods to suit the condition of your orchard from year to year, and if you have exercised good common sense success is as certain to reward your efforts as anything in this life can be certain that is dependent upon human effort and the vicissitudes of drouths, storms and frosts.

The Army Horse

By O. M. NORTON, V. M. D., VETERINARIAN ARTILLERY CORPS, U. S. A.

Knowing that the method of purchase and the kind of horse required in the military service of the United States is a matter of interest to both horse breeders and dealers, the scarcity of horses meeting these requirements has caused me to write this article, for Trotwood’s.

First, as to Method of Purchase.

The buying of horses is done by the Quartermaster’s Department of the army, the number of horses bought at any one time depending on the needs of the service at that time. This number may vary from one to two to hundreds and even thousands. Bids are advertised for, giving the number of horses required, and the date on which they are to be delivered to the government. Then contractors or dealers in horses put in their bids at the prices at which they will furnish the required number of horses. The bids are opened on a certain date, and the lowest bidder is given the contract. Soon after the contract is awarded, a Board of Officers is appointed to inspect and buy the horses that the contractor brings before the Board, providing, of course, that the horses fulfill the specifications of the contract.

A horse purchasing Board usually consists of from three to five members. One of these officers is from the Quartermaster’s Department, U. S. Army, the others being usually members of the Cavalry or Artillery; there is also a Veterinarian to inspect the horses in regard to soundness. He may be either a Quartermaster’s Veterinarian (civilian) or a Veterinarian of the Cavalry or Artillery.

Usual Requirements of Horses Purchased.

The horses bought consist principally of two types, viz.: the Cavalry horse, weighing from 950 to 1,150 pounds; and the Artillery horse, weighing from 1050 to 1300 pounds.

Cavalry Horse: The requirements of most contracts say that the horses must be sound and well-bred; gentle under the saddle; free from vicious habits, with free and prompt action at the walk, trot and canter; without blemish or defect; with easy mouth and gait, and otherwise to conform to the following description: a gelding of uniform or hardy color; in good condition; from 15 ¼ to 16 hands high; weight from 950 to 1150 pounds; age from four to eight years; head and ears small; forehead broad; eyes large and prominent; vision perfect in every respect; shoulders long and sloping well back; chest full, broad and deep; forelegs straight and standing well under; barrel large and increasing from girth toward flank; back short and straight; loins and haunches broad and muscular; hocks well bent and under the horse; pasterns slanting and feet small and sound.

Artillery Horse: The Artillery horse has in general about the same requirements described for the Cavalry horse, with the following exceptions: weight being from 1050 to 1300 pounds; should be more of a draught horse type, as he is required to work in harness, as well as under saddle; shoulders should be well-muscled, so as to give good support to the collar; hindquarter should be heavy and strong; the horse should not be what is known as “beefy” or lymphatic type, but should be active on his feet and thus able to turn quickly.

Price: The price at present ranges from a hundred and fifty to a hundred and seventy-five dollars, probably about a hundred and sixty for Cavalry horses; Artillery horses being somewhat higher, one hundred and sixty-five to one hundred and eighty dollars.

When a horse is shown to the Board for purchase he is inspected by the Board first in regard to general conformation, height, weight, muscular development, bones, etc.; whether he is high in withers, thus liable to sore back and bruises by saddle; length of back, thus whether able to carry weight; should have short back with good muscular development; should not be ewe-necked or bull-necked, thus hard to control and never making a good saddle animal.

Color: Bays, browns, blacks and sorrels are the colors best suited for the service. Grays are sometimes taken, there often being a gray horse troop in the regiment, but are not as preferable as the hardier colors.

Sex: Only geldings are accepted, mares and stallions not being taken, excepting in times of great necessity, as during war.

Gaits: Walk, trot and canter being the three gaits prescribed by Army Regulations, pacing or single-foot horses are not desired in the service. And here is where the writer expects to receive Trotwood’s condemnation. However, if they do pace they are used in the army, and the writer has often noticed how quickly both officers and men will pick a pacing horse, or one that single-foots for their mount if allowed to do so, thus proving, that although we may condemn the pacer openly, deep down in our hearts we have a soft spot for him who carries us many miles with so little effort to himself or us.

After the horse is inspected for general conformation he is trotted to see his action, also to see whether he goes sound, is a paddler, string-halt, interferes, etc. He is then examined by the Veterinarian as to defects, age, eyesight, etc. If affected with any enlargement or weakness of tendons, hocks as to spavins, thorough-pins, curbs; examining pasterns for sidebones, ringbones, quittor, wire scars, etc., he is rejected. Sometimes horses are taken with small splints, also with small wire scars, especially in this Western country, where wire fences are so common. If shod, shoes are removed to examine feet thoroughly for quarter-crack, false-quarter, founder, corns, etc. The eyes are thoroughly examined for any signs of defects, and in this country, Middle West, where periodic ophthalmia is so often seen, it is often hard to tell where a horse has had a few light attacks of it in the past, and it is well for the Veterinarian to reject a horse that is the least suspicious, thus being on the safe side.

If the horse examined is not sound in every respect he should be rejected, and any one desiring to furnish horses for an army contract had better read carefully the specifications stated above and then start out to compare the horses of his neighborhood with the specifications as set forth, and he will find that there are very few that are truly sound and able to pass muster. Where the horse is accepted by the purchasing Board he is branded on the left shoulder with the letters “U. S.,” and often there is also branded on his hoof a number, and he is then ready for shipment to the place where he is needed for service.

