Ansel Sanders
BY C. A.
OOR twenty-eight years An
sel Sanderson had been
j11FjF -the man who was"-the
' INman who disappeared and
left no sign. One morning
n August, 1SGS, at the age of twenty
two. this young farmer had gone to his
corufield to "top stalk" the corn. He
was seen to enter the field. but no one
in that region saw him afterward.
What became of him remained an un
sulved mystery.
It was hinted among neighbors and
relatives that Ansel had found his life
too hard for him. His young wife,
Lois. was known to be more ambitious
for thrift and money-getting than he.
Rtun~r had it that she had set for them
the stint of laying up $500 a year off
their little farm. come what would;
that she scrimped their table to the
]ast degree of frugality, and that she
was constantly urging Ansel on to ]a
bor. early and late, without a holiday
from January to December.
Tis gossip may have been true. or
true in part. From generations of New
England thrift such "economical"
young housewives have sometimes
sprung, but the fact remained that An
rel had gone away and said nothing.
Lois' version of it to her friends was
that Ansel had proposed that morning
that they should attend a camp meet
ing then in progress-not a very riotous
form of :-creation, certainly-but that
she had urged him to top-stalk the
corn. She thought that he would come
back when he had "got over his odd
fit."
Lois remained upon the farm, which
,was unencumbered, and she carried it
on herself after a fashion of her own.
She kept cows and poultry, and pros
pered as such a frugal soul naturally
would. It is said that she came near
laying up her -'stint" every year. More
over, she obtained six per cent. for her
money on mortgages, and in twenty
eight years becaae the wealthiest
.woman in that rural community. But
she still lived alone. and had cautiously
avoided all entangling alliances.
On her forty-eighth birthday, as she
sat eating her frugal supper alone, the
outer door opened and Ansel walked
in. drew up a chair on the other side
o5' the table. and sat down in his old
place opposite her. Lois knew him in
stantly, although a beard now over
spreod his formerly boyish, smooth
face.
"Weill-1, Ansel Sanderson, I suppose
y7ou have ecme back to claim the
farm." she said, after a silence of some
mnoments' duration.
"No. Lois, I don't v.'ant the farm,"
repie~d Ansel. "I had enon~gh of it
twenty-eight years ago. But I should
]ike some supper. I want four boiled
eggs and a sheet of warm biscuit and
butter."
"Eggs ate going up, Ansel,"' replied
.Lo>.
"That was about the last thing you
said to me in 1868," Ansel remarked.
"But I will pay for my supper, Lois.
If I have arnything here, I'll pay cash
for it. Only I won't be scrimped again,
Lc:s.
He got the four boiled eggs and the
s'leet of warm biscuit and butter, and
durKng the evening they compared
notes and talked matters over. Both
had pr'osper'ed. Lois had accumulated
:i~'ut SE.000., and Ansel was able to
sahe a display of Government bonds
nd:: 'bils to the amount of nearly $20,
Between them they then came to a
~ew agreement. protected by express
stipiulations on both sides. Ansel was
to pay $4 a week for his board, but was
to hav~e just what he called for each
day. Heb had that put down in black
and white. He had no claim t> the
farm, admitting that his rights to it
.were "outlawed." He agreed to work
for Lois whenever he pleased, and not
otherwise, at $1.50 a day in summer
and $1 a day in winter. No other
claims or obligations on either side
were to be allowed or admitted!
Thus, after twenty-eight years. An
sel at fifty a,nd Lois at forty-eight, re
sumned life at the farm again.
On the whole, it was not an unfair
ar-rangement. Both were satisfied. It
.was certainly no one's business but
their own, and I am far from presum
in~g to criticise it. I mention it only as
the prelude to the story Ansel Sander
son told me of his wanderings during
the twenty-eight years he was "lost,"
and of the singular manner in which
hie accumulated his $20,000. For it was
a matter of no little wonder among his
former neighbors and acquaintances
bow a "rolling stone" like Ansel could
have done so well, and brought home
so much money.
When he went away, with nothing
but the coarse clothes he was wearing.
be walked to another county fifty miles
distant, where he worked on a farm for
a fortnight. Then he walked on agaln
to the vicinity of Albany, N. Y., where
be worked for a month. Then he took
a week's holiday, and walked on again,
always westwvard.
For four years he alternately worked
and tram:ped through Pennsylvania.
Ohio, I::diana. Illinois and Missouri. to
I'aas:ts, alays working on farmns. gen
cra!!y a'ucut a month in a place, earn
ing "-::lugh to pay for his clothes and
th~e '.olidays he allowed himiself. His
baiswer'e untusually correct.
F'rom Kansais he made a detour into
Arka :was, and !iking the climate there.
sp:t wo y'ears o:- more' in that State.
