strength, muscular power, and symmetry, the perfect model of a race
horse. Maria commenced her turf career at three, and ran all distances
from a quarter of a mile to four mile heats, without losing a race or
heat until she was nine years old. In the fall of 1811 she ran a
sweepstake over the Nashville course, entrance $100, two mile heats,
beating General Jackson’s colt, Decatur, by Truxton; Col. Robert Bell’s
filly, by imported Diomed, and four others; all distanced the first
heat, except Bell’s filly. This defeat aroused the fire and combative
spirit of General Jackson almost as much as did his defeat by Mr. Adams
for the Presidency, and he swore “by the Eternal” he would beat her if a
horse could be found in the United States able to do so. But, although
the General conquered the Indians, defeated Packenham, beat Adams and
Clay, crushed the monster bank under the heel of his military boot, he
could not beat Maria, in the hands of Uncle Berry.
In the fall of 1812, over the same course, she won a sweepstake, $500
entrance, four mile heats, beating Colonel Bell’s Diomed mare, a horse
called Clifden, and Col. Ed Bradley’s “Dungannon.” (General Jackson was
interested in Dungannon.) This was a most exciting and interesting race,
especially to the ladies, who attended in great numbers; those of
Davidson County, with Aunt Rachel Jackson and her niece, Miss Rachel
Hays, at their head, backing Dungannon, while the Sumner County ladies,
led by Miss Clarissa Bledsoe, daughter of the pioneer hero, Col. Anthony
Bledsoe, bet their last glove on little Maria. After this second defeat,
General Jackson became terribly in earnest, and before he gave up the
effort to beat Maria, he ransacked Virginia, South Carolina, Georgia and
Kentucky. He was almost as clamorous for a horse as was Richard in the
battle of Bosworth Field. He first wrote Col. William R. Johnson to send
him the best four mile horse in Virginia, without regard to price,
expressing a preference for the famous Bel-Air mare, Old Favorite.
Colonel Johnson sent him, at a high price, the celebrated horse,
Pacolet, by imported Citizen, who had greatly distinguished himself as a
four miler in Virginia. In the fall of 1813, at Nashville, Maria won a
sweepstake, $1,000 entrance, $500 forfeit, four mile heats, beating
Pacolet with great ease, two paying forfeit. It was said that Pacolet
had received an injury in one of his fore ankles. The General, being
anything but satisfied with the result, made a match on Pacolet against
Maria for $1,000 a side, $500 forfeit, four mile heats, to come off over
the same course, the fall of 1814; but, Pacolet being still lame, he
paid forfeit. These repeated failures only made the General more
inflexible in his purpose, and, in conjunction with Mr. James Jackson,
who then resided in the vicinity of Nashville, he sent to South Carolina
and bought Tam O’Shanter, a horse distinguished in that state.
The fall of 1814 Maria won, over the same course, club purse of $275,
two mile heats, beating Tam O’Shanter, William Lytle’s Royalist, and two
or three others.
A few days after, over the same course, she won a proprietor’s purse,
$350, only one starting against her. About this time General Jackson
sent to Georgia and purchased of Colonel Alston Stump-the-Dealer, but,
for some cause, did not match him against Maria. The General then sent
to Kentucky and induced Mr. DeWett to come to the Hermitage with his
mare (reputed to be the swiftest mile nag in the United States), with a
view of matching her against Maria. Mr. DeWett trained his mare at the
Hermitage. In the fall of 1814, at Clover Bottom, Maria beat this mare
for $1,000 a side, dash of a mile. In the fall of 1815 General Jackson
and Mr. DeWett ran the same mare against Maria, dash of half a mile, for
$1,500 a side, $500 on the first quarter, $500 on six hundred yards, and
$500 on the half mile, all of which bets were won by Maria, the last by
one hundred feet. This was run at Nashville. The next week, over same
course, she won a match $1,000 a side, mile heats, made with General
Jackson and Col. Ed Ward, beating the Colonel’s horse, Western Light.