Besides the two classes of horses mentioned, there are also a few very heavy draught horses bought for two batteries of siege Artillery, these horses weighing from 1300 to 1500 pounds. There are also bought by the government a few horses for special purposes, as horses used in the Fire Department and horses used in the Quartermaster’s Department as drivers, etc.

The specifications of most contracts say that the horses shall be well bred, but owing to the scarcity at present of horses, and the high prices paid for highly bred horses, we often find in the service horses that show none or very little indication of any breeding.

Disposal of Horses Unfit for Government Service.

Horses that fail to give good service, or are not able to do the work required, or are unsuited for the purpose for which they were bought, are inspected and condemned and sold at public auction to the highest bidder; when condemned are branded with the letters “I. C.” (inspected and condemned). This brand is placed on the side of the neck under the mane.

The History of the Hals
THE FATHER OF THE TURF IN TENNESSEE.
CHAPTER VI.

By JOHN TROTWOOD MOORE

“Uncle Berry,” continued Mr. Peyton, “I find, arrived in Tennessee in the month of February, 1806. In the spring of that year he made a match of mile heats, $500 a side, over the Hartsville course, with Henrietta against Cotton’s Cygnet, which he won.

“The old men of the neighborhood manifested great sympathy for the young stranger, and predicted that Lazarus Cotton would ruin him.

“This was his first race in Tennessee, and I witnessed his last, which was run over the Albion course at Gallatin, in 1862.

“Shortly after the race at Hartsville, Uncle Berry trained a famous quarter race mare called Sallie Friar, by Jolly Friar, and made a match for $500 a side, which was run on Goose Creek, near the Poison Knob. Sallie was the winner, and she was afterwards purchased by Patton Anderson, who ran her with great success.

“In the fall of 1806 Uncle Berry won with Post Boy the Jockey Club purse, three mile heats, at Gallatin, beating General Jackson’s Escape and others. Escape was the favorite, and the General and Mrs. Jackson, who were present, backed him freely. Before this race he sold Post Boy to Messrs. Richard and William L. Alexander for $1,000 in the event of his winning the race, after which he was withdrawn from the turf. Here he first met General Jackson and made a match with him on Henrietta against Bibb’s mare for $1,000 a side, two mile heats, equal weights, though the General’s mare was two years older than Henrietta, to come off in the spring of 1807 at Clover Bottom. The result proved that Uncle Berry underrated the horses and trainers of the Tennessee turf, as the General’s mare, a thoroughbred daughter of imported Diomed, won the race.

“The General, though deprived of the pleasure of being present on that interesting occasion (having been summoned as a witness in the trial of Aaron Burr at Richmond) showed that his heart was in the race, as appears from a letter to his friend, Patton Anderson, dated June 16, and published in Parton’s ‘Life of Jackson,’ from which I quote:

“‘At the race I hope you will see Mrs. Jackson; tell her not to be uneasy. I will be home as soon as my obedience to the precept of my country will permit. I have only to add as to the race, that the mare of Williams’ is thought here to be a first-rate animal of her size; but if she can be put up to it, she will fail in one heat. It will be then proper to put her up to all she knows at once.’

“This is Jacksonian. Not many men would take the responsibility of giving orders of how to run a race at the distance of five hundred miles. This error of underrating an adversary, especially such an adversary, was a heavy blow to Uncle Berry, from which he did not fully recover until he started Haynie’s Maria, mounted by Monkey Simon, against him.

“Not long after this defeat he set out to search for a horse with which to beat General Jackson, and purchased from General Wade Hampton, of South Carolina, a gelding called Omar, bringing him to Tennessee. After recruiting his horse at Captain Alexander’s, near Hartsville, he went to Nashville and offered General Jackson a match for $1,000 a side, three mile heats, according to rule. This the General declined, offering instead the same terms as to weight, as in the former race, in which he was allowed two years’ advantage, a proposition which, of course, was not accepted.

“Unable to get a race in Tennessee, Uncle Berry took his horse to Natchez, Miss., traveling through the swamps of the Chickasaw and Choctaw Nations, and entered him in a stake, three mile heats, $200 entrance; but his bad luck pursued him, and just before the race his horse snagged his foot, and he paid forfeit. He remained near Natchez twelve months and nursed his horse as no other man could have done, until he was perfectly restored to health and in condition for the approaching fall races of 1808. Writing to Col. George Elliott, he urged him to come to Natchez and bring fifteen or twenty horses to bet on Omar, and also to bring Monkey Simon to ride him, which Colonel Elliott did.

“Simon’s appearance on the field alarmed the trainer of the other horse, who had known him in South Carolina, and, suspecting that Omar was a bite, he paid forfeit.

“As Simon was a distinguished character, and made a conspicuous figure on the turf of Tennessee for many years, it may be well to give some account of him. His sobriquet of ‘Monkey Simon’ conveys a forcible idea of his appearance. He was a native African, and was brought with his parents when quite young to South Carolina, before the prohibition of the slave trade took effect. In height he was four feet six inches, and weighed one hundred pounds. He was a hunchback with very short body and remarkably long arms and legs. His color and hair were African, but his features were not. He had a long head and face, a high and delicate nose, a narrow but prominent forehead, and a mouth indicative of humor and firmness. It was rumored that Simon was a prince in his native country. I asked Uncle Berry the other day if he thought it was true. He replied, ‘I don’t know; they said so, and if the princes there had more sense than the rest he must have been one of ’em, for he was the smartest negro I ever saw.’ Colonel Elliott, speaking of Simon after his death, said he was the coolest, bravest, wisest rider he ever saw mount a horse, in which opinion Uncle Berry fully concurs.

