Volume XXXIII
SUFFOLK, VA„ FRIDAY OCTOBER 15, 1880.
.1STumber 4-1
WHEN?
If l were «»ld that I mu»t die to-morrow,
That the next sun
Which sinks should hear uie past ull fear and sor
row
For any ona.
All the fifth! fought, and all the short journey
through,
What would 1 do?
1 do not think that I would sbriuk or falter,
But just go on
Doing my work, uor change, nor seek to alter
Aught that is gone ;
But rise and move, and smile, and pray
For one more day.
And lying down at night for a'last sleeping,
Say in that ear
Which hearkens ever, “Lord, within thy keeping
How should 1 fear?
And when to-morrow brings 1 bee nearer still,
Do Thou Thy will."
I might not sleep for awe, but peaceful, tender,
My soul would lie
All night long; and when the morning splendor
Flashed o’er the sky,
I think that 1 could smile, could calmly say,
“Welcome riia day."
But if a wondrous hand from the blue yonder
Held out a scroll,
Upon which my lile was writ, and I with won
der
Beheld unroll
To a long century’s en«l its mystic clue,
What should 1 do?
Mwhat
Bti
JJVhat could I do, 0, blessed Guide and Master,
_ Other than this—
ItUlto go on as now, not slower, faster,
Nor fear to miss
The road, althougu so very long it be,
While led by Thee?
Step by step, feeling Thee close behind me,
Although unseen ;
Through thorns, through flowers, whether the
tempest hide Thee,
Or heaven’s serene,
Assured Thy faithfulness canuot betray—
Thy love decay.
I may not know, my God; no hand revealeth
Thy counsels wise,
Along the path no deepening shadow stealeth,
No voice replies
To all my questioning thought, the time to tell,
And it is well.
Let me keep on, abiding and unfearing
* That will always,
Through a long century’s ripening fruition,
Or a short day’s.
Thou can’st not come too soon, and-1 can wait
If thou come late.
election^.
THE FULNESS OF CHRIST. „
In a memorable passage, “the dis
ciple whom Jesus loved” intimates
that be and the three disciples were
assured their Master was the Only
begotten of the Father by his fulness.
That marvellous plemtude of being
human iudeed, but divine too, of
which they “all received,and grace for
grace,” was the crowning proof of his
proper quality. Aud wheu his earth
ly life was over, when they no longer
knew him after the old familiar fash
ion, this luluess was still more maui
fest. The veil of flesh was rent, and
Pentecost cleared their minds of tbe
last- remains of doubt and misappre
hensiou. They could declare, “Tbe
Life was manifested, aud we have
seen it, and bear wituess, and show
unto you that Eterual Life which was
with the Father and was manifested
unto us.”
Another of the apostles, one who
had not shared with the rest the priv
ileges of intimacy with the Lord dur
iug his earthly life, testifies that “in
Him dwellotb all the fulness of the
Godhead bodily.” Paul, not less than
John or Peter, received out of Christ’s
fulness, “aud grace for grace”—grave
upon grace; grace instead of grace;
grace according to his varyiug needs
aud answerable to ins prayers. Hence
he could assure others,as tor instance,
he assured the Phiiippiau church,
“My God shall supply all your need
according to his tiches in glory by
Christ Jesns.” Hence, too, he was
persuaded that iu Christ “are hid all
tbe treasures of wisdom and know!
edge,” unsearchable riches available
through faith for tbe replenishing of
all the souls of men with life aud lore
The fnlues8 of Christ is Paul’s contin
ual boast.
We sometimes dream that it would
be easier for us to live the Christian
life if Christ were now upon the earth
Without arguing this point, it is be
yond dispute that personal influence
is not dependent upon cotemporaue
ousness or intimacy of association.
