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L. m GRIST s SONS. Pabii.hers,} - -i ^amilj ^eicspaper: Jor the promotion of the political. Social. Agricultural and (Commercial Interests of the people. { tkk*isnoS-^*eAvec^AM,! ESTABLISHED 1855. ?- YORKVILLE, S. C. TUESDAY, MAY :{1, 1910. NO. 48. C4l5 kjm fig-] ^ BY EMERSON " Copyright by Bobbs . CHAPTER XXXIII. to The Story of Helena von Ritz. ^ There is in every true woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire, which beams on( and blazes in the dark hours of adver- wg sity.?Washington Irwing. al[ "But ma dam; but madam?" I tried Vei t to begin. At last, after moments which seemed to me ages long, I broke out: kn< "But once, at least, you promised to tell me who and what you are. Will you 8h< do that now?" trii "Yes! yes!" she said. "Now I shall hir finish the clearing of my soul. You, af- ani ter all, shall be my confessor." 8h< We hear ugain a faltering footfall in hoi the hallway. I raised an eyebrow in hel query. tra it is my father. Yes, but let him his come. He also must hear. He is in- atj deed the author of my story, such as it ba i-s- sh< "Father," she added, "come, sit you jt here. 1 have something to say to Mr. I Trist." ha She seated herself now on one of the SOi low couches, her hands clasped across an, Its arm, her eyes looking far away out hei of the little window beyond which could 0m be seen the hills across the wide Poto- se, mac. sh< "We are foreigners," she went on, "as you can tell. I speak your language ni{1 better than my father does, because I Hk was younger wnen I learned. It is quite true he is my father. He is an ajv Austrian nobleman, of one of the old all families. He was educated in Ger many, and or ime nus nveu mcr. lw "I could have told most of that of We k you both," I said. ] She bowed and resumed: "T "My father was always a student. As tat a young man in the university, he was ies devoted to certain theories of his own. tra N* est-ce pas vrai, mon drole:' she am asked, turning to put her arm on her ha! father's shoulder as he dropped weakly mc on the couch beside her. kn He nodded. "Ifes, I wass student," he said. "I wass not content with the coi ways of my people." 1st "So, my father, you will see," said ari she, smiling at him, "being much deter- isr mined on anything which he attempted, a decided, with five others, to make a Hi certain experiment. It was the Strang- rnr est experiment, I presume, ever made in sh: the interest of what is called science, he It was wholly the most curious and the pri most cruel thing ever done." tw She hesitated now. All I could do he was to look from one to the other, ela wonderlngly. an "This dear old dreamer, my father, ha then, and five others?" mi "I name them!" he interrupted, ha There were Karl von Goertz, Albretcht ha Hardman, Adolph zu Steinbern, Karl von Starnack, and Rudolph von Ward- ! berg. We were all friends?" fot "Yes," she said softly, "all friends, to and all fools. Sometimes I think of my H< mother." H< "My dear, your mother!" at* "But I must tell this as it was! tn< Then, sir, these six, all Heidelberg men, I 1 all well born, men of fortune, all men th< devoted to science, and interested in pit the study of the hopelessness of the sci average human being in Central Eu- an rope?these fools, or heroes, I say not ' which?they decided to do something su in the interest of science. They were wt of the belief that human beings were be becoming poor in type. So they determined to marry?" es' "Naturally," said I, seeking to relieve in a delicate situation?"they scorned the he marriage of convenience?they came to T1 our American way of thinking, that w< they would marry for love." in; "You do them too much credit!" said she slowly. "That would have meant t\v I no sacrifice on either side. They mar- w< t ied in the interest of science! They ba married with the deliberate Intention of vi improving individuals of the human he species! Father, is it not so?" sit Some speech stumbled on his tongue; I but six* raised her hand "Listen to be me. I will bo fair to you. father, fair- h.i or than you were either to yourself or to my mother." wl "Yes. these six concluded to Improve the grade of human animals! They fa resolved to marry among the peasant- ed ry?because thus they could select finer ed specimens of womankind, younger, th stronger, more fit to bring children into so the world. Is not that the truth, my m father?" Fi "It wass the way we thought." he pr whispered. "It wass the way we of thought wass wise." th "And perhaps it was wise. It was selection. So now they selected. Two ? of them married Herman working girls, b* and those two are dead, but there is no d< child of them alive. Two married in e< Austria, and of these one died, and the bt other is in a madhouse. One married m a voung Oalician girl, and so fond of w , her did he become that she tortk him down fr>>m his station to hers. ;in?i no m was lost. The other? tli "Yes: it was my father." she said, at ki lentrth. "There he sits, my father. Yes, c< I love him. I would forfeit my life for n< him now?I would lay it down pladlv n< for him. Better had I done so. But m in my time I have hated him." ic "He. the last ?>ne. searched long for in tills fitting animal t<? lead to the altar. w He was tall and young and handsome hi and rich, do you see? He could have re chosen among ids own people any woman he likei"; Instead, he searched m among the Oancians. the lower A us- m trians. the Prussians. He examined en Ttavaria and Saxony. Many he found. Y hut still none to suit his scientific ideas, ri He bethought him then of searching s| among the Hungarians, where, it is aid. the most beautiful women of the 1 world are found. So at last he found hi The silence in the room was broken tli at la -t bv her low. even, hopeless voice A as she went on: iti "Now. the Hungarians are slaves to in Austria. They do as they are hid. tl those who live on the great estates, in Thev have no hope, if they rebel, they pi * ? ? ti niv rut n<?\vn. rncv are ii<>i ;i ? They belong t<> no on**, not even to I themsel vps." in '"My f?o?1!" said t. a sigh breaking tl from nin in spite of mvself. T raised if my hand as though to beseech !ie?- not In 4? A 3T Af\ hough m a Merrill Co. A ~?: i go on. But she persisted. "Yes, we too, called upon our gods! , now, my father came among that jple and found there a young girl, s much younger than himself. She ! s the most beautiful, so they say, of those people, many of whom are y beautiful." Yes?proof of that!" said I. She ew I meant no Idle flattery. 