SOUTHERN FIELD AND
FIRESIDE [
1859-1862
Note: This
microfilm includes scattered issues, often filmed darkly (sometimes too darkly
to read, and originals were sometimes stained or had folds in the paper.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
The Camel in the South.
The following letter, published in the
Artesa, (near
Editor Savannah Republican:
Yours of the 17th instant reached here on the 20th.
In reply, generally, the camels have proved equal to all the demands made
upon them. They have been on my
plantation for the past week, plowing and carrying burthens to my entire
satisfaction, though I have not been able to give my personal attention to the
making and fitting of gear adapted to the peculiar form of the animal, having
been engaged on the Grand Jury, and only at home from sundown to sunrise.
Besides, the long voyage from the
On Tuesday last, I sent twelve bushels of corn to
The price at which camels can be sold here varies according to the age
and size. The extremes are $150 and
$450.
The camel will eat almost anything that the goat does not refuse.
They are fed in the Canary Islands on barley straw and barley chaff, and
occasionally, but very seldom, barley meal is given them.
I think they could soon be taught to eat cotton seed.
While at work I feed them upon hay and wheat straw; when at rest, they
are turned into a dry pasture, and they are improving every day in flesh and
spirits. There are now ten in an old
field where a mule would starve, luxuriating upon weeds, briars and shrubbery.
Two of these camels will be retained by me.
The others are owned by J. A. Machado, and the sale at the above prices,
for exchange on
I induced Mr. Machado to bring these camels over, for the purpose of
satisfying myself if they would answer for plantation purposes.
I believe they will, although I have not yet harnessed them to a wagon.
I am not interested in the sale of them, except as a planter desirous of
checking the immense draught upon our cotton for mules, by substituting a
procreating animal of more power and greater longevity, and which requires less
expensive food to keep in working condition.
If the camel reaches this point, I shall feel amply repaid for the outlay
of time, money and trouble, which I am now doing to ascertain it.
In my experiments thus far, it may be proper to add, I found the camel
awkward, of course; but not restive, or unwilling, or intractable.
In conclusion, let me say, that the above is the result of my operations
with “the animal of the prophet,” up to this time.
I will write you again when I am better posted.
In the meantime, with the warmest wishes for your prosperity and
happiness, I am, dear sir,
Yours truly,
Benj. M. Woolsey.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
[Written for the
Southern Field and Fireside.]
Stray Leaves from
the Diary of a
Country Lady.
By M. M., of
Walnut Grove.
Christmas Eve.
This has been a busy day with me; and, were it not for the iron chain of
habit, I should undoubtedly be asleep just now, instead of scribbling over the
ordinary incidents of the day. But
the custom of reviewing, in some way or other, the good and evil of daily life,
is too strong to be laid aside, for a temporary fit of fatigue.
Owing to sundry mishaps, a little tardiness, and the blessing of an
abundant crop, we have just managed, while the last rays of the setting sun were
gilding the revolving levers of the screw, to pack, the last snowy fibers of our
cotton; and as I take a liberal share in all the troubles and perplexities of
the plantation, as well as its pleasures and profits, I felt as though an
incubus were lifted off my shoulders, when I saw Jack and John, with a grin of
satisfaction peculiar to themselves, roll, by their united strength, the last
ponderous bag from under the screw.—John gave it a hearty thump with the
sledge hammer, by way of a parting salutation, I suppose, and then, majestically
setting his arms akimbo, he ordered his dusky satellites, “to pick up them
baskets, and ropes, and baggin’, put ‘em up in the gin house, lock the
pick-room door, and give him the key.” No
prouder, happier darkies walked the earth, than did John and his crew from the
gin house, this evening, where I could not resist the temptation of going
myself, to witness the winding up of the agricultural drama for the year.
The packing of the last bag is always one of proud triumph, to black and
white, and a general jubilee ensues accordingly; but when it happens on
Christmas eve, when [fold in paper] are such “that last bit of scatterin’,
[fold in paper] away in the last bag, and there will be no more “botherin’”
about it, who can tell what visions of roast pig, turkey, and ham, the
substantials of the coming feast to-morrow, and the “Christmas”
that is to be given out [of] the smoke house, for their own private management
and possession, are floating in floury splendor before these dusky sons
and daughters of toil? Well, they
had fairly earned it, and with an unsparing hand it shall be dealt out to them;
for truly it is here, that I, at least, exquisitely realize, that “it is more
blessed to give than to receive.” This
morning, aunt Betty and I put our wits and hands together to make our Christmas
cake, the batter was uncommonly light and fine, but somehow, a vision of a
“raw steak in the middle” has been haunting me ever since I felt its weight,
but aunt Betty says, “it’s all right,” and of course she knows.
Our Christmas box of fruits, nuts, and candies, which Bill brought home
from town, in the wagon last night, I with Eve-like curiosity, had to peep into
to-day, and, thanks to G.’s care, they are, to use his own favorite terms,
“truly splendid.” Joe cried for
a stick of candy, and as I had petted him up to this stage of naughtiness, I
had, of course, to continue the process, and give it to him, though I had
promised myself that nothing should be touched till to-morrow.
Black as he is, I see he is not lacking in developing the same traits of
character, common to all other young Americans.
This afternoon, I sent Dinah to hunt holies and evergreens, to decorate
the rooms. She came back loaded with
water oaks, cedars, and mistletoes, but reported no hollies to be found; so I
had just despaired of carrying out my old childish practice of
“Decking our houses, on Christmas day,
With holly and ivy, so green and so gay,”
When I saw big Jack coming with an armful which he had
found, while hauling a load of wood. I
appreciated them all the more, that I had not sent him for them; but he knew of
old my fancies for “sich nonsense,” as I understand he terms it, in the
kitchen—and ministered to them accordingly.
I busied myself very pleasantly in arranging festoons and flower-pots,
and was so fortunate as to find a few faithful roses on the never failing
monthlies, and just an ounce more of sunshine would have brought out the
hyacinths and jonquils; but, never mind, they will be here by and by.
So I contented myself with delicate pearls of the mistletoe, which I
contrasted charmingly with the rich scarlet berries of the holly.
I remembered the beautiful running cedars and ground pines, we used to
get at home, long ago, but these, I knew, did not grow in this latitude, so I
twined them around the halls of memory, and left them there, green and
fresh, as they hung in days of yore.
I have had only one drawback to my pleasure to-day, one tiny spot on the
kaleidoscope of home life, and that is in itself so silly I am half ashamed to
pen it. Aunt Betty with the
pertinacity of long standing and undisputed authority in all culinary matters,
insisted I should point out which turkey she must kill for to-morrow.
I half suspect this to be a species of refined cruelty, which she
practices towards me, for she knows how much I dislike to do it; yet, I had to
go with her to the turkey house, where she had them all safely imprisoned, and
point out the right one, but I felt all the while like a judge, compelled to
pronounce sentence of death upon an innocent victim of fate instead of crime.
If we must eat turkeys, and pigs, and chickens, I had rather not see them
till they are stuffed and browned, and brought to the table, though I must admit
this is rather an odd sort of fastidiousness.
One more item, and I have done for to-night, or “Santa Claus” will be
started to see me sitting up, ready to receive his elfish majesty when he
tumbles down the chimney. Having
been most successful with turkeys, this year, it occurred to me, if I knew a
family whose necessities were such that they had not a turkey, and could not
procure one for a Christmas dinner, I would supply the want; but strange, yet
pleasant to record, I have taxed my memory in vain to dispose of a single
gobbler upon these terms. I can
think of no family in our neighborhood that cannot afford a Christmas turkey, if
they wish it. And thereupon I caught
myself indulging for a moment in what some would deem the unwomanly habit of
philosophizing a little and reflecting. “That
can be the cause of this?” said I to myself; “why are we of the South
distinguished so favorably from some other sections of our country?
Can slavery have anything to do with it?
Is it owing to this institution that all, among us, who practice a
reasonable degree of industry and economy, are so well to do in the world, that
charity, in one of its most common and important terms, is likely to become
extinct, just from the lack of opportunity for its exercise?”
This cannot be averred as strictly true in all parts of the South.
In cities, no doubt, to a certain extent, unavoidable poverty and
destitution, do and must exist; but in the country, at least in this section of
the South where I reside, necessary want is almost unknown.
A generous soil always rewards honest industry, with competence and
comfort.
Christmas Night.
At last, the day is over, with its cares, its pleasures, and I must add,
its trials, too. If it be true that
trifles, light as air, make up the sum of human happiness, (and I am fain to
believe they do,) I suppose it is equally true that trifles, of the same
specific gravity, make up the sum of human misery.
Christmas day belongs here almost exclusively to negroes.
The whole household of them is invariably astir long before day, and
one’s precious morning nap is sadly interrupted by cries of “Christmus
gif’, missis!” “Chrismus gif’, master!” shouted at you from every
cabin door you pass, and by every grinning elf, that can pronounce the words.
Popping bladders, and guns touched off with a coal of fire, are fitting
accompaniments to such chorus.
This matter of “gifts” for presents is often a serious tax upon
one’s resources of imagination, and material supply.
Innumerable collars, and caps, and ribbons, and coats, and pants, and
cravats, are to be forth-coming, for each must have something.
Half the morning, too, is to be spent in the smoke house, sharing out “Christmas,”
in the shape of flour, lard, sugar, coffee, and molasses.
This, however, the negroes claim as no gift, but their right.
It is theirs, by prescriptive traditionary title.
Then, there were passes to write, and aunt Betty’s domains to visit,
and there was the distribution of prizes, for cotton picking, which we postponed
for to-day, to be presided over. I
had kept a faithful register of weights, for my own satisfaction, as well as
theirs and we managed it so that each should get something, a dime only,
sometimes, for the small ones, but some carried off, in prizes, as much as five
dollars. Mr. B., the overseer, says
they have picked uncommonly well during the fall, and the weights bear out his
assertion. I scanned the
countenances of all, as they received their money; the men, cap in hand, with a
grin, a bow, and the inevitable scrape of the foot; and the women, with their
own peculiar, short bobbing curtsey. There
was not a shadow of discontent; for jealousy among themselves (thanks to the
simplicity of their natures) [fold in paper]
About twelve, and guest arrived [fold in paper] toilette was barely made
to receive them, so many and various had been my occupations of the morning.
In the evening, some one proposed to solemnize the “Yule Log,” an
enormous one of oak. (F. insisted
that it should be put on, though it was almost warm enough to have dispensed
with fire.) So we gathered up the
scattered “chunks,” and placed them carefully away.
For myself, I confess a momentary feeling of superstitious awe come over
me as the thought occurred, should we all, of that social group, be spared to
gather around the ample hearth, and kindle again the flame of friendship, with
the cheerful blaze of another Christmas fire?
But all things must end. It
is now late at night. Our guests
have departed; and I am alone, making up my day’s account.
The gifts have been distributed to the grateful and grinning recipients;
the bladders are all popped, ammunition is exhausted, and the guns are still.
The hub-bub of Christmas day is over.
For servants and children of the South Christmas is the happiest day of
the year. And to us old folks—the
misters and the mistresses—the fathers and mothers—is it not the happiest
for us too? If it is not, ought
it not to be? On what other day
of the three hundred and sixty-five do we make so many hearts glad, so many
hearts of those dependent upon us for support and happiness, to leap for joy?
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
To Dye a Very Dark Blue.—Add to a common indigo dye one tablespoonful
of madder to one ounce of indigo.
To Dye Silk or Wool an
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Curling Fluid for the Ladies.—Take Borax 2 oz., Gum Senegal in powder,
1 drachm; add hot water (not boiling) 1 quart, stir and as soon as the
ingredients are dissolved, add 2 oz. Alchohol [sic] strongly impregnated with
Camphor.
On retiring to rest wet the locks with the above liquid and roll them on
a twist of paper as usual; leave them till morning, when they may be unwrapt and
formed into ringlets.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Sheep Raising in
[“]The Gonzales Inquirer
says: A flock of some fifteen
hundred head of Mexican sheep and goats crossed the river at this place last
Thursday, going East. In order that
the reader may form some idea of the extent of this business in our State, we
will here remark that, from a safe calculation of one of our sheep-raisers, it
is estimated that not less than one-fourth of a million of sheep have been
brought into Texas from Mexico since the 1st of January last,
exclusive of those imported from Tennessee, Illinois, Missouri and Arkansas.
