Hide Article Text (OCR)
THE WEEKLY BANNER-WAT'.'HMANTESDAY FEBRUARY 15. 1887DJUSTICE'S NURSERV.A VISIT TO THE ORCHARDS ANDVINEYARDS OF MU. JUSTICE.idin1-inre5t-ide-resrieutiyide-?diserasofle.!1-redsaveitkeiirtoonodngofkalasAnbndtatialtybyhoLSSisonjrsng?o-nd0111oflotg-liistoheip.lasin-isredemtheus-icncksre-eretoareieir•an-nordif-Sotne Valuable Information Abaut Fruit Treci-^iraflinff and Bud* dinf-rA Plcaaant Dajr .Hast ProII-tably Spent*J effersox* Feb. 12. — [Special.] — I have just returned from a visit to the nursery of Mr. J. G. Justice, which is one of the most important enterprises* notanly in Jackson county* but .Northeast Georgia. This nursei yia at the peat office of Marcus* on the Lawrenceville road and seven miles distant from Jeffer-son and three miles from the nearest station* on the G.* J. S. railroad. With Dr. Arnold to pull the lines over a pair of Mr. Ike Austin’s tine roans* the intervening distance was soon annihilated, and in a short time I found myself at the home of not only otone Jackson county’s successful aud prosperous farmers, ^ but also an honored and progressive citizen* Mr. J.G. Justice.From JelTerson to Marcus I passed through a line belt of farming land* with evidences on every hand of industry and thrift. I saw large belts of line timber and new grounds being opened—an unusual spectacle in our old country. The roads were broken* but in very good condition. I crossed numerous water courses* including the Middle Oconeeriver* with broad strips of bottom* but the dam to Thompson's mill below rendered acres unlit for cultivation.When we drove up to a pretty white cottage on the roadside* surrounded by orchards and vinyards and shrubbery* while across the road we had a glimpse of pens tilled with shucks* cribs of corn* lofts of fodder and hay and while in the lot ranged sleek and fat stock* I needed no one to tell me that m/destination was reached* for I had been told that Mr. Justice was one of the most prosperous and successful farmers in Jack*on county.Driving up to the gate and giving the usual country “hallo!” we were answered by a lady who informed us that Mr. Justice was* down the road at his new ground. It is in sight of the house, and oil repairing then* we feund that our visit was well-timed* for a regular old fashioned log-rolling was going on and of coursewith its attendant good dinner. Rut as 1 did not come here to exercise my muscles, hut to look at Mr. Justice's nursery, with our genial host we were soon walking over the farm. Rut before westarted on our pilgrimage, Mr. J earned us down into his cellar and then insisted that we sample several specimens of the finest home-made grape wine we ever tasted. And J unices idea of a sample, too* is alxrnt a quartMr. Justice tells me that he started his nursery at the close of the late war on a very small scale, lie had devoted considerable attention to fruit raising* made it a suidy. So he decided that he could make some profit for himself and at the same time accommodate his neighbors by cultivating such fruit as he found suitable to this section and climate* and thus save his friends from being imposed on with worthless specimens. Hefirstsold only to his near neighbors a few trees* hut gradually* as the merits of the plants from his nursery became known* Mr. Justice was forced to extend his opera-several splendid varieties that I haTetested. The Sharpies 1 think the best.’'After an extended walk over several fields planted in young fruit trees and vines of various kinwo reached the house in tim.» to ^*$drtake of%Jendid dinner,' by Mr..anigen,sister «f Mr. - Justice (who is » bachelor) and . who k'eps house for him. I consider the Jackson county nurseries _one_ of themost importaut enterprise in Kurthi-ut Georgia, and advise all of our rcuk-rs who desire lirst-clas*Mr. Justice their ordt trte* v* sbttdL. G.A SERVAST IASSIE.Only a rimple servanS lassie? Yes, bat for ’a that there will ho servant locales in heaven just as well as braw folk. Thepoor were never despised by Him when Ho vwas on earth.Heigho! I bavena written half a dozen lines o’ my fctory yet, and I’m sadly conscious that l’vo made blunders already.I mean to write it a* in English, and if a bit Scotch wordle does tumble in noo and again I’m sure you’ll forgie me. When I warm to my work I’ll pot better on. This is the way wi’ a* Scotch folk; when no excited it’s their own broad Doric they speak, but my conscience, if you once put their bin» it’.