University of South Carolina Libraries
B I^SSTJED' SEMI'WEEKL^^ l. m. grist 4 sons, Publishers. } % 4am''s ifcuapper: j|or "*$ promotion ojf the folital, social, tlgricuttucal and commercial interests jf the south' {ter,iinr?l?corj-ei\rvencentsa!'ceestablished 1855. yobkyille, s. c., saturday, september 17, 1898. number 75. A MARRIAGE BY ROBERT Author of "The Shadow of Man,' Copyright, 1897, by Robert Buchanan. CHAPTER IX. His face was very pale, but his expression was calm and determined. With a cry of horrified wonder I recoiled before him and stood gazing wildly into his face, while the old woman, trembling and muttering to her self, slipped past him and left the room. He approached nearer. I stood still, looking at him, my heart throbbing and all my blood boiling in indignation against him. "My God," I murmured, "then it was you." He bent his head, and his face grew paler stilL "Will you listen to me?" he said in a low voice. "I wish to explain everything. " "I will not listen," I said indignantly. "I have nothing to say to you. ] wish to leave this house. I"? As 1 moved to pass him he turned to the door, closed it and stood with hif back to it looking at ma "You must remain where you are," he said, "at least tonight. Oo so, and 1 swear to you that no harm shall come to you. For what I have done, Catherine, 1 ask your forgiveness I was mad perhaps, but I took you at your word. It was my last chanca " I remained stupefied, at a loss to comprehend him, only conscious of a sickening horror and dread of him. He saw and understood the expression on my face and continued in his low, sad, musical voice: "You remember what you said?that he who married you must win you even against your own will? The devil put it in my head to do it, and you are here. This is my house. Your person is sacred in it, but I wish you to remain as its mistress?as my wife. "Your wife!" I repeated. "You coward, I will never forgive you, never again take your hand even in friendship, and for what you have done to me you shall be punished, be sure of that! Stand aside, sir, and let me go!" "It is too late for that, Catherine, even if it were my will that we should part It is not my wilL You must remain!" I struggled to pass him, but he stood like a rock. In my mad passion I struck him in the face with all my strength, i He smiled sadly and looked into my eyes. "You see, it is useless," he said. "What is done is dona I would gladly recall it, but regrets are always in vain. By this time the alarm has been given, and you are being sought for far and wida It will be thought, no doubt, that you are dead?murdered perhaps. Well, apres? No one will guess the truth until I choose to reveal it. In the meantime I mn ts\ t.hinlr it all over?to rem em ber the love I bear you aud to ask yourself is it not better to resign oneself to the inevitable." "You mean that I am your prisoner? That you will dare to detain me here? Think what you are doing! Suffer me to go now, and I will try to forget what you have done!" "There is only one way now," he answered quietly. "You must consent to be my wife." "I will never do that," I cried; "never, never! Even if I had ever cared for you, what you have done would make me hate you and despise you. I thought you were a gentleman?you are a scoundrel?a scoundrel aud a miserable coward J" "Whatever I am I love you, Catherine. That is all the defense I have to offer." "Help, there! Help!'.1 I cried. "It is useless," he said. "No one ' will heed you. The people are bound to me, and they have their instructions. If you are wise, you will remain hero quietly. Whatever you need or ask for 6hall be brought to you. My old housekeeper will look after your comfort. You may assure yourself that you are perfectly safe under this roof. Rest here in peace and tomorrow I will come to you again." Before I could answer him again he slipped out of the door, which he locked upon me. Convinced now that escape was impossible, I threw myself into the chair aud fell into a passion of angry teara Presently I grew calmer. All my pride was aroused', and I determined, by one method or another, to be even with the man who had used me so infamously. Instead of struggling in vain to escape I would await my opportunity and seize it. There was nothing else to do. Suddenly I heard voices through the window. I arose, looked out-and listened. All was still very dark, but I distinctly heard the voice of Langford giving some directions. A gruff voice replied, "All right, your honor. " Then I beard the sound of a horse's hoofs growing fainter and fainter. Some one was galloping away from the house. I returned to my seat and sat looking at the fire. Presently the door opened and the Old woman appeared,- carrying a tray covered with a white napkin. On the tray were a basin of broth, some biscuits and a glass of wine. This, time I made no attempt to escape, but remained seated, watching the woman, who placed the tray on a small table beside