“Simon was an inimitable banjo player and improvised his songs, making humorous hits at everybody; even General Jackson did not escape him. Indeed, no man was his superior in repartee.

“On one occasion Colonel Elliott and James Jackson, with a view to a match race for $1,000 a side, a dash on two miles, on Paddy Carey against Colonel Step’s mare, consented to lend Simon to ride this mare.

“Colonel Step not only gave Simon $100 in the race, but stimulated his pride by saying they thought they could win races without him, whereas he knew their success was owing to Simon’s riding. Somewhat offended at the idea of being lent out, and by no means indifferent to the money, Simon resolved to win the race, if possible; and nodding his head, said: ‘I’ll show ’em.’ The mare had the speed of Paddy and took the track, and Simon, by his consummate skill and by intimidating the other rider, managed to run him far out on the turns, while he rested his mare for a brush on the stretches.

“On reaching the last turn Simon found the mare pretty tired, and Paddy, a game four miler, locked with her, and he boldly swung out so far as to leave Paddy in the fence corner. The boy came up and attempted to pass on the inside, but Simon headed him off, and growled at him all the way down the quarter stretch, beating him out by a neck. Simon could come within a hair’s breadth of foul riding and yet escape the penalty. Colonel Elliott lost his temper, which he rarely did, and abused Simon, saying, ‘not satisfied with making Paddy run forty feet further than the mare on every turn, he must ride foul all the way down the quarter stretch.’

“The Colonel repeated these charges until at length Simon answered him with, ‘Well, Colonel Elliott (as he always called him), I’ve won many a race that way for you, and it is the first time I ever heard you object to it.’”

* * * * *

Much has been said and written of the tenderness and care bestowed by the Arabs on their favorite horses, but I doubt whether any Arabian since the time of the Prophet ever showed such devotion to his favorite steed as Uncle Berry to the thoroughbreds under his care. In fact, his kindly nature embraced all domestic animals. For many years he resided on a rich, productive farm near Gallatin, where he trained Betsy Malone, Sarah Bladen and many other distinguished race horses; raised fine stock and fine crops and proved himself to be one of the best farmers in the neighborhood. He had pets of all kinds—huge hogs that would come and sprawl themselves to be rubbed, and game chickens that would feed from his hand, and followed him if he left home on foot, often obliging him to return and shut them up.

He raised many celebrated racers for himself and others, and so judicious was his system that, at the age of two, they had almost the maturity of three-year-olds. His last thoroughbred was a chestnut filly, foaled in 1859, by Lexington, dam Sally Roper (the dam of Berry), which was entered in a stake for three-year-olds, $500 entrance, two mile heats, to come off over the Albion course, near Gallatin, in the fall of 1862. This filly was, of course, a great favorite with Uncle Berry. She never associated with any quadruped after she was weaned, her master being her only companion. At two years old she was large and muscular and very promising, and in the summer of 1861 I urged Uncle Berry to send her to the race course (where I had Fannie McAlister, dam of Muggins, and several other animals in training), that she might be gentled and broken to ride. His reply was: “I have been thinking of your kind offer—I know she ought to be broke, but, poor thing! she don’t know anything; she has never been anywhere, and has never even been mounted. I am afraid she will tear herself all to pieces.” But he finally consented for my colored trainer, Jack Richlieu, to take her to the track. On meeting Mrs. Williams a few days afterwards, I inquired for Uncle Berry. Her reply was: “He is well enough as to health, but he is mighty lonesome since the filly went away.”

But of all the horses he ever owned, Walk-in-the-Water was his especial favorite. In the language of Burns, he “lo’ed him like a vera brither.” He was a large chestnut gelding, foaled in 1813, by Sir Archie, dam by Gondola, a thoroughbred son of Mark Anthony, and these two were the only pure crosses in his pedigree, yet he was distinguished on the turf until fifteen years old, more especially in races of three and four mile heats.

I was present when Walk, at nineteen years of age, ran his last race, of four mile heats, over the Nashville course, against Polly Powell.

Uncle Berry, several years before, had presented him to Thomas Foxall, with a positive agreement that he would neither train nor run him again; having a two-year-old in training, Mr. Foxall took up the old horse merely to gallop in company with him, a few weeks before the Nashville meeting.

It became well known that the mare would start for the four mile purse, and she was so great a favorite that no one would enter against her.

The proprietor, to prevent a “walkover,” induced Foxall to allow him to announce Walk-in-the-Water, whose name would be sure to draw a crowd. There was a large attendance, and the game old horse made a wonderful race, considering his age, running a heat and evidently losing in consequence of his want of condition. When the horses were brought out I missed Uncle Berry, and went in search of him. I found him in the grove alone, sitting on a log and looking very sad. “Are you not going up to see old Walk run?” I inquired. “No, I would as soon see a fight between my grandfather and a boy of twenty,” he replied.

In the year 1827, when Walk was fourteen years old, Uncle Berry took him and several colts that were entered in stakes to Natchez, Miss., traveling by land through the terrible swamps of the Chickasaw and Choctaw Nations. The colts had made very satisfactory trial runs in Tennessee, but suffered so severely from the journey that they either paid forfeits or lost their stakes, so that Walk-in-the-Water was the only hope for winning expenses. He was entered in the four mile race of the Jockey Club, and his only competitor was the b. gelding Archie Blucher, fifteen years old, a horse of great fame as a “four miler” in Mississippi.