-* as tine aounding English they’ll speak as any southener that over stepped in shoe leather.My name is Jeonnie, Jeonnie McLean, that’s it a’ thegither, or complete as 1 ought to say. From far, far north the Tweed I come, ay, and north tlio Dee os welL. An far west as the train can penetrate among the Donside hills, on a bon-nie braehcail, among bonnie green knolls, among woods o* dark waving fir and spruce, lighted up here and there wi’ the tender green of the feathery larch, and begirt wi’ bands o* yeltowhrodm and gowden furze, there stood my father’s humble cot. And every night of my happy young life I used to be lulled to Elcep by a sound like waves breaking on a shingly beach; for, if it wasn't the wind whispering and moaning through the trees, it was the incessant hurtle o’ the Don rustling on over the pebbles and bowlders. So near were wo to the river that dear Johnnie could throw a stono right over it. A strong, strong trm had Johnnie. Johnnie was my only brother, and I never had a sister.My mother died when Johnnio and I were so young tliat neither of us co'dd remember her, and Grannie kept my father’s house. Dear auld Grannie, with her clear caller, canty face, and her busy, happy ways, it is years ago since she has gone to her long homo in the auld kirk-ynrd. Slu- aye luul a pleasant smile foiJohnnie and me, and used to tell us old world stories in the long forenights ’o winter.Imagine us, if you can, gathered round that Scottish’country fireside, a great fire of peats and wood is blazing and crackling on the hearth—there is no other light. At one corner sits my father in an easy clrnir, liis day’s toil is past and his pipe is alight; at the other is auld Grannie,the old eight-day clock, which Grannie wouldn't part with, sold by roup. Grannie hcraelf dwelling in n litilo hut by the , liillside, and Johnnie a soldier in tho gallant Forty-twa. And right handsome did Lo look in his Highland dress, with his brawny legs and • liis bonuet and plumes.And I—a ample servant lassie. For tho kind English lady luul taken lt;,uite a fancy to mo and I was bound for the couth as her maid. As the train roiled away from, the station, as I lost sight lt;f .the woods, and hills end bonnie braes, whkt could I do bat lean back in a comer of tho carriage and cry—laasio like. Poor Jamie, too!Grief does not break young hearts, and in my new homo at Southsea, everything was very new indeed, and my heart leaptup one tiny with a nameless joy wh-n I heard that the Forty-second was coming to Portsmouth.My mistress was kindness itself, and consideration, too. She was a Iadv, though not rich, and 1m sure would have bitten her tongue nt any time rather than say a single word to wound the feelings or hurt the heart of a simple servant lassie. Alt! would tliat all mis-tressei were the samel She never hindered me from going out. and, indeed, often suggested it. Anil so, many were the walks Johnnie anil I had on the01YCSTERIrampart*, ami many a talk of the dear old times tliat evenwaving u*now BCeuied so faraway.And my mistress hail always a kind word and a smile for me* and talked so naturally and 60 encouragingly that sit any time I believe I would liave laid down my life to save hers. After a few months of Portsmouth life mv mistress and I started to spend a few weeks in France. Johnnie saw us olT. and I think I seo the liandsome, manly boy yet, with tho sunny smile on his sunburnt face, in tho dark tartan kilt and white spats, standing thero on tho station good by with his bonnet and plumes.Wo were two montlis away* but returned at las, and the very next morning I went to see for Johnnie.-I was rounding the comer of a street, when tlio * slow, half nmfiltxl sound of drums fell on my ear* and presently I could hear the music itself. It was a dirge, a coronach, played by the pipers. It v. as no ordinary dead march. It was the grapd old hymn* Johnnie's song and mine:O! ooino—oorno—with-me Tt—tin.*—auM—Kirk yard.To every word there was a stroke of the drum and a stop of tho men. And yonder Is the cclVm and the bonnet and fecit hers.“Who is—d—d—dead?