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Ai' i d
l tRRITSON, Prop rietotir,
Van, TEM .311:15173.051C DEILOCIULT: - ,
A.'. kr. ma. 1r
Of the Great Struggle between Liberty
and Despotism f# the hint
Hundred rears.
ANDREW JOHNSON, A GLORIOUS pATIIIOT
IN 1864, TILE GREATEST• OF Taxi-
TOES IN 1867. ,
, ,
"Andrew . Johnson," Says the N. T.
Tribune, again,'" stands forth among pub
lic net, as the gigantic demagogue o f
America.- He proclaims himielf on the
war path. He tell's his followers' that be
has put his foot down. He.mealis to over
throw military ddspotism, and re-estab
lish' the Constitution.• We do not mistake
these measures, for this man is capable of
anything to hold power. His fate is fixed.
His political fall is certain. He has be
trayed his party.and disgraced the coun
try. When the war came, he gave the
Union cause a mild and incoherent sup
ports The plain fact, known - to all men,
sorrowfully felt and wourneds,over even
to tears, is this : That a most unworthy
citizen sits in the chair of Washinolon—
that the best interests of the country have
no more malignant enemy than the Presi
dent—and that, unless the people save
the country in spite of their rulers, then
indeed is there no salvation."
On the 6th day of March, 1863, in the
Senate of the State of Pennsylvania, there
was passed the following resolution- by
the Republican members:
" Whereas, Governor Andrew Johnson
of Tennessee, a brave and loyal man,
whosa devotion to the Union is fully at
tested by his sacrifices awl efforts in the
cause of his country, is about to visit bar-
risburg, is tendered the, use of the ball of
the Seuate for the purpose of addressing
the citizens of Pennsylvania,"—and they
eulogized him in the following strain :
It is enough for us to know that it is
Andrew Johnson, with his glorious histo
ry, that we propose ;,o honor; that great,
g lorious and good man ; the patriot, who
suffered persecution and endured, un
-1-.1(1 trials for his country.- The hospital
yes of the States of Ohio and Indiana
i. ire been extended to him, he addressed
the people, and his voice was raised only
fur . the cause of the -Union. Andrew
Johnson is not to-day identified with any
political party, to our knwledge, except it,
be the party devoted to the preservation
of the Union and the Constitution.' Teb
years ago Andrew Johnson was a Sena
tor of the United States from Tennessee,
elected by Democratic votes. His coun
sel and his advice were ever against se
cession. Never once has he faltered in
his fealty to the Union. When treason
was rampant in the Senate—when one by
one his associates were yielding to the re
bellious spirit of their people, he remained
firm and true to his country, true to our
great Constitution true to the history of
our fathers."
And-this is the record which this Re
publican party gave of the man of whom
they nowTSay, " When the war came, he
gave the Union cause a mild and incohe
rent - support." Which are the traitors
and fillitifiers, Andrew Johnson, or this
Republican party ? Thii history will
give the answer; and that answerwill be,
Andrew Johnson is a patriot. The Re
publicans are the traitors.ji . "Andrew
Johnson is true to our gre Constitu
tion," said these Republicans, in '1863. In
'1867, they say, "Andrew Johnson is a
traitor. He means to overthi-ow military
despotism and re-establish Constitu
,
titan." Said these Republicans in the Sen
ate of Pennsylvania:
" The loyalty of Andrew Johnson was
never coWtonal. In the madness of the
hour .thatt - hurled 'his neighboring States
into the maelstrom of. Secession, for the
unity, the ; honor, the integrity of the na
tion, he was found a fearlesa , champion.
Amid the darkness which hung like a pall
over the cottutrynt i the inauguration of
Mr. Lincoln, Andrew
.Johinson was ashin
ing light to :and the-doubtftil.
In.the spring of • 1861 he' returned - to his
loved Tennessee. Rebellion was crazy,
and everywhere. around No fear
could awe Whs ll4 jeaped 41)(43
him—personal violenceiivatteil
life watC,threatened—he was' spit
andalt.this because he loved the country
.
of Washington.
