The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1867-11-16

ing rebuke. Here in good, old, sensible
end neyer-failing Hardeman, re hail the
rising sun that will soon shed halo Of light
over the grave of the Radical party BY
all means organize the rank and file Of the
Democracy of Tennessee, and let US teach
the BrownIows, the Maynards, the Stokes.
the Smiths, and the long list Of arrant
noodles who have tyrannized over Che people
Of this commonwealth that they are not in
their proper places Organization is victory
in the future.
THE MERCHANT AND TIE PLANTER-Dar-
ing the long dreary months Of last winter
and the crushing times Of last spring the
planter found that the merchant was his
best friend. New, gentlemen, it is nothing
more than right chat the merchant, in turn.
should find the PLANTER not entirely bereft
Of memory or a spirit of appreciation. We
make these remarks because we know that
in hundreds Of instances farms could not
have been run without the producer was
aided by the vender. The former had not
the means to buy, and Of course was accom-
modated by the latter, upon promise that
90 the first bailings should be broughtin and
devoted to the Just cause Of squaring &C
counts In some instances this has been
done, but in the large majority of cases,
broken promises, gaping wide, stare honest
men in the face. Times are hard, says one.
and cotton is to low for me too sell now in a
short time things viii take turn for the
I, I I Al
chant This is a dream that no sensible
man should indulge in, for every thing on
this as well as the other side Of the Atlantic
/ precludes the idea that an advance in the
price of the staple commodity Of this sec
ton can possibly take place. Facts are
stubborn and viii prevail, no matter how
hard we strive to crush them under foot
/ There is no market for king cotton now, and
every day but brings to our unwilling ears
tidings Of his crumbling throne. Time was
when Americans could count to a cent the
valuation of cotton in European markets
the last six years has brought abouya change
that long before this should have been known
/ by every tiIler of southern soil. Foreign
/ cottons rule the foreign markets, and our
people, so to speak, are tied hand and foot,
not by their own actions, but by bad legisla-
/ ton and the whirlwind of events which
haze swept over this country within few
4 years past, For the good, the welfare of
all, let the producer Of cotton come into
market and make his promises good, for by
so doing he will most assuredly put money
in his pocket and protect and unbIemished
reputation. As sure as fate, cotton III be
lower than it is now.
We are now enjoying the finest autumnal
weather imaginable Clear, frosty nights
are followed by calm, sunny days that light
up the hill and valley with peculiar glow
/ too beautiful to paint with words. The scar
! and yellow leaves are drifting lazily down
| ward through the scented air, ripened nuts
clatter amid halfnaked boughs, while under
ne ath ripping streams, pure and fresh, sing
| re quims over the buried summer as their
waters glide past some miniature cannon
! half gorged with the faded foliage Of innu-
merable trees and creeping vines. From
| this enchanting scene turn we to a twelve
mouts past. A path once lit up with bright
smiles and joyous youth, honored age and
! high resolves, is cLeckered Ger with fit
/ ting shadows that point out where warm
hearts grew cold and truthful lips whispered
their last Along on either site are deep,
dark caver ms never seen before, while yawn-
! ing tissues thread between. There stands
! Virtue with her unfading wreath and close
/ beside are fragments of broken VOW. There
/ by that lonely mound kneels Constance,
! via lie a desccrated Altar topples to the
/ ground And yonder, with out-stretched
arms Affection clasps the wanderer,- but
blasted hopes hang thick upon the dusky
form Of Disappointment High over all
the cloak Of Fate floats in air that never can
be breathed again, and on it is written in
unmi stakaLle letters The Eternal Past,
Teacher of an Intending Future Let US
learn. Again we look forward and rear
hopes upon what We deem stable and sure
calculations. Have q care, and remember
the past, for the road we are travelling can
only be seen rs the old clock measures time.
The voice that thrills your soul to day may
be mute tomorrow. and the clear, flashing
eve which speaks so we'll the language Of
the heart grow dim and listless. still hope
we on, Cor tbs this great gift that nerves US
for every task. How grand does Thomas
Campbell draw the picture
Unendiur Hope. vhea nature arst s1hlima,
Pealed her s5uat the 0avarl marsl % tals,
TIy Joyous yaata began, but not fade
whoa an che sister planets have dssaysi,
O. 60 ~ rrnf a lf e e aIf