** I cried.clutching tho arm of a soldier who stoodnear me.tions* unti* now his business extendsh ahaswnhip*ngassadeoonTheinc-rses nill own the see heir em-the hem liich tiere td a nust ne-bim. r to es apos-mal.pperven-lome had 1 his •Sing how-isful. sell* :has-lownly 12ownwidewap-roudloon-ealed good with : wast, hut as a■ own a ae ted to filed, i, the within old oneover all the counties in this section of Georgia, and even into adjacent States. And this business was built up, too, without advertising or drumming. When a tree from Justice’s nursery was introduced into a settlement and liegan bearing, it was all the advertisement he asked. Mr. Justice has now thirty acres in voung fruit trees ami vines, and he wiil this year largely extend his area, as he had last year more orders than he could fill.During our stroll over the farm we asked our host to tell us sometning about the cultivation of fruit trees, that we might publish for the information of our readers.“Well, he remarked, “you cannot expect to raise fruit without giving your orcKard attention. It requires as much work as anything else. An orchardshould be fertilized and cultivated. Itwon’t last three years if you sow it down in oats, but you can plant other small grain on it, provided it is pastured or cut green, but must not be permitted to mature. It is best, however, to plant it in potatoes cr cotton, that you can cultivate. Corn extracts too much from the soil. A peach tree should be trimmed at the end of the limbs only, so as to give it a good shape; for when the limbs project they split oir from loads of the fruit To get rid of the borers—which will kill out any nursery directly—sprinkle oak ashes around the roots. It is only orchards that are neglected where these pests appear. 1 have heard of the kerosene remedy, but was afraid to try it, lest it kill my trees as well as the worms.”*“ls it true that a seedling peach or apple tree will last longer than a graft?” “There is nothing in it. The life of a grafted peach tree should be 25 years, and anj apple tree will live to he fifty years, when th?y are given proper care.I have seen them reach this age, and have myself now trees nearly that old that are still bearing well. There is as much difference between grafted fruit and seedlings as between a race horse and some of the steeds exhibited on the Jefferson swapping ground.”At this interval we had reached one of thcjfields set out in apple scions. “I can show you just here,” remarked Mr. Justice. “Here in this row is a seedling growing by a graft. You notice that the former is unshapely and with thorns putting out on the sides ins'ead of limbs, ’.’he graft is a straight and shapely shoot, with smooth and healthy hark. The same difference will he seen in the fruit of the two trees if allowed to ripen. You know all fruit has been perfected by care from wild species, and the nature of the tree is to go hack to the original state. Grafting prevents this.”“Will a peach seed, if planted, produce the same fruit as the tree from which it is taken?“That is a matter of chance. It will bear the same variety, but there will be a difference, too, in {he fruit. For instance, the stone from an early English peach will probably grow a tree that produces a late English peach, and vice versa; hut in every instance, there is a tendency for the fruit to degenerate.”We noticed the vigorous young trees in Mr. Justice's nursery, and asked him how he brought them to such perfection.“That is the main cause of the great popularity and success of my trees. I use whole roots and graft in the dirt The rule with nurseries is to take up the roots and split them .in four or five pieces, and after inserting twigs into each set them out again I don’t take up my original root at all until foT shipment. I clip them off down at the ground, cover the graft with dirt, and leave them alone. It stands to reason that a tree given a whole root and thus treated will he more vigorous than when split as 1 have described. So it is not the grafting of fruit trees that causes them to die so soon, but not giving them enough root and too much transplanting. And another thing. I never ship any-but a perfect tree. If it is not as straight as an arrow, and in perfect health, I dig it up and throw it aside “Isn’t the Shockley apple about played out?“Yes. It was once the favorite winter apple in this section, but the trees take the tub*, and the fruit has degenerated it nrpT- I badly. 