Alabama, goldenrod.
Arizona, suwarso.
Arkansas, apple blossoms.
California, California poppy.
Colorado, columbine.
Connecticut, mountain laurel.
Delaware, peach blossoms.
Florida, Japan camellia.
Georgia, Cherokee rose.
Idaho, syringa.
Illinois, rose.
Indiana, corn.
Iowa, wild rose.
Kansas, sunflower.
Louisiana, magnolia.
Maine, pine cone.
Michigan, apple blossom.
Minnesota, moccasin flower.
Mississippi, magnolia.
Missouri, goldenrod.
Montana, bitter-root.
Nebraska, goldenrod.
New Jersey, sugar maple.
Nevada, sage brush.
New York, moss rose.
New Mexico, crimson rambler rose.
North Carolina, chrysanthemum.
North Dakota, goldenrod.
Ohio, buckeye.
Oklahoma, mistletoe.
Oregon, Oregon grape.
Rhode Island, violet.
South Carolina, Carolina palmetto.
South Dakota, pasque flora.
Texas, blue bonnet.
Utah, sago lily.
Vermont, red clover.
Washington, rhododendron.
Wisconsin, violet.
[THE COUNTIES OF GEORGIA.]
By Katharine B. Massey.
When I was a little girl, our fad was the possession of a charmstring. This was a string of buttons, obtained by coaxing from our elders or barter with each other, and constantly added to until some of them reached the length of several yards. With delightful pride we told over the list of our treasures. "This button," one would say, "came from Cousin Mary's wedding dress; this my Uncle John gave me; this was sent to me from China by my aunt who is a missionary in Canton; and this bright brass one was on my father's uniform during the war." Much of family life and many loving associations were thus strung together for the little maiden. In some such way, but in a larger sense, our state has used the naming of its counties as a cord of gold on which to hang traditions of its past, memories of its heroes, and reverences for those who helped us when help was needed.
A group of seven counties embalms the names of the Indian tribes who owned our hills and valleys before us, who hunted the deer with flintheaded arrows where now our cities stand, and threaded their trails in silent forests where today our cotton fields are spread. They are Catoosa, Chattahoochee, Chattooga, Cherokee, Coweta, Muscogee, Oconee—how musically the syllables fall upon the ear. It is like a chime of silver bells.
Four counties may be set together as commemorating large events in history. Columbia, Oglethorpe, Liberty, and Union. The first of these was named for the dauntless sailor who, possessed with the faith which cared naught for all other men's unbelief and rising above poverty, discouragement, and mutiny, held his way westward over unknown seas to find his prophetic vision a reality. Oglethorpe bears the name of the brave soldier, courteous gentleman, and broadminded philanthropist, who founded a colony for oppressed debtors to give them a new chance in life. Liberty County has a pretty little story of its own. A band of Massachusetts Puritans, seeking a milder climate, settled first in South Carolina, and not being fully satisfied, came on to St. John's Parish, Georgia. Their distinguished devotion to the cause of liberty in the perilous days of 1776-1783 gained for them that name when the parishes were changed into counties. Union County was so named because its citizens claimed to be known as Union men, when the rest of the state stood for state rights.[1]
Another group of seven counties bears the name of English statesmen who spoke for us in the halls of Parliament and withstood the tyranny of king and nation in dealing with their brothers of America. They were the fiery-tongued orator Edmund Burke, the commoners Glynn and Wilkes, the Duke of Richmond, and the Earls of Chatham, Camden, and Effingham.
Three other foreigners, lovers of liberty, drew sword and fought in our battles, side by side with our struggling heroes. Georgia has honored herself by naming counties for Baron DeKalb, Count Pulaski, and General LaFayette.