On the evening before the race the Jockey Club met and changed the rule, reducing the weight on all horses of fifteen years or upward to one hundred pounds, leaving all others their full weight, or one hundred and twenty-four pounds, three pounds less for mares and geldings.

This extraordinary proceeding would not have been tolerated by the gentlemen who, at a later day, composed that Club, but Uncle Berry protested in vain against the injustice done him. He, however, concluded to run Walk, giving his half brother twenty-one pounds advantage in weight. Walk had the speed of Blucher, and when the drum tapped, took the track, with Blucher at his side, and these two game Archies ran locked through the heat, Walk winning by half a length. The second heat was a repetition of the first, and never was a more tremendous struggle witnessed on a race course—a blanket would have covered the horses from the tap of the drum to the close of the race.

Any man who has watched a favorite horse winning a race, out of the fire and blue blazes at that, can appreciate Uncle Berry’s feelings during that terrible struggle. The horses swung into the quarter stretch, the eighth and last mile, and Uncle Berry, seeing the sorrel face of his old favorite ahead, cried out at the top of his voice, “Come home, Walk, come home! Your master wants money, and that badly.” After the race he expressed his opinion of the Club in no measured terms. Though habitually polite and respectful, particularly toward the authorities of a Jockey Club, he was a man of undaunted courage and ready to resist oppression, irrespective of consequences, but his friends interposed and persuaded him to let the matter pass.

When he reached the stables the horses were being prepared for their night’s rest, and he made them each an address. “Jo,” he said to a Pacolet colt, named Jo Doan, that had lost his stake in slow time, “you won’t do to tie to; I’ve always done a good part by you. I salted you out of my hand while you sucked your mammy; you know what you promised me before you left home (alluding to a trial run), and now you have thrown me off among strangers,” and he passed on, complaining of the other colts. The groom was washing old Walk-in-the-Water’s legs while he stood calm and majestic, with his game, intelligent head, large, brilliant eyes, inclined shoulders and immense windpipe, looking every inch a hero. When Uncle Berry came to him he threw his arms around his neck and said, bursting into tears, “Here’s a poor old man’s friend in a distant land.”

Walk-in-the-Water won more long races than any horse of his day. If I can procure the early volumes of the American Turf Register, I will in a future number give some account of his performances.

Haney’s Maria was a most extraordinary race nag at all distances, probably not inferior to any which has appeared in America since her day. She was bred by Bennet Goodrum, of Virginia, who moved to North Carolina, where she was foaled in the spring of 1808; from there he removed to Tennessee, and, in the fall of 1809, sold Maria to Capt. Jesse Haney, of Sumner County. She was by imported Diomed, one of the last of his get when thirty years of age. Her first dam was by Taylor’s Bel-Air (the best son of imported Medley), second dam by Symmes’ Wild Air, third dam by imported Othello, out of an imported mare.

She was a dark chestnut, exactly fifteen hands high, possessing great strength, muscular power, and symmetry, the perfect model of a race horse. Maria commenced her turf career at three, and ran all distances from a quarter of a mile to four mile heats, without losing a race or heat until she was nine years old. In the fall of 1811 she ran a sweepstake over the Nashville course, entrance $100, two mile heats, beating General Jackson’s colt, Decatur, by Truxton; Col. Robert Bell’s filly, by imported Diomed, and four others; all distanced the first heat, except Bell’s filly. This defeat aroused the fire and combative spirit of General Jackson almost as much as did his defeat by Mr. Adams for the Presidency, and he swore “by the Eternal” he would beat her if a horse could be found in the United States able to do so. But, although the General conquered the Indians, defeated Packenham, beat Adams and Clay, crushed the monster bank under the heel of his military boot, he could not beat Maria, in the hands of Uncle Berry.

In the fall of 1812, over the same course, she won a sweepstake, $500 entrance, four mile heats, beating Colonel Bell’s Diomed mare, a horse called Clifden, and Col. Ed Bradley’s “Dungannon.” (General Jackson was interested in Dungannon.) This was a most exciting and interesting race, especially to the ladies, who attended in great numbers; those of Davidson County, with Aunt Rachel Jackson and her niece, Miss Rachel Hays, at their head, backing Dungannon, while the Sumner County ladies, led by Miss Clarissa Bledsoe, daughter of the pioneer hero, Col. Anthony Bledsoe, bet their last glove on little Maria. After this second defeat, General Jackson became terribly in earnest, and before he gave up the effort to beat Maria, he ransacked Virginia, South Carolina, Georgia and Kentucky. He was almost as clamorous for a horse as was Richard in the battle of Bosworth Field. He first wrote Col. William R. Johnson to send him the best four mile horse in Virginia, without regard to price, expressing a preference for the famous Bel-Air mare, Old Favorite. Colonel Johnson sent him, at a high price, the celebrated horse, Pacolet, by imported Citizen, who had greatly distinguished himself as a four miler in Virginia. In the fall of 1813, at Nashville, Maria won a sweepstake, $1,000 entrance, $500 forfeit, four mile heats, beating Pacolet with great ease, two paying forfeit. It was said that Pacolet had received an injury in one of his fore ankles. The General, being anything but satisfied with the result, made a match on Pacolet against Maria for $1,000 a side, $500 forfeit, four mile heats, to come off over the same course, the fall of 1814; but, Pacolet being still lame, he paid forfeit. These repeated failures only made the General more inflexible in his purpose, and, in conjunction with Mr. James Jackson, who then resided in the vicinity of Nashville, he sent to South Carolina and bought Tam O’Shanter, a horse distinguished in that state.