- The head and front of his offending
Bath this extent—nothing more. t'
Andrew-3'l)bn Snill has thrown-On the' -holy
altar9f,./fis bleeding - Otintryhisproperty,
Ids leme; his: friend B,'„hiS )ifiit-r-yen, is all,
solely s . nikox9ittsively, tor z thesooil of,onr
common one gf, the
hiest patriot's in the land, who is willing
to.take ,the: .sword-in-his hand. and. go
forth - to" Listen against even- his own off-
SPringS ineCi.olo. 1¢ willing to submit
to iMprisoninei3k-and.death rather - than
pr9ol.alPe:.to,4:eOUntly'a,O,aitie IA Man
cannot 'give .thore than, his:life for his
country!" And yet'Andrew -.Tohnson is
now d traitor - ' •
" In the midst 'of treason, in th; midst
of rebellion, on , liti - WillrativeT
drew Johnsen litirceirleitihibanneiva
the iiiierithent ifftfi3ew%69esc.lEk
has been the soul,. the support, and thii
stay o 1 the gallant men of J his own State,
who have resisted unto death in defence
of their beloved government. When the
goyernors of all the Southern States join
ed the rebellion, he steed "firm and exhor
ted, his friends,to rally under ;he stars and
stripes—to cling to the old flag and all
would yet - be - well !"
This is the man which these same Re
publicans now threaten with impeach
mint. Whom they declare to have "com
mitted such crimes against'the people as
deserve condign punishment." This Re
,pnblican party are now heaping insults up
on him, 'pitting upon hint, and threatening
personal violence, because he loves
the country of Washington—" only this and
pothing pore."
Andrew Johnson, who was willing to
give even his own life for the preserva
tion of the Union, during all. the years of
of the war, said in 1866 :
"1 fought traitors and treason in the
South, now when I turn around and find
men still opposed to the restoration of the
Union of these States, I am still in the
field." (Still on the war path !) " Men
may talk about beheading, but when I
am beheaded I want the American people
to,be the witnesses. Are the opponents
of thisgovernment not yet satisfied? if
my blood is to be shed because I vindi
cate the Union, and insist on the preser
vation of this government, let it be shed."
And . who wanted him beheaded but
these Radicals ? Willing still to give his
life for the Union. And what of the Con
,
stituti - On ?
"Our only safety," says Andrew John
son, " is in a strict adherence to, and pre
servation of the Constitution of our fath
ers. It is now a time of peace, and let us
have peace ; let us enforce the Constitu
tion ; let ns live under, and according to
its provisions ; let it be printed ip blazing
characters, as though it. were in the hea
vens, and punctuated by the stars, so that
all can read and all can understand !"
Did not the Republicans in the Senate
of Pennsylvania and everywhere else, de
clare. that President Johnson was a glori
ous patriot because of his devotion to the
Union and the Constitution during the
war? Why then do they make it treason
to support the , Union and the Constitu
tion since the is ended ? Why are
they threatening to impeach him now for
trying to "re-establish the Constitution?"
What other reason can there be, than the
one be has given to the people himself,
and that is: that the Radicals are just as
much traitors to their country, as those
whom they called rebels at the South ;
that they are resolved on the overthrow
of the Constitution, and the Union, and
of erecting a monarchy on their ruins ?
They are now engaged in 'committing
treason against the government of Wash
ington,,and deserve the punishment of
traitors the same as if they lived in the
South ; 'and the following numbers will
prove that President Lineooln would have
been in accord with President Johnson.
Girls at the Galway Fair.
The citizens of one country often laugh
at those of another for their peculiar man
pers. and customs, yet human nature is
much the same the world over, and the
ladies are but women after all, and will
contrive somehow to accomplish their ob
jects add have pretty much their own
way, by means so adroit as -to escape de
tection.