me. "Will your ladyship ate and drink something?" she said coasingly. "Sure BY CAPTURE. BUCHANAN, the Sword," "God and the 'Etc. it's poor fare for a great lady like ye, but it'fc the best ould Nannie can offer ye this night." "Where is your master?" I asked. "Efe's ridden away to Mulrany," was the reply. "I was to tell yo he'd be back at daybreak." In a moment I leaped to my feet and ran to the door, which stood wide open, but on the threshold 1 was captured by two men who stood on the landing. One was old. the other young, but both were strong and powerful. "You can't pass, my lady," said the older man. "We're to watch over you till the master comes back." "For God's sake, lot me go!" I cried. "Help me from this house. I am rich. You shall be well rewarded. You know I am a prisoner here. You know I have been kept here against my will, and"? "Sure we know all that, my lady, " answered the old man respectfully, "but we've our orders from the masther. You don't lave here till it's his pleasure that you shall go!" "Come now, honey, and ate a bit," said the old woman softly. I looked at the men and saw that they were determined, and with an angry cry I walked back to my prison. How the rest of the night passed I scarcely remember. I was again left alone to my own wild thoughts, and at last, worn out and hopeless, I must have fallen asieep. I awoke shivering. The fire had gone out, and the cold, gray dawn was creeping in through the window. I arose wearily and looked or.t The room I occupied was at the top of the house. Below it was a large paved yard, with stable and outbuildings, and beyond that a dreary prospect of bog and mountain. A man was in the yard whistling and polishing some harnesa He was a yoang and 6talwart peasant, and I had never, to my knowledge, seen his face before. He looked up, and our eyes met, but he immediately turned his face away. I opened the window and called to him. He paid no attention whatever. I looked around on every side and saw only the dreary landscape lighted by a rainy dawn, but suddenly 1 heard the sound! of a horse galloping, and immediately j afterward Mr. Laugford, wet and mud! bestained, rode into the yard. He alighted and handed his horse to the man, who said something to him, and he looked up toward the window and waved his hand. I turned away from the window and waited quietly. In a few minutes I heard a footstep on the landing, and there was a knock at the door. "May I come in?" said the voice of the master of the house. I made no reply. After a brief pause the key was turned in the lock, the door opened, 'and Mr. Langford appeared. "Good morning, Catherine," he said. I sat silent and did not even look at him. "I hope you have rested?" he continued. "I shouldn't have disturbed you had I not seen that you were up and awake " I remained in the same position, my face averted, my eyes on the empty fireplace, but when he approached and bent over me I sprang to my feet "Do not touch me. " I cried. "Forgive me, " he said. "I was mereDnl inTTn ly UU.\1UU9 UU JUUX C*V-OVJUl_lC. JUU1VIO me, I would give my life to uudo what I have dona " "Have you come to set me free?" I asked, panting and gazing fiercely into his face. "No," he replied, and while I uttered an angry'cry he continued: "I have come to tell you that they are searching for you far and wide. Close to the bridge, at Mulrany they have found ypur cloak and a blood stained handkerchief, and the impression is that you have been killed, thrown into the river and swept out td sea. I myself, as in duty bound, have beenassistiag in.the search, and I have offered a reward of ?100 to any one who will explain the mystery of your disappearance." So saying he drew fornh a printed placard which offered the reward in question. I looked at it in wonder, and from him to it. There was a strange smile on his face, but his lips were quivering and his eyes kept their usual sadnesa "You see I am 'thorough,' as you once called it Thanks to my ingenuity, no one will ever think of looking for you here. No one will suspect that Philip Laugford, who offers a reward for your discovery and is himself so active in instructing the police, is really the prime agent in the whole affair." I gazed at him in terror. The whole scheme seemed so cold blooded, so diabolical. "God will punish you," I exclaimed, "even if I can't. " The smile faded away, and he replied wearily: has nnnished me already. I have staked my 60ul on this hazard and I fear that I have lost" I fell at his feet, clinging to him and looking up into his face. "Let me go!" I sobbed. "Let me go now, and I will pardon everything. No one shall know what you have done?I will be6ilentl Only let me got For God's sake let me go!" He bent over me and took my face between his hands 1 did not resist for I (thought .that his heart was yielding. All my thought was how to escape from this niau, for whom I felt aa ever increasiug terror. I "Aly poor Catherine I" he said, aDd i I saw that