Part 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Continued in next issue.)

Mammy and Memory

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

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

JOHN TROTWOOD MOORE.

Nitrification of the Soil, or, How Plants Grow

BY WILLIAM DENNISON OF FARGO, NORTH DAKOTA.

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

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

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

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

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

The Great New South

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

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

Bre’r Washington’s Consolation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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