It is .a custom at this fair for all the
marriagable girls to assemble and to
tempt all wanting wives, by their captiva
ting charms, to be made more happy for
Snys'an American gentleman of the ' I
high* character, who was an eye witness
and invited by a, nobleman to go and see
the girls :
At 12 o'clock precisely we went as di
rected, to a part of the ground higher
than the re.st.of the field, where we found
from sixty to a hundred young women,
dressed,. with goed looks and , good
manner!), and'preienting a spectacle quite
worthy any civil man looking at, and in
which I can assure my readers, Jliere was
was nothing to Offend.any civil or modest
man's feelings.
There were-,the marriagable girls of the
country, whO hid come to , show them
selves on; the Oceasion to the ,young men
and others who Lwurited wives; and this
was the plain and simple custom of the
thin - 1.-canTpl u inly,spy r itsaw ler the cne.
tom ` great impropriety—it — Certainly
did not imply that, though they were rea
dy to, be had, anyone could have them.—
It ' wag' net a Circassian slave market,
where the'richest-purchaser could make a
selection: -.7 ,
They were in no sense of the term on
sale".; per did,they.abindon their right of
Choice; but that- ivhieh is dope constant.,
ly in more refined society, under various
unirpretepeei-4 ,1136;atrC.8 )
indpithlie exhibitiens, Itirdratil nothing
abent - Ohitieliesa,l,4o,e;h4l.4lo;
bleAridvunprAteriding; people in thin
straightforward manner.
MONTROSE, PA., TUESDAY, OCT. 22, 1867.
Between the, noble duchess, who pre
sents a long train of daughters, rustling
in silk and glittering with diamonds, at
the Queen's drawing room, or the ladies
of rank and fashion, who appear at public
places with all the beauty and splendor
of dress and ornaments which wealth and
taste, and art and skill, can supply, mean
ing nothing else but admire me, and these
honest Galway nymphs, with their fair
complexions and their bright eyes—with
their frilled caps, and their red cloaks and
red petticoats, for this is the picturesque
costume of that part of the country, all
willing to endow some good man with the
richest of all the gilis of Heaven, a good
and faithful wife, I can see no essential
difference.—Mass. Plowman.
SEC LOVE LETTERS.
"Are there any more of these letters ?"
When her father asked this question, in
an awful tone, Lucilla Richmond could
not say " No," and dared not say " Yes,"
but, as an intermediate course burst into
tears, and sobbed behind her handker
chief.
" Bring them to me, Lucille," said her
father, as if she had answered him, as, in
deed, she had ; and the girt, trembling
and weeping,irose to obey him.
Then Mrs. Richmond, her daughter's
very self grown older, came behind her
husband's chair, and patted him on the
shoulder.
"Please don't be hard with her, my
dear," she said coaxingly. " He's a nice
young man, and it is our fault after all, as
much as hers, and you won't break her
young heart, I'm sure."
"Perhaps you approve of the whole
affair, ma'am," said Mr. Richmond.
"I—no—that is, I only"—gasped the
little woman; and, bearing Lucilla corn-
ing, she sank into a chair, blaming herself
dreadfully for'not having been present. at
all her daughter's music lessons during
the past year.
Fur all this disturbance arose from a
music teacher who had given lessons to
Miss Lucilla for twelve months, and who
had taken the liberty of falling in love
with her, knowing well that she was the
daughter of one of the richest men in
Yorkshire.
"It was inexcusable in a poor music
teacher, who should , have 'known his
place," Mr. Richmond declared, and he
clutched the little perfumed billet which
had fallen into his hands as he might a
scorpion, and waited for the others with
a look upon his Pace which told of no soft
ening. They came at last, six little white
envelopes, tied together with blue ribbon,
and were laid at his elbow by his despair
ing daughter.
." Lock these up until I return home this
evening," he said to the wife; " I will
read them then. Meanwhile.. Lucilla is
not to see this music teacher on any pre
tence."
And then Miss Luudia went down upon
her knees:
" Oh, dear papa!" she cried, " dearest
papa please don't say I must never see
him again. I couldn't bear it. Indeed I
could not. He's poor, I know, but he is
a gentleman, and I—l like him so much,
papa."