Soon after this race she was again matched against her old competitor,
DeWett’s mare, for $1,000 a side, over the same course (which was in
McNairy’s Bottom, above the sulphur spring), Maria giving her a distance
(which was then 120 yards) in a dash of two miles. Colonel Lynch, of
Virginia, had been induced to come and bring his famous colored rider,
Dick, to ride DeWett’s mare. Before the last start Uncle Berry directed
his rider (also colored) to put the spurs to Maria from the tap of the
drum. But, to his amazement, they went off at a moderate gait, DeWett’s
mare in the lead, making the first mile in exactly two minutes. As they
passed the stand Uncle Berry ordered his boy to go on, but the mares
continued at the same rate until after they entered the back stretch,
Maria still a little in the rear, when the rider gave her the spurs and
she beat her competitor one hundred and eighty yards, making the last
mile in one minute and forty-eight seconds. All who saw the race
declared that she made the most extraordinary display of speed they ever
witnessed.
When Uncle Berry demanded an explanation of his rider he learned that
Dick, who professed to be a conjurer, or spiritualist, had frightened
the boy by threatening that if he attempted to pass ahead of him until
they ran a mile and a quarter, he would lift him out of his saddle, or
throw down his mare by a mere motion of his whip, which the boy fully
believed. Most negroes at that time, and some white people in this
enlightened age, believe in these absurdities. The speed of Maria was
wonderful. She and the famous quarter race horse, Saltram, were trained
by Uncle Berry at the same time, and he often “brushed” them through the
quarter stretch, “and they always came out locked.” Whichever one got
the start kept the lead.
After the last race above mentioned, some Virginians present said that
there were horses in Virginia that could beat Maria. Captain Haney
offered to match her against any horse in the world, from one to four
mile heats, for $5,000.
Shortly after this conversation, meeting General Jackson, Captain Haney
informed him what had passed, and the General, in his impressive manner,
replied: “Make the race for $50,000, and consider me in with you. She
can beat any animal in God’s whole creation.”
In March, 1816, at Lexington, Ky., she beat Robin Gray (sire of
Lexington’s third dam) a match, mile heats, for $1,000 a side. The next
month she beat at Cage’s race paths in Sumner County, near Bender’s
Ferry, Mr. John Childress’ Woodlawn filly, by Truxton, a straight half
mile for $1,000 a side, giving her sixty feet. Maria won this race by
two feet only. This was the first race I ever saw, and I was greatly
impressed with the beautiful riding of Monkey Simon.
After the race Maria was taken by Uncle Berry to Waynesboro, Ga., where
she bantered the world, but could not get a race. There were very few
jockey clubs in the country at that time.
In January, 1817, Maria was returned to Captain Haney in Sumner County,
and soon afterwards sold by him to Pollard Brown, who got her beaten at
Charleston in a four mile heat race with Transport and Little John, when
she was nine years old. Maria carried over weight, ran under many
disadvantages, and lost the race by only a few feet.
(Continued in next issue.)
Mammy and Memory
[Illustration: Photo by Julie A. Royster, Raleigh, N. C.]
Her work is done,
The setting sun
Throws twilight in her door.
Her work is done—
Her race is run,
Her friends have gone before.
“Mammy, goodnight!”
Heard she aright?
Low her head—and tenderly:
“Heish, chile, doan’ cry—
Sleep—sleep ‘bym-by!’”
Mammy and Memory.
JOHN TROTWOOD MOORE.
[Illustration]
Nitrification of the Soil, or, How Plants Grow
BY WILLIAM DENNISON OF FARGO, NORTH DAKOTA.
We will venture the assertion that when the history of the past century
is being written up, the chroniclers will discover that there has been
as much, if not more progress and advancement made in the nineteenth
century than in all of the eighteen centuries preceding it. The
advancement in the past century was phenomenal in the marvelous
achievements in inventions and in discoveries in every branch of
industry, in the arts and sciences; and I am delighted to know that
agriculture, horticulture and floriculture have also received some
attention, although not so much as might have been. Still, we are
pleased that a beginning in those branches has been made, and we hope
for much more rapid advancement within the next two decades.