'Yes, she was beautiful. But at first ? did not fancy to marry this Ausin student nobleman. She said no to n, even when she found who he was 3 what was his station?even when i found that he meant her no disnor. But our ruler heard of it, and, ing displeased at this mockery of the ditlons of the court, and wishing In t sardonic mind to teach these fancal young nobles to rue well their rgain, he sent word to the girl that i must marry this man?my father, was made an imperial order! 'And so now, at last, since he was If crazed by her beauty, as men are netimes by the beauty of women, d since at last this had its effect with r, as sometimes it does with women, [1 since it was perhaps death or some ere punishment if she did not obey, i married him?my father." 'And loved me all her life!" the old n broke out. "Nefer had man love e Hers, i will nai u sum. i win nm said that she loved me. always and lays: and I loved her always, with my heart!" *Yes." said Helena von Ritz. "they o loved each other, even as they re. So here am I, born of that love." S'ow we all sat silent for a time, hat birth was at my father's eses," resumed the same even, mereis voice. "After some short time of .vela, they returned to the estates; d. yes, there I was horn, half noble. If peasant: and then there began the >st cruel thing the world has ever own. 'The nobles of the court and of the jntry all around began to make exence hideous for my mother. The stocracy. insulted by the republicanrt of these young noblemen, made life, hell for the most gentle woman of ingary. Ah. they found new ways to ike her suffer. They allowed her to ire in my father's estates, allowed r to appear with him when he could evail upon her to do so. Then they itted and taunted her and mocked r in all the devilish ways of their iss. She was more beautiful than y court beauty of them all. and they ted her for that. She had a good nd arid thev hated her for that. She (1 a faithful, loyal heart, and they ted her for that." But your father resented this?" She nodded. "Duel after duel he lght. man after man he killed, thanks his love for her and his manhood. > would not release what he loved. I would not allow his class to separa him from his choice. Rut the worn! An. he could not fight them! So lave hated women, and made war on em all my life. My father could not icate his emperor. So. in short, that lentific experiment ended in misery? d me!" The room had grown dimmer. The II was sinking as she talked. There is silence. I know, for a long time fore she spoke again. 'In time, then, my father left his tates and went out to a small place the country: but my mother?her art was broken. Malice pursued her. lose who were called her superiors >uld not let her alone. See. he weeps, y father, as he thinks of these things. "Thovn u;is cause then, to weep. For o years, they tell me. my mother pt. Tlmn she died. She Rave me. a by, to tn r friend, a woman of her llnge?Thivlka Ma/.off. You have seen r. She has been my mother ever nee. She has been the sole Ruurdiun have known all my life. She has not en able to do with me us she wolild ive liked." "You did not live at your own home ith your father?" I asked. "For a time. 1 grew up. Rut my ther. I think, was permanently shockI by the loss of the woman he had lov! and whom he had brought into all is cruelty. She had been so lovable, beautiful?she was so beautiful, my other! So they sent me away to ance, t<> the schools. 1 grew up. I esutne. proof in part of the excellence my father's theory. They told me at I was a beautiful animal!" The contempt, the scorn, the pathos J the whole tragedy of her voice and 'aring?were such as I can not set ?wn on paper, and such as I scarce iuld endure to hear. Never in my life fore have I felt such a pity for a lman being, never so much desire to do hat I might in sheer compassion. But now, how clear it all became to e! I could understand many strange lings nuoui nit* ciiiiumn i mi.- -ii. ilar woman, her whims, her unac untable moods, her seeming eareless?ss. yet withal, her dignity and sweetjss and air of breeding?above all her ysterlousness. Let others judge her >r themselves. There was only longig in my heart that I might find some ord of comfort. What could comfort er? Was not life, indeed, for her to main a perpetual tragedy? "Hut madam." said I. at length, "you ust not wrong your fatli?r and your other and yourself. These two loved irh other devotedly Well, what more? ou are the result of a happy marage. You are beautiful, you are ilendid. by that reason." "Perhaps. Even when 1 was sixteen, was beautiful." she mused. "I have aid rumors of that. Tint I say to you lat then I was only a beautiful animal. Iso, I was a vicious animal. I had i my heart all the malice which my other never spoke. I felt in my soul ic wish to injure women, to punish en. to torment them, to make them ty! To set even those balances of irture!?ah. that was my ambition! had not forgotten that, when I first iet you. when I first heard of?her. ie woman whom you love, who al>adv in your savage strong way you ive wedded?the woman whose vows I spoke with her?I?I, Helena von Ritz, with history such as mine! "Father, father,"?she turned to him i swiftly; "rise?go! I can not now speak before you. Leave us alone until 1 call!" I Obedient as though he had been the i child and she the parent, the old man rose and tottered feebly from the room. "There are things a woman can not say in the presence of a parent." she said, turning to me. Her face twitched. "It takes all my bravery to talk to you:" "Why should you? There is not need. Do not!" "Ah, I must, because it is fair." said she. "I have lost, lost! I told you I would pay my wager." After a time she turned her face straight toward mine and went on with her old splendid bravery. "So, now, you see, when I was young i and beautiful I had rank and money. I had brains. I had hatred of men. I had contempt for the aristocracy. My heart was peasant after all. My principles were those of the republican. 