"No more of this absurdity, my dear,"
said Mr. Richmond. "He has been artful
enough to make you think him perfection,
I supposes Your parents know what is
best for your happiness. A music teacher
is not a match for Miss Richmond."
With which remark Mr. Richmond put
on his hat and overcoat, and departed.
Then Lucilla and her mother took the
opportunity of falling into each other's
arms.
"It's so naughty of you," said Mrs.
Richmond. "But oh, dear, I can't blame
you. It was exactly so with me. I ran
away with your papa, you know, and my
parents objected because of his poverty.
I feel the greatest sympathy for you, and
Frederick has such fine eyes, and is so
pleasing. I wish I could soften your
Papa.
" When he has seen the letters there'll
be no hope I'm very much afraid," sobbed
Miss Lucille. "Fred is so romantic, and
papa hates romance."
"He used to be very romantic himself
in those old times," said Mrs. Riehmond.
" Such letters as he wrote me. I have
them in my desk yet. He said he'should
die if I refused him."
"So does Fred," said Lucille.
"And that life woulcl be worthless with
out me; and about my being beautiful
(he thought so, you know). I'm sure he
ought to sympathize s a little," said ; Mrs.
Richmond.
But she dare not promise that he,would.
She coaxed her darling to stop crying,
and made her lie down; then ! went 4 1 in
to her own room to put the lettersinto
her desk; and, as she placed thew in one
pigeon hole she saw in another a bundle
tied exactly as those were, and drew them
out.
'These letters were to a Lucille, also.—
Ooe who had received them twenty years
before—and she was now a matron old
enough to have a daughter• who had heart
troubles—unfolded them one by one, won.
deli* how it came to pass that , lover's
linkers were all so much alike.,
•lialf.a'dozen-Anst the, earns number,
and much more romantic than those, the,
music master had written to her daughter
Lucilla. A strange idea .came into Mrs.
Richmond's mind. She dared not oppose
her husband ; by a look'or a word she had
never attempted such a thing.
But she was very fond of her daughter.
When she left the deskshe looked guilty
and frightened, and something in her
pockets rustled as she moved. But she
said nothing to any one on the subject
until the dinner hour arrived, and with it
Came her husband, angrier and more de
termined than ever. The meal was passed
in silence; then, having adjourned to the
parlor, Mr. Richmond seated himself in a
great arm-chair, and demanded :
"The letters," in a voice of thunder.
Ars. Richmond put her hand in her
pocket and pulled it, out again with a
frightened look.
Mr. Richmond again repeated, still
more sternly:
" Those absurd letters, if you please,
my dear ma'am."
And then the little woman faltered :
• " I—that is—l believe—yes, dear—l
believe I have them," and gave him a
white pile of envelopes, encircled with
blue ribbon, with a hand that trembled
like an aspen leaf.
As for Lucilla, she began to weep as
though the end of all things had come at
last, and felt sure that if papa should
prove cruel she should die.
"Six letters—six shameful pieces of de
ception, Lucilla," said the indignant pa
rent. "I am shocked that a child of mine
could practice such duplicity. Hem! let
me see. Number one, I believe. June,
and this is December. Half a year you
have deceived us then, Lucille. Let me
see—ah! 'From the first moment he
adored you,' eh ? Nonsense. People
don't fall in love in that absurd manner.
It takes years of acquaintance and respect
and attachment. 'With your smiles for
his goal, he would win both fame and for
tune, poor as he is !' Fiddlesticks, Lucil
le! A man who has common sense would
always wait until he had a fair commence
ment, before he proposed . to any girl.
'Praise of your beauty. The loveliest
creature he ever saw!' Exaggeration,
my dear. You are not plain, but such
flattery is absurd. Must hear from you
or die ! Dear, dear—how absurd !"
And Mr. Richmond dropped the first
letter, and took up another.
" The same stuff," he commented. " I
hope you don't believe a word he says. A
plain, earnest, upright sort of man would
never go into such rhapsodies, I am sure.