A poet grandly puts this, when be
tells us of “the dead but sceptred sov.
ereigns who rule us from their urns ’>
Augustine in his Coufessions, Luther
iu his Commentary on Galatians, the
nameless author of the Iuvitation of
Christ, and Dr. Arnold in his Letters
are each more potent in their person’
ality now than they were among con
temporaries and friends. Death and
time have augmented their persona!
force and refined it also And as it
is thus with the servants, so it is with
the Master. It is not necessary to
our participation of Christ’s fulness
that we should see him with our bod
ilv eyes. He certainly intimated this
wbeu he said, ‘-Blessed are Ibej who
have notseeu audyet have believed.’
The faithful reception of the testimo
ny of “apostles of the Lord and) Sav
iour” brings the sense of his fplness
from
-ence
G..d
an
aud
'jst,
into our souls, and draws out
the believing heart such rev
aud love as his drst disciples Wmly
iy iu their best moments readied
As he hiled them with a sense ot
which Hooded their souls like
ocean-tide, so be will ail ours;
we, too, tnough we see him not,
believing, shall rejoice with joy uu
speakabie aud full of glory.”
Our common experience affords
some faint illustrations of the fulness
of Christ with which the disciples
were so deeply impressed. Now aud
then we meet with a man who seems
to-be endowed with qualities and pow
ers siifiiciunt Urn several ordinary mor
tals. We say'of such an one, “He is
more thau two or three ot us.” We
are amazed at the largeuess aud
quantity of his being. Dr. Chalmers
was always on the laok-out, as a the
ological professor, for studeuts wkoui
he called, iu broad Scotch, “Men ot
icecht’’—men of large personality,rith
er thau mere clever, brilliant fellows.
He sought eagerly for indications ol
this quantity or fulness of being,
deeiniug it the characteristic of real
greatuess. Christ’s fulness was not
simply fuluess of mind. Probably the
tisbertneu of Galilee, could not have
appreciated merely mental greatness.
Nor was it the fulness of superhuman
power. That they did see in him,
'but it only excited wonder and awe
But wbat they could appreciate, as
plain, straight minded men, familiar
with the hard realities of common
life, was just that which they felt in
his company. ..At was his moral na
ture that they found so great and so
lull. Perhaps they hardly have ex
pressed tbeir feelings, but they knew
he was altogether different from theii
most notable scribes. What empty
creatures, compared with Him, were
they who sat in the seats of authority
to Church and State ! What a large
Inart he had, and how miserably nar
row and contracted beside him were
the very best people of the religious
world 1 The common people hearo
him gladly—why T Because, behind
the words which spoke authoritative
ly to tbeir hearts, there was a mingled
sweetness and light which told of
tieaveu opened and of divine love
pouring itself forth in his person up
on the world. It was the fulness of
grace and truth, seen and felt iu his
teaching, his deeds, his life. “To as
many as received him to them gave
lie power to become the sous of God,”
aud they said as Peter did, “Lord, to
whom shall we go; thou hast the
words ol eternal life: and we believe
and are sure that thou art that Christ
the Sou of the living God.”
This fu'ness of Christ is more evi
deut to us thau it could have been “in
the nays of his flesh.” Calvary auil
Olivet have set iu a clearer light.—
AH the ages of Christian history have
aagmeuted the force of his personali
ty. More aud more evident does it
.become that “by Him all things con
sist.” They who know him as “the
living bread which came dowu from
heaven” can never hunger, for their
souls are iu vital union with the ful
ness of the life of God.—Religious
Herald.
A Gentle Rebuke.—A lady rid
ing iu a car on the .New York Cen
tral Railroad was disturbed iu her
reading by the conversation of two
geutlemeu occupying the seat just be
tore her. Oue of them seemed to be
a student of some college on his way
home for a vacatiou.
He used much profane language,
greatly to the auuoyauce of the la
dy.
She thought she would rebuke him
and, on begging pardon for inter
rupting them, asked the young stu
dent if be bad studied the languages.
••Yes, madam, 1 have mastered the
languages quite well.”
•‘Do you read and speak Hebrew 1”
••Quite fluently.”
‘•Will you be so kind as to do me a
small favor 1”
“With great pleasure. I am at
your service.”