his eyes were dim with tear.3. "If you knew how my heart has bled ] for you. if you knew how I have cursed myself for seeming so unkind to what I i love so dearly I Can you forgive me aft- i er all?" i "Yes, yes, "I murmured eagerly. "I : will forgive?1 will forget?only let ! ma an I nm onro rftn dn lint wish I'.O I bartu me You have been mad, but it i is over uow?and?and"? My voice died away in sobs as be said, bending down and kissing me on i the forehead: I " You are right. I have been mad, i but 1 am mad still, and 1 feel sometimes < as if 1 should never be sane again. Yet < 1 love you. I love you. " < 1 think he would have lifted me and folded me in his arms, but 1 rose quick- i ly and drew myself away. 1 "You will do as I wish?" .1 cried. 1 "i cannot," he replied. "If I did that, 1 should lose you forever. " i "Do not speak of that, but do as I en- J treat, as I command. You have done 1 evil enough already. Do not add to it. Do not make me hate you even more." 1 He turned from me and paced the room in gloomy thought. I watched ( him anxiously At last he turned to me i again, raying: ( i "Will you promise to become my wife?" I "1 will ;uot promise what J can never I perform," was my reply. I "You aiid you hated me. Is that true?" ' "ldon t know I can only think of ^ one thing?how to leave this dreadful place. Doa t torture me. Prove your J love and set me free." ( "You must remain a little longer," he said at last. "My mind is swept this 1 way and that, and I cannot decide. You ' shall hear from me tonight. " ' He left abruptly, aud I still remained 1 a prisoner. 1 The day passed, and I saw ao more of 1 Mr Laugford. By this time I had made ! up my mind that escape was impossible, but reeling convinced tnac no turinor i violence would be attempted I resigned ' myself to my captivity Still eager for j( some means of evading my jailers 1 1 conversed freely with "he old crone and ; even at tier request partook of a little food. .Most of her talk consisted of warm panegyrics on her matter, whom she regarded as the greatest end best of 1 human beinga Her utjne, 1 found, was Dannie Co- ' nolly The old man was her husband, 1 and the two younger men whom I had 1 seen were her soua All of them were devoted to their master, as was clearly shown, indeed, by the risks they had run in exposing themselves la the pun- , ishment of the law. , Just after nightfall Nannie brought | me a letter It was written by Mr Longford and t ran as follows: J 1 will not visit you tonight, for It Is torture ( lor ine to refuse you anything. 1 loathe my sell tor what 1 have done, but 1 am like a ship 6 without helm or sail, driven along helplessly I at the mercy of the storm It is right you } should know that the police have arrested Pat : rick Blake on suspicion of being concerned in your disappearance The man is a worthless < ruffian, but in this respect, as you know, he Is i quite innocent What a coward you will think , me to stand by silently and hear another man . accused of my crime I Do not judge me too ' harshly, however No harm shall come to him i through me although I cannot yet make up my unnd tow to act PL. This communication only served to , deepen my sense of shame and horror. I sent a message to the writer, demanding , to see him immediately, but he refused } to conui All my anxiety uow was for , my unfortunate cousin. 1 could uot bear ( to think that he should be suffering so . unjustly I The night passed, and for the first , time 1 slept soundly, though my sleep ( was troubled with feverish dreams. s Why enter into the dismal partio- j ulars of the rest of my captivity? As every one uow knows, I was kept at At we rowed, away Mr. Langford stood , on the shore bareheaded. Langford House for three long weary nights, in spite of my constant entreat- | ies and prayers. No one suspected my ] hiding -jlace, for few creatures at any ] time approached that lonely dwelling, and the police regarded Mr. Langford as above suspicion. J?Yom time to time my captor appear ed before me, but tho result of our interviews was invariably the same, until the morning of tho third day, when bo appeared before me booted and sparred, and said quietly: "I am riding over to Newport, wheile your cousin is to be brought before the magistrates. I have been subpoenaed to bear witness against him." He added, while I looked at him in horror': "Do not disti ess yourself 011 his account. He will be discharged. You will write a letter from Craig castle saying that yon are safe and well. You will send it on to the court by special messenger, and the result will be your cousin's immediate release." "Then I am at liberty to depart?" "Yes. My boatman will row yon across the bay, and yon will alight ^ alose at your own door." He was so calm, so inscrutable, that A [ was puzzled. "As to your account of what has taken place," he continued, "you will use your own discretion. I deserve no ^ consideration and expect to receive none. I have played my last