Ah f now, in number three he calls you
'an angel!' He is romantic, upon my
word. And what is all this?
Those who would forbid me to see you
can find no fault with me but my poverty.
I am honest—l am earnest, in my efforts.
I am by birth a gentleman, and I love you
from my soul. Do not let them sell you
for gold, Lucilla.'
" Great heavens, what impertinence to
your parents!"
" I don't remember Fred's saying any
thing of that kind," said poor littl Lu
cilia. "He never knew you would object."
Mr. Richmond shook his head, frowned
and read on in silence until the last sheet
lay under his band. Then,- with an ejacu
lation of rage, he started to his feet.
"Infamous!" he cried; "I'll go to him
this instant—l'll horse-whip him !—l'll
-I'll murder him! .As for you, by Jove,
I'll send you to a convent. Elope, elope,
with a music teacher. lam ashamed to
call you my daughter. Where's my hat?
Give me my boots. Here, John, ball a
cab!--I--"
But here Lucilla caught one arm and
Mrs. Richmond the other.
" Oh, papa, are you crazy !" said Lu
cilia. " Frederick never proposed such a
thing. Let me see the letter. Oh, papa,
this is not Fred's—upon my word it is
not. Do, look, papa; it is dated twenty
years back, and Frederick's name is not
Charlep ! Papa, these are your -love
letters to mamma,
written long ago.—
Her name is Lucilla, you know!"
Mr. Richmond sat down in his arm
chair in silence, very red in the face.
"How did this occur ?" he said sternly;
and little Mrs. Richmond, retreating into
a corner, with her handkerchief to her
eyes, sobbed:
" I did it on purpose !" and paused, as
though she expected a sudden, judgment.
But, bearing nothing, she dared at last to
rise and creep up to her husband timidly.
"You know, Charles," she said, "It's
so long , 'ago . since, and I thought you
might not exactly remember r —how you
tell in love with the at first sight, how
papa and mamma objected, and at last we
ran away together; and it seemed to me
that if we could bring it all back plaiuly
to.you as it was then, we might 14dear
Lucille marry the man she likes, who is,
good, if he is not,rich. I did not need it
to p..be breught back any plainer myself;
women have more time to remember, you
know.. And we've been very happy, have
we not?"
And certainly Mr.,Richmond could not
deny that., So Lucille, feeling that her
interests might safely be left in her
mother's keeping, slipped out of the room,
and beard the result. Or the little ruse next
morning. It was favorable to the young
music teacher, who had really only been
sentimental, and bad not gone .so far as
atielopement4 And iti'due course of time,
the :tiro were ;married with all thoporap
and grandeur befitting the nuptials of a
wealthy merchant's daughter, with tho
perfect approbation of Lucilla's
,father,
Wad to the great joy of Lucilla's mamma,
who justly believed that her little ruse
had brought about all her daughter's
happiness..
The Horse—His Memory and Sagacity.
An aged and venerable friend, residing
in one of the cities on our Eastern sea
board, a gentleman of - character and
worth, once related to me the following
anecdote of the horse, illustrating, in a
remarkable manner, the sagacity and
memory of this animal:
At the close of the revolutionary war,
when everything was unsettled and in
disorder, an acquaintance residing on the
Boston road, some thirty or forty miles
from New York, lost a valuable young
horse, stolen from his stable in the night.
Great search and inquiry were made for
him, but no tidings of him could be heard,
and no trace of him could ever be discov
ered.
Almost six fell years had now elapsed,
and'the recollection even, of the lost ani
mal, had nearly faded from the mind. At
this period a gentleman from the East, in
the course of business, was traveling on
horseback on this road, on his way to
Philadelphia. When within four or five
miles of a village on the road, the trav
eler was overtaken by a respectable look
ing gentleman on horseback, a resident of
the village, returning home from a short
business ride. Riding along side by side
they soon engaged in a pleasant desultory
conversation. The gentleman was imme
diately struck with the appearance of the
traveler's horse. And every glance of the
eye east toward him, seemed to excite an
interest and cariosity to look at him again,
and to revive a recollection of something
he bad seen before, and soon established
in his mind the impression that for all the
world he looked like the horse he had lost
some six years ago. This soon became so
irresistibly fixed in his mind, that he re
marked to the traveler :
" You have a fine horse, sir."