That there has been a great awakening and a marked advancement in the
material progress in the past century no one will seek to controvert the
fact, but let us hope that while we have been making such rapid strides
materially we have also, during the same period, made equally as much
advancement spiritually, for to glorify God is (or ought to be) man’s
chief aim in life. There has been a beginning in the advancement of
scientific agriculture, and the agricultural world is indebted to no one
so much as to John Bennett Lawes, of Rothamsted, England, who devoted a
lifetime of study and the lands of his large estate to experimental
farming, the results of which he published from time to time in the
Gardener’s Chronicle, and at his death left a fund sufficient in trust
to carry on the great work he had begun and carried forward his
celebrated tests of experimental farming, extending over fifty years,
from 1844 to 1893. Indeed, John Bennett Lawes may justly be called the
father of the experimental stations in our country. In these earliest
experiments the effects of various manures were carried out. It was in
these trials that the excellent results obtained by manuring turnips
with phosphate previously treated with sulphuric acid were first
discovered, and his taking out a patent, in 1842, for treating mineral
phosphate with sulphuric acid, which was the commencement of the present
enormous manufacture of artificial manures. The above experiments were
carried on in pots by Mr. Lawes, but, in 1843, he was joined by Dr.
Gilbert, as eminent a chemist as was Mr. Lawes himself, and from 1844
began the field experiments, which have become world-wide for the great
benefits they have resulted in to agriculturists everywhere.
The Rothamsted estate was divided into small fields, and the effects of
the various crops on the fields with and without manure were carefully
noted. Soils were analyzed before the crops were planted, and also after
the crops were harvested, to determine the loss or gain of nitrogen.
The rotation of crops was studied thoroughly, and beans and peas were
then made one in a four-course rotation. But even earlier than 1844 it
had been observed that leguminous plants, of which there are thousands
distributed over this sphere, had a beneficial effect on the land for
the succeeding crop. At Rothamsted the legumes, or such of them as
beans, peas or red clover, were thoroughly tried, and it was invariably
found as one in a rotation of four to produce the same results. In some
way that they then could not explain, the land after a crop of legumes
was very much richer in nitrogen, amounting in many instances to 300
pounds per acre. These worthy gentlemen kept on for years trying to
account for the phenomenon and endeavored to discover the true source of
nitrification. But to the French chemists Schlosing and Muntz belong the
credit of establishing by experiment the true nature of nitrification.
Their first paper on the subject appeared early in 1877, or only
twenty-nine years ago. They wished to ascertain if the presence of humic
matter was essential to the purification of sewage by soil, and for this
purpose they conducted an experiment, in which sewage was passed slowly
through a column of sand and limestone. Under these circumstances
complete nitrification of the sewage took place. They then allowed a
chloroform vapor to fall for some time on top of the column, the sewage
passing as before. Nitrification now entirely ceased and was not renewed
for seven weeks, though the supply of chloroform was suspended. A small
quantity of nitrifying soil was shaken with the water and the turbid
extracts poured on the top of the column. Nitrification at once
recommenced, as strongly as before.
To appreciate the force of the experiment, Muntz had previously shown
that chloroform was a means of distinguishing between the action of a
simple ferment as diastase, and a living organism, as yeast, the
chloroform having no influence on the work of the unorganized ferment,
which immediately stopped the activity of a living agent. The above
discovery of Schlosing and Muntz of the true theory of nitrification of
the soil was the greatest achievement to the agricultural world,
inasmuch as it has been demonstrated by numerous eminent chemists and
proved to be an ascertained fact; and this problem solved, which had
occupied the ablest scientific minds for centuries. Now we hope for some
advancement with the farmers of the United States in the future. With
the discovery of Schlosing and Muntz there is no necessity for such an
idea as wornout land, as is prevalent in this great country, where the
chief occupation of the agriculturist has been in exploiting his land,
just in the same manner as everything else has been exploited. With an
ever increasing population of this sphere, there is no need to fear the
earth’s capacity in producing enough to supply all their wants. That is
when our farmers realize the paramount importance of the above
discovery, and begin to see how bountifully an all-wise Creator has
provided for us in placing these legumes on this earth for the benefit
of mankind. They are a double blessing to us, for they not only abstract
nitrogen from the atmosphere and deposit it in the ground for the
succeeding crops, and restore the fertility of the land, but also, when
they are made one in a four-course rotation, fill the soil with fibre or
roots, which no soil can be in its highest productive condition without.