It is also estimated that by the 1st of next January this
number will have been doubled, thus making something like half a million of
sheep brought from Mexico into our State during the year.
Of the number already brought in it is though that about seventy or
eighty thousand have crossed the river at this place.”
Nothing gives us more pleasure than to copy evidence of the growing
prosperity of the South. We find
from close observation, that the Texas Musquite [sic] grass is one of the
best growing plants that can be grown in Georgia, and no reader can do us so
great a favor in any other way as to tell us how we can obtain a few bushels of
the seed of this southern grass for cultivation in this State.
Even a few pounds or ounces will be thankfully received.
Our collection of grasses is already respectable, and constantly
increasing.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
The Best Apples.
By R. Peters,
Esq.,
[“] Wm. N. White, Esq:--Dear Sir:--I enclose you a list of apples that
in my orchard have proved superior to all others, giving me a bountiful supply
of that valuable fruit every day in the year.
I am rather out with the very large apples.
They will not stick to the tree during our September and October gales
and as a general rule are not reliable keepers.
No. 1. Yellow May—Size,
small, ripe the last of May; valuable for its being the earliest known variety.
It is extensively grown in
No. 2. Red Astrachan—Size,
medium to large, ripe early in June; an apple of great beauty and fair quality,
valuable for market purposes, its crimson color and rich bloom making it very
attractive. Tree, a good grower and
productive.
No. 3 Early Harvest—Size,
above medium, ripe early in June; one of our best early apples of fine quality,
valuable for the table and for cooking. Tree,
rather a poor grower, but an abundant bearer.
No. 4. Red June—Size, over
medium, ripe the middle of June; a well known and truly popular Southern apple,
valuable for all purposes. Tree a
fair grower, and a regular bearer.
No. 5. Yellow June—Size,
large, ripe from the middle to the last of June; a southern seedling of great
merit—should be extensively cultivated for marketing.
Tree a vigorous grower, and an abundant bearer.
No. 6. Sweet Bough—Size,
medium to large, ripe the first of July; a very superior apple for the table, of
a rich, sweet, sprightly flavor. Tree
a fair grower and moderately productive.
No. 7. Rhodes Orange—Size,
large, ripe early in July; a seedling from
No. 8. Julien—Size, medium,
ripe the middle of July; a very delicious apple of Southern origin, should be in
every orchard. Tree a good grower
and very productive.
No. 9. Yellow Horse—size
large, ripe the last of July to the middle of August; a true Southern variety
well known and deservedly popular, reliable and valuable in every respect.
Tree a fine grower and yearly bearer.
No. 10. Summer Pearmain—Size,
medium to large, ripe 1st to middle of August; a truly valuable and
beautiful apple of Northern origin, adapted to the Southern climate.
Tree a moderate grower, but prolific bearer.
No. 11. Aromatic.—Size,
medium to large, ripe the middle to the last of August; a
No. 12. Gravenstein.—Size,
large, ripe from the 1st to the 20th of August; a European
variety of great promise at the South, flesh tender, crisp and juicy.
Tree vigorous and productive.
No. 13. Taunton—Size, very
large, ripe early in September; continuing in fine eating order for six
weeks—a seedling from lower Georgia, the most valuable apple of its season,
should be extensively grown for market; of good quality, and showy exterior.
Tree, a vigorous grower, and a prolific bearer.
No. 14. Robinson’s Superb
(Farrar’s Summer)—Size, very large, ripe the 20th of September to
the 20th of October; a splendid apple of
No. 15.
No. 16. Buncombe (Meigs)—Size,
medium to large, ripe early in October, will keep until January; a very
beautiful and truly valuable apple, one of the very best in cultivation.
Tree, remarkably vigorous, and a regular prolific bearer.
No. 17. Buckingham—Size,
very large, ripe 1st to the middle of October; a seedling of the
Cherokee Indians, of high flavor and beautiful appearance.
Tree a vigorous grower, and a capital bearer.
No. 18. Mangum (Carter of
Alabama)—Size, medium, ripe in October, continuing in fine eating order until
December; it is probably a native of North Carolina, and identical with the
premium apple of the State Fair of Alabama known there as “Carter.”
It is one of the very best and most reliable apples of its season.
Flesh crisp, tender, juicy and delicious.
Tree a fine grower, and a capital yearly bearer.
No. 19. Oconee
Greening—Size, medium to large, ripens in October, keeps until February; a
seedling from the banks of the Oconee river, Georgia, the very best of the many
greenings in cultivation; it should be extensively grown for marketing and for
family use, flesh crisp and of a rich aromatic flavor.
Tree vigorous and a profuse bearer.
No. 20. Rawles Jannette—Size,
medium to large ripe in October; will keep until January; a Virginian variety,
retaining in this climate its late blooming habit, fruit of good flavor.
Tree strong, and a yearly bearer.
No. 21. Green Crank—Size,
medium to large; ripe 1st November, will keep until February; a
variety quite celebrated in Tennessee, and one of the best early winter apples,
flesh crisp, juicy, and of a pleasant vinous flavor.
No. 22. Bradford’s
Best—Size, large, ripening in November, keeps until March; an apple in repute
near
No. 23. Stevenson’s
Winter—Size large, ripe in November, keeps until March; a seedling from
No. 24. Yellow English
Crab—Size, medium, ripe in November, keeps until March; a southern seedling of
good quality, and well worthy of propagation.
Tree very vigorous, and a yearly bearer.
No. 25. Mattamuskeet—Size,
large, ripe in November, keeps until March; a seedling from
No. 26. Limber Twig—Size,
medium, ripe in November, keeps until April; a well known Southern Seedling,
rather inferior in quality, but very firm and a desirable keeper.
Tree a fair grower, and a profuse bearer.
No. 27. Lever.—Size,
medium, ripe in November, keeps until April; a seedling from
No. 28. Yates—Size, small,
ripe in November, keeps until March; a seedling from Fayette county, Georgia, of
a pleasant aromatic flavor, a truly valuable apple, far superior in this climate
to Hewes’ Virginia Crab, Hall, and others of the small varieties.
Tree, a splendid grower and a profuse yearly bearer.
No. 29. Nickajack—Size,
large to very large, ripe November, keeps until March; a Southern seedling of
wide spread reputation, its great size, showy exterior and late keeping
properties, makes it a very desirable variety for market purposes; it is known
from Virginia to Georgia by various synonymes [sic]—flesh, firm, quality good.
Tree very vigorous and a regular bearer.
No. 30. Shockley—Size
medium, ripe November, keeps until May, a native of
A reliable list, the result of much experience and containing quite
enough varieties for any orchard. Will
the writer favor us with his observations upon other fruits?
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Notes on the Pear
and Apple.
By Rev. Richard
Johnson.
The following varieties of the pear and apple have fruited in the
specimen orchard of the Atlanta Nursery, conducted by Mr. Johnson:
1. Anannas d’ete.—The
tree is a good grower and productive. It
has a number of fair specimens this year. Of
the quality we cannot judge as it is not ripe.
(Quality good, ED.)
2. Andrews.—A good bearer,
tree vigorous, and fruit beautiful and good.
3.
4.
5. Epine Dumas.—Very
productive. The tree does not seem
to be a fast grower. The fruit was
astringent last year; whether this was the effect of frost, or is one of its
qualities in this climate, we cannot say. The
crop of this year is not ripe.
6. Belle Lactative.—Tree
healthy, a good grower, and an abundant bearer of delicious fruit.
7. Beurre d’Anjou.—Tree,
a good and healthy grower, productive. Fruit
beautiful and delicious. We have a number of trees; all look well.
8. Beurre Easter.—A regular
bearer, and good keeper. The tree is
a healthy and good grower. It keeps
longer than any pear we raised last season.
9. Doyenne White.—We have
seven trees of this famous variety in bearing; one only looks well, and has a
fair crop.
10. Doyenne Bos[
]k.—Tree strong and healthy; and an abundant and regular bearer.
Fruit of the best quality.
11. Duchesse d’Orleans.—Tree
healthy and a good bearer. The fruit
is handsome. Last year it was
astringent; the crop of this year is not ripe.
The fruit has suffered much both years from frost.
12. Duchesse d’Angouleme.—Most
of the fruit o this popular variety was killed this year by frost.
What remains is small and defective; it is generally very good.
13. Flemish Beauty.—Tree
healthy, and a good and early bearer. Fruit
magnificent, and of excellent quality.
14. Fortune.—This is the
first year we have fruited it, and it is not ripe.
We can say but little of it so far, except that it promises to be a good
bearer.
15. Glout Morceau.—In
16. Henry IV.—This pear, so
far as we have been able to prove it, turns out to be a very delicious variety.
The tree with us, is not a fast grower, but healthy, and in good seasons,
a fair bearer.
17. Louise Bonne de
Jersey.—We hardly know what to say of this pear.
It has always been good with us until last year, when not a specimen from
six or eight trees were worth eating. Was
it the effect of frost? If so, it
will be worthless again next year.
18. Novean Poiteau.—This is
the first year we have been able to fruit this variety.
It is not ripe, and what its quality will be, we cannot say.
The tree grows well, and promises to be a good bearer.
19. Passe Colmar.—Of this
variety, we have fine trees in bearing. We
have fruited it several years, and never have seen it worth eating.
A friend tells us that we must thin it freely.
We will try that treatment.
20.
21. Seckel.—This pear has
always been with us what it is everywhere. The
tree is hardy and productive, and the fruit is delicious.
22. Urbaniste.—The habit of
this tree answers exactly to the description given by Downing.—It is hardy,
and readily forms a pyramid. It is
not ripe, and we can say nothing of its quality.
23. Westcott.—Our tree
fruited for the first time this year, it is not ripe.
24. Golden Beurre of Bilboa.—A
good bearer. Fruit medium, and good,
but not of the first quality. One
bearing tree is on Quince and very weak. A
very vigorous one, we have a [on?] Pear roots has not fruited.
25. Beurre Clarigeau.—A
good bearer. Fruit handsome and
delicious, we have only a small tree in bearing.
26. Beurre Coubalt.—This is
a good juicy Pear. The tree is very early and regular bearer.
The fruit is not large but fair, and of good flavor.
27. Beurre Duval.—A good
bearer so far as we have proved it. It
has borne with us for the first time, this year.
Of its quality we can say nothing, as it is not yet ripe.
28. Bleecker’s
Meadow.—Tree hardy and very productive. We
never saw it fit to be eaten until last year; when it was gathered about the
last of August; and in a much shrivelled state, became delicious about the
middle of October.
29. Bloodgood.—A very early
and good Pear. Tree healthy and a
good grown [sic].
30. Buffain.—An excellent
Pear. Tree a vigorous, and erect grown [sic].
It is a constant and abundant bearer.
31. Counseillar Ranwez.—We
can endorse Col. Wilder’s description of this fruit in every particular except
its flavor; of which some robber deprised [sic] us of the pleasure of judging.
(See Downing last edition, p484.)
32. Knight’s Monarch.—We
have been deceived by this Pear for the last time.
It is the same from
33. Vicar of
Wakefield.—This variety has been very generally confounded in
34. Apple, Mary
Chester.—This apple was first brought into notice by Dr. N. Chester, of
Marietta, who thinks he procured it from the remains of an old Indian orchard.
No one to whom it has been shown knows it.
It is named in compliment to his daughter.[“]
With the foregoing notes, came from Mr. R. C. Johnson, of the Atlanta
Nursery, specimens of the fruit of each variety, some of which have not ripened
yet. We shall give briefly our own
impression of the character of each of these, hereafter.
Meanwhile, both gentlemen will accept our thanks.
These condensed notes giving the personal experiences of parties in
different sections, are of great value to those who wish to form collections of
fruit.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Dwarf Prolific Okra.—Some six years ago, a lady friend sent us a few
seed of the dwarf okra, since which we have cultivated no other variety, and we
are quite sure any one trying it will never plant any other kind.
It grows only from two to three feet high, bears an immense long pod and
fruits from the ground to the end of each limb.