Rut :i.e habiit of walking oni at last led
hm:::10 Tiexats. and fr thr'ee years
n 'r e :- e. fr'on fa rn: ' ranch and
L ~ ra'nc to fa. -m. still working~ and walk
At last ihe came where farms and
raniiC's ceased. (on the borders of the
ren-a'dry. ba~ reu plains, the Liano Es
taeado. At the last ran('h whcre he
vorked he remained for a year-per
hars because' 11ere was then no f'arml
beyo::d for l:tundreCds of miles--and here
be nmade the acquaintance of a singzular
old charac'ter called "Sweet-Killer
Say." who taughat AnuSel the art of
bunting wild bees, which are very nu
merous in thatz part of Texas. Thence
forward, for eighteen years this be
game his scie <ceupatlon.
'rhere is in this region a river known
:11 s "Odd Fit."
STEPHENS.
as the Double Mountain RiUver, which
for thirty miles flows through a canon,
formed by cliffs 300 or 400 feet high i
on both banks.
These cliffs abound in fissures,
chasms and caves, and if Ansers ac
count can be trusted-and he seems to
have the money to show for it-the en
tire canon was one vast apiary, where
wild bees have existed and gathered
sweets for centuries. They are in
such numbers as sometimes on certain
bright days& to resemble'clouds high up
the crags. and they 'll the canon with
voluminous hum. The grassy, flow
cry plains for miles on each side of the
canon and thousands of flowering
shrubs afford pasture for the bees.
Ansel assures me that there were
hundreds of these wild bee colonies.
whose enormous masses of comb and
honey were adhering in sheltered
chasms and beneath overhangs of the
rock. A number of caverns. too. ex
tending far back into the cliff, have
been utilized as great storehouses of
comb by the bees. Not one swarm
alone- occupies such a cave, but fifty,
perhaps, or a hundred, swarms, each
having its own queen,'but all using the
mouth of the cavern as a common en
trance. In consequence, the stream of
bees issuing from and entering the
cave on a warm day is like a rapid,
roaring river of winged insect life.
It was here that this quaint old
Texan pioneer and Ansel "hunted
honey." most of which they extracted
from the comb and put up in jars to
send to San Francisco and Galveston.
The wax they also pressed in cakes
and sold. It was their custom to send
a wagon load of honey and wax down
to the railroad station, thirty miles dis
tant, once a fortnight. and sometimes
in good weather once a week.
Some of the colonies and their depos
its of honey could be reached from the
bed of the canon. along the river bank,
by climbing up the crags. (!'iers were
accessible by means of long ladders.
But the most copious stores were at.
greater heights, 200 and even 300 feet
above the river bed.
When seen from below the mass of
comb looked no larger than baco:i
hams, but when reached was found to
amount to several barrels of hcney.
There were also great sheltered holes
and nooks literally packed with old
comb and dripping with brown, discol
ored sweets.
None of them were within thirty or
forty feet of the top of the cliffs. -ind
they were never in situations where a
man could climb down to them. Many
of the crags overhung, irndeed; and a
single glance over wez sufficient to turn
one's head dizzy.
But the veteran bee hunter had de
vised a rope ladder, cr rather a heavy
rope with loops in which to rest the
feet as he climbed up and down. This
rope he attached to a crowbar driven
deep into the earth, or set firmly in
crevices of the ledges, and then with a
hamper on his back for the honeycomb.,
and provided with a sheath knife and
a sort of short handled fishspear, old
"Sweet-Killer" had accustomed himself
to climb down these awful crags to
plunder the aerial stores of honey.
To protect themselves from the stings
of the enraged insects the men wore
gloves and nets over their hats. They
had also an ordinary bee smoker, by
means of which the bees-could be ren
dered "docile" for a time.
After the death of Sa'y. Ansel con
tinued his singular vocation, having us
partner a son1 of the old bee hunter.
They disagreed in the matter of the
profits, however, and Ansel moved to a1
point on the north side cf the caioiL,
where he lived for ten years.
So dangerous a business would seem'
to make a trusty companion very de
sirable, if niot absolutely necessary, but
thenceforth An~sel worked alone here,
descending and ascending the crags
unaided, and with nio one to call in ease
of accident. It must have developed in
him a wonderful degree of self reliance.
Something of Lois' instinct for sav
ing money appears also to have taken
possession of him as he approached old
age. He labored steadily and carefully
and hoarded his money.
At first he entertained no thought of
ever returning home, but as years
passed by he began planning to do so
when he should be fifty years old, and
had savings sufficient to live on.
It was impossible that a man could
work for ten years at so perilous an
occupation without adventures of some
kind. Ansel met with few, however.
Once a party of desperate charac'ters
came to his cabin to r-ob him, but he
waked and heard them in time to con
ceal himself.
One of his experiences while clearing
a sheltered chasm of honeycomb was
startling. He had been at work for
three or four hours, and had carried
ten hamperfuls of comb and honey up
his looped rope ladder, having nearly
ifty feet to ascend with each load.