The fall of 1814 Maria won, over the same course, club purse of $275, two mile heats, beating Tam O’Shanter, William Lytle’s Royalist, and two or three others.

A few days after, over the same course, she won a proprietor’s purse, $350, only one starting against her. About this time General Jackson sent to Georgia and purchased of Colonel Alston Stump-the-Dealer, but, for some cause, did not match him against Maria. The General then sent to Kentucky and induced Mr. DeWett to come to the Hermitage with his mare (reputed to be the swiftest mile nag in the United States), with a view of matching her against Maria. Mr. DeWett trained his mare at the Hermitage. In the fall of 1814, at Clover Bottom, Maria beat this mare for $1,000 a side, dash of a mile. In the fall of 1815 General Jackson and Mr. DeWett ran the same mare against Maria, dash of half a mile, for $1,500 a side, $500 on the first quarter, $500 on six hundred yards, and $500 on the half mile, all of which bets were won by Maria, the last by one hundred feet. This was run at Nashville. The next week, over same course, she won a match $1,000 a side, mile heats, made with General Jackson and Col. Ed Ward, beating the Colonel’s horse, Western Light. Soon after this race she was again matched against her old competitor, DeWett’s mare, for $1,000 a side, over the same course (which was in McNairy’s Bottom, above the sulphur spring), Maria giving her a distance (which was then 120 yards) in a dash of two miles. Colonel Lynch, of Virginia, had been induced to come and bring his famous colored rider, Dick, to ride DeWett’s mare. Before the last start Uncle Berry directed his rider (also colored) to put the spurs to Maria from the tap of the drum. But, to his amazement, they went off at a moderate gait, DeWett’s mare in the lead, making the first mile in exactly two minutes. As they passed the stand Uncle Berry ordered his boy to go on, but the mares continued at the same rate until after they entered the back stretch, Maria still a little in the rear, when the rider gave her the spurs and she beat her competitor one hundred and eighty yards, making the last mile in one minute and forty-eight seconds. All who saw the race declared that she made the most extraordinary display of speed they ever witnessed.

When Uncle Berry demanded an explanation of his rider he learned that Dick, who professed to be a conjurer, or spiritualist, had frightened the boy by threatening that if he attempted to pass ahead of him until they ran a mile and a quarter, he would lift him out of his saddle, or throw down his mare by a mere motion of his whip, which the boy fully believed. Most negroes at that time, and some white people in this enlightened age, believe in these absurdities. The speed of Maria was wonderful. She and the famous quarter race horse, Saltram, were trained by Uncle Berry at the same time, and he often “brushed” them through the quarter stretch, “and they always came out locked.” Whichever one got the start kept the lead.

After the last race above mentioned, some Virginians present said that there were horses in Virginia that could beat Maria. Captain Haney offered to match her against any horse in the world, from one to four mile heats, for $5,000.

Shortly after this conversation, meeting General Jackson, Captain Haney informed him what had passed, and the General, in his impressive manner, replied: “Make the race for $50,000, and consider me in with you. She can beat any animal in God’s whole creation.”

In March, 1816, at Lexington, Ky., she beat Robin Gray (sire of Lexington’s third dam) a match, mile heats, for $1,000 a side. The next month she beat at Cage’s race paths in Sumner County, near Bender’s Ferry, Mr. John Childress’ Woodlawn filly, by Truxton, a straight half mile for $1,000 a side, giving her sixty feet. Maria won this race by two feet only. This was the first race I ever saw, and I was greatly impressed with the beautiful riding of Monkey Simon.

After the race Maria was taken by Uncle Berry to Waynesboro, Ga., where she bantered the world, but could not get a race. There were very few jockey clubs in the country at that time.

In January, 1817, Maria was returned to Captain Haney in Sumner County, and soon afterwards sold by him to Pollard Brown, who got her beaten at Charleston in a four mile heat race with Transport and Little John, when she was nine years old. Maria carried over weight, ran under many disadvantages, and lost the race by only a few feet.

(Continued in next issue.)

Mammy and Memory

Her work is done,
The setting sun
Throws twilight in her door.
Her work is done—
Her race is run,
Her friends have gone before.

“Mammy, goodnight!”
Heard she aright?
Low her head—and tenderly:
“Heish, chile, doan’ cry—
Sleep—sleep ‘bym-by!’”
Mammy and Memory.

JOHN TROTWOOD MOORE.

Nitrification of the Soil, or, How Plants Grow

BY WILLIAM DENNISON OF FARGO, NORTH DAKOTA.

We will venture the assertion that when the history of the past century is being written up, the chroniclers will discover that there has been as much, if not more progress and advancement made in the nineteenth century than in all of the eighteen centuries preceding it. The advancement in the past century was phenomenal in the marvelous achievements in inventions and in discoveries in every branch of industry, in the arts and sciences; and I am delighted to know that agriculture, horticulture and floriculture have also received some attention, although not so much as might have been. Still, we are pleased that a beginning in those branches has been made, and we hope for much more rapid advancement within the next two decades.