We are surprised so little is known if it South.
We sent a few seed of it, a few months ago, to Messrs. J. M. Thorbun
& Co.,
Cotton Planter.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
The Texas Fever
Among the Cattle in
the South-West.
[“]
To the Editor of the
This part of
This disease made its appearance among our cattle this year about the 10th
of July. One of the first symptoms
is a dull look out of their eyes. They
all hold their heads down, refuse to eat, draw their breath quick and hard, and,
as the fever increases, lie down frequently and stagger as they walk.
When they walk, they appear to lose the use of their hind parts.
They usually live from three to six days, some as long as eight days.
On post-mortem examination, we find the manifolds of the stomach
perfectly hard and dry, without any appearance of moisture about them. We have
tried most every remedy without much benefit.[“]
There is something peculiarly strange about this so-called contagious
malady. Like yellow fever in our own
species, its contagiousness is open to doubt; yet the attending circumstances
appear to favor very strongly the correctness of the popular belief in
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
What are the Best Peaches?
The following list of peaches, with the notes thereon, was drawn up by
Mr. Richard Peters, of
For some years past we have been exchanging with him, and comparing
specimens of this fruit, in order to correct errors of name in both collections,
and to ascertain what where [sic] really the best varieties in cultivation.
In this way, over two hundred kinds, embracing all the finest local
varieties to be obtained, and all that are laid down as best in the various
standard fruit books, have come before us. Of
these Mr. Peters gives his favorites in the list below.
In this list there are three varieties we have not seen.
We should have been glad to have had the number reduced to about thirty,
but of the thirty-seven we know in the list as it is, it is difficult to say
which to throw out, and there are ten or a dozen kinds at least, that we, and
probably Mr. Peters, would rather have added to a list for one’s own use, than
to undertake to throw out any of the present list.
There are some peaches so exactly alike in taste, that any one or two or
three varieties is enough, the only difference being the shape of the fruit, the
size of the flower, or the glands of the leaves, either of which make a distinct
variety, though they are not distinct to the palate.
In such cases, substitutions can be made, but there are certain others in
this list for which no satisfactory substitute can be found.
We believe, for instance, that the first peach on this list will be
indispensable in every good collection for a century to come, unless its stock
becomes diseased. For a very small
collection Nos. 1, 6, 8, 10, 11, 12, 13, 17, 20, 23, 32, 35, 36, 38, might be
selected; but in making a selection, some few have been taken for which others
of the same season would have been nearly or quite as satisfactory.
It is well to ripen at the same time several varieties, as sometimes one
of them escapes our Spring frosts, while another, blossoming a little earlier or
later, has no crop for the season. The
list below will in this place afford fruitfully five months, and if our readers
will plant these trees in a fair soil, take care of them, and thin the fruit,
they will ascertain what a good peach is. Very
few have in
No. 1. Early Tillotson.—Ripe
June 15th to 25th; size, medium; freestone; flesh white;
the best for market purposes of the very early varieties, and deservedly popular
at the South for its productive properties, its fine flavor and handsome
appearance.
No. 2. Early
No. 3. Coles Early.—Ripe
June 23d to 1st July; size, medium; freestone; flesh white; a
handsome showy peach of five flavor.
No. 4. Fay’s Early
Ann—Ripe June 25th to 1st July; size, medium; freestone;
flesh white; a very pretty peach of superior flavor.
No. 5. Troth’s Early—Ripe
28th of June to 5th of July; size, medium; freestone;
flesh white and firm, well adapted to marketing.
No. 6. Early Admirable—Ripe
July 1st to 12th; size, large; freestone; flesh white; one
of the best of its season, firm and of good quality.
No. 7. Eliza—Ripe July 3d
to 10th; size, large, freestone’ flesh yellow; a very productive
and desirable variety.
No. 8. George IV.—Ripe July
5th to 15th; size, large; freestone; flesh white; one of
the best, most showy and delicious of peaches.
No. 9. Grosse Mignonne—Ripe
July 5th to 15th; size, large; freestone; flesh white; by
many persons considered the best peach in cultivation.
No. 10. Chinese Cling—Ripe
July 6th to 20th; size very large; clingstone; flesh
white; a new variety recently introduced from China, of good quality, valuable
for marketing.
No. 11. Crawford’s
Early—Ripe July 6th to 20th; size very large; freestone;
flesh yellow; a magnificent peach of good quality and deservedly popular as a
market variety.
No. 12. Early
Newington—Ripe July 16 to 25—size medium to large; semi-cling; flesh white;
a truly delicious and beautiful Peach, worthy of a place in every orchard.
No. 13. Georgia Cling—Ripe
July 16 to 25—size medium to large; clingstone; flesh white; a Georgia
seedling of great merit, possessing size, beauty, and quality; one of the
earliest and best clings in cultivation.
No. 14. Vanzand’ts [sic]
Superb—Ripe July 18 to 26—size medium to large; freestone; flesh white; a
magnificent Peach of the highest flavor, and in every respect a decided
acquisition.
No. 15. Lemon Cling—Ripe
July 18 to 28—size large; clingstone; flesh yellow; a beautiful lemon-shaped
variety, excellent for marketing and preserving.
No. 16. Brevort’s
Morris—Ripe July 20th to 25th—size large; freestone;
flesh white; one of the highest flavored peaches in cultivation.
No. 17. Old Mixon
Cling—Ripe July 25th to August 5th—size, medium to
large; clingstone; flesh white, truly delicious, rich and melting; should be in
every collection.
No. 18. Susquehana—Ripe
July 25th to August 5th; size very large; semi-clingstone;
flesh yellow; a seedling from Pennsylvania; a very attractive Peach of good
quality—capital for marketing.
No. 19. Flewellen—Ripe
August 3d to 12th; size medium; clingstone; flesh red; a seedling
from middle Georgia, where it ranks as the best cling in cultivation.
No. 20. Crawford’s
Late—Ripe August 2d to 10th; size large; freestone; flesh yellow; a
superb Peach of fine flavor.
No. 21. Buckner’s
Red—Ripe August 1 to 20; size large to very large; semi-clingstone; flesh
yellow; a seedling from middle Georgia, of great merit; a very showy, remarkable
keeper, and, therefore, valuable as a market variety.
No. 22. Camak’s
Newington—Ripe August 4 to 16; size medium; clingstone; flesh white; one of
the best, if not the very best, of the August clings; a great bearer and
valuable for all purposes.
No. 23. Old Mixon Free—Ripe
August 6 to 12; size large; freestone; flesh white; moderatively [sic]
productive and of good flavor.
No. 24. Druid Hill—Ripe
August 8 to 18; size large, freestone; flesh white; a truly luscious and
attractive variety; should be in every collection.
No. 25. Brown’s Free—Ripe
August 11 to 20; size very large; freestone; flesh white; a showy Peach;
valuable for marketing.
No. 26. White English—Ripe
August 15 to 25; size medium to large; clingstone; flesh white, a seedling from
upper Georgia; very popular with the ladies for preserving.
No. 27. Abbot’s Late—Ripe
August 16 to 26; size large, freestone; flesh pink, firm and of fine flavor.
No. 28. Pace—Ripe August 18
to 29; size large to very large; freestone; flesh yellow, striped with red; a
well known Georgia seedling of the Indian Peach class, and by many persons
highly valued.
No. 29. Tinley’s
Superb—Ripe August 21 to 30; size very large; freestone; flesh of a bright
orange; a seedling from the Pace—a magnificent and luscious variety.
No. 30.—Ward’s Late—Ripe August 23 to 30; size medium to large;
freestone; flesh white; one of the best flavored of the August freestone
Peaches.
No. 31.—Clark’s September—Ripe September 3d to 12; size large;
clingstone; flesh white; a very beautiful and high flavored seedling from DeKalb
county, Ga.
No. 32.—LaGrange—Ripe September 5 to 18; size medium to large;
freestone; flesh white; decidedly an acquisition.
No. 33—President Church—Ripe September 15 to 25; size medium;
freestone; flesh white; a seedling of Athens, Georgia, and there highly prized.
No. 34—Alberge Cling—Ripe September 21 to 30; size large; clingstone;
flesh yellow; of fine flavor and showy exterior.
No. 35—Eliza Thomas—Ripe October 1 to 20; size, very large;
clingstone; flesh white; a seedling from the
No. 36. Nix’s Late—Ripe
October 6th to 20th; size, large; clingstone; flesh white;
a seedling from
No. 37. Calloway Cling—Ripe
October 106h to 25th; size, medium; clingstone; flesh white; a peach
of capital flavor and handsome exterior.
No. 38. Baldwin’s
Late—Ripe October 25th to November 10th; size, medium;
freestone; flesh white; a seedling from Alabama, variable in size and quality,
but often handsome and of fine flavor; the premium peach of Georgia State Fair,
October, 1858.
No. 39. Cowan’s Late—Ripe
October 25th to November 15th; size medium; clingstone;
flesh white; a seedling from lower Georgia; one of the very best late clings; of
a rich creamy color and good flavor; may be kept until December.
No. 40. Cherry’s
November—Ripe November 1st to 15th; size, medium;
clingstone; flesh white; a seedling from West Point, Georgia, often of excellent
quality, but variable like all of the very late peaches.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Advice to Young Ladies.—In his excellent address to the graduating
class of St. Mary’s Hall, at
“The times are out of joint. Corruption
stalks in our high places. Licentiousness
has, well nigh, lost its shame. Infidelity
is bold and brazenfaced. For these
things your sex is greatly answerable. Women
are not true to themselves. They
wink at vice. They make a compromise
with worldliness. They tolerate
irreligion. And they are victims of
their own unfaithfulness. The
stronger sex look up, in best things, to the weaker.
They have all had mothers. They
have all had sisters. If women were
but true to God, true to themselves, they would have strength from Him to hold
the world in check. No woman ever
fell but by her own consent. As at
the first, woman is the tempter. There
is no man, that has not passed into a brute, to do as tigers do, that can resist
the matchless majesty of a resolved woman. And
stronger than all law, stronger than anything but God, would be the power of
women to put down rudeness, and lay the bridle upon license.
But women are slaves to dress. Women
are willing to be flattered. Women
are careless of their companionship. Women
are unscrupulous in their amusements. Young
women set up for themselves. They
look upon their parents as old fashioned. They
are impatient of domestic restraints. They
are averse to domestic occupations. They
vote their homes a bore. They
congregate away from its control. They
indulge in unreasonable hours, to meet the other sex more than half way.
They permit the approaches of familiarity.
They tempt the hidden devil of their nature.
They forget their Bibles. They
neglect their prayer books. They are
women of fashion. They are women of
the world. What else they are, is rather shaped by opportunity than by
themselves. In this way, the female
atmosphere is stripped of its freshness and its fragrance.
The woman is no longer what she was made to be—‘a help meet’ for
the man. And man ceases to be what
God designed him to be—her partner, her prop, and her protector.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
[For the Southern
Field and Fireside.]
About Men’s
Kissing.
By Louise Manhiem.
To Americans with whom any thing approaching a caress, even between the
closest of relatives, is rare, the idea of two men embracing is not in the least
touching. On the contrary, it has in
it, to many, something of the ridiculous. But
this should not be so—it is far from being so.
Education taught me the same prejudice, tho’ often as a child, I have
wondered why men and boys did not love each other, as women and girls, and
thought it sad indeed. Later on in
life, I found this subject matter for much mirth, mostly in teasing my brother,
a man past forty, who blushed like a girl on being kissed, before a crowd, on
both cheeks, by an old German school teacher at
I confess to a little tightness at my throat at this feat of the old man,
and if I had had more faith in the sincerity of a friendship of two weeks
growth, I should perhaps have been more touched; and then P.’s crimson blush
and intense annoyance was too good a thing to let pass, and I teased and exposed
him pitilessly, whenever I could, in payment of the many tortures he was ever
inflicting on me.
However, I got used to seeing men kiss while I was in
“Kiss him! Indeed you may
expect it. Frank and I never parted,
or met yet without it, and, please God, never will.”
The girls thought him quizzing them, but at any rate promised themselves
some fun at seeing the elegant, the dignified, the cold and sarcastic Mr.