The Great New South
In the past quarter of a century (1880–1905) from statistics gathered by
Richard H. Edmonds, Trotwood’s finds the South has doubled the value of
her cotton crop, her exports and her assessed property; has trebled her
manufacturing products, her railroad mileage and the value of her farm
products. She has multiplied by five her lumber products, increased her
manufacturing capital six-fold, her tons of pig iron produced
eight-fold, her phosphate tons mined nine-fold, her cotton bales
consumed ten-fold, her capital invested in cotton mills eleven-fold, her
tons of coal mined twelve-fold, her number of spindles on cotton mills
fourteen-fold, her tons of coke produced sixteen-fold, her number of
cotton oil mills seventeen-fold, her capital invested in cotton oil
mills eighteen-fold, and her barrels of petroleum two hundred and
thirty-five-fold!
She raised three-fourths of the world’s cotton, and has one-half of the
standing timber of the whole country. Her own cotton mills consume
2,282,900 bales yearly, or nearly as much as New England and all the
rest of the country combined, whereas in 1880 she consumed but one-sixth
as much as New England. Europe pays her a tribute of over _one million
dollars daily for cotton_. Thus marches on the Great New South.
Bre’r Washington’s Consolation
Saturday night my wife died,
Sunday she was buried,
Monday was my kotin’ day
And Chewsday I got married.
Whenever I heard the old man singing I knew he was in a reminiscent mood
and so I put down my book and went out to the barn, where he was
building a pen to put the fattening Berkshires in. For a month these
slick rascals had been running in the ten-acre lot planted in corn and,
at the “lay-by plowing,” sown in peas, all for their especial benefit.
The corn had nearly ripened and the peas were in the pod; and now, day
after day they had wallowed in the water of the ten-acre field branch or
torn down the tempting corn stalks or eaten the juicy peas till their
tails had taken on the two-ring curl of contentment and they had grown
too fat to run in so large a lot.
“An’ now dey must be put in de parlor,” said the old man as he proceeded
to build their pen, “an’ fed on poun’ cake an’ punkins. Fust er good dry
pen, bilt on er solid blue lime-rock, ef you so forechewnate es to lib
in Middle Tennessee, an’ ef you don’t lib heah,” he half soliloquized,
“jes’ bild it in sum mud hole an’ be dun wid it, fur you ain’t gwi’
fatten your horgs no-how ef youn don’t lib in Tennessee,” he said, with
a sly wink. “Den, arter you gits the pen bilt bring up a load ob yaller
punkins to sharpen up dey appletights an’ start ’em off right; den
plenty ob dis year’s cohn wid er sour-meal mash ebry now and den to keep
’em eatin’ good, an’ den, chile, ’long erbout Krismas time jes’ sot your
mouf fur spairribs an’ sawsages—e—yum, yum, yum”—and he wiped the corner
of his mouth suspiciously.
“Ole Naper cum to my house
I thout he cum to see me,
But when I cum to find him out,
He’s ’swade my wife to leave me.”
he sang again. “I’ll tell you, suh,” he laughed, “I can’t see what
fatnin’ horgs hes got to do with marryin’, but dat’s what de
aixpectashuns ob dis horg-pen remin’s me ob ennyway—’bout de time I was
kotin’ Unk Peter’s widder, way back in fifty-fo’,” he added
reflectively, “an’ de hard time I had gettin’ enny konsolashun from dat
ar ’oman. I tell you, suh, it ain’t easy to git enny konsolashun from er
widder—not nigh es easy es it am frum er gal. Huh!” he ejaculated,
derisively. “Folks say it am an’ dat all widders jes’ watchin’ out fur
er chance to git marrid ergin, but you jes’ try onct to git er widder to
say ‘yas’—she’ll jes’ play erroun’ an’ play erroun’ de hook, and fus’
thing you know she’s off, an’ dar you looks an lo!—dun swallered de bait
yo’se’f,” he said.