There was a great deal of "old honey"~
here, and myriads of bees, and after
every upward trip he was obliged to
use the smoker to keep them quiet.
while he forked out a hamnperful of
comb.
The place almost overhung the river,
which flowed at the foot of the riiffs.
300 feet below - a situation wvhich
w;ould have caused an ine-:perienced
person to turn pale and .eiddy. Bunt
Ansel had come not to mind beinz su's
pended at such awful heights. a:Ed in
deed was accustomed never to look
down at all.
At the top of the cliff. where the
rope was attachedl to his crowhar'. he
had one day set a row of large galvan
ized iron buckets, to hold the honey
comb as he broughlt it up. Where it
hung over the brow of the rock the
rope was held out by a stout, forlked
po>e. set aslant in a crevice near the
crowbar.
Ausel was toiling upward vrith a
load, setting his feet slowl1y in the
loops of the rope, when as he came
within fifteen or twventy feet of the
top) he heard a noise as of hogs champ
lg soft corn directly over his head.
Glancing up Ansel could just see the
ridge, of some yellowish animal's back
near his honey buckets.
A
The sounds were so much like those
made by hogs tl.t aT first he felt sure
it must he some stray porker that had
(ome along, nfl he ang-rily shoated.
"Whlee. ther: Whee, you beast!" as
he elimbed higher in haste. to save his
honey. But as his head rose clear of
the brow of the crag he perceived to
his consternation that the creature was
no hog. but a large yellow bear, also
that there were two others, and that
all three were filling themselves from
his honey buckets. several of which
they had upset.
Catching sight of Ansel's hb-ad at the
same instant the largest bear rose sud
denly on its haunches and stared at
him in surprise, its jaws slavering
honey. Then, appearing to resen the
interruption of its feast, the animal
growled and dashed forward to the
very brink of the rock, the hair on its
foreshoulders bristling and its small
eyes rolling furioisly.
Ansel had no effective weapon at
hand; even his honey trident was stick
ing down in the chasm. There was
nothing he could do but descend a few
loops on the rope as rapidly as possi
ble. He was at an utter loss what to
do next, however, and stood still.
But, meanwhile, the bear, after peer
ing over the brink. ran along the top
of the cliff for a little way, then ran
back, and in doing so passedj under the
forked pole above mentioned, on which
the rope was held out. There was
searcely room for the big beast to
pass under. Its back grazed. and
scrambling on, it drew pole and rope
along on its sioulders-bearing the
latter on with it for several yards,
wbi it dropped back on the cliff with
a heavy jerk.
"I couldn't well see -what was going
Dn up there," Ansel said to me. in de
scribing his sensations. "'Whei I felt
myself going, I thought at first the
bears had rooted up the crowbar, and
that my seconds were numbered!"
The rope was strong and withstood
the jerk, but Ansel received a consid
?rabl shock when it dropped or slid off
the bear's back. He fell two or three
feet.
"My heart nearly came into my
mouth!" he told me. "I didn't know
what would happen next, and I hung
mn there, still as a mouse, for some mo
ents."
Presently he heard all the bears
:hamping again. and after a time
'limbed cautionsly up a few loops,
xhere he could just see them over the
rink of the rock.
From this uncomfortable situation
knsel covertly watched a large part of
fs honeycomb disappear into the
naws of the hungry and highly appre
-lative bears. There was no doubt
hat they were fond of it. They swal
owed it by the pound. And although
reatly disapproving. be was in no po
tion to object, or even to expostulate
udibly.
Not content with stuffing themseives
o repletion the provoing animals
merset all the buckets, and even rolled
n what was left cf the contents on the
ry, mossy rocks. They smeared their
nouts and jowls, then rubbed them
ilong the moss, as if from pure wan
onness in such exuberant sweetness.
Then suddenly the largest bear, as
f its skin were tickeld by the honey
>r beset by parasites, threw itself half
lown beside the crowbar and began
'ubbing smartly.
With every rub Ansel could feel the
ear move and sway the rope, and
gain his heart "nearly turned .over"
est the bear should actually rub the
r out of the crevice! For an instant
me was minded to climb rapidly up the
-ope and try to run past the animals,
mt he knew that these big cinnamon
).-.L were not to be trifled with.
Suddenly it occurred to bim to use
.e bee smnoker. It was below, set in
revice of the crags, but he climbed
own andl got it. Then charging the
owl with a bit of hemp and sulphur.
i av'ended near the brow of the cliff,
ihted it and regan working the puf
er. Fumes at once rose and were
orne back to the bears sprawling
mindcst the honey, ior the draft of air
m from the canon was deflected over
he brink of the cliff.