•‘Will you be so kiDd as to do your
swearing in Hebrew t”
We tray well suppose the lady was
not unnoyed auy more by the ungen
tlemauly language of this would-be
gentleman.
Subscribe for the Sun.
DAILY BREAD IN^ HARD TIMES.
“It’s dreadful to lire this way I I do
wonder why God doesn’t answer your
prayer and send you some work, fa
ther.”
“Are yon hungry, mother! I’m
sure I thought we had a very good
breakfast. And what a nice pleas
ant bouse this Is that we lire in !”
“But we’ve uothing for diuuer!”
“But it isn’t dinner time.”
“Well, I must confess I’d like to
know what we are to hare just a lit
tle while before dinner time.”
“God has said our bread and water
shall be sure, but he has not promis
ed that we shall know beforehand
where it’s coming from.”
“I’atbei,” said little Maggie, "do
you s’pose God knows what time we
have diuuer !”
“Yes, dear, I suppose he knows ex
aetly that. I’\e done my best to get
work, and I'll go out now and look
around, and you go to school, and
dm’t be the least Inite afraid, Mag
gie. There’ll be some dinner.”
“But we’re out of soap and starch
and saleratus,” said the mother.
“As for saleratus, you couldn’t use
it if you had it, unless you had some
flour. I’m sure I had soap when 1
washed my bauds this moruiug.”
“Yes, a little bit. But it’s not
enough to do the washing.”
“But the washing won’t come till
next Monday. As fot the starch, it
isn’t one of the neecessaries of life.”
“If I had some potatoes I could
make some,” said Mrs. Wilson, mus
ingly.
“Well, I’m going out now to try
and fiud some work. You just cast
your burden on the Lord, mother, and
go about your housework just as il
you knew what was coiuiug next, ant.
don’t go and take the burden light
up again. That’s the trouble with
you. You can’t trust the Lord to
take us good care of it as you think
you would, an! so you take it up
agaiu.aud go rouud groaniug uuder
the burden.”
“Well, I do wonder he lets such
troubles come. Here you’ve been out
of work these three months, with ou
ly an occasional day’s work, and
you’ve beeu a faithful, conscientious
Christian ever sinde 1 knew you.”
“I’ve been an nufaithful, unprofit
able servant, aud that's true, mother,
whatever you may think of me,'’ re
plied Mr. Wilson, humbly. “God is
try iug our faith now. After he’s pro
vided for us so loug, what will he
thiuk of us if we distrust him now
just because want seems to be near,
before ever it has touched us f”
Mr. Wilson went away to seek
work, and spent the forenoon seeking
vainly. God sayv that here was a
diamond worth polishing. He sub
jected his servant’s faith to a straiu,
but it bore the test. I will not say
that no quest:- nings or painful
thoughts disturbed the man as he
walked homeward at noon. Four
eager, hungry little children, just
home from school, to find the table
nospread aud no dinner ready tor
;hem ; an aged and infirm parent,
from whom he had concealed as far as
possible all his difficulties aud per
plexities, lest he should feel himsell
a burden in bis old age, awakeued to
a realization that there was not
enough lor him aud them—these were
not pleasant pictures to contemplate,
and all through the long, weary fore
noon Satau bad been boldiug them
up to bis view, and it was only by
clingiug to tbe Lord,as drowniug men
cling to tbe rope tbat is thrown to
them, tbat he was kept from utter
despondency.
“Thou kuowest, O Lord, that I’ve
done my best to support my family.
My abilities are small, but I’ve done
my best. Now, Lord, I’m waiting to
see thy salvation. Appear for me 1
Let me not be put to shame.
11 ‘Increase my faith, increase tny hope,
(Jr soon my strength w ill fail.’ ”
So he prayed iu his own simple
fashiou, as be walked along.