1 Revolution was in my soul, I say. Thwarted, distorted, wretched, unscru- i pulous, I did what I could to make hell i for those who had made hell for us. I have set dozens of men by the ears. I 1 have been promised In marriage to I know not how many. A dozen men i have fought to the death in duels over me. For each such death I had not even a thought. The more troubles I made, the happier I was. Oh, yes, in time I became known?I had a reputation; there is no doubt of that. "But still the organized aristocracy had its revenge?it had its will of me, i after all. There came to me, as there had to my mother, an imperial order. In punishment for my fancies and vagaries, was condemned to marry a certain nobleman. That was the whim of the new emperor, Ferdinand, the degenerate. He took the throne when I was but sixteen years of age. He chose for me a degenerate mate from his own sort." She choked, now. i "You did marry him?" She nodded. "Yes. Debauche, rake, monster, degenerate, product of that aristocracy which had oppressed us, I was obliged to marry him, a man three times my age! I pleaded. I begged. I was taken awav bv nieht. I was?I was? They say I was married to him. For myself. I did not know where I was or what happened. But after that they said that I was the wife of this man. a sot, a monster, the memory only of manhood. Now, indeed, the revenue of the aristocracy was complete!" She went on at last in a voice icy cold. "I fled one night, back to Hungary. For a month they could not find" me. I was still young. I saw my people then as I had not before. I saw also the monarchies of Europe. Ah, now I knew what oppression meant! Now I knew what class distinction and special privileges meant! I saw what ruin it was spelling for our country? what it will spell for your country, if they ever come to rule here. Ah, then that dream came to me which had come to my father, that beautiful dream which justified me in everything I did. My friend, can it?can it in part justify me?now? "For the first time. then. I resolved to live! I have loved my father ever since that time. I pledged myself to continue that work which he had undertaken! I pledged myself to better the condition of humanity if I might. "There was no hope for me. 1 was on/1 fnlno/1 n C it U'f) _?1 \T Y? life was gone. Such as I had left, that I resolved to give to?what shall we call St??the idee democratlque. "Now, may God rest my mother's soul, and mine also, so that some time I may see her in another world?I pray I may be good enough for that some time. I have not been sweet and sinless as was my mother. Fate laid a heavier burden upon me. But what remained with me throughout was the idea which my father had bequeathed me?" "Ah, but also that beauty and sweetness and loyalty which came to you from your mother," I Insisted. She shook her head. "Wait!" she said. "Now they pursued me as though I had been a criminal, and they took me back?horsemen about me who did as they liked. I was, I say, a sacrifice. News of this came to that man who was my husband. They shamed him into fighting. He had not the courage of the nobles left. But he heard of one nobleman against whom he had a special grudge: and him one night, foully and unfairly, he murdered. "News of that came to the emperor. My husband was tried, and. the case being well known to the public, it was necessary to convict him for the sake of example. Then, on the day set for his beheading, the emperor reprieved him. The hour for the execution passed, and, being now free for the time, he tied tile country. He went to Africa, and there he so disgraced the state that bore him that of late times 1 hear he has been sent for to come back to Austria. Rveu yet the emperor may suspend the reprieve and send him to the block for his ancient crime. If lie had a thousand heads, he could not atone for the worse crimes lie has done! "Rut of him, and of his end, I know nothing. So, now, you see. I was and am wed, and yet am not wed, and never was. 1 do not know what I am, nor who I am. After all. I can not tell you who I am. or what I am. because I myself do not know. "It was now 110 longer safe for me in my own country. They would not c" t?, mv f;ither nnv more. As for him, he went on with his studies, some port of his mind being bright and clear. They did not wish him abouf the court now. All these matters were to be hushed up. The court of England began to take cognizance of these things. Our government was scandalized. They sent my father, on pretext of scientific errands, into one country and another?to Sweden, to England, to Africa, at last to America. Thus it happened that you met him. You must both have been very near to meeting me in Montreal. It was fate, as we of Hungary would say. "As for me, I was no mere harebrained radical. I did not go to Russia, -o.j i,.in Mi? rwvulnfIniini v circle of Paris, <li<1 not vet seek out Prussia. This is folly. My father was right. It must be the years, it must be the good heritage, it must be the good environment. it must be even opportunity for all. which alone can produce good human beings. In short, believe me. a victim, the hope of the world is in a teal democracy. Slowly, gradually, I was coming to believe that." She paused a moment. "Then, one time, monsieur?I met you, here in this very room! God pity me! You were the first man I had ever seen. God pity me!?I believe I?loved you?that night, that very first night! We are friends. We are brave. You are man and gentleman, so I may say that, now. I am no longer woman. I am but sacrifice. "Opportunity must exist, open and free for all the world." she wer on, not looking at me more than I could now at her. "I have set my life to prove this thing. When I came here to this America?out of pique, out of a love ol adventure, out of sheer daring and exultation in imposture?then I saw why I was born, for what purpose! It was to do such work as I might to prove the theory of my father, and so justify the life of my mother. For that thing I was born. For that thing I had been damned on this earth: I may be damned in the life to come, unless I can make some great atonement. For these I suffer and shall always suffer. Rut what of that? There must always be a sacrifice." The unspeakable tragedy of her voice cut to my soul. "But listen!" 