------, kissing the brilliant, talented, handsome Frank -----.
We entered the port. The
girls and children clustered outside in the saloon of the great steamer, in a
fever of delight and expectation of friends, novelties and the arrival of Mr.
-----. I, older and sadder, sat in
my state room—and—I fear me—crying! not
from envy of those gay careless things outside, but alas!
I was not eighteen and had come to give up the little children—not
little now, whom I had loved, protected, and taught for seven long years, give
them up to another!—would they find the friend, the mother I had been to them?
Alas! I feared not.
Suddenly I heard a flutter and excitement in the little crowd gathered at
my door, then a rush, then a kiss,--yes, a loud hearty kiss!—it went through
my heart like a knife—then a passionate—
“Frank!”
“Guy!”
I could not help it! I rushed
to the door, and beheld the young men holding each other at arm’s length and
gazing eagerly into each other’s face. Never
can I forget that spectacle!
Tears were in the eyes of both. I
turned and looked at the girls. They
were almost pale, quite still, and subdued; tears were in their eyes too, and a
look on their faces which said, “Oh, will I ever be loved like this!”
I knew they never would, for all their youth, beauty and
brightness, and I shrunk silently back, closed my door, sat down on my trunk and
cried—Oh, how bitterly I cried!
Since that time I like to see men kiss each other, if there exists
a real sincere attachment, and for fathers not to kiss their sons, and brothers
each other, on occasions of meeting or parting for a length of time, I think
is—well—brutal. And when I hear
of people laugh and make fun about men’s kissing, I can’t help getting in a
passion; and as I can’t always explain, for a certain little choking at the
memory of that scene, I just get up and walk off, as I did from the tea-table
the other night, when the subject was jested upon; or, I say something sharp and
bitter, which make people set me down as demented, for I am not in the least
given to caressing myself, and then to expect it of men!
So they shrug their shoulders and “one of her crochets” is all the
response I get.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
The Camel in the
The newly imported camels, for the use of the army in
“I have lately tried effectually the comparative value of mules and
camels as pack animals. The
experiment leaves the palm with the camels.
Both trains receiving the order to start at the same time in the morning,
the camels invariably arrive at camp, a distance of twenty-five miles, an hour,
and sometimes an hour and twenty minutes ahead of the mule train—the mules
carrying a burden of two hundred pounds, the camels packed with four hundred,
besides a rider, armed with his rifle, revolver, and ammunition, and his bedding
laid over the pack to sit on.
“The young are great pets in camp, but very mischievous—poking their
noses into every bag, pot and pan about the camp fires.
Their great aim in life at present seems to be to ape the manners and
habits of their sires—kneeling down and growling and complaining precisely as
the old ones do when the train is packed. We
have entirely discontinued the cumbersome oriental apparatus used as a saddle,
and have in its place one of light, useful and simple construction.”
The Boston Courier concludes an interesting and discriminating article on
the introduction of camels into this country, with the following remarks:
The time has come for attempting, on an ample scale, the breeding and
general introduction of camels into this country.
This should be done by the government directly, or under the immediate
direction of those public officers who have been successful in the treatment and
employment of the camel, even beyond the most sanguine anticipations.
So long as railroads across the vast plains and deserts, and mountain
regions which lie between us and the Pacific, are for various reasons
impossible, the camel will be found an efficient substitute for that mode of
transportation; and it is believed that a good portion of the vast
sums now expended for army transportation to the distant posts and more
distant points where our scattered army is called to operate, might be saved by
the employment of this patient, powerful, docile, and incomparably useful
animal.
It seems to be generally admitted that the experiment of acclimating the
camel, and putting it to profitable use in this country, has been, at any rate
promises to be very successful.—“The cost of importation,” says the
Courier, “has been much less than was originally estimated; the animals are
found much more tractable, and are more easily applied to the various kinds of
labor for which they are wanted, than was anticipated; the acclimation of the
camels is effected without hazard to their life or strength; and no serious
obstacle, so far, is found to their introduction and sue for many important
purposes.” It is now proposed to
make an additional importation. Two
importations have already been made, and the whole number at present in the
country is about sixty. They were
all brought from the
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Deciduous Shrubs.
We undertook in our notes for the month, in last week’s issue to give
our readers a list of desirable shrubs. As
it is so printed that we are unable to read it ourselves, we fear our readers
are in the same position, and therefore give this week a more full list.
Lilacs: Persian, Common, and
new French;
Mock Orange or Philadelphus coronarius.
Roses of which we shall give a list of varieties soon.
Azalea calendulacea.
Kerria japonica or
Spirea prunifolia, double white.
“
lancifolia or Reevesii, white, double and single.
Calycanthus or Sweet Shrub.
Double, white and pink
Flowering Ash.
Deutzeas, scabra, crenata and gracilis.
Altheas, several varieties.
Snowball or Virburnum opulis.
Wigelia rosea.
“
amabalis.
Rhus cotinus or Purple Fringe tree.
Snowberry, Tree Paeony, Forsythia Viridissima.
Dwarf Flowering Almond, Daphne mezereum.
Vitex Agnus Castus, Buffalo Berry.
Cydonia, (or Pyrus) japonica or Japan Quince, two varieties, white and
blush.
Privet, Tartarean Honeysuckle, Rose Acacia.
Jasmenum nudiforum.
Amorpha fruticosa or Wild Indigo.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
A Homespun Party.
Under this heading we find the following in the
“The movement toward Southern independence is progressing steadily.
The people of
At a public meeting held in
“That, by way of giving a practical issue to this meeting, and as the
first step towards the attainment of Southern commercial independence, the
citizens of Alexandria here assembled pledge themselves to use and wear no
article of apparel not manufactured in the State of Virginia; and to buy all our
hats, caps, boots, shoes and clothing at home and of home manufacture, and
induce our wives and daughters to do the same; and that the directors of our
several railroad companies be and they are hereby respectfully requested to
pursue the same policy with reference to all articles required by their
respective roads.”
In other cities and towns in Virginia “Homespun Clubs,” the member of
which pledge themselves to dress in no other than Virginia fabrics, are being
organized.
The policy of keeping out of debt for costly imported goods, and of
producing at home, as near as may be, all the comforts of life, is deserving of
all commendation. Irrespective of
any sectional feeling, it is our duty to study and practice good economy by
husbanding all our resources, whether agricultural, manufacturing or mineral,
and thereby keep, as well as create wealth.
To produce a large amount of property and then spend it foolishly for
gew-gaws, and in vicious idleness, betrays a childish disposition, and a
weakness of purpose which are anything but creditable.
We must learn to keep property as well as how to dig it out of southern
soil.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
It was remarked by an intellectual old farmer, “I would rather be taxed
for the education of the boy, than the ignorance of the man; for the one or the
other I am compelled to be.”
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
(For the Southern
Field and
A List of the Best
Apples.
By J. Van Buren.
Wm. N. White, Esq.—Dear Sir: Enclosed I send you the long promised list of Apples. I give none but those well tested. I have many highly recommended which may be equal to these, but as I have not fruited them, have not placed them in the list.
Summer Apples.
Red June—A general favorite, not so acid and more pleasant than Early
Harvest. Size medium, form oblong
conic, color dark crimson when fully ripe, tree very poor grower in the nursery,
but when planted out for two years grows off thriftily.
Ripens 20th June to 20th July.
Nautehalee—An Indian seedling from
Toccoa.—A seedling from Habersham county.
Size medium, form oblong conic, color yellow, ground nearly covered with
bright blended red, flesh yellow, juicy, delicious, rich acid, highly aromatic,
similar to Esopera Spitzenberg. Ripens
1st to 15th August.
Julien—A splendid apple, so juicy that it cannot be used for drying,
rotting before getting dry. Supposed
to have been introduced from
Autumn Apples.
Disharoon—A native of Habersham county. Size medium to large, form
globular, color dull green, specked with grey russett, flesh a little yellowish,
juicy and rich, tree vigorous and productive to a fault, scarce ever fails to
produce a good crop. Ripens 1st
September to 15th October.
Bachelor—(Rush, King, Gross, Armstrong)—A splendid apple, size very
large, form oblate, color yellow ground, striped and marbled with bright red,
flesh yellow, tender, juicy and very rich, tree a fine grower.
Ripens 15th September to last of October.
Tillaquer and Rabun may may [sic] prove to be identical with the
foregoing.
Rome Beauty—A native of Ohio, size large, form globular, conic, color
yellow ground, shaded and striped with bright red, flesh yellow, juicy, tender
and fine, tree a fine vigorous grower. Ripens
1st September to 15th October.
Horse or Hoss—A fine apple for drying, for which it is more generally
used than any other variety at the South. Size
large, color a fine golden yellow, flesh yellow, hard, dry, and acid, tree very
vigorous. Ripens August and
September.
Winter Apples.
Camak’s Sweet, (Grape vinix
[?]. Winter sweet.l)
Size medium, color greenish yellow, with a blush cheek, flesh white,
juicy, hard and fine, a good keeper. Tree
slow grower, has small wiry branches with prominent peculiar buds, bears early
and abundantly. Ripens October to
March.
Equinetely, (Sol Carter, Williamis.)
A native of
Horn—a native of
Shockley, (Romanite, Waddel’s Hall.)
A native of Jackson County, Ga. Size,
medium; form, a little oblong and conic; color, yellow ground, nearly covered
with red; flesh, yellow, juicy, hard and aromatic.
Tree, vigorous grower. Ripens
October to April. A very popular
apple, but will succumb to Horn, when it becomes better known.
Summerous.—(Nickajack, Red
Warrior,
Clarke—A native of
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
To Dye Slate Color.—Boil green chestnut bark one hour; take out the
bark, and add four ounces green vitriol for one pound woolen yarn or cloth; stir
frequently one hour; dry before washing.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
The
. . . Other failures arise from the seeds sown being impure
or defective. You can judge of seeds
somewhat by their appearance; but as they are generally purchased in sealed
packages, the best safeguard is to purchase only those raised by reliable
growers. There are seedsmen from
whose stock a good head of cabbage, or lettuce, or a fine crisp radish, can
scarcely by any chance be raised,--while there are other growers whose seeds are
almost sure to satisfy the reasonable expectations of the purchasers.
Landreth, Buist, Thorburn, and B. K. Bliss are growers, whose seeds, in
good hands, always give satisfaction. In
flower-seeds, Mr. Bliss is really unrivalled.
Many of our seeds might well be raised at home.
Butter Beans, for instance, at seven dollars per bushel, the usual price,
would pay. Cabbage and Lettuce, from
home-grown seeds, if kept pure, head better than Northern seeds, which in turn
prove superior to the English and French.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Select List of Vegetables.
Let us at this season, preparatory to putting in our crops of vegetables,
glance over the long catalogues of the seedsmen, and select therefrom those
varieties which are really best worthy of a place in our Kitchen Garden.
We will omit nearly all the fancy sorts, and take only those which we
know will do well.
Artichokes we don’t fancy, those who do, generally prefer the Green
Globe.
Of Asparagus there is no better sort than the Purple Top variety, so
named from the purplish tint of the shoot.
Of Snap Beans: Early Mohawk,
Yellow Six Weeks, and Extra Early Six Weeks, are the best early sorts, one of
which is enough.
These are followed by the Valentine and the Refugee, of which the latter
continues long in use. These are all
excellent.
The Large White Lima is the best pole bean, but the
The best Beets are Extra Early Turnip and Long Blood.
Many like the Red Turnip and Radish Beet, but it is not worth while to
multiply sorts that are no improvement.
Of Cabbage, there are a host of varieties, but to sow first, Early York
is still the best. There is nothing
better to follow than Large Early York, and for winter cabbage, Flat Dutch and
Late Drumhead, are still the very best of the common cabbages.
None of these are, however, equal to the
Many do not like Carrots, but they are desirable for soups, and no kinds
are equal to Early Horn and Long Orange.
Cauliflower is not so certain a crop as the Purple Cape Brocoli [sic],
and, though handsomer, is no better in flavor.
The Dutch and
Of Celery, there are new varieties almost every year, but still nothing
is really better than the White Solid and Red Solid, the standard old sorts.