" Yes," he replied, "an exceedingly
valuable and expellent animal."
" What is his age, sir ?"
" Well, I suppose him to be about ten
or eleven years old."
" You did not raise him, then !"
"No; I purchased hiin of a stranger, a
traveler, nearly six years since."
"Do you reside in this part of the
country ?"
"No, I reside in the Bay State, and am
on my way to Philadelphia, on business.
How far is it to New York ?"
" Well, sir, I really regret to interrupt
you, ,or put you to inconvenience, but I
am constrained to say I believe you have
in your possession a horse that I must
claim."
The traveler looked with surprise and
amazement, and replied :
" What do you mean, sir ?"
" I believe the horse you are on, in
truth, belongs to me. Five years ago,
the past' autumn, a valuable young horse
was stolen from my stable. Great search
was made for him, but no tidings of him
ever came to band. In color, appearance
and movements, it seems to me he was
the exact counterpart of the horse you
are on. It would be hardly possible, I
think, for two to be so near alike. But
my horse was an uncommonly intelligent,
sagacious animal. And I will make a
proposition to you that will place the
matter in such a position that the result
will be conclusive and satisfactory, I think,
to both of us. We are now within a mile
of my residence, which is on the road in
the centre of the village before us. When
we arrive at my house, your horse shall
be tied to the east post in front of my
door—the horse I am on to the west post.
After standing a short time, the bridle of
your horse shall be taken off, and if he
does not go to a pair of bars on the west
side of the house, and pass over, and go
round to the east side of the barn, and
pull out a pin, and open the middle stable
door and enter 1 will not claim him. If
he does, I will furnish you conclusive evi
dence that he was bred, by me, but never
sold—that he was stolen from me just at
the conclusion of the war, about the very
time you say you purchased him."
The traveler assented to the trial. The
horse was hitched to the pest as proposed
—stood -a few minutes—the bridle was
then taken off—he raised his head—prick
ed up his ears—looked up the street, then
down the Street, several times—then de
liberately and slowly walked past the
house and over the bars, and to the stable
door, as described, and with teeth and lip
drew out the pin, and opened 'the doer,
and entered into his old stall. We hardly
need to add, he was recognized by his
neighbors, who fully attested to the facts
stated by the claimant, and that the trav
eler lost his title to the horse.
Two TROUSAND Dorms DAMAGES von
CUTTING, OFD' s. A Loc of HAIM—The
guardian of a little girl in , Bu ff alo .has
brought snit against a woman for cuttin g
off two large black curls from the girl's
head and converting the same into her
own use. Damages , have been laid at
82,000. The girl is a sprightly little child,
and ,bas a head full,,of long black curls
which are envied by both young and old
of h0r,81116: 7119-..offPnlfk w l , lB, 99nunittO
on the 14th of August last, and afa
{VOLUME XXIV, NUMBER 43. '
days afterward the woman was eriedifor
assault and battery for the same offense,
in the Police Court, and dischaiied;,the
justice holding that the evidence was Such
as to preclude an assault and battery,and
the proper redress would be civil , dad
ages. The suit will prove highly:inte
resting and novel. If the offense is as
charged in the complaint, it is of s nature
that requires redreSs. How a jury of old
bachelors would decide is a . question.—
But a jury composed of married men,
whose hearts are centered on their fair
daughters, would be severe in their ver
dict.
The Crops Reports of the Depart
ment of Agriculture.
The Department of Agriculture has
issued its report for August and Septem
ber, which contains the following state
ment of the condition of Abe crops: The
crop tables for August give the general
averages for the several States, made up
from approximate estimate of our corres
pondents of the quality of the crop then
harvested as compared with those of 1856,
together with the current conditions of
growing crops at the date of return, while
the tables for September pertain chiefly to
the state of the fall crops, in the relation
to which more definite information will be
given in succeeding reports.