That there has been a great awakening and a marked advancement in the material progress in the past century no one will seek to controvert the fact, but let us hope that while we have been making such rapid strides materially we have also, during the same period, made equally as much advancement spiritually, for to glorify God is (or ought to be) man’s chief aim in life. There has been a beginning in the advancement of scientific agriculture, and the agricultural world is indebted to no one so much as to John Bennett Lawes, of Rothamsted, England, who devoted a lifetime of study and the lands of his large estate to experimental farming, the results of which he published from time to time in the Gardener’s Chronicle, and at his death left a fund sufficient in trust to carry on the great work he had begun and carried forward his celebrated tests of experimental farming, extending over fifty years, from 1844 to 1893. Indeed, John Bennett Lawes may justly be called the father of the experimental stations in our country. In these earliest experiments the effects of various manures were carried out. It was in these trials that the excellent results obtained by manuring turnips with phosphate previously treated with sulphuric acid were first discovered, and his taking out a patent, in 1842, for treating mineral phosphate with sulphuric acid, which was the commencement of the present enormous manufacture of artificial manures. The above experiments were carried on in pots by Mr. Lawes, but, in 1843, he was joined by Dr. Gilbert, as eminent a chemist as was Mr. Lawes himself, and from 1844 began the field experiments, which have become world-wide for the great benefits they have resulted in to agriculturists everywhere.

The Rothamsted estate was divided into small fields, and the effects of the various crops on the fields with and without manure were carefully noted. Soils were analyzed before the crops were planted, and also after the crops were harvested, to determine the loss or gain of nitrogen.

The rotation of crops was studied thoroughly, and beans and peas were then made one in a four-course rotation. But even earlier than 1844 it had been observed that leguminous plants, of which there are thousands distributed over this sphere, had a beneficial effect on the land for the succeeding crop. At Rothamsted the legumes, or such of them as beans, peas or red clover, were thoroughly tried, and it was invariably found as one in a rotation of four to produce the same results. In some way that they then could not explain, the land after a crop of legumes was very much richer in nitrogen, amounting in many instances to 300 pounds per acre. These worthy gentlemen kept on for years trying to account for the phenomenon and endeavored to discover the true source of nitrification. But to the French chemists Schlosing and Muntz belong the credit of establishing by experiment the true nature of nitrification. Their first paper on the subject appeared early in 1877, or only twenty-nine years ago. They wished to ascertain if the presence of humic matter was essential to the purification of sewage by soil, and for this purpose they conducted an experiment, in which sewage was passed slowly through a column of sand and limestone. Under these circumstances complete nitrification of the sewage took place. They then allowed a chloroform vapor to fall for some time on top of the column, the sewage passing as before. Nitrification now entirely ceased and was not renewed for seven weeks, though the supply of chloroform was suspended. A small quantity of nitrifying soil was shaken with the water and the turbid extracts poured on the top of the column. Nitrification at once recommenced, as strongly as before.

To appreciate the force of the experiment, Muntz had previously shown that chloroform was a means of distinguishing between the action of a simple ferment as diastase, and a living organism, as yeast, the chloroform having no influence on the work of the unorganized ferment, which immediately stopped the activity of a living agent. The above discovery of Schlosing and Muntz of the true theory of nitrification of the soil was the greatest achievement to the agricultural world, inasmuch as it has been demonstrated by numerous eminent chemists and proved to be an ascertained fact; and this problem solved, which had occupied the ablest scientific minds for centuries. Now we hope for some advancement with the farmers of the United States in the future. With the discovery of Schlosing and Muntz there is no necessity for such an idea as wornout land, as is prevalent in this great country, where the chief occupation of the agriculturist has been in exploiting his land, just in the same manner as everything else has been exploited. With an ever increasing population of this sphere, there is no need to fear the earth’s capacity in producing enough to supply all their wants. That is when our farmers realize the paramount importance of the above discovery, and begin to see how bountifully an all-wise Creator has provided for us in placing these legumes on this earth for the benefit of mankind. They are a double blessing to us, for they not only abstract nitrogen from the atmosphere and deposit it in the ground for the succeeding crops, and restore the fertility of the land, but also, when they are made one in a four-course rotation, fill the soil with fibre or roots, which no soil can be in its highest productive condition without.

The Great New South

In the past quarter of a century (1880–1905) from statistics gathered by Richard H. Edmonds, Trotwood’s finds the South has doubled the value of her cotton crop, her exports and her assessed property; has trebled her manufacturing products, her railroad mileage and the value of her farm products. She has multiplied by five her lumber products, increased her manufacturing capital six-fold, her tons of pig iron produced eight-fold, her phosphate tons mined nine-fold, her cotton bales consumed ten-fold, her capital invested in cotton mills eleven-fold, her tons of coal mined twelve-fold, her number of spindles on cotton mills fourteen-fold, her tons of coke produced sixteen-fold, her number of cotton oil mills seventeen-fold, her capital invested in cotton oil mills eighteen-fold, and her barrels of petroleum two hundred and thirty-five-fold!

She raised three-fourths of the world’s cotton, and has one-half of the standing timber of the whole country. Her own cotton mills consume 2,282,900 bales yearly, or nearly as much as New England and all the rest of the country combined, whereas in 1880 she consumed but one-sixth as much as New England. Europe pays her a tribute of over _one million dollars daily for cotton_. Thus marches on the Great New South.

Bre’r Washington’s Consolation

Saturday night my wife died,
Sunday she was buried,
Monday was my kotin’ day
And Chewsday I got married.