Of Corn, we like several sorts. Adams’
Extra Early, Early Sugar, Stowel’s Evergreen afford a succession, but later in
the season it is best to rely on our common varieties as better able to endure
our burning sun.
Curled Leaved Cress and the Winter Cress are very useful salads of early
culture.
Of Cucumbers, the select list is: Small
Early Russian comes first; after this either the Early Frame or White Spine may
succeed, followed by the Long Green, that standard variety for the main crop.
Of Egg Plant for use, nothing is better than the Large Purple.
The White and the New Scarlet are desirable ornamental plants.
To plant in the fall to stand over until spring, select the Hardy Green
Lettuce (or Hammersmith.)
To plant now for early use, take the Brown Dutch or Early Cabbage
(Butter.) The Green and the White
colors come later, and are both equally good.
Royal Cabbage comes later still, and heads finely.
The India Curled is also a good late sort.
In Leeks there is not much choice, but the Scotch is as good as any.
The earliest Melon of good quality, is the Christiana, a fine, yellow
flesh variety. Beechwood is an
excellent sort to follow. Netted
Nutmeg is a good variety, but the best of all the varieties, is the Netted
Citron. The best of the Watermelons
offered by the seedsmen is the Mountain Sweet, but there are no better sort than
the unnamed varieties grown throughout the South.
For preserving and cooking, the Apple-Pie Melon is much superior to the
old Citron Watermelon, and will keep a year.
The Common Brown and the Curled-Leaved Mustard are the best for greens.
The Dwarf Okra, and the Round-fruited variety, are both improvements on
the old fluted sort.
Large Red and Yellow Dutch are the best of the Black Seed Onions.
A much more certain crop is made from the sets of these sorts, or those
of the Top or Button Onion, than from planting the seed.
Curled Parsley and Hollow-Crowned Parsnips, are the only sorts worth
growing.
Of that universal favorite, the English Pea, the earliest sort is the
Daniel O’Rourke. Extra Early comes
nearly as soon, and the crop comes all at once.
On this account, we prefer the Cedo Nulli, which is more prolific, and
yields several pickings. Songster’s Early No. 1 is also a fine early sort.
For second early, Early Frame is as good as any.
This is followed by that capital variety, the Dwarf Blue Imperial, and
the Champion of England, the finest flavored of all Peas.
The Dwarf Sugar Pea is excellent shelled, while the young pods are cooked
like Snap Beans. The most reliable
of the late sorts are the large White Marrowfat, and the Peruvian or Black-Eye
Marrowfat. Experiments made last
year by Mr. Elliot, of
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
[For the Southern
Field and Fireside.]
Southern Hay.
A move in the right direction is now making in the way of rendering
ourselves independent of that part of our
The greatest blow which we can strike for southern independence, will be
given with the tools of the planter and mechanic.
Putting in a few acres of grass, the coming months will do more for our
section, than cart-loads of Congressional speeches.
Timothy.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Recipe for Making Good Coffee.
Take, of first quality,
1 lb. Mocha,
2 lbs.
2 lbs. Bourbon or Java.
Parch each kind, separately, in a revolving cylinder, till the grains are
about the color of chesnuts [sic], or dark Mahogany.
Let the parched coffee cool, spread out on a waiter.
Mix the five lbs. thoroughly together, and then bottle the coffee and
keep it corked; or put it in some other vessel that will perfectly exclude the
air.
Every morning, a few minutes before breakfast, grind two ounces of your
bottled coffee in a fine mill; place it properly over the strainer in your
coffee pot, press it down pretty closely and pour on it one point [sic] of boiling
water. Pass thus the water (made
again to boil) twice through the coffee, keeping covers on as much as
possible, shaking as little as possible, and no stirring.
You have now three cups of limpid, strong, amber-colored coffee.
Pour your coffee into the drinking cup; sweeten to your taste with
loaf-sugar, and no more water, but dilute only with good fresh milk, or cream,
hot as possible short of boiling.
Then, drink coffee that is coffee.
If you would be economical—after breakfast boil rapidly for six or
seven minutes, in a little more than one pint of water, your coffee grounds.
Let it settle for five minutes; pour off the water carefully into a
bottle, and cork it up, to be used next morning instead of pure water, to make
your coffee in the manner above described.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Select List of Vegetables—Continued.
In Peppers, the main difference is in the degree of strength.
For pickling there is none better than the common Bell Pepper, while the
Cayenne Long is the best where greater strength is required.
There is a yellow West Indian species, equally fiery, which, when in
fruit, is very ornamental. Peppers,
as a condiment, are very salutary in hot climates.
The best early Irish Potato is Fox’s Seedling, while the Mercer is
generally preferred for the main crop.
Cashaw is the only Pumpkin worthy of a place in the garden.
The best Radishes are, Long Scarlet, Short Top, and the Red Turnip
Rooted, (the former much the best,) for early sorts; the White and the Yellow
Summer to follow them. The Chinese
Rose Winter is the best winter sort. The
early radishes are much more crisp and digestible.
The Victoria and Linnaeus are the best varieties of Rhubarb.
It is difficult to raise it from seed—the young plants are so apt to
damp off; so it is better to get the roots.
We have succeeded perfectly of late with these.
We are speaking of the genuine Pie plant, and not of the Garden Dock,
which is known all over the country as Rhubarb.
Of well grown Rhubarb two of the leaf stems are enough for a large pie,
which most people think quite equal to the apple, and it comes long before the
strawberry or any other spring fruit.
Of Salsafry [sic], there is but one kind, and the same may be said of the
Sea Kale, a very useful vegetable, by the way, which is readily grown from seed
sown in the fall.
Round Leaved Spinach is perhaps the best of its varieties.
Of Summer Squashes, the Early Bush is the best for small gardens.
The yellow Crookneck is perhaps the best flavored, but takes up more
room. The Hubbard is a new winter
sort, the value of which is not yet settled.
The white bell shaped Cuba Squash when we had it pure, we preferred to
any other for winter use, and there is also a striped one of the same shape that
is good.
The extra early Tomato, a new French sort, is worthy of trial; so also is
the new pink or Fejee Island variety, but the large Red, and the large smooth
Red are really about all that are wanted, as there is no great variety of flavor
in the different species.
For Spring sowing take either the early Flat Dutch, (strap leaved), or
the Red Pepper (strap leaved) sorts. Take
also, the same for the first crop to come in Autumn.
Yellow Dutch is an excellent late kind and keeps finely.
Norfolk Globe are too good Autumn sorts, which also furnish excellent
greens for early Spring use.
The yellow Ruta Baga, and the sweet German or white Ruta Baga, when well
grown, are most desirable late sorts of these two, the last is the best—when
true.
Of Sweet Herbs every garden should contain Sage, sweet Basil, sweet
Marjoram, summer Savory, and Thyme, and these are about all that are required
for culinary use.
This list of vegetables might have been made to embrace twice the number
of sorts, which differ slightly from these in shape, but it contains all that is
really needed. There have been in
fact very few desirable varieties added of late to those in cultivation ten
years since, and it is better to see that you get the old leading sorts fresh
and pure than to be on the look out for novelties, which nine times out of ten
are not as good.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Choice Double Petunias.
Double-flowered Petunias are of very recent introduction, and exceedingly
interesting. They do not bloom so
profusely as the single varieties but their novelty is very exciting.
We do not claim for them the merits that some have done; “As large as
roses, and nearly as fragrant.”—The following are the very best:
Imperialis, white.
Imperialis Purpura, pale purple.
Eclinda, rose pink.
Van Houttil, pale lilac.
Azora, white, with violet shaded.
Dr. Lindley, purple.
Red Cross Banner, dark purple.
The most beautiful single variety is Petunia inimitable, bright purple,
marbled with pure white.—[Buist’s Almanac.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Sugar Culture in
Mr. S. B. Buckley, who is writing a series of interesting letters to the Country
Gentleman [fold in paper] the productiveness of a
Mr. McNeel is said to be one of the best managing sugar planters in
Texas, having from six to seven hundred acres in cane, which is here planted
anew once in three years; but to equalize the work, one-third of the ground is
replanted each year. Some planters
replant their ground only once in four years.
The planting begins from the middle to the last of January, with joints
of cane. It is said that cane has
never matured its seed, either in the
S. B. Buckley.
Brazoria Co.,
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Dogs Vs. Sheep.
A correspondent who resides in
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Color of Houses.—We should recommend the body color of the house to be
of a light cream; the cornices of the house and of the verandah, and verandah
posts and rails, of that tint of brown which is displayed by the newly opened
chesnut [sic]; the styles of the doors and Venitian [sic] shutters two shades
darker of the same color; and the panels of the doors, and the slats of the
shutters, and vertical slats of the verandah, two shades deeper still.
With regard to the fences and out-buildings, they should be of a graver
neutral tint, and should, in all cases, be subordinated to the main dwelling.
Another general rule may here be advanced in conclusion:
In the midst of foliage, keep the tone color of the house, of the
lightest possible of neutral tints; but when the house is more open and exposed,
subdue the tone of color to correspond and make up for the want of bowering
foliage, by deep verandahs.—[Rural Register.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Papering Rooms.—“In a complete Cottage Villa, the hall will be grave
and simple in character, a few plain seats its principal furniture; the library
sober and dignified, or learned and bookish in its air; the dining room
cheerful, with a hospitable sideboard and table; the drawing room lively or
brilliant, adorned with pictures and other objects of art, and evincing more
elegance and gaiety of tone in its colors and management.”—Downing.
We have seen the prettiest effects produced by the following means:
The hall was papered with oak paper, in panels; the wood work, doors,
sash, mouldings, &c., being grained of a slightly darker shade of oak, and
the whole neatly varnished; a geometrically figured oil cloth of three colors:
brown, stone color, and white, covered the floor; whilst the furniture
consisted simply of two walnut chairs of a Gothic pattern, and a table and
hat-rack of a similar style. the
library was papered, also, with panelled oak; furnished with book-cases of
grained walnut, walnut chairs and writing table, and with a carpet of small
Mosaic pattern, in which the brown tint predominated.
The living room was papered with plain paper, of the tint of the falling
leaf—or rather, of that color of green which everybody will recognize as
peculiar to the freshly wilted blade of Indian corn—three inches wide, and
composed of two colors only: a deep
green and a subdued brown. The walls
so papered, were varnished, to preserve the delicacy of the color and for the
purpose of washing them over when they became dusty or fly stained.
This work was done four years ago, and although the paper has been washed
over every spring, it looks as fresh and perfect as when it was first put on.
The parlor was also papered with plain, smooth paper, of a light blossom
color; the border being heavy and of fine contrasting colors:
deep crimson and green. All
the interior wood work was grained to resemble oak, and varnished.
The only exception being the washboards, which were marbled in imitation
of Egyptian black marble.—[Rural Register.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Chewing Gum.
Trifling as the subject may appear, yet it is of importance.
If it is of importance to have sound teeth in middle life and old age,
proper pre[ ]tion
muse be used in childhood. The habit
of chewing gum is like applying small air-pumps to the bases of the teeth.
When the gum is separated from the teeth, it forms a vacuum between
itself and the teeth, and the consequence is a violent strain on the dental
nerves. Bad results may not show
themselves immediately, but the boy or girl who indulges in the habit may
calculate on having rotten teeth when in the prime of life.
Nor is this all. The habit,
like tobacco-chewing, induces an unnatural flow of the humours toward the mouth,
where it must be ejected as saliva. This
is bad enough when it can be ejected; but when from sickness or other causes the
habit must be discontinued, the result may be, and no doubt has been, fatal.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Flowers for Christmas.
In the windows of sitting-rooms may be had, at Christmas, Hyacinths,
narcissus, Jonquils, Tulips, and Lily of the Valley forced, Leucojum vernum,
Scillas, Crocuses, Snowdrops, &c., slightly accelerated after the flower
buds are visible; Scarlet and Unique Geraniums, Violets of all kinds,
Mignonette, Chinese Primroses, Cyclomens, Common Polyanthuses, Primroses, and
Single Wallflowers kept under protection. Shrubs
should be confined to Camellias, Dophnes, Coronellas and
The first thing to be done, if you want a fine display at Christmas or
the New Year, is to get in a good supply of bulbs as early as you can get them.*
*
*
A four-inch pot will do for a nice Hyacinth bulb, and a five-inch for a
strong Narcissus, and a four or five-inch pot for three of the VanThol and other
Early Tulips. *
*
Use rich, sandy loam; give good drainage by crooks at the bottom of the
pot, and leave a little of the bulb above the soil.