1 have, however, an apple of my t know own discovery, called the Durham Win-rnv or- that W,U keeP until M*y; smootf*re been *nd finely flavored, and is undoubtedlyoderate the he*1 apple for this climate. In myting wires as she tells her tale, Johnnio and I complete the circle; our eyes are riveted on Grannie’s face. Tlio smoke goes curling up the wide chimney, the blaze sometimes following yards high, tho wind without is roaring and whistling round the house, shaking doors andHe must have seen I was choking.I!e put eno arm round my waist kindly a3 he replied: /“Poor Jack McLean, my lass. Are von his sweetheart?”I remember nothing more for weeks, for all this lime I lay raving with brain fever.******A year luul passed away and a cliange had como over my situation in life. Forand click, click, clicl^-cliok, god^erJrait- my dear, kind mistress was obliged to giveup house and go abroad, and I was engaged as general servant to a lady in Portsmouth.Now I was to know what indeed it meant to lie a simple servant lassie under a thoughthss and unkind mistress. Perhaps die di 1 not really mean to be un-Kl.BEronvspally upc shape o gives tc Watch given tlt; hidden lady, w the btt is from and altl ing torn ly distil neat an than I lt;lowed 1 words* ned the scenes written nearer.Cakc My Do say tha be trail made b regretistep* a* more d ton. I C* 1st 1This and is into thlt;If I •any lie my seiSucl please the me have nThe vices ♦ build., c.omph preacliPlea Mrs. 1 Criime[SisKi.b case o which court tenia v Charg Our found interei was o The o Elbert of the some : way. those two ri rnone; the rc what road \dindling windows; hut it makes us feel , kiml sho could not luip it. I be-oU Hut cnii(p'n«r \ntl\m T iiiut. f»riK»n »• . • ... «« « •aU tho snugger within. I just creep licve that. |iar,| though her heart un-closer to Johnnie, lean my head on liis Bhouldcr. and listen.By and by Grannie stops speaking, and for a while the wind has it all its own way; then my father rises eolemnly and puts his pipe away in the wa'-bole.“Bairns, let us worship God,” ho says.Grannie lights tho black oil lamp, with its dried rush wicks, and father takes tho Book. He reads a chapter, then, to the half mournful notes of some such tune as Martyrdom, wo ring, • perhaps, “The Lord's My Shepherd.”There was always plenty to do, and ; Johnnie and I were never sorry when ! Sabbath came. Sabbath and a long 1 walk to the wco bit kirk on the hill head, i where in earnest and impressive voice our j good minister would point the way to happier spheres; ho never failed to breathe words of comfort for the weary, consolation for tho bcrvavyVjUtt^feoP68 of. future joy for all.Never a Sunday passed that Johnnie and I did not linger behind, till all the other kirk folk had peased away out and homewards then we would go quietly round and visit mother’s grave. Thisdoubtedly was, sho would often liave felt for me could she but have known how her words used to bum into my feelings*.I’m sure I trie ! to please her. I’m sure I did what I could and as well as I coaid. but my whole life .soon lvcamo a burdlt; n to me. 1 used to go t * my room and, don't laugli. cry end pray. That holjed me some—don't forget I'm hut a simple Scottish lassie.Did mv mistress fCoM? No. not down-right, fcho imsyjwl. Oh! tliat worrying, nerve breaking how much moremean it i-* than any ficolthrig!When mistress Rrst asked my name afid I told her “Jo’nmc*” Khali cull you Ann,” elio replied. “I call all my servants Ann.”I’m sure master felt porry for me, but Ixo dared say nothing. 1 believe he was as much afraid of her an I was, though a kindly hearted gentleman he was. lie would como in to dinner happy looking and singing, and at tablo begin, to talk and laugh with his pretty pets of children. Then mistress would Login to nag at me as I laid tlio dinner. And jxxr master's face would fall at once. ThereII A ■« r b - . . , would bo no more talking or laughingwas not all sentiment, both of us toved ^ Uhj chilJri.n Jlflcr that. Ue wouJlimother, though wo hardly remembered \seeing her. Dutlicr mortal remains were | hurriedly and silently Bwr.llow a few.a ■ .a. a a a * a a__a *1___t •. 