1 broke out. "You are young. You are free. All the world is before you. You can have anything you like?" "Ah, do not talk to me of that," she exclaimed imperiously. "Do not tempt me to attempt the deceit of myself! I made myself as I am, long ago. I did not love. I did not know it. As to marriage, I did not need it. I had abundant means without. I was in the upper ranks of society. I was there; I was classified: I lived with them. But always I had my purpose, my plans. For them I paid, paid, paid, as a woman must, with?what a woman has. "But now, I am far ahead of my story. Let me bring it on. I went to Paris. I have sown some seeds of venom, some seeds of revolution, in one place or another in Europe in my time. Ah, it works; it will go! Here and there I have cost a human life. Here and there work was to be done which I disliked: but I did it. Misguided, uncared for, mishandled as I had been? well, as I said. I went to Paris. "Ah, sir, will you not, too. leave the room, and let me tell on this story to myself, to my own soul? It is fitter for my confessor than for you." "Let me, then, be your confessor!" said I. "Forget! Forget! You have not been this which you say. Do I not know?" "No, you do not know. Well, let be. Let me go on! I say I went to Paris I was close to the throne of France, That little Duke of Orleans, son ol Louis Philippe, was a puppet in my hands. Oh, I do not doubt I did mischief in that court, or at least if 1 failed it was through no lack of effort! I was called there 'America Vespucci.1 They thought me Italian! At last they came to know who I was. They dared not make open rupture in the face ol the courts of Europe. Certain of thelt high officials came to me^and my young Duke of Orleans. They asked me tc leave Paris. They did not command il ?the Duke of Orleans cared for thai part of it. But they requested me outside?not in his presence. They offered me a pflce, a bribe?such an offering as would, I fancied, leave me free to pursue my own ideas in my own fashion and in any corner of the world. You have perhaps seen some of my little fancies. I imagined that love and happiness were never for me?only ambition and unrest. With these goes luxury, sometimes. At least this sort ol personal liberty was offered me?the M!- ??<* ? Do oiu r? rwl lo'H'ltltr the 1" ii r <'i n-?? ins i.tii.-., unit "" son of lxiuls Philippe to his own devices. 1 did so." "And so, then you came to Washington? That must have been some years ago." "Yes: some five years ago. I still was young. I told you that you most have known me, and so, no doubt, you did. Did you ever hear of 'America Vespucci'?" A smile came to my face at the suggestion of that celebrated adventures.and mysterious impostress who had figured in the annals of Washington?a fair Italian, so the rumor ran, who hat come to this country to set up a claim upon our credulity at least, as to being the descendant of none less than Amerigo Vespucci himself! This supposititious Italian had indeed gone so J"ai as to secure the introduction of a bill in congress granting to her certair lands. The fate of that bill even ther hung in the balance. I had no reasor to put anything beyond the audacitj of this woman with whom I spoke! M> smile was simply that which marked the eventual voting down of this onc? celebrated measure, as merry and as bold a jest as ever was offered tin credulity of a nation?one eonceivabh only in the mad and bitter wit of Helmm "Yes, madam," I said, "I have heart if 'America Vespucci.' I presume tnat ymi are now about tn repeat tiiat y?u are she!" She nodded, tlie niischievous enjoyment of her colossal jest showing in hei eyes, in spite of all. "Yes." said she "among other things, 1 have beer 'America Vespucci'! There seemed little to do here in intrigue, and that wa.1 my first endeavor to amuse myself Then I found other employment. Kngland needed a skillful secret agent. Whj should I he faithful to England? AI least, why should I not also enjoy intrigue with yonder government of Mexico at the same time? There came a 1st Mr. Van Zandt of this Republic ol Texas. Yes. it is true, I have seen som< sport here in Washington! But all th< time as I played in my own little ganu ?with no one to enjoy it save myself? I saw myself begin to lose. This country?this great splendid country of sav ages?began to take me by the hands began to look me in the eyes, and asV me, 'Helena von Ritz. what are you' What might you have been?' "So now." she eoneliuled, "you askcc me, asked me what I was, and I hav< told you. I ask you myself, what ami what am I to be: and 1 say, I am un clean. But. being as I am. I have don< what I have done. It was for a principle?or it was?for yon! I do 110 know." "There are those who can be nothing else but clean," I broke out. "I shal not endure to hear you speak thus o yourself. You?you. what have you no done for us? Was not your mothei clean in her heart? Sins such as yni mention were never those of scarlet. I you have sinned, your sins are whit< as snow. I at least am eonfessoi enough to tell you that." "Ah. my confessor!" She reached ou her hands to me, her eyes swimminf wet. Then she pushed me back Slid i denly, beating with her little hands upbn my breast as though I were an enemy. "Do not!" she said. "Go!" My eye caught sight of the great key, Pakenham's key, lying there on the table. Maddened, I caught it up. and, with a quick wrench of my naked hands, broke It in two, and threw the halves on the Moor to Join the torn scroll of England's pledge. I divided Oregon at the forty-ninth parallel, and not at fifty-four forty, ( when I broke Pakenham's key. Put you i shall see why I have never regretted ' that. "Ask Sir Richard Pnkenham if he wants his key!" I said, i To be Continued. TO BUTLER AND GARY. Colonel Brooks Wants to Erect Monuments. "It has been forty-five years since the Confederacy sank behind the horizon at Appomattox never to rise again, and those of us who have survived the waste of time should write something to cherish the memories of our heroes who fell in battle by our side and to recall the gallant deeds that were displayed on the bloody fields in the war of secession. Whether the deeds were crowned with success or consecrated in defeat, it is to idealize principle and strengthen character. intensifying love of country and convert defeat and disaster into pillais of support for future manhood and noble womanhood." Thus wrote Col. IT. R. Rrooks, one of Rutler's immortal cavalry, according to a Columbia letter. On the state house grounds, as a fitting testimony of the services to his state, there stands a beautiful equestrian statue of the daring cavalry leader. Gen. Wade Hampton. 