Then select a dry, elevated lace, out of doors, and there place your pots
and cover with six inches of ashes, old tan, or anything of the kind, so that
the bulbs will slowly imbibe moisture and the roots be protruded.
Heavy rains should be avoided by covering the bed.
A dampish, dark cellar is a good substitute, or the bottom of a cupboard,
if the floor is kept dampish and a sprinkling of damp moss is kept over the
bulbs. No watering will be needed to
the soil, but the damp ground and the dampish covering will give all the
moisture that the bulbs need.
Managed by either of these modes, in November many of the pots will be
crammed with roots, and the flower-stem will be showing from the bulb.
Select the forwardest of these for forcing.
It is of no use trying forcing before this rooting takes place.
The front of a hot bed rising from 65° to 75°, and with a top heat
commencing with 50° and rising to 65°, is the best place for them.
The grass must be shaded from sunshine, gradually giving light until the
young leaves become quite green. Plunge
the pot a little at first, and then to the rim, but prevent the roots getting
out at the bottom. Under such
circumstances little water will be needed until the flower-stem is rising well,
though, of course, the soil should not be dry, but if the plunging medium is
moist, it is best as yet not to saturate the soil.*
*
*
When the florets are rising well, raise the pot out of the bed and in a
few days remove to the greenhouse or window.
Some of our friends, with nothing but their cupboards and a kitchen fire,
manage to have Hyacinths early in January and distribute some to their friends,
but they attend to them with care and nicety, and make a little sawdust and warm
water the substitute for the hot bed.—[Cottage Gardener.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
[For the Southern
Field and Fireside.]
Extracts from the
Diary of a
Southern
Physician.
For one third of a century I have been pursuing “the even tenor of my
way,” in the laborious, and by no means lucrative, practice of my profession.
And yet as I look over my ledger at debts unpaid, and names of debtors
who have paid the last great debt, memory brings up forms long forgotten and now
mouldering in the grave, with whom, in days of yore, I have taken sweet counsel,
and whose tried and valued friendship I have ever esteemed.
What, then, if some did not pay? I
will take the sweet kernal from the bitter shell, and find pay enough in the
relief I have given, the good I trust I have done, the warm friendships I have
made, and the comfortable daily bread with which the bounteous Giver of all
supplies me. I have always kept a
diary, in order the more carefully to record my medical views, and to leave to
those who follow me something to cheer a saddened hour and relieve a weary rainy
day. It was not written for
publication, but I have though possibly the readers of the paper would relish
some of the experiences of a Country Physician.
I live in a small town in
In the month of September, 18--, I was called to go some twelve miles to
see a sick person, and as the reader can be introduced thus to the heroes and
heroines of this story, I ask them to go with me.
It was in the middle of the night, a heavy rain had fallen, which
rendered the road, never good, very bad, and locomotion slow.
The clouds, however, had broken away, and the moon in all of her glory
had come forth to light me on my weary road.
So gathering up my reins and speaking to my noble mare, who promptly
responded to the call, I moved on, as rapidly as circumstances would allow, to
fulfill my errand.
Just at sunrise I neared the river, the beautiful Shenandoah, and as I
reached a hill overlooking it, I checked my horse, to admire the beautiful
scene, which broke upon my view. At
my feet rolled the beautiful stream, its murmuring waters a fitting requiem to
the brave spirits who had lived and hunted on its banks.
On the other side was the beautiful Blue Ridge, rising up as it were from
the river, and even at a less distance than a mile, retaining the bluey veil,
from which it derives its name, its sides were covered with foliage, and the
frost which had but just touched the leaves, gave every ting and colour of the
rainbow.
For miles the river might be seen wandering among the hills, seemingly
tearing them from their mother mountain, and giving the most beautiful landscape
which it has ever been my fortune to see.
Around me on every side was the luxuriant growth of these fertile hills,
the grass and waving corn refreshed by the rain, while from the branches of the
trees the drops of water hung like dewdrops, courting the first kiss from the
rising sun.
And there he comes,--rejoicing like a strong man to run a race little by
little, degree by degree, he rises from behind the mountain and, by his bright
rays sent everywhere, proclaims the day begun.
All this I saw in a moment, but never tiring, I still paused to view and
admire, praising the greatness and majesty of Him who made all things; but
awaking from my dream, I rode on to the house, which was but a short distance
off, and throwing the rein to one of the gang of children who gathered around
“the Doctor,” I paid my
professional visit and went to the family mansion to receive a hearty Virginia
welcome to breakfast.
The family consisted of only three persons, the host, a fine
old-fashioned Virginia gentleman, whose hearty laugh, as he “welcomed the
coming and sped the parting guest,” made you feel at once at home and as if
you had known him for years. Fifty
winters had passed over his head, but, except occasionally a grey hair, or a
slight wrinkle, time had dwelt lightly with him, as always with those who take
her as they find her.
His wife was quite a different character:
she was a good woman—in her way; had received her share of life’
blessings, and with a devoted husband and a loving daughter to smooth the
evening of her days, she ought to have been happy.
But she was not; she belonged to the class of pickles, not preserves, and
gave the impression as you looked upon her, that she had become thoroughly
saturated with vinegar, or to change the figure, she
“Like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way,
Tormenting himself with his prickles.”
and thus delighting in her own unhappiness, she was never
satisfied that any one should enjoy himself.
But this dark side of the family picture was illuminated by a bright
sunbeam in the person of a lovely daughter of just nineteen summers.
If nature had been lavish in vinegar with the mother, surely she had put
up this parcel with a profusion of every sweet.
She was not pretty, and yet no one could look upon her fine form, lighted
up as by her grey eyes, which in turn were shaded by beautiful lashes.
Without wishing to look again; and no one could be with her an hour,
without seeing that the ruling passion of her life, was disinterested devotion
to others—a beauty of character which few have, and all admire.
Such was Virginia L----.
A physician and minister are always welcome everywhere in their
particular beat; and the fifth seat at breakfast was prepared for me, while the
fourth was occupied by a young gentleman of the neighborhood, who I believed
then was the lover of Virginia.
The meal passed in discussion of the topics usual, politics, the crops,
gardens and poultry yards, and being finished, Mr. L. and myself discussed an
old
When we returned to the house we found our hostess waiting for us with a
particularly vinegary smile, and then I was informed, as a friend of the family,
of the engagement which I suspected already.
“I do not know what she wants to get married for; she is a great deal
better single,” says Mrs. L.
“Only, my dear,” answered her husband, “because it is a part of the
nature of your sex never to be satisfied.”
I wondered at the temerity, and a glance at the cruet, showed that
if vinegar possessed the power, his days were numbered; but as she could not
annihilate by a look, a man who pertinaciously drummed upon the table, and sent
curl after curl of smoke aloft, she did what was next best, went off into
hysterics, seeing the preparations for which I hastily took my leave.
I found
A few days after I returned and found my patient worse, even ill.
The anxious friends hung upon my every word and look; deep grief was
pictured upon every face, and only the intolerable mother could find time for
selfish complaints, “in case nobody pitied her,” as if hers was the only
heart to be lacerated.
At last the crisis came and was safely passed, and she was better, out of
danger, relying only upon her strong constitution to bear her through.
But now comes the point of my story, which I confess, has been reached
through dull detail and uninteresting narrative.
One evening during her convalescence, tired and worn out by a long
day’s ride, I turned my horse at eventide towards her father’s, having
promised to stay there all night. I
struck into my accustomed road, several miles below the town where I resided,
and as I rode through a long narrow valley, I gave my horse the rein and fell
asleep; suddenly I awoke and saw before me the figure of Virginia L. riding upon
a horse. I rubbed my eyes and shook
my head, but it was no delusion; there she was, dressed in white, and with every
appearance of nature. I do not know
that I am less timid than other men, but I struck my horse with the spur and
urged him towards, what I could not decide, whether reality or an illusion; but
as I approached, it vanished. Surprised
beyond measure, I drew my watch and noted the time; it lacked ten minutes of
nine o’clock.
I rode on rapidly and as I approached the house, the inconsolable wail
which broke upon my ears, convinced me that all was over.
I had missed the messenger who had been dispatched for me, and arrived
now too late to do more than offer my sympathies.
I asked what time she had died? “Five
minutes to nine o’clock,” was the reply.
I compared my watch with the house time, and it was five minutes slower
than Mrs. L’s watch. Just, then, at
the moment when I had seen the appearance four miles off, her spirited had
passed to heaven.
Now, account for this as you please, reader, it is true, and you may call
it spiritualism, magnetism, sleep, or what you will, I have never been able to
say what it was; and I confess, while not very superstitious, I have never been
able to tell the tale to any, without a cold shudder running through my system.
Why should I tell of the grief of that household?
Of the brave old heart, whose idol had been removed; or of the manly
spirit, who had looked forward to support her upon his strong bosom, when the
church should give him the right; or of the unhappy mother, who in all her grief
lost the sympathy of her friends, by her eternal complaints of the peculiar
hardness of her lot?
We laid her in the corner of the church yard, a simple head-board,
stating her name and recounting her worth, to mark the spot; and flowers grow
upon her grave, placed by orphan hands, and watered by the grateful tears of
those to whom in life she was a friend.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Prepare for the Soldier.
“In time of peace, prepare for war” is an adage the wisdom of which
history has established. How much
more, then, should we, with war upon us—a war in which we are to be the
victors or submit to extermination—how much more, we say, should we prepare
for the contingency of a protracted struggle.
We are among the few who, however unwise they may seem, believe us when
we think good grounds, that the war can not continue to the close of this
year—unless we fail in every calculation we have made respecting the results
of the first great battle that is fought. But
we should, nevertheless, make our preparations as though there were no prospect
of a speedy termination of the conflict. We
should get ready for a long war—and to do this involves a great deal of work,
that becomes more difficult as time progresses.
Those who fight our battles should receive our most diligent care.
They are exposed to peculiar hardships, and their wants will make an
incessant demand for our labour and money. They
must have a ready supply of food and clothing—as winter approaches they must
receive garments and covering capable of protecting them in bad weather—hats,
shoes, socks, underclothing, tents, blankets, must be constantly supplied, as
the constantly recurring demand for these articles, mostly perishable, may
arise. Medicines and hospital stores
must be provided for the sick. A
constant supply of all these must be kept up—and yet, it may be, that the
supply of material for furnishing them—thread, cloth, leather, etc., may be
all the while growing more and more scant. We
are now thrown entirely upon our own resources, and we must use every available
means of meeting the demands of what may be a protracted contest.
It is a source of price and of pleasure to see the zeal and alacrity
which Southern women have exhibited in meeting the claims upon their patriotic
efforts in behalf of the soldier. They
deserve all praise, and the remembrance of their approval and labour will nerve
their defenders in the hour of battle. But
as long as the soldier is in the field, as long is their task incomplete; for
the work they have done is but a specimen of what they must yet do, till the war
is ended—do, perhaps, under circumstances of peculiar disadvantage.
We will not suggest that zeal may abate or pecuniary aid diminish—but
the condition of trade and the inconvenience arising from the blockade must be
felt in a thousand ways, even by our lady patriots.
They will find work to do to which they have long been unaccustomed.
The spinning wheel and the loom must again become household articles.
The crochet needles must be displaced by the old fashioned knitting
needles. The kitchen, where the
stores for the sick are to be prepared, must be a place of favourite resort, and
become the theatre of many a culinary triumph over unprecedented embarrassments.
We would modestly suggest, that in every community the ladies would act
by concert in giving their valuable aid to the volunteers.
The first object should be so to divide their labours and proportion
their supplies as to quality and quantity, that their labours may be most
serviceable in procuring a sufficiency and a proper variety of stores for their
friends. Let the supply be of
serviceable articles—nicknacks will be dispensed with—delicacies should go
only to the sick. By such concert of
action, having ascertained from the Captains of their companies who have left
their respective counties, what the soldiers from any one county may need that
they can forward within, say, six months, the supply may be had by dividing out
the work and enlisting ladies all over the county in that service.