Whenever I heard the old man singing I knew he was in a reminiscent mood and so I put down my book and went out to the barn, where he was building a pen to put the fattening Berkshires in. For a month these slick rascals had been running in the ten-acre lot planted in corn and, at the “lay-by plowing,” sown in peas, all for their especial benefit. The corn had nearly ripened and the peas were in the pod; and now, day after day they had wallowed in the water of the ten-acre field branch or torn down the tempting corn stalks or eaten the juicy peas till their tails had taken on the two-ring curl of contentment and they had grown too fat to run in so large a lot.

“An’ now dey must be put in de parlor,” said the old man as he proceeded to build their pen, “an’ fed on poun’ cake an’ punkins. Fust er good dry pen, bilt on er solid blue lime-rock, ef you so forechewnate es to lib in Middle Tennessee, an’ ef you don’t lib heah,” he half soliloquized, “jes’ bild it in sum mud hole an’ be dun wid it, fur you ain’t gwi’ fatten your horgs no-how ef youn don’t lib in Tennessee,” he said, with a sly wink. “Den, arter you gits the pen bilt bring up a load ob yaller punkins to sharpen up dey appletights an’ start ’em off right; den plenty ob dis year’s cohn wid er sour-meal mash ebry now and den to keep ’em eatin’ good, an’ den, chile, ’long erbout Krismas time jes’ sot your mouf fur spairribs an’ sawsages—e—yum, yum, yum”—and he wiped the corner of his mouth suspiciously.

“Ole Naper cum to my house
I thout he cum to see me,
But when I cum to find him out,
He’s ’swade my wife to leave me.”

he sang again. “I’ll tell you, suh,” he laughed, “I can’t see what fatnin’ horgs hes got to do with marryin’, but dat’s what de aixpectashuns ob dis horg-pen remin’s me ob ennyway—’bout de time I was kotin’ Unk Peter’s widder, way back in fifty-fo’,” he added reflectively, “an’ de hard time I had gettin’ enny konsolashun from dat ar ’oman. I tell you, suh, it ain’t easy to git enny konsolashun from er widder—not nigh es easy es it am frum er gal. Huh!” he ejaculated, derisively. “Folks say it am an’ dat all widders jes’ watchin’ out fur er chance to git marrid ergin, but you jes’ try onct to git er widder to say ‘yas’—she’ll jes’ play erroun’ an’ play erroun’ de hook, and fus’ thing you know she’s off, an’ dar you looks an lo!—dun swallered de bait yo’se’f,” he said.

“Befo’ my wife died,” said the old man, as he ran his thumb down his hatchet-blade, “I uster think I’d nuvver wanter git marrid enny mo’, an’ I had de mos’ dispizerble contemplashuns fur dese ole fools dat go rippin’ erroun’, dyein’ dey ha’r an’ writin’ poltry to de moon befo’ dey fus’ wife’s feet git cold good! Hit’s all right fur er young man to do dat—he jes’ nacherly jucy an’ he can’t help hisself. But dese ole fools whut de hot sun ob matremony dun dried up, an’ de trials of chillun-raisin’ dun tuck de foolishnes’ outen ’em an’ monkey-shines ob mudder-in-law dun kill ’em in de home-stretch—I tell you, suh, when I see such men as dese, dat has passed fur forty-odd years as sober, senserbul men in de kommunity whar dey libs, all at onct begin to git gay an’ boyish ergin, er snortin’ in evally an’ er clothin’ dey neck wid thunder, an’ er hollerin’ kerhonk, kerhonk, kerhonk to de captins, an’ de shoutin’, an’ er gwine ’round wantin’ to fight de man-in-de-moon ’kase he happen to peep into dey lady-lub’s winder, it jes’ makes me wanter go ’round de barn an’ hug sum ole gray mule fur konsolashun!

“Wheneber er ole man’s lub begins to take on er secon’ growth, it am den dat de anguls in heaben prepares to shed dey tears. Why, suh, I’ve seed ole fellers hab rumertisn an’ hart-failure so bad dey cudn’t creep to dey fus’ wife’s fun’ral, but de naixt time I’d see ’em, Gord bless you soul, honey, dey be runnin’ erroun’ at sum pickernick, fetchin’ water frum de spring ebery five minutes fur sum sixteen-year-ole gal, cuttin’ watermillions fur her, an’ tryin’ to meander off in de shady woods and pull up all de hart’s-ease dat grows in er ten-acre woods lot! De rumertizn all gohn, ter-be-sho’, and de hart-failure dun turned into head failure, bless de Lawd.

“Dat’s whut I thout, suh,” he continued, “but bless yo’ soul, honey, my wife hadn’t bin dead er week befo’ I got up one mornin’ an’ all onbeknownst to myself I foun’ myself blackin’ my shoes! Cudn’t hep it to sabe my life, suh—jes’ had to do it. De naixt day, suh, ’tirely unbeknownst to de state ob my naturality, I kotch myself in de act ob puttin’ h’ar-oil on my hair, cinnermun-draps on my handkerchief, an’ pullin’ off de eel-skin gyarters I dun bin wearin’ forty years fur de rumertizn. No mo’ rumertiz fur me; er man nurver hes rumertizn arter his wife dies—least-wise,” he whispered, knowingly, “not twell he marries erggin an’ den he hes it so bad he can’t cut stove-wood fur her,” he laughed.