1 It is Col. Brook's fond hope that in a few years there may be erected upon the state house grounds statues to the memory of two other great southern leaders?Oen. M. C. Butler and Gen. M. W. Gary. He has suggested that at the next session of the general assembly a committee he appointed from the house and senate to look into the mat1 ter. At his speech in Johnston on Memorial Day, on the historic ground from which these two great soldiers came, Gen. Brooks started the movement for the erection of suitable statues to two of Edgefield's sons. "In 1861," said Col. Brooks today, growing reminiscent, "when the Hamp1 ton Legion was formed, none responded sooner than Butler and Gary. On Thursday morning, June 6, 1X61, M. C. Butler made a short speech to the Edgefield Hussars, at Edgefield court house. "The time has come not to talk, but to fight." With these words he ro<Je at the head of one of the most gallant bodies of cavalry that the war ' saw. This was company I. of the 3rd South Carolina cavalry. "A few. days later M. W. Gary ' marched from Edgefield at the head of 1 a company of cavalry known as Wat: son's Greys. Both were among the first to reach Columbia and Hampton s Legion was soon organized. Of four, ' companies of the cavalry, Rutler was 1 made the major. He was soon afterward made colonel of cavalry. Mart 1 Gary commanded the infantry part of 1 the Legion known as Hampton's Le' glon. "Hampton's Legion was soon brigaded with Hood's Texans. There was formed a brigade consisting of three Texas regiments, the ISth Arkansas ! and Hampton's Legion, forming Hood's ( famous brigade. The name 'Hampton's Legion' was retained throughout the war. "In the spring of 1S64 the Hampton 1 Legion was taken from the brigade and was mounted here, having fought ' toward this state from the west. Col. : Mart Gary commanded the brigade. 1 Gary was immediately afterward made 1 brigadier general. There were three very fine regiments, the Hampton Legion, under Col. Logan, now living in ' Greenville county; the 7th South Oar' olina, under Col. A. C. Haskell, and the 1 24th Virginia cavalry, under Col. Rob' bins. Gen. Hampton placed Gen. Gary <in left of his a ,\ o.,.>ng tin- Chica > hominy, near Richmond. keeping wen. Butler and his celebrated cavalry on the right of his army, below Petersburg. ' "This showed how much was valued 1 the services of these distinguished of1 fleers. They were his trusty lieuten1 ants in war as well as in peace. In : '7(1 Hampton depended on these two men. he advised with them on several ' occasions. "Put for these three men, the * mighty trio. Hampton, Clary and Rutler?the state might not have been redeemed for years. I will continue to " urge the erection of monuments to commemorate the great work of these ' men who always offered their services ' for the good of their state." 1 It is a coincidence that Hampton, Oary and Butler were all born in the month of March, though in different r years, and all three died in April. . The dates are: Hampton, born 28th * - - * ? tl 1 iiAO i March. ISIS, died ran aiuh, Gary, horn 25th March. 1S12, died 9th < April, 1 ss 1; Butler, horn Nth March. . 1S3?. died 14th April. 1909. GUTERSLOH BLACK BREAD. t Little Westphalian Town That Bismarck Made Famous. } Gutersloh. though only a village SO ^ years ago. was already becoming quite i si large town of 1,500 inhabitants or ' so when one day during the manoeuvres a young lieutenant took up his quarters there. He came from Pomerania, where they also make tasty black bread, but lie liked the peculiar ' Westphalian taste bi tter. His name c was Bismarck. ? In IS To he was travelling through Gutersloh once more, this time as , prime minister of Prussia, together vciiii old King William. When the train stopped he shouted in jovial , fashion to the crowd which had conic to meet them: "Is there anybody who can get us some pumpernickel with butter and plenty of ham?" There were reporters present?and t the fortune of (Jutersloh bread was made. It became the fashion. The craze f?fr Westphalian pumper' nickel spread far and wide, cunning1 ly furthered by the bakers, who now f baked for export only small one-pound . loaves, "to make it look more like a delicatesse." as they say. Though <!ur tersloh still looks like an old world i town, they are v? ry world wise, the C bakers of black bread, for from the same kneading troughs there go into the ovens first ihe huge loaves (some i' that go into the farm houses often weighing half a hundred weight.) and t then, shaped of what is left, the tiny loaves, which are wrapped in paper. ' sent abroad and sold as a delicatesse. ?London Kxpress. JUiscclliuuous heading. MILLET FOR FORAGE PURPOSES. Ons of the Best Supplementary Crops Grown. Clemsori College, May 23.?Mr. J. X. Harper, director of the South Carolina experiment stations, has the following to say, In substance, abojit millet as a supplementary crop: The millets are among the oldest of all agricultural crops. History states that varieties of' millets were grown In China thousands of years ago, and today they furnish food to millions of people throughout Asia and Europe. In this country they are used only for hay and forage purposes. There are three main types or groups of millets grown in this country, barnyard millet, the foxtail millet and the broom corn millet. Of these three groups the foxtail Is the only one worth cultivating in the south. The foxtail millets are subdivided into the following varieties: German millet, Hungarian and common millet. The German is the best variety for rich bottom and well improved upland soils, and the common millet is the best for poor upland soils. Millet Is chiefly valuable as a supplementary or catch crop. It can be planted any time during the late spring and summer months. On bottom land, where the corn crop has been drowned by summer floods, it can be planted with success as late as the middle of July. It is a splendid crop to plant In the late summer where other crops have failed, and it is a good crop to follow bur clover that has been allowed to go to seed. The Clemson experiment station has obtained four tons of millet hay per acre, grown after the bur clover seed had been saved. Millet also does well after a crop of oats and vetch or after crimson clover. As it Is a shallow feeder, it will catch the nitrates formed in the soil by the decaying of the roots of the winter legumes. It is a heavier feeder upon the nitrates aid for this reason has been condemned as an exhaustive prim tn thu soil However if it is followed by bur