So the task will not fall on the few collected in the villages, towns and
cities, find if there be ladies who are not fortunate enough to have their
county men in the field, they can, nevertheless, go to work and knit socks and
make underclothes and provide sheets and towels and bed-ticks and pillow cases
for the hospitals, and send them to the nearest town or county association.
In short, this is a time in which we all can find work to do.
Our institutions, our liberty, all that we hold dear are threatened; and
we have no option but to surrender them, or defend them till the enemy is driven
back, or we have perished in the effort. None
but unworthy cravens can think for a moment of a surrender.
Let us conquer or die. But we
cannot conquer without toil and sacrifice, such perhaps as we never yet dreamed
of, and to conquer, all must do what they can.
Women and even children are not “exempts” in this war, and to them we
appeal to make ample provision to meet the wants of the soldier, even through
the rigours of a winter campaign. Thus
the war, dreadful as it is in many aspects, will have produced a good effect, in
arousing all the people from apathy, in inducing habits of industry and economy,
in awaking the dormant love of country and all the noble feelings that attend a
strife for imperiled liberties—and at its close, we trust, we shall find
ourselves advancing to a glorious and useful future upon a higher lane of virtue
and enterprise than that upon which we have heretofore been making
progress.—S. C. Advocate.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
The Winter—Our Soldiers.
The question of supplying our soldiers with winter clothing is beginning
to attract considerable and commendable attention.
The South must depend mainly on herself for clothing materials during
this war. While her magnificent
crops will supply a large surplus of breadstuffs and food above the demand for
home consumption, it is possible that the blockade of our ports may continue up
to the season when our volunteers in the field will require heavy woollen goods
to protect them against the inclemency of winter.
We endorse the expression of a
Every private loom and every fair hand that can direct should now ply
with unceasing care until we are satisfied that there is not a soldier unclad
among our gallant men. It is an act
of patriotism which may be done, in main part, by our fair countrywomen, that we
are sure they will not neglect when their attention is properly directed to it.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Summary: Description
of the Georgia Lunatic Asylum.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Women of the C. S. A.
We would direct attention to the appeal of ‘An Alabama Matron,’
addressed to mothers, wives, daughters and sisters of the Confederate States.
It is no trifling suggestion that females may act in an important part in
the passing contest. There is an
indirect way in which they may participate in it, in perfect consistency with
their position in life, and the retiring unobtrusiveness that most becomes them.
It has been well remarked that the present is peculiarly the time for the
offices of ‘man’s ministering angel.’
There are many ways in which this may be carried, out, and doing as much
for the cause in the relief of the suffering troops as men to in inflicting
punishment to our enemies.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
Our
Some of the many readers of The Southern Field and Fireside may
derive pleasure from reading a letter from this portion of our beloved
Confederacy. It is true, that we are
at one extremity, thousands of miles from the great heart of our new-born
nation, yet every pulsation is as strong, every artery as full, as though we
were children of the Old Dominion. But
I will defer giving expression to our feelings on the war topic until the
country between there and
About half way up, on the west side, is a stage stand.
Here three or four men find dismal employment in taking care of the mules
belonging to the mail line. They
never carry them to water, nor to green, for the Comanches, ever on the alert,
would be certain to stampede them. We
camped at the
The face of the country now began to change.
For miles and miles it seemed one vast bed of rock, covered over with
dark, volcanic-looking pieces, between which a few thorn bushes, a foot high,
found a little nourishment. At
The Deon [?] Holes are the next objects of curiosity; over six hundred
feet of rope, with a heavy weight, failed to reach the bottom.
The holes are about thirty yards in diameter, the water is brackish, and
of a dark bluish-green colour. It is
said the water rises and falls once in twenty-four hours.
Like the
We now began to suffer for water; only three little holes in a hundred
miles; our horses jaded, and several large trains of emigrants, with thousands
of cattle just far enough ahead to drink and muddy all the water.
But a kind
After thirty-three days of constant travel, weary in mind and body, we
reached this place. the green trees,
ripening fruit, voices of women, all seemed conspiring to make us believe we
were in
Forty-five miles north of here, the enemy, five or six hundred strong,
and receiving reinforcements all the time, are fitting up
Respectfully your friend,
Sigma.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE [
[For the Southern
Field and
A Response from
Middle
Three of us, Carrie, Jennie, and I, sat together one lovely morning, a
few weeks since, busily engaged stitching on soldiers’ clothes.
“Have you seen the last FIELD AND FIRESIDE?” enquired Jennie.
“Yes,” said I, “and it is suggested that we have a Southern
Magazine.”
“Yes,” said Carrie, tugging at her needle, “we need one, we wish
one, and will and shall have one.”
“Three cheers,” said Jeanie, enthusiastically clapping her little
hands, “for the Southern Magazine, and the dear ladies that have originated
the idea!”
“Send a voice from Georgia, Lizzie,” said Carrie, and forthwith I
fell into a muse.
The work is before us, and we can and will do it.
Not as a voice from this grand old
The, onward to the work! I
bid you Godspeed. We are weary of
stale, silly old Godey, who has repeated and re-repeated the silly nothings of
his worn-out contributors from month to month and year to year, since I can
remember, and, even now, has its leading story a libel on the South.
There is originality enough about us, in the peculiarity of Southern
scenery, the glorious beauty of our landscapes, the refinement of our social
life, and the simplicity of our republican customs.
The fields of botany are ripe for the devote of Flora, to begin
her operations; rich are our grand old forests in floral treasures, unparalleled
in loveliness. Waterfalls, lakes,
Indian remains, river, fields, mountains, children, negroes, churches, social
customs—all our surroundings, in fact, are inspiring theories [?] for the pen
of genius.
Then we have soil consecrated by the blood of our ancestors, who
struggled against
We have children to bring up. We
need a pure literature which draws
its greatest inspiration from the truths of vital religion.
Let us set about it with an earnest purpose.
Let God inspire the thoughts of this fair [
] through the influence of the beautiful world [
]ing above us, which He has made, and take the weak things to build up a
monument for national good and glory, even as He builds the isles of the sea by
the wee coral insects.
Mine is a feeble pen, but, with all the earnestness of my heart, I say I
will aid, in every way I can, a Southern Magazine.
Let us, then, be up and doing, that our Magazine, baptised as it were in
the blood of our noble braves who have fallen in our country’s cause, and
consecrated by the tears of our Southern women, may come forth pure and
beautiful, a gift worthy the sons of the South from her determined,
self-sacrificing daughters.
‘Labour, all labour is noble and holy,’ much more so this labour born
of our love of country and of our children’s itnerest.
Above the roll of the morning reveille, the roar of artillery, and the
clash of arms, let the still small voice of woman be heard through the pen
speaking in persuasive accents to the youth of our country, of all that is noble
in life, all exalted, high moral worth, that should be the aim of our future
statesmen and mothers.
Surely, dear ladies, ours is a momentous work.
Let us not fold our hands and sit idly or despairingly down, when there
is so much to be done, and we plainly see woman’s hands will have the work to
do. Let our Magazine go forth to
gladden the heart of the soldier, and amuse the intolerable ennui of his
hours of inaction, by the genial, noble teaching of those he is willing to lay
down his life to save from the cruelties of a ruthless foe.
This is no time to dream dreams. Our
literature will bear the impress of the correctness of this age.
Labour and action are the watchwords of the times in which we live.
Female colleges abound in our sunny land.
Bands of bright girls are educated annually.
Why do we not see more brilliant essays and sweet heart strains of poetry
from these young collegians? Can
they sit down with their talent folded away in a napkin?
Fear they not the displeasures of the Lord, when He shall come and find
they have not improved what He has so beneficently given them?
Faithless are they in their Creator if they do not use, in the service of
all that is noble and good, the education they have been so fortunate as to
receive.
Labour while it is day, the night cometh when none can work—what thy
hands find to do, do quickly. Now is
the time to achieve our mental emancipation from our ‘cultivated’
enemies. Our very Sabbath School
literature is the offspring of wretched, unprincipled people who pander when
they write to the free thinking, infidel school of philosophers, of which
Emmerson [sic] is chief apostle, and who write for our children books
filled with vile caricatures of our own Southern land and its institutions, and
ridicule (even in Sunday School books) the manners and social customs of our
outraged people (If any doubt, I will quote.)
Away with such a literature; better the maxim of Mr. Jefferson, that
‘he who is simply ignorant, is wiser than the one that believes error,’ than
to be taught by those who profess to believe their own dogmas to be ‘higher
law’ that God’s written word.
Respectfully,
Mrs. E. S. W.
SOUTHERN FIELD AND FOREST [
[For the Southern
Field and Fireside.]
The Meddleton
Soldier’s Aid
Association.
It is but an act of simple justice to the patriotic citizens of
Meddleton, the “Southern Confederacy,” and the world in general, to give at
least a brief account of the “Meddleton Soldier’s Aid Society, or
Association.” “Posters” had
invited “the Ladies of Meddleton and vicinity” to meet at the Town
Hall at 10 ½ o’clock, A. M., on Monday, June 3rd.
The gentlemen of the place, being opposed to secret Societies, or
from some patriotic motives, (not by any means from curiosity,
as to our object in assembling—oh no!) slipped quietly in and occupied the
back seats in the building. We
couldn’t be impolite, and request them to leave the room, so we did the next
best thing, and made them useful. After
a whispered consultation among some of the ladies and gentlemen, Esq. Roberts
was requested to state the ‘object of the meeting,” viz.:
“to form a society for the making of garments, for every volunteer from
the village and county.” To
shorten the story, at the next meeting, the “Committee” reported a
“Constitution and Bye-Laws,” and an election for officers was held, with the
following results: Mrs. Langston,
President—Mrs. Thompson and Miss Araminta Higgins, Vice Presidents—Mrs.
Stephen Anderson, Treasurer—Miss Jennie Fielding, Secretary.
The Pres. then appointed various “Committees,”—and thus our
‘Association” was organized.
The “Meddleton Guards” had been in
Not all the spirits were harmonious in the Society, and Miss Araminta was
leader of the “malcontents,” seconded by Miss Jemima Grubb, a strapping
country girl, with red hair, freckled skin, and a face that Clem Howard (the
sauciest little witch in the State) called “horsey.”
Clem and I had privately dubbed them “The Hawks,”—as every piece of
sewing when completed was subjected to their keen eyes, and the stitches pulled
by Miss Araminta’s long, bony fingers, until it was a wonder they did not
break. The Misses Hobbs, or as they
called themselves, the Miss Hobbses, were not unimportant members.
The silent, Miss Martha Ann, more familiarly known as “Puss,” was a
quiet, plain person, but Miss Kitty was noisy, and full of curiosity.
Miss Kitty was tall and angular, with hair, eyes and complexion of an
indeterminate neutral tint, and eyelids suggestive of opthalmia.
She affected Mona Livingston’s style of dress, that is she wore bright
colors, &c. Mona was a tall,
graceful brunette, with large, luminous eyes, that could flash like summer
lightning; though kind and obliging, her manner had a slight degree of hauteur,
not unbecoming her stately beauty.
She loved to wear bright, lively colors, that while they suited her
admirably, would subject ordinary looking women to the charge of being
“flashy.” The
On one occasion, when Miss Kitty has remained at home “to wash and
starch,” she made her appearance dressed in a manner that amused us no little.
She wore a very bright, much soiled pink berage, beflounced to the waist,
with a gay yellow sash. On her neck,
a string, or half a dozen strings of imitation red coral beads, clasped in front
by a miniature steamboat! Pendant
from her large ears were dangling ornaments resembling small brass door-nobs
[sic]; while her hair was arranged “a la Eugenie,” with the ends of the
black [back?] hair protruding, and a “net” on the back of her head, that was
originally blue, but not being of “anti-Macassar” materials had long lost
its beauty. Mr. Owens looked up, and
growled,
“Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy;
But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.”
“Mr. Owens has got the wrong quotation,” suggested Clem, to Mona and
I, “it runs this way—“neat, but
not gaudy.” as the monkey said when
he painted himself blue.” Mona
gave a hasty rap with her little foot, and set the sewing machine in rapid
motion as Miss Kitty came up, taking a seat by us.