“Befo’ my wife died,” said the old man, as he ran his thumb down his
hatchet-blade, “I uster think I’d nuvver wanter git marrid enny mo’, an’
I had de mos’ dispizerble contemplashuns fur dese ole fools dat go
rippin’ erroun’, dyein’ dey ha’r an’ writin’ poltry to de moon befo’ dey
fus’ wife’s feet git cold good! Hit’s all right fur er young man to do
dat—he jes’ nacherly jucy an’ he can’t help hisself. But dese ole fools
whut de hot sun ob matremony dun dried up, an’ de trials of
chillun-raisin’ dun tuck de foolishnes’ outen ’em an’ monkey-shines ob
mudder-in-law dun kill ’em in de home-stretch—I tell you, suh, when I
see such men as dese, dat has passed fur forty-odd years as sober,
senserbul men in de kommunity whar dey libs, all at onct begin to git
gay an’ boyish ergin, er snortin’ in evally an’ er clothin’ dey neck wid
thunder, an’ er hollerin’ kerhonk, kerhonk, kerhonk to de captins, an’
de shoutin’, an’ er gwine ’round wantin’ to fight de man-in-de-moon
’kase he happen to peep into dey lady-lub’s winder, it jes’ makes me
wanter go ’round de barn an’ hug sum ole gray mule fur konsolashun!
“Wheneber er ole man’s lub begins to take on er secon’ growth, it am den
dat de anguls in heaben prepares to shed dey tears. Why, suh, I’ve seed
ole fellers hab rumertisn an’ hart-failure so bad dey cudn’t creep to
dey fus’ wife’s fun’ral, but de naixt time I’d see ’em, Gord bless you
soul, honey, dey be runnin’ erroun’ at sum pickernick, fetchin’ water
frum de spring ebery five minutes fur sum sixteen-year-ole gal, cuttin’
watermillions fur her, an’ tryin’ to meander off in de shady woods and
pull up all de hart’s-ease dat grows in er ten-acre woods lot! De
rumertizn all gohn, ter-be-sho’, and de hart-failure dun turned into
head failure, bless de Lawd.
“Dat’s whut I thout, suh,” he continued, “but bless yo’ soul, honey, my
wife hadn’t bin dead er week befo’ I got up one mornin’ an’ all
onbeknownst to myself I foun’ myself blackin’ my shoes! Cudn’t hep it to
sabe my life, suh—jes’ had to do it. De naixt day, suh, ’tirely
unbeknownst to de state ob my naturality, I kotch myself in de act ob
puttin’ h’ar-oil on my hair, cinnermun-draps on my handkerchief, an’
pullin’ off de eel-skin gyarters I dun bin wearin’ forty years fur de
rumertizn. No mo’ rumertiz fur me; er man nurver hes rumertizn arter his
wife dies—least-wise,” he whispered, knowingly, “not twell he marries
erggin an’ den he hes it so bad he can’t cut stove-wood fur her,” he
laughed.
“In er week diszeese tuck me so komplementry, boss, I ’gun ter roach up
de ole muel, fix up de buggy, an’ whitewash de cabin. Dese am allers de
fus’ simptums, suh. I’ve knowed sum ole fellers to make dey house go
widout paint fur forty years, but jes’ es soon es dey wife dies, jes’
watch ’em an’ see ef de fus’ thing dey don’t do am to paint up dat ole
house lak dey tryin’ to ketch er angul—huh! better had er painted it er
leetle fur de fus’ po angul arter dey fooled her into it!
“But de simptums come on me, suh, thick an’ fast, an’ fore goodness,
suh, by Sunday I had it so bad it broke out in spots all ober me, wid
gradual risin’ ob de temperchewin’ dryness in de region ob de salvashun
glands, an’ complete p’ralersis ob de pizzerrinctum ob de sense-bumps!