It was all true as be had said. His
abilities were not great. Some f'rivo
lous young people at prayer meeting
smiled at the phraseology of his
prayers. But there were educated
men and earnest women who were
helped and strengthened by those
very prayers. Religion had raised a
mau atiove mediocrity to whom Na
tine had been niggardly. Without
it he would have been a cipher in
the community—or worse than a ci
pher.
He drew near to his own door with
something of shrinking and dread.
But the children rushed out to meet
him wiih joyous shouts.
“Come right in, father j quick!
We’ve got a spendid dinner all ready.
We’ve been waiting for you, and
we’re fearfully hungry.”
The tired steps quickened, and the
Btrongly drawn lines in the weary
face softened to a look of cheerfol
questioning, such as was oftenest
seen there. He came in and stood
beside his wife, who was leaning
over the stove, dipping soup out of
the big dinner-pot with a ladle.
“How is this, mother J” said he.
“Why, father I Mr. Oiddings has
been over front Bristol. He came
just after yon went out. And he
says a mistake was made in your ac
count last August, which he has just
found out by accident; he owed you
three dollars more, aud he paid it to
me. So I—”
“1 don’t think it was by accident,
though,” said Mr. Wilsou, interrupt
ing her.
“Well, I thought as we bad noth
ing for dittuer I’d better buy some
meat and—”
“Do you think it was accident that
sent us that money to-day, mother I”
persisted the thankful man.
“No, I dou't thiuk so,” said his
wife, humbly. “I thiuk it was Prov
ideuce. And I’m thaukful, I’m sure.
I,did try to trust; but I’ll try harder
next time. You haven’t heard the
whole, though. Mr. Giddmgs wants
you next Monday for all the week,
aud be thinks for all summer.”
The grace at table was a long one,
fullofthauks and pra<se, but not
even the youngest child was iuipa
tieut at its length.— Christian Week
iy
PRiVATE_PRAYER.
How often does many a child of
God find prayer difficult wearisome I
How often must he gueve to think
that his desires have been vague, his
mind wandering, bis iaitb weak, and
therefore his prayers vain.
The following hints, drawn from
the experience of some tried in like
manner, may help you in private
prayer. Some may suit one person,
some another, but all the following
counsels have been tested:—
1. lliiuk before you kneel to pray:
God is here ; God is holy; God is my
Father; God knows my wants.
2. Be definite iu your prayers : di
vide them iu some way like this:
a Confession in sin.
h I hauksgiviug aud praise.
c Prayers for myself.
d Prayers lor others (Intercession.)
It will greatly help you to be defi
nite if you keep a little book, or even
a sheet of paper in your Bible, anil
note dowu on it, iu a very few words,
Che subject (under each of those
heads,) which from time to time you
wish to lay belore God.
You might take thanksgiving and
prayer for yourself one time of the
day ; coufessiou of siu at another (say
iu the evening),intercession at an
other.
3. intercession, or prayer for others,
is a most uselul way of kindling your
faith when unable to pray for your
own wants.
4. Sometimes it is a great help to
pray aloud, in a voice just audible to
yourself.
5. Avoid repetition ; say nothing
which you have not w^lfthougbt of,
and which your heart desires aud
then lay it, very simply iu the plain
est wolds, before God, through Jesus
Christ.
6. Wheu you ask for particular
things, or persons, write down pri
vately what you have asked ; then
wheu God gives the answer, youi
faith will be most deeply strengthen
ed, and your thanksgiviugsincressed.
7. Depend after all on the Holy
Spirit, who dwells iu you. “He mak
eth intercession for us with groaning*
which cannot be uttered.”—(Rom.viii.
26.) Many a prayer unuttered, only
felt, may be more truly accepted th,i«
oue well expressed in words. Each
hearty desire for spiritual growth
and blessing is inspired by the Holy
Spirit, presented by Christ, our great
High Priest, and received aud an
awered by the Father.
Pray without ceasing.
Reading for Mother.—There is
nothing in the recollection ot wy
childhood that 1 look buck upon with
so much pleasure astbe reading aloud
of my books to ray mother. She was
then a woman of many cares, aud in
the habit of engagiug in every varie
ty of household work. Whatever
she might be doing in kitcbeu, or
dairy, or parlor, she was always
ready to listen to me, aud to explain
whatever I did not understand.