7 .there in tliat auld kirkyard* and they would rise again, such was oar simplefaith; and wc never looked upon mother as dead, but as a saint in heaven* She could see us* wo thought, nay, might even be permitted to watch over us, and lovingly guard and befriend us in trial and in danger. Sho saw us each Sabbath* then* as we bent low and touched the grassy knoll and laid thereon our of-mcuthfuls, then, making eon 10 excuse about work to linisli. disappear.Lut the room never was dusted enough to please mistress* tho firo never burned brightly enough, tho things were never proierly put on the table.1 used to dread so lying too late of a morning that my night’s rat was all one painful, confused dream. I would start may be at : and look at the watch againMoyearwithWithinent much sever is grc cultu sever tliat I meet but t i/.ed 1 vest.Mitable to hi:one c coun.) u peroi W MidibeyonowT1to ou neve a mi ease.Glt; \V tlu rhin e our • unde we a the i tiin thvt a rai inon is taferings of flowers. Humble enough | and again at 4* and if I did this I0 me •e bu-1 onceanl tong forrul het thebaillymadeilvex-•been juick-r, that pretty matter neigh-d and them. I good ms.. G.Ixen ofMeip-iad as t thir-I’alen, ployed d Ten-month-e I.ot-te tick irize of net Pa-d himthese might he, but in spring thero were the sweet scented yellow primrose and sprigs o’ crimson may, in summer there were always rich lmttercups and rich ox-eyed daisies, and a hundred wild flowers from hedgerow and copse; even winter brought its garlands of red rowans and its evergreens, so all the year round mother’s grave never wanted beauty.That old churchyard and the wee bit kirk. I have but to shut my eyes and they rise up before me. What though the kirk itself was st8^hto#« the bell devoid of music, the grass long and green on the graves, and after rain looking as though it had been combed down; what though tlio tombstones were gray and lichen clad, and leant in everydirec-tion except tlio right one—mother’s grave was there!You English maids may laugh at me, but ah! you little ken how dearly we Scotch mountaineers love our wild homes; besides, you know—I’m only a simple servant lassie.Our Johnnie could play the fiddle so sweetly. It was the merry airs auld Grannie liked the bed, but thero was one thing that Johnnie used to play and sing that never failed to bring tho tears to my eyes at least: though somehow it was a sweet kind of melancholy it inspired, and neither grief nor melancholy ever injures tho heart if team can flow.Had I any other companions c Johnnie? Yes, a neighbor Izsdo w sometimes drop in, an«l—well, why should I deny it, nomctimre a neighbor laddie—why shouldn't a simple Scotch lassie like mo liave a bit sweetheart? What for no?But it was only on Sunday evenings in the sweet summer tixno that Jamie and I used to take a Icndy walk. And wheredid we walk, think you* Why., down the line. You too in tho far north, of dear auld Scotland trains don’t run co the Sabbath day, and the line is the favorite promenade. Oreen, feathery larch trees bounded the banks ell along, and the banks themselves were pointed witbJiDr.fronMn-laM«:beri A per chil bea. it w five hadIIthalhisl’h«wo IWh’1foiltlt;get4«borne»iwild flowers In the sweetest colors you could imagine—patches of crimson clover, patches of white clover, beds cf orange tmfoils, beds of bluest speedwell, and tall red ragged robins everywhere. Then there was tho hum of tno bees, as they bummed from Cower to flower, tho sweet perfume of tho clover cod the wild, glad notes of tho cbaffle scar his nest in the larc tree. And—yer, and Jamie* voice, sweeter to me than all. Dilt;J.I love Jamie? I dinna keh. Jamie never what you might call raado love to me, but I dare say I did like him.a'wee bit. Bonnieblack hair had Jamie, Hue, bluo ten, rosy dimpled cheeks, a coclcit bonnet wi’ kxig strings that fluttered o’er his back and shoulders, and such a winsomo smile! No, he never made love like, but he would talk for on horn: at a time abouthis horses and kyo/and I used just todreaded to fall asleep again. I would lie and read for an hour or two, then go down to tho cold kitchen among the beetles and struggle for another hour with wet sticks and damp coals before I got the lire to light.Was it any wonder I got thin and worn and so nervous that my mistress' voice suddenly calling “Ann” felt like a red hot knife jerked into liiy heart?1 now como to tho turning point ofmy eomowliat sad history, which would never have been written had I not thought this simple narrative might movesome mistresses to le a little more considerate of the feelings of their servants.What was my fate to he. I often asked that questic n of myself, lassie like. Would Jamie lx my fate? Though I know he liked me. ill his letters he never breathed a wonl of love, but always told me about auld Graimio and the’ eight day clock and about his horses and kye.I had only one friend now in the world. And he—I feel sure you will