clover, crimson clover or vetch, planted In October, no injurious effect wll be noted. If sown broadcast millet will choke out weeds as no other crop will do. It is, therefore, an excellent crop to plant in new ground. It also has a most beneficial effect upon the physical condition of the soil. Millet makes a hay but slightly inferior to timothy and it can be easily substituted for timothy in feeding work stock. It is a hay easily saved and handled. It should be cut when beginning to bloom. If it is allowed to stand until the seed ripen, the hay will be inferior in quality and there will be some danger in feeding it, owing to the injurious effects the seed have on the kidneys of horses and mules. The stiff beards of Hp- millet are also harmful to liv- . >ck. When cut for hay It should oe allowed to remain in the winrow for a day and then placed In cocks, where It should remain three or four days before being stacked or housed. Millet is especially well adapted for use as a forage crop. It can be cut and fed green as soon as the heads begin to appear. All kinds of stock relish it and It is well suited to dairy cattle. With sorghum it is a splendid crop to have on hand in case of a dry spell occurring during the late summer, which cuts off pastures. If planted for hay the seed should be sown broadcast or with a drill, using about three pecks per acre. If intended for forage or seed It should be planted with a drill in rows about 32 inches apart, using one or two pecks of seed per acre. If planted in rows it should be cultivated two or three times. To obtain the best results the land should be thoroughly prepared and a good seed bed obtained. This can very often be done by using a disk harrow, followed by a smoothing harrow or drag. If, however, the land is hard, it should first be ploughed with turning plough, running shallow, and afterwards harrowed. The German millet makes a much coarser hay than does the common and Hungarian varieties, but it will withstand more moisture. There are thousands of acres of low, wet lands in South Carolina that are now lying idle that could be planted to millet profitably. These low-lying, wet soils should have lime applied to them at the time they are ploughed. Millet is strictly a surface feeder and it should, therefore, he well fertilized with commercial fertilizers rich in ammonia or. better still, with stable manure. Millet grown after bur clover is a splendid preparatory crop for crimson clover, alfalfa and vetch, as it puts t lie soil in excellent physical condition and destroys weeds. Common millet can be planted the middle of July and he ready to cut for hay by the middle of Septembr. Every farmer should have a small patch of millet planted near the feed lot where chickens run as no feed is better for laying hens than is millet MEANING OF A DAY. How Scientists Decide Where and When It Begins. What Is a day? Tn the sense In which the word is commonly used, "day" includes the period of light as distinguished from that of darkness. This period of light to a resident of Philadelphia means merely a certain number of hours out of the twentyfour. but it may mean any length of time under six months, according to the latitude of the observer and the season of the year. Another popular meaning Is the space of twenty-four hours, including a period of light and a period of darkness. This, again, is not the same all the world over, as the time of the commencement and termination vary in different countries; some reckon from sunset to sunset, some from (lawn to dawn, while modern civilized nations count from midnight to midnight. Astronomers, also, have their various days: the absolute solar day. ranging from about half a minute under to the same amount over twentyfour hours at different times of the year; the mean solar day being our common day of twenty-four hours: the lunar day of nearly twenty-five hours, and the sidereal day of about four seconds short of twenty-four hours. These different answers, and the phenomena to which reference must be made for their explanation, would provide material for a very long and minutely scientific article. Hut there is another aspect to the matter which is not less interesting, though not so frequently alluded to: namely, tfhe duration of each day on the surface of the earth, the place and time at which it is first seen, and at which it finally disappears. The succession of the day and night depends on the rotation of the earth on its axis; and since the earth is of a globular shape it is evident that the whole of the surface cannot be turned toward the sun at one and the same moment. In other words, it cannot be noon all over the earth at precisely the same time. A little thought will shmv thai whenever it Is noon at any one place it is midnight on the opposite side of tlie earth: and at the different points between all the times of day are at one and the same moment to be found. Take a particular example to make this clearer. When it is noon in i^>ndon?and time is usually measured from Greenwich observatory?the. countries on the opposite side of tne earth are turned directly away from the sun and are covered by the darkness of midnight. Paris, being a lit- , tie further east than London, will have been brought directly under the sun a little earlier; that Is to say. when it is noon in London it is a few minutes past noon In Paris. At Constantinople, still further east, noon has been gone for an hour or two. ' Further east, again, and India will be found approaching the evening hour, ( while Japan and China have already ( sunk into darkness. If, however, you turn your face ' west, cross the mighty Atlantic Ocean and land in one or rne eastern uii.i'ss of the United .States, you will find that the Americans have not yet reached their usual breakfast hour. Energetic I Philadclphians and New Yorkers may i be up and about, but in Chicago and | St. Louis people are just beginning to see the first faint gleam of day, while ' San Francisco Is still wrapped in a I mantle of darkness. But if you travel a little further west strange as it may seem at the first glance, you will reach the light again, and it will be the dawn of a new day! A'nd this new day. beginning say, in New Zealand , and countries in that longitude, will ! travel swiftly round ine world from 1 east to west, as all Its predecessors i have done. Let us suppose, for the sake of illustration. that the day just described was the historical Fourth of July. The < question then arises: Where did this i day, the Fourth of July, first begin? It was not in America, where it should have begun, for the energetic Philadel- 1 phians and New Yorkers to whom we have referred were thinking about breakfast in the morning of the third. ( Yet, at the same time, the Fourth of July was dawning in New Zealand. 