Wnear.—From August returns there
is a uniform reduction in the general ave
rage of wheat as compared with the July
figures; and the September estimates of
wheat harvested, as compared with the
crops of 1866, drop the figures somewhat
lower in a number of the States, which is
attributable, to a considerable extent; to
the bad weather while harvesting, as well
as to the fact that in some sections the
grain was found to be shrivelled and
threshed out less to the acre than antici
pated. The leading wheat-growing States
report the'lollowing per centage of in
crease at thef\close of the harvest Ohio,
130 per cent.; Indiana, 50; Michigan, 33;
Wisconsin, 17 ; Minuesota, 25 • Illinois,
11 ; lowa, 20 ; Missouri, 40 ; keritacky,
34 ; West Virginia, 60 ; Virginia, 50 ;
Tennessee, 40 ; Georgia, 80 ; Arkansas,
45 ; New-York, 14 ; and' Pennsylvania,
40, while only Kansas and Texas show a
falling off from last year, when these
crops in those States were very large.
The returns due October 1 Will enable us
to estimate with a greater degree of accu
racy the amount of this great crop for the
current year.
COIIN.—The prospect for a corn crop
continues to improve, and if the frost
holds off the general crop may be a fair
one. While a number of States return
low estimates, others, particularly the
Southern States, show a marked improve
ment over the yield of last year. Georgia
promises to double her crop of 1866 ; Al
abama reports an increase of 75 tier cent.;
Mississippi, 80 ; Tennessee, 21; Louisiana,
40; South Carolina, 54; and Arkansas,
100. Ohio falls 30 per cent, behind last
year, estimating from the condition on
the first of September; Indiana,l7; Illi
nois, 14 ; Kentucky, 28 ; West Virginia,
15 ; and Virginia, 10.
The cotton crop promised well up to
the first instant, when the worms were
making their appearance, and much ap
prehension was then felt in various sec
tions for the safety of the crop.
Under the head of ",Extracts from
Correspondence," we give notes from the
several cotton-growing States : Georgia
promises to yield 53 per cent. beyond her
crop of 1866 ; South Carolina,so; Ala
bama, 42 ; Mississippi, 24 ; Arkansas, 18 ;
and Tennessee, 9 ; while Louisiana and
Texas show considerable falling off from
last year.
Rye, barley and oats exhibit
.no mate
rial change from previous reports, though
oats were seriously injured in some sec
tions by the extreme wet weather during
the harvest, but generally the crop ap
pears superior to that of last year.
BUCKWHEAT shows an average acreage,
with prospects of a fair crop.
POTATOES are rotting badly, in many of
the large potato-growing States, and the
crop will probably fall below the yield of
last year.
- Suo.ut CANE AND Sonannt,—Tbe lead
ing sugar producing States show a fair
increase over the•crops of last, year. Sor
ghum is evidently on the decline in most
of the States, without sufficient reason.
The crop now growing is in good con
dition.
ARPLES.—In a few of the States the
apple crop promises well, but in .a major
ity the crop will be from 10 to 40 per
cent. below the crop of 1860. • -
HAY shows an increase in,almost every
State, and quite large in many of them,
Pennsylvania returning in increase off' : 60
per cent.;, New-York; 24 ; Michigan,Wie
conbin and Illinois, 28 ; Indiana, .6. 'MO
average will reach from 25 to 30 per cent.,
and above the crop of 1806.
The Wind alp for 1867 will probably
fall from five to`ken per cent. short of the
crop ;of last' year attributable to the se
vere weather of la ..vrifiter, and the con,
sequent exposure a 4 1 eatruction .of a
large' number of sheep. -
—John ,G. Saxe sayslthat it is a opm
nion notion in Boston tifat, if it perdon is
boin in that 'city, it is unneeessatijor
that favooa tmortal to be - , borii again."