“In er week diszeese tuck me so komplementry, boss, I ’gun ter roach up de ole muel, fix up de buggy, an’ whitewash de cabin. Dese am allers de fus’ simptums, suh. I’ve knowed sum ole fellers to make dey house go widout paint fur forty years, but jes’ es soon es dey wife dies, jes’ watch ’em an’ see ef de fus’ thing dey don’t do am to paint up dat ole house lak dey tryin’ to ketch er angul—huh! better had er painted it er leetle fur de fus’ po angul arter dey fooled her into it!

“But de simptums come on me, suh, thick an’ fast, an’ fore goodness, suh, by Sunday I had it so bad it broke out in spots all ober me, wid gradual risin’ ob de temperchewin’ dryness in de region ob de salvashun glands, an’ complete p’ralersis ob de pizzerrinctum ob de sense-bumps! Gord, boss, I was mighty nigh insenserbul!

“It all seemed lak er dream to me, an’ I can’t tell ’zactly whut I did do. I seemed ter be walkin’ in er gyarden whar golden roses bloomed on peppermint candy vines, an’ coon-dorgs wid diamon’ eyes wuz treein’ solid silver ’possums up in de ’simmon trees!

“I tell you, boss, I wanted to marry! An’ de fus’ thing I knowed, me an’ dat ole muel was gwine in a peert trot up de road t’words de cabin ob Sister Calline Jones, Unk Peter Jones’ widder. I felt sorter mean, an’ I disremember sayin’ to myself: ‘Heah, you go, Wash, arter all yore good revolushuns, de biggest fool in de ban’ waggin.’ As I rid off, I seed dat old mischeevus Mistis ob mine, Miss Charlotte, God bless her!—an’ she called out to me kinder mad-lak, an’ sed: ‘Unkle Wash, I think it’s a shame you ain’t put on moanin’ for Aunt Peggy.’ The way you are dressed, ennybody’d think you are gwine to er ball!’

“‘Lor’ bless your sweet soul, Miss Charlotte,’ sez I, ‘don’t hab ter put on moanin’ lak de white folks; it am already dar, an’ mo’ dan skin deep, too,’ I sez. ‘I bin moanin’ for Peggy eber sense I marrid ’er,’ I sed, ‘an’ now is my time for rejicement, Miss Charlotte, an’ I gwineter rejice. Sides dat,’ I sed, ‘whilst I’m moanin’, all my things gwine to rack, an’ de chillun’s got nobody to take keer ob ’em an’ sumpin’ nuther sho’ gwinter happen, Miss Charlotte.’

“Miss Charlotte bleege to laf, an’ old Marster he spoke up an’ say, ‘Let ’im erlone, Charlotte. Can’t you see de ole fool has got it? Go on, you ole idjut,’ he sed to me, ‘an’ marry sumbody an’ git back heah termorrer wid enuf sense in yo’ haid to run er straight furrer fer de fall plowin’.’ An’ wid dat I lit out.

“Now, Unk Pete an’ me, suh,” he explained, “belong to de same church—de Candle Light—an’ to de same lodge—de Ainshunt an’ Honorbul Order ob de Bow-legged Sons of de Black Cat—an’ ’course I ain’ gwi’ marry his widder now an’ spile sum moral observashun, so I jes’ stopped at his cabin to git his consent fur me to marry his widder.

“Get his consent?” I asked. “Why how could you get his consent if he was dead?”

“Who sed he was dead?” said the old darky, quickly. “I nurver sed so; I sed she was his widder!”

I tried to explain to him that a man couldn’t have a widow unless he were dead, but this only made him throw back his head and laugh heartily.

“Wal, wal, wal, white folks got such curious ways of thinkin’. Who’d urver thout it? You see,” he said very solemnly and impressively, “It was dis way: Unk Peter wus gittin’ ole, an’ went off contrawise to de doctrine an’ marrid dis young ’oman. Furst thing he know, he waked up sum mohnin’ an’ find hisself de father ob ten chilouns, sum ob ’em hisn an’ sum ob ’em hern, by her fus’ husban’, an’ dar he wus gittin’ so ole he cudn’t s’port ’em. So up he jumps an’ at de naixt meetin’ ob de church he runs fer de offis ob Patriark ob Santerfercashun, which, ’kordin’ to de doctrine ob Hollerness, marrid ’im to de church. ’Course arter Unk Pete gits santerfercashun an’ marrid to de church, he cudn’t hab enny uder wife, so he hafter put Sis Calline an’ de chilluns aside, which made all ob dem de widders ob de church. Don’t you ketch on to de doctrine, suh?”

I told him I had caught.

The old man was silent as if in deep thought. Then he said: “I wus young den, an’ bleeved eberything erbout de church an’ de doctrine I eber heurd, smelt or dreamed, but I am older now, an’ I’ve cum to de pinted konklushun dat when er man or er woman gets santerfercashun; one or two things done happen to ’em: Either de flahs ob youth dun played out in de bilers ob dar natral swashun—de ole Adam in ’em jes’ peg out from ole aige—or else dey am layin’ low, Brer ’Possum, fur de slickes’ game dat eber wus played. I’ve kinder notis’d we all nacherly gits better es we gits older, ennyway, an’ when we gits so ole we can’t sin no mo’, we mighty nigh good-fur-nuffin’. An’ dars whar de patr’arks ob ole had it on to de res’ ob us,” said the old man knowingly. “Jes’ let de good Marster let me lib heah erbout seben hundred years longer, an’ jes’ watch me sot back an’ view unconserned de fleetin’ vanerties ob dis life.