1 Did Independence Day dawn, therefore, in New Zealand, or in some other country between that point and America? The truth is that there Is no defined place where the day can be said to appear first of all. Civilization orig inally spread from east to west across the Old World, and then across the new; and civilization carried the calendar with it. The day came from the east and travelled across to the west, and no one asked whence It originally came, nor where it ultimately ended. Thus, long established usage, treating the day as appearing first in the Old .World and then proceeding to the new, left no place for its formal birth except the wide waters of the i Pacific Ocean, and when traffic began to cross that ocean and the question was forced upon men's minds a sort of understanding was arrived at that the day should be deemed to begin there. According to the way in which the arrangement is now carried out, the first land that the new day dawns upon is Easter Island, about 230 miles west of the coast of Chile, South America. ; That Is to say, the Fourth of July 1 breaks here within a few hours of the 1 third, having broken on the eastern coast of America. In this manner the the two days run on together?the 4 th in Easter Island and places west of It and the 3rd in all places on the ' American continent. But to have the start of all the rest of the world Is ' not an unmitigated advantage to these Islanders. Suppose one of them sails j east to America, what is the result? He will find that they keep the day there under a different date, that he Is, in fact, nearly twenty-four hours ahead of time. If, on the other hand, an American crosses the invisible line where the days begin In travelling from east to west, he will find the date in the part of the world he had entered to be In advance of his own calendar. This fact was curiously illustrated In the case of Magellan, the Portuguese captain, who sailed around the world from east to west in 1522, and, having crossed the magic line of "day's birth" in his ocean wanderings, his calendar became a day In arrears. The sailors were, of course, ignorant of this, and finding, on landing in Portugal that their Sabbath was fall- | ing on Monday, they accused one another of tampering with the reck oning. It was not for some time that the true explanation was discovered. To put the matter another way: In sailing around the world eastward, the days are each a little less than twenty-four hours, according to the speed of the ship, as the sun is met a little earlier every morning. These little differences added together will amount to twenty-four hours. This gives the sailors an extra day. not in imagination, but as an actual fact: they will have done an extra day's work, eaten an extra day's ration of food and imbibed an extra day's allowance of grog. On the other hand, in sailing westward. the sun is overtaken a little each day. and so each day is rather longer than twenty-four hours, and clocks and watches are found to be too fast. This also will amount. In sailing around the world to the point of departure, to one whole day, by which the reckoning has fallen In arrears. The eastern-bound ship, then, has guined a day and the westernbound ship has lost one. The strange fact, clearly worked out. leads to the apparent paradox that the first-named ship has a gain of two whole days over the latter. If we suppose them to have departed from port and returned together.?Philadelphia Record. ESKIMOS SNOW HOUSE. How It Is Built?The Peculiar Spiral Arch. The Eskimo vault is a true dome; it exerts no outward thrust and requires no temporary scaffolding. It is also unique in that its material is not brick or stone but snow. The construction is used for. the beehive shaped winter houses of these so-called savages and Is spiral in ; plan. A row of blocks it tirst laid on the ground in a circle?or more exactly a polygon. Each of these has a slightly slant top and each thus raises its surface a little beyond the last. , until when the circle is completed the ! gap in height between the last and j first blocks gives the thickness for the following courses. In these the upper ( and lower surfaces of each block are parallel, as in a brick, but the grad- , ual upward trend given by the first ' course is of necessity maintained. | In each successive round the snow ; bricks are leaned inward more by hav- , ing their lower surfaces sliced off to j a bevel. If set squarely end to end . they would before long lean inward so far that they would tumble. For , this reason the end of the block last laid is cut at an angle. The next fol- ' lowing block has the joining end slanted at the reverse angle. Thus it ' fits in behind the preceding and is ( prevented by it from slipping inward. ( As the house grows the circles become smaller, until at last only an irregular polygonal opening is left, ic mi with a wedge shaped block cut to shape. It Is. however, not u keystone, us the remainder of the structure supports itself. The blocks of firm snow are usually dressed outside and handed for plac- , ing to the man on the Inside. The lust block he holds up with one hand, slices to shape with his Ivory knife in the other and drops Into position. He is then entirely enclosed In the vault. Only after the house itself Is entirely completed does he cut out the lower door, which to keep out the cold as much as possible Is only big enough to crawl through. A long, low tunnel Is then built In front of the door to break the force of the Arctic's icy blasts. Even the window Is present. A small aperture Is cut out over the door and filled with a pane of clear, thin ice. All that is omitted is the Hue or chimney. Whatever heat is produced by the seal oil lamps is wanted inside, warmth being a more serious necessity In the climate than ventilation or freedom from sm<?ke.?Scientific American. 