Gord, boss, I was mighty nigh insenserbul!
“It all seemed lak er dream to me, an’ I can’t tell ’zactly whut I did
do. I seemed ter be walkin’ in er gyarden whar golden roses bloomed on
peppermint candy vines, an’ coon-dorgs wid diamon’ eyes wuz treein’
solid silver ’possums up in de ’simmon trees!
“I tell you, boss, I wanted to marry! An’ de fus’ thing I knowed, me an’
dat ole muel was gwine in a peert trot up de road t’words de cabin ob
Sister Calline Jones, Unk Peter Jones’ widder. I felt sorter mean, an’ I
disremember sayin’ to myself: ‘Heah, you go, Wash, arter all yore good
revolushuns, de biggest fool in de ban’ waggin.’ As I rid off, I seed
dat old mischeevus Mistis ob mine, Miss Charlotte, God bless her!—an’
she called out to me kinder mad-lak, an’ sed: ‘Unkle Wash, I think it’s
a shame you ain’t put on moanin’ for Aunt Peggy.’ The way you are
dressed, ennybody’d think you are gwine to er ball!’
“‘Lor’ bless your sweet soul, Miss Charlotte,’ sez I, ‘don’t hab ter put
on moanin’ lak de white folks; it am already dar, an’ mo’ dan skin deep,
too,’ I sez. ‘I bin moanin’ for Peggy eber sense I marrid ’er,’ I sed,
‘an’ now is my time for rejicement, Miss Charlotte, an’ I gwineter
rejice. Sides dat,’ I sed, ‘whilst I’m moanin’, all my things gwine to
rack, an’ de chillun’s got nobody to take keer ob ’em an’ sumpin’ nuther
sho’ gwinter happen, Miss Charlotte.’
“Miss Charlotte bleege to laf, an’ old Marster he spoke up an’ say, ‘Let
’im erlone, Charlotte. Can’t you see de ole fool has got it? Go on, you
ole idjut,’ he sed to me, ‘an’ marry sumbody an’ git back heah termorrer
wid enuf sense in yo’ haid to run er straight furrer fer de fall
plowin’.’ An’ wid dat I lit out.
“Now, Unk Pete an’ me, suh,” he explained, “belong to de same church—de
Candle Light—an’ to de same lodge—de Ainshunt an’ Honorbul Order ob de
Bow-legged Sons of de Black Cat—an’ ’course I ain’ gwi’ marry his widder
now an’ spile sum moral observashun, so I jes’ stopped at his cabin to
git his consent fur me to marry his widder.
“Get his consent?” I asked. “Why how could you get his consent if he was
dead?”
“Who sed he was dead?” said the old darky, quickly. “I nurver sed so; I
sed she was his widder!”
I tried to explain to him that a man couldn’t have a widow unless he
were dead, but this only made him throw back his head and laugh
heartily.
“Wal, wal, wal, white folks got such curious ways of thinkin’. Who’d
urver thout it? You see,” he said very solemnly and impressively, “It
was dis way: Unk Peter wus gittin’ ole, an’ went off contrawise to de
doctrine an’ marrid dis young ’oman. Furst thing he know, he waked up
sum mohnin’ an’ find hisself de father ob ten chilouns, sum ob ’em hisn
an’ sum ob ’em hern, by her fus’ husban’, an’ dar he wus gittin’ so ole
he cudn’t s’port ’em. So up he jumps an’ at de naixt meetin’ ob de
church he runs fer de offis ob Patriark ob Santerfercashun, which,
’kordin’ to de doctrine ob Hollerness, marrid ’im to de church. ’Course
arter Unk Pete gits santerfercashun an’ marrid to de church, he cudn’t
hab enny uder wife, so he hafter put Sis Calline an’ de chilluns aside,
which made all ob dem de widders ob de church. Don’t you ketch on to de
doctrine, suh?”
I told him I had caught.