laugh—was the brewer’s drayman. When he called for an empty cask or to dejoslt a full one in the cellar, he always I tin; had a gentle word and a smile for me. AnHo was a jolly looking young man with sail a handsome face, a burly form, and an aw apton big enough fora bathing tent. And All if you'd only seen him pitch the great w h casks about—why John was strong Ha enough to lift a cow. picOne day mistress lind been more tank- m.lt; ersonie tlian ever, and my eyes were ml gn, with weeping. John noticed it. and tra talked ever so kindly, and I told him all. | KCa and from that day for montlis I took to telling John all, and he always lmd a I word of comfort for me. Is it any won-1 i dcr tliat my heart warmed to him?] used to light him down to the dark cellar, and it was down there wo used to hold our little confabs.But I’ll never forget tho morning John asked me to become his wife.The tallow candle barely dispelled the gloom of tliat damp, dark cellar, and the daylight streaming in above us from a grating, fought with the gloom and was swallowed up.“Which I’ve loved you for a long tim*,” said Jolin, “though I dursn’t summon up courage to speak my mind.But 1 have the prettiest little cottage and garden in the houtskirts as ever ye seed.And it only wants a mistress, Jeonnie, WJnc!i it'll* bo your sweet self and nobbut else.”I was glad tlio cellar was so dark, so ho couldn’t boO my face; hut next moment I waa pressed close to John’s big apron, and it did smell of raalt and hoi*a fcrlt;anthlt;so.em good selection of fruit I try to grow only trees ^ ^ ^gh Qnd I^ten.. | that I have found after experience to do | maybe think I'nhow deal showm dwelling too our liappy limehead— sod.JohnnioYes, it is a sweet, wee cottage, and lie do the rotes look twining round tho porch in summer, and John is the dearest and best of liustiands. Yea, I’mhappy, and I’ve almost forgotten that ever I was a simple servant lassie.' Good by—there is John coming.—Gordon Ctables in Home Chitneo.11.hrnnpitliinaniseAiclt;JbinOld FAtmio,xKD Pbujt Texes.—Mr.JohiuNlchoIs. of Gum Spring, has for sale' several hundred selected peach ^iva ex-1 waste of tim* and money for our people I nor fevergavo athougbt fo* to-morrow, j “*• old and all rrown fromreprised to try *nd 8TOW them- 1 0Q,t Bel1 my I In this Tespect wo fulfilled the Scriptures 1 ic frait that h? will sell atThat I I Patrons a tree that will be worse than right enough. It never struck us tliat I ^ useless to them.” J our present life would not last till11nfire cents each. This is a spl*nlt;lidrpnu to useless w worn. our prc*scuv uie wvuw uu i - ’ _ AVu» ofmercial “Where do you get roar stocks from?” cjored oureyea for oye and went to sleep ^ ^ nnreries Mr. Nlcholsid over I uMy stocks to which I graft pears 11 m tno moois. , , * , I ^ tsxnrv R-ed himself- and I e is ainto the I import from France. I save and nlmxt I I SrfcetW reliable man. Now is thea not as , Ke apple reSTcan with t^^ning in the chimney ^fectly reliah.ew I will rest I buy from the New Jerwy cider and the cold mow and sleet tearing over I time to att out a mills. There is no trouble about getting I the hills and throughSm -woods, fother_ nursery. Send yourorders to Mr. Nichols and they will be» rr;=«5r rtf qX'niS»prompl,T —-ich, Jan. cuttings. Here are several rows' nted fr thousands of vines I willgrapes planted from the seed. Probably ont ef the thousands of vines I will ret ted with I one or two new and good varieties. Theat, pains rest are dug up and thrown away. I have sea, etc., | some very fine grapes, and give them my tion Oil best attention. The blaok scuppernong all drug- I is no account, and I don’t want to botherfboUle. wifl) it Strawberries? Yet, I growI no I cannot dwell on this. That night he took to his bed, and in spite of the To Ccvrrxr Merchahts.—If you dnrfcw’e attmtion in spite of tho kind- will give us a call before buying) curt£5t\n English tody who was dwell- Garde* *** »'*}'J™ing at the big house, lie slipt quietly or in case you doo I fSf ^nSyJ«S,tSnSSSUS.What a change! The funeral post and and 866 Ufl* G. W RUSH A CO.,etaaa broken uo boat. Rwthin* exoeot |Athens, Ga,i
Newspaper Details
Athens Weekly Banner Watchman
Athens, Georgia, US
Tue, Feb 15, 1887
Page 6
Full Page
Clipped by
Anonymous
USA 15 Jun 2021
Other Publications Near Athens, Georgia
Athens Clarke County Courier
Athens Banner Weekly
Athens Banner Watchman
Athens Banner
Athans Athenian