1Mb SUKtttM UWU. He Is an Interesting Bird and Renders Valuable Service. Order, Raptures; Genus, Magascops; family. Rubonldae; species, Aslo. Whether listening to what Frank M. Chapman has called "the stormbeaten wall of the screech owl," or considering the fearsome Interest he has for the negro, on account of his association with "hants," or taking the view-point of science, the screech owl may claim to hold his own In Interest with any bird that flies. In the colonial days Indians mimicked the cry of this owl when stealing on the settlements, but the settlers learned to tell the difference between the cry of a screech owl and the call of an Indian by the simple fact that the owl's cry had no echo. The Indian could not avoid the echo try as he would. In length screech owls vary from 7.50 to 10 inches, the female being Hlightly larger. In color they are blchromatic, that is, have two distinct color markings, red and gray. Birds of the same brood have been known to exhlhit both colors, the one grey, the other red. For a long time they were regarded as two different birds, even so acute and distinguished an observer as John James Audubon being deceived by them. The name of the genius, Magascops (gre: looking) most admirably describes their appearance. They lay their four or five eggs in an old hollow or deserted woodpecker's nest, the eggs being snow-white and somewhat glossy. Throo /<an f 11 * ! ou ? V*" * vv vviivui ico i/Civic ii1c viii iaa tian era Aristotle studied the screech owl and recorded his observations thus (he called it Noctua, or night bird.) "The Noctuae, Cicumae and the rest, which can not see by day, obtain their food by seeking it at ? night; and yet they do not do this all night long, only at eventide and dawn. They hunt, moreover, mice, lizards and scorpions, and small beasts of the like kind. All other birds Hock round the Noctua, or as men say admire, and Hying at it, buftet it. Wherefore, this being its nalure, fowlers catch with it many and different kinds of little birds." The Italian fowlers use this device today to lure and destroy small birds. Aristotle is wrong in saying tne screech owl or Noctua can not see by day; he can see by day all right, although his nature is to move at night when his prey is abroad. It is a most fortunate circumstance for the human race that this is the case. The moths usually fly at night; only a few move in daylight and most of these are crepuscular, that is, twilight dwellers, either before sunrise or alter sunrise. Most birds are daylight beings, retiring to roost on the approach of night, whereby many of the worst insect pests would be left unmolested but for the shadowy forms of the screech owl, the chucK-wlll'swldow and the whlppoorwill that patrol the kingdom of the dark and deep order in the sleeping world. 1 reckoned it among God's chief blessings to me that He has permitted me to understand owls, at least to a small extent, enough to know them for what they are worth to the human race. That wonderful eye, that can hold all the light there is and which is provided with a nictitating membrane to slide back and forth on its surface, the noiseless flight, made possible by the softest feathering of any biro on earth, and the great talons, all constitute a mechanism that honors the hand of the Al migniy mai iasnionea u. The Hash of light, the rush of the storm, the meteor coursing over the heavens, all are necessary to convey ideas of how swift is the dash of the owl on its prey. The service rendered by the screech owl to man is of the highest value for many reasons. He wages war on the noctuidae, moths, whose progeny is the dreaded cutworm, and by catching the moth, he forestalls the damage. There are many other moths, whose offspring do immense damage and the screech owl Is the consistent enemy of them all. He is also a grasshopper catcher of renown and helped stop the great plague out west, already referred to. From 35 to 50 grasshoppers make a meal for a screech owl and half again as many noctuid moths, if they cun be had. Like all owls the screech owl is a great mouse and rat killer. It is a habit of owls never to let a mouse or rat pass them, whether they are hungry or not. They will catch and kill the rodent and let it die, if they do not need it for food for themselves or young. This is a trait of upmost value in the checking of the spread of mice. It is probable that screech owls remain mated during life and as they do not migrate they become attached to a place and will remain there unless disturbed. They are also the most abundant species of owl, occurring almost everywhere and hence are in position to render immense service to the country. The killing of a screech owl does damage to an entire community and this act can not be too stronly condemned. In his summary of the contents of their stomachs, Prof. A. K. Fisher of the biological survey gives the following: Two hundred and fifty-five stomachs examined. "One contained poultry, 38 other birds, chieHy English sparrows, the well known introduced pest; 91 had been eating mice: 11 other animals; 100 insects; 32 had been eating an assorted diet of lizards, scorpions, fish, spiders, crawfish. etc., and 43 stomachs were empty." In taking an occasional bird, or once in a long time, or eating a small chicken (a very rare occurrence) the screech owl merely acts according to his necessity. When feeding his young or when his food supply becomes usu.ally scarce, he resorts to such a practice, immediately going back to his proper food when it can be had. He is worthy all consideration and unlimited protection, even if he does once in a while lapse from virtue. We may fall back on Portia's observation of Shylock: "Though justice be thy plea, consider this: that in the course of jus tice none of us would see saivauon. James Henry Rice, Jr. Judge Sease's Way.?During court In Orangeburg last week a gentleman In the audience saw fit to "Jaw back" at a witness who was being examined. Judge Sease promptly fined him $5 and ordered him locked up thirty hours, thus exploding that time worn saying that "talk is cheap." It is a pity that Judge Sease's example is not followed universally by all the officers of our courts from magistrate up. Judge Sease, who presided at court in Orangeburg last week, went at those who were convicted of selling blind tiger whisky with "gloves off," fining the guilty ones $500 or six months on the chaingang?a most excellent way to break up this nefarious business. His Influence will very likely be felt whenever iie holds court.?Calhoun Advance.