She espied Mona’s work basket; forthwith taking possession she
proceeded to inspect the contents. She
took out the dainty gold thimble, and after trying to fit it on each finger
successively, succeeded in pointing it on the tip of the fourth.
The next thing was the inquiry, “what is this ‘ere thimble made of,
Miss Mony, gold, or bruss washed over?”
“Gold,” was the brief response.
“What did you pay for it?” was the next question.
“It was a gift,” curtly replied Mona.
Now, my friend Mona is fastidiously refined—Clem says “touchy”’
and knowing this, I tried to divert Miss Kitty’s attention—but in vain.
She took up a small mother-of-pearl portmonaie.
“Well, this is the shiniest horn ever I seen,” followed by the query,
“what did it cost?” Her only
answer was a faster movement of the machine.
Not all abashed, Miss Kitty opened the “portmonaie,” and counted the
money in it. Having satisfied
herself as to the state of Mona’s funds, she next took up a silver
fruit-knife, and deliberately pared and eat a tempting peach, that Clem had
brought to Mona. when Miss Kitty had
finished eating, she coolly picked her teeth with the knife, never heeding the
flush that crimsoned Mona’s cheek, or the dimples playing “hide-and-seek
round” Clem’s quivering lips. Miss
Kitty cleaned her nails, then replaced the knife in the basket.
Mona’s jaunty hat, with its floating, snowy plumes was hanging near,
and it was the work of a moment for Miss Kitty to put it on; she turned to the
sewing circle with the most satisfied smile imaginable, saying:
“Girls, how do it look, isn’t it becoming?”
Clem gave a shout, as Mona jumped up from the sewing machine, and
exclaimed:
“Take off my hat, instantly; how dare you meddle with my things?”
Before the astonished spinster could reply, Mona had left the room.
“Well, well; some folks is powerful touchy to be sure; its a bad thing
to have such a awful temper. I
can’t tell what in the world I ever done to make her mad!”
Mr. Owens, as I have already said, was not a “Son of Temperance” and
Miss Araminta declared that when he left the room to “sharpen scissors,”
&c., he always stopped at the “Exchange.”
It was not long before she announced to the “Association” the
discovery she had made. Among the
members was Mrs. Callahan, a kind, motherly old woman, who always tried to find
some excuse for the erring. She made
us laugh many times with her queer speeches, and the respect she paid to
“Callahan’s” sayings. She was
unwilling to condemn Mr. Owens, without the assurance that he did “imbibe”
too freely so she accosted him with this question:
“Mr. Owens, do you go to the “Exchange” after liquor?”
“Since brevity’s the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and flourishes—
I will be brief”
and answer: “Madam,
you guess aright the object of my visits.”
“Poor thing,” said Mrs. Callahan, “It must be tejusness to stand at
that table day after day a-cutting all the time.
I don’t wonder you get tired if it, so bless your heart, I wouldn’t
put no flourishes on them soldier coats. I’d
cut ‘em plain. Then the wimmen
folks wouldn’t have so much trouble a-fitting ‘em.
Talking about fittin’ makes me think of sure enough fits;
there’s Mrs. Martin’s (you know Sallie Smith that was, what married John
martin), well, her sons’ got awful fits—it’s skeery, I tell you.
Some folks says sperits of turpentine is might good for fits, and then
agin, some says just drop a little mite o’ table salt on a fitsified child’s
tongue, and it’ll cure it certing. Callahan, he says—
“What cracker is this same, that deafs our ears,
With this abundance of superfluous breath?”
exclaimed Mr. Owens, who had been mute with surprise at
Mrs. C’s garrulity. “Talking she
knew not why—and cared, not what!”
His poetic musing was not intended for Mrs. Callahan’s ear, though Mrs.
Owens did not seem at all confused when she replied
“I don’t wonder them fire-crackers deafs your years, for last
Christmas, Callahan, he bought some of ‘em and carried ‘em down to Miss
martin’s children, and I never heard the like o’ fuss them crackers
did make. I’m sorry they’ve got
such a rebundance of ‘em over to the “Exchange,” we’ll all get so deaf
we can’t half sew these ere clothes. I’ll
tell Callahan, and get him to come”—
“Their copious stories, oftentimes begun,
End without audience, and are never done,”
interrupted Mr. Owens, as he hung up his coat and kicked
his shoes under the table.
“Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety.”
Mrs. Callahan came back to her work, but the whirr of the machines
drowned her reply. One day she came
in looking so grave that I asked if she was sick.
“No,
The ‘
“Young men are vain enough now, girls, without your chasing from
window to window to look at them. I’ve
seen the time when young ladies waited for the young men to run after them!’
or, ‘brass buttons always turn the heads of silly women.’
2nd Lieut. Johnson was not indifferent to the interest
manifested in the company, and once having command in the absence of the senior
officers, he tried to make an extra display.
His voice was not good, and he had a cold that did not tend to soften it.
His tone was deep, almost sepulchral, and harsh, as he ordered ‘file
right, march!’ Clem said, ‘The
Lieutenant’s voice seems to come from three feet below his boots.’
Mrs. Callahan had come up unobserved, and she chimed in, ‘Yes, honey,
it does, but it sounds to me like “he’s a-tearin’ rags!’
Such a laugh it raised! Even
Miss Araminta could not conceal a smile.
But among the loungers, was a character without a notice of whom, this
faithful, and veritable chronicle would be incomplete.
Not a member of the Association, but unfailing in his attendance at the
meetings, was Wesley Wilson. He was
so good-natured, always ready and anxious to sharpen pencils, put on needles and
oil the machines, &c., that we all liked him.
He was tall and angular—of a most ungainly figure; being
high-shouldered, narrow-chested, hair, eyes and complexion sandy, and feet and
hands enormous. Clem said his tailor
made his ‘unmentionables’ ‘knock-kneed!’—the
same sauce-box adding, ‘I declare
On a warm, sultry afternoon in August, Mona, Clem, Jennie and I betook
ourselves to a window to eat peaches, and “get cool.”
“Now girls,” said Clem, “I will melt, unless I can find
something to amuse me, and I intend to call Wesley here.”
A gracious “Mr. Wilson, won’t you have some peaches?” brought
Wesley immediately. We knew that he
had lived in the “wire-grass” region, and was fond of relating what we
called his “gaitor” stories. Clem
knew this, as she has frequently heard of his exploits among them.
She adroitly introduced the subject, and innocently asked, “Mr. Wilson
did you ever see an alligator?
“Many a one, Miss Clem; when we lived down in the wire-grass country,
Pa owned a saw-mill, and the pond was full of alligators.
I’ve seen ‘em crawling out to sun themselves often, it was such a
‘ponny’ place the ‘gators’ would hide in the high grass, and you’d get
right up to one, and never now it ‘till you’d hear something go ‘snap,’ and then you’d better walk chalk I tell you.
One day I was walking down to the mill, and had ‘Tigs’ (that’s my
dog, and his name’s ‘Tiger,’ but I call him ‘Tigs’ for short,) with
me, when all at once I seen a big ‘gaitor’ come a-tearin’ up the road—I
knowed the thing was after ‘Tigs,’ so I wasn’t no-ways discombobulated
about it.” “And you were not
frightened?” “Oh, no, I wasn’t
skeered at all. Here it comes up the
road, this way and that a-way, just a-wiggling and a-twistin’ along—you know
how alligators walk?” “No,”
said Clem, “do show us how it looked!” But
Wesley objected at first to this, when Jessie urged him, “do, Mr. Wilson, show
us,” said Mona and I yielding to the spirit of mischief that possessed the
others, added our entreaties. After
another “Dear Mrl Wilson, please
show us,” from Clem, he could no longer refuse.
Down he sprawled on the floor, imitating to the best of his ability, the
locomotion of the alligator. Mona
bit her lips until they glowed like ripe strawberries, while Clem and Jennie
urged him on. Hearing the very
expressive “snorts” given by
Wesley in his new character, Mrs. Langston turned to see the cause of the
singular sounds. Seeing Wesley
floundering about on the floor she became alarmed, and gave a little scream as
she jumped up, upsetting table and work basket.
Miss Araminta, Miss Jennie and the two Miss Hobbses took refuge on
the tailor’s counter, while the other ladies rushed screaming to the door.
Mrs. Callahan, in the kindness of her heart came to the rescue, crying
out “he’s got a fit, or maybe he’s been bit by a mad-dog, and has caught
the hydrostatics or the hydropathy or somethin’.
She seized a bucket of water and dashed it over Wesley, as alarmed by the
noise, he hurriedly regained his feet. It
was over in a moment, but Wesley was gone before the merry peals of laughter had
died away, as Clem explained the state of affairs.
For a week Mr. Wilson was invisible.
At the end of that time he re-appeared, his face bright with smiles; a
grinning negro followed him, bearing on his shoulder a large box; Wesley bowed
and said to Clem, “I’ve brought you a present, Miss Clem.”
She had frequently been the recipient of fruit and melons from Wesley;
she therefore thanked him, accepting the gift.
Unsuspectingly she raised the lid of the box, when an alligator two or
three feet long jumped out. Wesley
had his revenge, as the ladies made for the doors at a very quick “double
quick.” He quietly re-placed the
alligator in the box, ordering the negro to ‘carry it to Mr. Howard’s and
leave it.’ He then walked up to
Clem saying, ‘Miss Clem the next time you want to see a gator walk you can
have it better done that it was the last time.
I went down to the old mill to catch that expressly for you.’
Clem had little to say the rest of that day, but she made peace with
Wesley as he walked home with her that evening.
I have said little of the soldiers, not from a want of interest in them,
for our hands and hearts were ever busy for them, but I intended only to give an
introduction to some of the prominent members of our ‘Association.’
Our thoughts were often with our brave friends, and if we made merry
sometimes it was only because we had such merry spirits as Clem Howard in our
midst. We sent off boxes of clothing
frequently to the soldiers, and frequently members would put in private parcels
for friends in
The volunteers were generally polite, as well as brave men. This
was the rule, and most rules have exceptions.
Clem was a favorite with the soldiers, and if a favor was to be asked of
the President of the Association she was usually selected as medium.
One day a soldier (something of a dandy in a country way) asked to speak
alone with her for a minute. She
walked to the window with him to give him the opportunity he desired.
I saw by the expression of her face that she was amused at what he had
told her. She walked back to Miss
Araminta (acting President) and said, ‘Miss Araminta, Mr. Jones requests the
Association to supply him with half a dozen white shirts.
He prefers them with puffed or frilled fronts.
He wants an order from you for coarse and fine tooth combs, hair and
tooth brushes, and desires to know how many white handkerchiefs you allow each
soldier.’ Miss Araminta was at
first too indignant to speak, but she gave Mr. Jones a sharp answer that sent
him away muttering ‘mighty no account Society this, if it can’t furnish a
feller with nothing but uniforms, socks, shoes, bed clothes and tents.’
Such cases were very rare, for the soldiers were generally too
grateful for our work. One volunteer
whom we had always thought very bashful, had evidently quite a penchant for
Jennie. He brought fruit and melons,
depositing them without a word, on her table.
A short time before his company left he said to Jennie, ‘I’m going to
the wars, and I intend to fight for somebody I know.’
Jennie thinking he wanted an opportunity of telling her about his
sweethearts said, ‘I expect she will feel very proud of you—won’t you tell
me her name?’ He gave her a look
that Clem reported as perfectly killing and altogether excruciating.
‘I won’t tell you her name, but I’ll say this much, it’s
the girl what totes the book’ alluding to the book Jennie kept as
Secretary.
I wanted to tell you of our grand Tableaux Vivants, and the splendid
supper for the benefit of the Dixie Fire-Eaters and the Meddleton Guards, but I
am afraid, if I have had a reader he or she feels drowsy or weary of my chatter.
I will only add, if any would like to hear more of the Meddleton
Soldier’s Aid Association, I will furnish them with other notes of scenes,
“Which, when I saw rehears’d, I must confess
Made my eyes water; but more merry tears
The passion of loud laughter never filled.”
To be continued. Microfilm
from