card and c lost the game. Be assured that no evil ? tonguo will ever injure you while I am , alive to instifv vou and to condemn myself." v Thus it happened that I returned to 1 my home in the very boat which had conveyed me away on the memorable "J aight of my abductioa Old Nannie r wrapped around me a warm peasant cloak of her own and parted from me ? with many blessings. Mr. Langford followed me to the ? shore and helped me to my seat behind * the rowers?old Michael Conolly and 0 lis two Bona 3 The boat pushed off, and I did not v speak a work. As we rowed away Mr. [jangford stood on the shore bareheaded c watching me depart 1 I shall never forget the expression of c tiis despairing face ^ Unseen by any one, I quitted the boat p :m the shore of my own estate No one ?' saw me, for thick woodlands screen the ^ seashore from the castle I As I turned to go the old man, Co- F ciolly, stood hat in hand with the tears '1 streaming down his face, but he was s mot thinking of himself. v "God bless your ladyship," he said a "Don't spake against the poor masther. r His heart is broke intirely." The s, to the surprise of my servants, r [ re-entered my home, and going at b cnce w my boudoir, wrote the letter o which Mr. Langford showed to the c magisiTates. During the run homeward b L had quite made up my mind not to say ? cne word which could implicate the I really guilty person. I needed no one to tell ma that his shame and misery were p already deep enough, and in spite of c my indignation at his conduct I pitied I dim with all my souL a Before closing this page of my life v forever I wish to mention only one more u circumstance. Shortly after my libera- c tion 1 paid a visit to my cousin Patrick ji Blake, and, as some compensation for the s indignity and annoyance to which he bad been subjected on my account, of- d fered* him a considerable share of my b inheritance, to be paid to him regularly n through my bankers. He accepted this f gift without hesitation, pledging him- E self in return to forget all past mi sun- r ierstandings. ' Catherine Power. k TO BE CONTINUED. S ??? F Paying For Poor Patients.?A j inique charity, established by a rich woman of San Francisco, is described >y the Chicago Iuter-Ocean. A San Francisco doctor performed a a successful operation for a rich woman, tnd when asked for his bill presented 1 me for $50. The woman smiled and 0 said, ' Do you consider that a reason- e ible charge, considering my circum- ? stances?'' The doctor replied, "That s my charge for that operation; your a . ircumstances have uotbing to do with *= t." The lady drew a check for $500, c tnd presented it to him. He hauded ? t back, saying, "I cannot accept this, l! My charge for the operation is $50." Very well," the woman replied. . Keep the check, and put the balance 11 0 my crtilil." 11 Some months afterward she received r 1 hill, upon which were entered charges for treatment of various kiuds, s rendered to all sorts of odds and ends 0 if humanity, male and female, black P tnd white, who had been mended at " fier expense. She was so delighted 1 hat she immediately placed another J1 heck for $500 to her credit ou the same uerins, and it is now being earned u u the same way. 11 * b Hahty Words.?We are told that ^ we ought to think twice before we v speak. Sometimes we are advised if s we urn feeling unkindly, to count ten a before we open our mouth. Yet hasty t words oftlimesfly from our lips, in the ^ uoment of excited feeling, and before s we have time to think twice or count 0 aalf of ten, the harm is done, the j seen word has flashed like a dart into t some gentle heart. These hasty words ^ ire spoken, too, most frequently be- 0 * ? 1- -?i nr. ;ween tnose wnoioveeaco ouier. wk j, control our speech fairly well when it v s with strangers or ordinary acquaint- v luces we are speaking ; but with those j, we love best we are less careful. We n ,et our worry or our weariness make c .is irritable, and then we utter the ha9- c :y words which, five minutes after- c ward, we would give all we have to a ecall. But such words never can be a recalled. They may be forgiven, for ove forgives till seventy times seven ^ umes; but the wounds, the scars, re- v nam. t ? ? t The West's Coal Output.?The 1 23,000,000 tons annual output of west- t jrn coal is plainly insufficient to supply p :he local western demand. The higher a price it commands shows not only this, b ;>ut also that while the output on the v whole is increasing, the increase is not n commensurate with the increase of t population in the trans-Mississippi re- p $ioii. There are coal beds mrougnout the western states amply able, when t worked, to supply more than the home p iemand, and the anthracite area of a Colorado and Wyoming is bound in t Lime to rival that of Pennsylvania and fi West Virginia. The development of ii the western coal industry offers one o }f the most promising fields for the t investment of capital. b piuwllattfows grading; DOWN