There was always an undercurrent of
thought about other things, min
gling with all her domestic duties,
lightening and modifying them, but
uever leading her to neglect them, or
to perfoim them imperfectly. I be
lieve it is to this tiait of her charac
ter that she owes the elasticity aud
ready social sympathy that still ani
mates her under the weight of four
score years. How much I owe to the
the care aud sympathy she gave to
my childish years, 1 cannot measure.
—Mary C. Ware.
THE UNJUST STEWARD.
In a letter received from the Bev.
Dr. F. A. Farrar, the author of‘-The
life of Christ,’’ is this paragraph :
“The view of the ‘Parable of the
Unjust Steward,’ which you have
been good enough to communicate tw
me, is entirely new to me and seems
worthy of attention. Pray let me
thank you for your kindness in call
iug my attention to k.”
The trouble w ith the usual inter
pretation of this parable, which Dr.
Farrar has also adopted, is that it
appears to make our Loid commend
a course of knavery in the overseer
of the estate in question. The w is
dom of this man, which was set up
as an example to “the children of
light,” w as, by this explanation of it.
a l'randuleut and swindling operation
into which he had persuaded the
farm hands; a combination to save
himself by cheating his employer.
The best lace that can be put upon
the matter, as thus regarded, is, that
we are to suppose ourselves ou the
plane of a low, woildly prudence,
w hich is not to he approved, and was
not,either by Christ or the owner ot
that estate ; but the commendation
is merely of the shrewdness of the
culprit’s management to extricate
himself from the danger w hich threat
ened. A splitting of a very thin
ethical hair, as everybody confesses.
It seems surprising that the entire
run of popular commentators on the
gospels should have been content to
take up with this suspicions render
ing of this paraole; that another view
of it which looks t* be “well worthy
of attention,” as Dr. Farrar admits,
should also not have occured to this
latest traveller over the field of our
Lord’s instructions. But, as long
ago as 1864, Dr. John A. Albro, of
(Cambridge, Mass., printed in the
Boston Keview (but without a name;
a careful and, so far a., any one ap
pears to know, a quite original exe
gesis of the scripture, which, being
communicated to Dr. F—in the
early mouths of 1876, brought back
the answer already given. Dr. AlbroV
understanding of the passage is briet
ly this :
In accordance with the genera'
practice of Eastern countries, this
‘‘steward’’-had farmed out the estate
of a rich landholder, just as the tax
es and other revenues of a province
were and ofteu still are sold or let to
a collector lor a stipulated sum ot
money, while he takes the chances oi
repaying himself and considerably
more by fleecing, at pleasure, the
people thus turned over to his exae
tions. In this case these exactions
had been so heavy that- complaints
had reached the proprietor; and.
though he had not been • personally
injured by this misconduct, the in
terests of the estate were prejudiced.
The Stewart is, therefore, called to
account. To shield himself,he makes
friends with the laborers and ten
ants; not by persnadiug them to de
fraud the owner, with whom they
had no direct relations, but by ' abut
ing largely bis own demandsou them,
which he had an entire liberty to do
and ought to'have doue, so far as
these demauds were extortionate.
Thus, by an act not of knavery, but
of justness, be secured his position
with his master and his subordinates,
and is praised for the wisdom of a
good deed, and uot for the cunning
of a crooked craftiness. This expla
nation has 110 serious difficulty from
the text of the parable. The only
seeming objections are merely verbal,
as the agent was accused tor wasting
his lord’s goods, which means no
more than a bad malfeasance in of
fice; and, further on, the question
w hich he put to the farmers, “How
much owest thou unto my lord!’
which also may find a fair significance
as a general inquiry bow much they
had been assessed as teuunts on the
property of this “certain rich man,”
and from which heavy assessments,
due to the steward of the proprietor,
they had carried a complaint direct
ly to the proprietor biuself. if this
treatment id “the well known crux
interpretum, the parable of the unjust
steward,” as the editors ot Lange call
it, will stand In the judgmeut of
scholars, it would seem to be about
time to unload our commentaries of
the old and perplexing, not to say
provoking interpretation.—J: T.
Tucker, 1). D-, Independent.
A little child who has just lost her
mother, was asked, “What do you do
without a mother to tell your troub
lea to I” She sweetly said: “I go to
the Lord Jesus. He was my moth
er’s Friend and He’s miue.” When
she was asked il she thought t hnst
would aUeud to her she replied: “He
says he will, and that’s enough for
rne.V What was enough for her is
enough for all.
■■■■■■ ■■■ r MM .1 '« . .. ■■■■■■!
Jnrm and jflresuti*.
J j
AGRICULTURE AT ThE SOUTH.
Agriculture is certainly the leading
industry of "the South, and oitr peo
pie may with just propriety be c-allen
an agricultural people. The natural
advantages that we enjoy favotabh
to agriculture.are as great, evidently
as those possessed by any other na
tiou. Our territory inclines..the mild
est and most healthful section of th
temperate zone, and- the fertility of
our soil needs only the skillful baud
of industrious labor to render it a.
productive as any portion of tIt*
globe. Indeed a large proportion o
the land ot the Smith is not exeelieu
in natural fertility by that of any
spot iu the world. Joined to this w
have every possible variety of sob
and a very wide range of climate, so
that there is scarcely a crop or plant
on the earth's surface that may do’
he grown here in perfection and with
protit. We have lew barren wastes,
and lihle laud that might uot bi
turned to some agricultural use.—
Even our rugged mountain sides are
suseeptable of tillage, and the beds of
our rivers add bays may be and are
being made profitable as breeding
grounds for vast stores of fish ant!
oysters. Turn where we will through
out the broad South, and everything
marks the country as one vast food
producing region. Were all its avail
aide land under the plow, and with
no better skill than at present pre
vails, and the result would feed and
clothe th« world.
Nor are tlie native population ot
the South unsuited to (lie laud ami
-clime they occupy, but seem well fit
ted and amply competent to utilize
and profit by their natural advan
tages. They arc strong, robust, ac
tive, enterprising,ami ambitions,and
are generally actuated by a laudable
desire to acquire honorable indepen
deface and competence. I bey are uot
afraid to work, and readily endure
hardships and privations from which
many would turn away in dread. Tin
domestic history of many of our sell'
toiling farmers, were it written, would
sound like a pleasing romance0 wt
poetic myth from a laud of fable.—
Early uniting their name, fortune,
and destiny with that of some rur.o
nymph, whose virtue, prudence, in
dustry, and domestic skit! are only
equalled by their beauty aud charms,
the happy pair go forth, without
money aud witnout means, and sel
dom fail to join to the raptures oi
couuubial bliss the lasting eompeten
cy aud independence that come ot
honest toil aud self-deify fug labors.—
In the course of a few years a utrm
erous progeny surround their board,
and these sharing the daily labor ol
the parents are trained to habits oi
industry, economy, and virtue, and
go forth iu their turn to establish
new homes of their own. These set
tle not far from their childhood’s
home, and thus from the original pair
a little society of loving and endeared
friends springs tip, anil the same ruul
tiplied ten thousand times the couu
try over, has. made i f our beloved
South a country prosperous and hap
py, knit together by the indissoluble
ties of kinship, one in soul and senti
meat, “solid” iu the best setise of the
work.