IN SANTIAGO. Ln Interesting Letter From the Captured Cuban City. Correspondence of the Yorkville Enquirer. Santiago de Cuba, August 24.? Ne had a good trip across and have iow been here eight days. I have een so many strange and wonderful hings that I hardly know where to legin to tell about them. However, I vill try to write a little about everyhing. T iiiii. ~ r*. lb was a nine alter suunso uu Vednesday, the 17th, that we passed ilorro Castle. About three or four mndred yards up the cbaDuel, we lassed a sunken Spanish gunboat that tad been riddled with shot and shell, .nd a short distance beyond it lies the flerrimac, longways, with the channel m the right hand side. Her smoketack and masts are sticking out of the vater about four feet. How any man in his right mind ould have conceived the idea of takng this vessel into such a place, passes ny comprehension. After you pass ilorro Castle, the channel makes a urn, and there are guns on both sides, front and behind. The range from ilorro Castle is point blank, and that he Merrimac was not literally torn to lieces is little short of a miracle. This is as well as I can describe the ituation. To thoroughly understand vbat I am trying to get at, it is necesary for one to actually see the suroundings. After we passed the Merrimac we an aground ; but got off in about an lour and proceeded on up to the city f Santiago. We passed on the way lumerous Spanish batteries. All these lave been dismounted. The Stars and Itripes are floating over them and Jnited States soldiers have charge. We disembarked Wednesday night, iut up our small tents, and slept. Of ourse, when I got up next morning, saw many things that were strange nd many that were familiar; but I i-as not struck with any one thing so uucb as I was with the large number if buzzards. They are in droves? List thousands of them. I have never een the like before.' During Thursday I was detailed to luty in the health department, and _ i . j c.. lave biuce uecu quaitcicu iu tuc iapous bullring in Santiago. My comiany left the same day for Guantanano, 65 miles up the coast, to do garison duty. Since then I have been :ept quite busy looking after health tatistioe and disinterring and stapling back home the remains of the Jnited States soldiers who have been mried here. You have heard many horrible tories about starvation in this city, ,nd you have probably believed that hese 3tories were exaggerated. I bought so. I was mistaken. No nan can picture the horrors that have xisted here. The situation is still errible. My duties take me into the louses and backyards of the people, nd every day, at sundown, I have to ;o to the gates of each of the three emeteries and get from the guards tationed there the number of corpses nterred or. burned during the day. )uring the time I have been on duty, he average has been 142 per day, and t is no wonder. The filth and nastiess which prevail everywhere ia horible. The hauling of corpses through the treets of the city iu carts is an hourly ccurrence. I have seen 17 corpses liled on a single ox cart. There were io coffins or even boxes. Some ol hem were but scantily clothed, and hey lay one on top of another. Neary every dead cart carries from 7 to 9 ,t a time. Some are buried; but aost of them are burned. The poorer class of people have been laving a hard time of it. They are laving it yet. On all sides are men, I'omen and children who are literally tarving to death. Their stomachs re swelled out of all proportions, and he balance of their bodies are pitiable unches of skin and bones. They taud about all day begging for scraps f food. Why this is so I do not know, t ought not to be so. There are catle and goats here in plenty?big Iroves of them?and al6o thousands f chickens. It seems to me that there } plenty of food for everybody if it vera only distributed properly. But ire are doing a good work. The improvement of conditions are easily oticeable. The principal need is the leaning up of the city. Properly leaned there is no reason why this ity should not become as healthy as ny other anywhere, especially in the ame climate. In the discharge of my duties I ave been over most of the ground i-here the fighting around Santiago ook place. The wonder to me is not hat so many were killed ; but so few. ?he Spanish positions were all on the op3 of steep hills. They were well protected with trenches. The hills re bare. Our men had to charge over lundreds of yards, exposed all the i'hile to the fire of the Spanish rifle aen, and, under the circumstances, heir fighting was something to be iroud of. I have been through the trenches hat were dug by our men and occuiied by them. In some places there re still to be seen small straw shelers, constructed to protect the men rom the terrific heat. Strewn along a the trenches there are also Humerus meat cans, blankets, and other hings that were thrown away by the rave fellows when they left their shelters and charged up those loDg exposed hillsides through a bail of death. There are several men here in the bullring with me who went through it all aud who have told me 1 all about it. While the hillsides are bare of vegetation, the valleys are tangled and matted wildernesses of tropical growths. ! The first evening I rode through there | every stitch of clothing was torn from my body. On that trip we found the ! skeletons of two American soldiers. We knew that they were our men by the accoutrements that were lying ear them. I found also many relics, | including buttons olf of Spanish coats, ' a pair of spurs, cartridges of every description, a machete, and a pack of ' playing cards. There has been a great deal of con1 troversy as to whether the Spaniards ?1 : T>l J:J T useu cAjjiuoivc uujiciB, ? livy uiu. a have quite a number that I picked up in the Spanish trenches. I also have 1 two cartridges with brass bullets. One of them I took out of a gun that I found in a Spanish blockhouse, and the other I picked up from the ground near by. There is no doubt of the fact that the Spaniards used these savage missiles qf mutillation and gan* grene whenever they had the opportunity. It is ray desire to ship The Enquirer some relics as soon as I learn what will be most acceptable. I am kept very busy with my duties; but when I find time, I will write again about sucli matters as may appear to be of interest. F. A. Gosman. THE PRIMARY. Method of Nominating Candidates May Become an Issue. Columbia Record. There are signs of a purpose to attack the primary system of selecting Democratic nominees. Every now . and then there is an outcropping of opposition to the primary. There has been no concerted fight upon it yet, and probabiy if any is made it will not be begun until the session of the legis lature in 1900. But the primary will withstand all attacks, for, in spite of all inevitable drawbacks, it has demonstrated its superiority to the old convention plan. But for the primary, Earle would never have defeated Evans, and but for the primary it is doubtful if there would have been any or much oppositiou to Ellerbe this summer. As straws showing how the wind is blowing, The Record republishes editorials on the primary published by two Sumter papers. The Sumter Herald, which supports Ellerbe, says: "The primary system of making nominations is fast falling into disfavor, and that too by the very men who so loudly clamored for it. A charter member of the Reform movement remarked the other day that a return to the old convention plan was advisable ; that we always got better officers under it. Many are thinking and talking the same way." On the other hand, the Sumter Item, ; which opposed Ellerbe, defends the primary thus: "There is much complaint from all sections of the state that the primary is unsatisfactory, and there is a growing demand for some change for the better. We candidly admit that the primary is not perfect and leaves much to 6e desired ; but what better substitute do the kickers offer?" Not a jiicrrrpst inn has heen made. The nri . I mary is infinitely to be preferred to the old convention plan and we prefer . holding fast to the primary. It is thoroughly Democratic, and when fairly managed is the best means ever devised for ascertaining the wishes of the members of the party. What is needed is a clearer and more explicit set of rules, a law requiring the rigid and impartial enforcement of those rules and suitable penalties for fraud or failure to carry out the rules." And so it goes. But, while the pri' mary has lost some of its friends, it has converted many of its enemies and is today stronger than ever. The candidate who opposes it exposes his unwillingness to trust the people. Your Ancestors.?Nearly every one has more or less ancestors, and a mathematically inclined genealogist has figured that even a fellow that couldn't join anything but a church has bad during the last 25 generations no less than 45,476,862 ancestors, of whom 22,738,432 were living at the same time 25 generations back. Calling the average lifetime of a generation 33$ years, that would take us back to the year of the Norman Conquest, 1066. Each of us had at the time of that historic event something like 20,000,000 of ancestors roaming about , the various principalities and jungles of Europe, Asia and Africa, not to mention the South Sea islands and Australia, and of these it is a reasonable certainty that at least one participated in the battle of Senlac, either under Duke William or King Harold. ?New York Sun. f&T There are no drays or express wagons in the City of Mexico. The natives use a kind of cart with enormous wheels, but for carrying around town the "transportation" is all done on the back of natives. If you want to have a trunk moved you hare a "cargador," and for 25 cents he will carry a 300 pound trunk on his back two miles. In the country everything is carried on the backs of small mules. Droves of them come into town with produce on their backs. 9