This is, iu brief, what our agricul
ture is to-day. \Yhat it will be in the
future no one can say, but so long as
our people cling to their virtue, in
dustry, economy, and loviug ffegard
for each other, the South will evei
remaiu solid and secure—too solid
for tyrants to abuse or conquer—se
cure iu all that pertains to a great
and prosperous nation. That sueb
may be her destiny we earnestly pray
and to this end all our influence aud'
zeal will be given.—iiural- .Wessenj/Dr. l
The Staunton, Virginia Yelley
Farmer, furnishes the following indi
cations of vigoi in fowls, and the lack
of it, whicli ought to be known b ali
who take an interest in feeding aud
rearing poultry : Healthy, vigorous
towls may almost always be detected
by the rich color ot the comb, which
is a sure indication of health. The
comb ol a diseased towY always loses
color in proportion as the dfsease^aji.
proaclies its worst stages, in 8omt**,;t
stances turning black. \\'e would
vise those who suspect disease amo._
their fowls to give the matter of tl
color of the comb a close study. A ]
an index, it is $o the fowl keeper,
what the pulse of the human system
is to the physician.
“One cow, horse, mule, sheep
boig, well fed aud eared for is iaw
profitable than two fed on the amoa."*-3
that will keep one well.” 'pfe
WHITE CLOVER,
From a recent Irrfor in the Lon
Ion, England, Agricultural dazelte,
we Iparn that the Cartiers of Leices
•ershire and other parts of England
have a saying, ‘'The more white elo
ver, the more fine beef feed in many
of their pastures this plant occupies
i prominent place and ia much relied
upon. In this country, at least in
tiiis part of it, white cforer, so far as
re are aware,has seldom been used
is a forage crop. It is, hew ever,
more or less spread ever the country,
mil all know it to be a plant that
furnishes most excellent grazing for
all kinds of stack ; apiculturiits also
issure us that is tba Rrst among for
age plants for hens.
As a plant the white elover is far
more hardy and a good deal lessdaiu
y in its choice of soil than its tirst
ousin, the red alorer, and seems
much better adapted to the warmer
climate of the South. A* a sward
plant for parks, lawns, anil cottage
ground it is not inferior to wire grass,
i and when graxed closely by calves or
poultry, makes a smooth, beautiful,
and velvety turf very agreeable to
walk uppiyaad^ always^^ptdbfing to
the eye. I
In view, n^en, ol its many good
qualities aud adaptability te our sec
i ion, it becomes a question whether
we have been making the use of it
that we should. Wherevecn perma
nent pasture that will uot run out is
wanted, and one also that will yield
a second handsome profit in honey,
we do not kuow of a better plant than
white clover. To 11s of Virginia per
manent meadows and gracing ground
are a matter of the 8rst importance.
Among the very short list of plauts
that, once \yeli established, will hold
heir own with perenaial thrift in
any well managed pasture, the white
clover is one of the best. This can
not be said of the other speeies of
clover, <>r of many of the grasses usu
ally cultivated. .Nffthing but abso
ute neglect or eternal shade will
destroy •a white clover set!, and with
annual top dressing with barnyard
or other coarse litter, and plenty of
sunlight, it produces a swatp almost
equal to red clover. It is a pity that
che rough and broken laud that al
most everywhere abounds in the
South should remain valueless, when
all of it might soon be clothed iu a
sward of white clover that would fur
nish grazing for all the farm stock,
and teed numerous colonies of bees
at the same time. We thus briefly
call attention to this crop, believing
that many farmers wenld derive
great benefit from it if no mere than
heir lawns and grouuis aroand theiv-<
dwellings were sowed down to it.
Rural Messenger.
THE DRAFT HORS€.
So horse is scarcer, or col f
a better price than tlis large,
coach or carriage horse.' Ev
at our auction marts wi r
looking, umler-sizeu i
lor a mere song, u
they possess speed
3 .50 to 3 :30. A <
mg from Xasb villa
New York paper!
timl a pair of sup% iUlt,
Uere, but not a <d b)'.®
n' Lear ui in tli<?
speaks iu stronf
can use iu !arow
profitable family
bred— tbe oarrf
horse. Breed “
may, tbej^WuaJ
number of mi,,
home use. Ig
i be differentvV*
purpose, ii j
-ood repi|;„
Breed then ri
v rda
fittishekel be h
.2 i .-hikts of:
sw* je agCQt for
E