Scenting trimstone, the lazy brutes
uddenly scrambled to their feet. snif
ng. One of them even rose to his
aunches, snuffling and wrinkling up
1s well smeared black muzzle. After
nuffing suspiciously for some moments
tl three turned and shuffled stiffly and
urlily away to a little distance. -Here
hey paused, sniffed again, then set o'f
it a clumsy gallop, to put a greater
listance between them and these high
y objectionable odors.
The bears had made a mess of his
lay's work, but Ansel was only too
tad to come out of his adventure on
eh easy terms.- Youth's Companion.
The Voice of Sincerity.
Children are said to be good although
teonscious judges of human nature;
:nd most of them do at least recognize
-.ineerity and detect pretense.
"Come lhere." my little darling," said
:he book agent. She had a voice which
delled her words, 'out she was trying
:o cultivate the iittle daughter of the
ivomlan who had not yet come down
uairs. "I do so love children," she
ded, in a clear tone, as she heard
ootstps on the stairs. "But you seem
o like the kitty better than me. Why
ire you so fond of Jher?"
'Cause she purrs ns if she mea:'t
t," said the little girl, calmly.--Youth,'s
Eompaion.
A Slrancen Si Dimeiully.
An unexpected difficulty has cropped
p in connection with the movement
'or taking up the production of silk in
eylonr. The demand is now almost
utirely for unpieced cocoons, for the
urning out of which it is necessary to
e~stroy the worm inside. But all life
Sheld sacred in Buddhist beliefs, and
We question is how far this will prove
m isuper'able barrier to the develop
ment of the industry. The at~t of de
troying the silk worm would be in
istict contratvention of the Five Pre
eepts, which prohibit the taking of
ven insect life.-Allahalbad Pioneer.
Sailors3 Exchange Hlats.
The Russian and English sailors on
board the ('ruise r Amphitrite, which
tok the Russian survivors of the
Variag and Korietz to Ceylon, ex
(hnged caps. than whizh a greater
proof of perfect nautical entente could
not be given..
New Orleans has twenty-seven lines
of steamers connecting it with eighty
sen norts.
BITS OF LACE.
A bit of real lace will often contrib
ute greatly to the style of a frock, and
it is an excellent plan to rip from the
garments before they are thrown aside
any lace trimmings. No matter how
badly soiled, every scrap of lace is
worth saving. And this applies to the
imitations as well as to the real, for if
there is only sufficient to trim a stock
collar it may be used for that purpose
very conveniently and effectively on
some future occasion, and as lace does
not occupy a great deal of space and
is not so popular with moths as are
many other materials it may easily be
preserved.
WILL COLLEGE EDUCATION PAY?
Lord Chesterfield advised his son to
marry a woman who "is wise as well
as rich, for." says lie. "thou wilt find
there is nothing more fulsome than a
she fool." In proportion to woman's
intelligence and education. man will
look upon her as a companion and
equal and not as a nere doll or play
thing. For the sake of her home as
well as for her own uplift and enjoy
ment, a woman should get every bit
of education she possibly can. Ignor
ance is as great a handicap in the
home as it is in the business world.
The home presided over by a broad
minded, educated woman, will be well
ordered, systematic. happy and pros
perous. as far in advance of the one
ruled by a narrow, ignorant mistress,
as the business est'ablishment of an
up-to-date, intelligent, progressive man
will'be ahead of that of his dull, ignor
ant, unprogressiv'e competitor.
'\en want educated wives. The
world wants educated mothers. The
intelligence of its mothers measures
the strength and importance of a na
tion.
WHEN DOES WOIAN LOOK BEST?
Every mail will probably reply ac
cording to his individual tastes. .
Nimrod, for example. will declare tiat
when she is riding across country Lady
Diana looks her best. The boating
man wil! think Undine most charming
as she lies amid the pretty cushions of
a punt. dressed en suite. The man about
town will award the palm to the wom
an who is best dressed in the park.
I have heard a man declare that he
thought a woman never looked so well
as when wearing a perfectly plain
gow:a of some washing material,
whereas it is obvious that some of the
sex find us most attractive in what
they describe as "full fig" or "war
paint." - And, speaking generally, I
suppose a wvoman does have almost
every chance in a becoming evening
gown. But one woman can lay down
no hard and fast rules as to when a
woman really looks best. Much de
pends on the woman, much depends on
what she is wearing, and :nuch de
pends on her environment. but I can
not conceive a woman looking her best
when engaged in exercise which is
either very violent or which dishevels
her in any way; nor is she likely to
look her best when the dress does not
fit her surroundings. Tis is a fact
which should be well borne in mind
by women of a certain age bent on
ruralizing, and, indeed, by women of
all ages, at all times and in all plaes.
-London World.
TRAINING OF GIRLS.
Almost before they knowv it parents
find that their daughters have slipped
beond their control. The spirit of in
subordination is in~ the air', and it is
fostered by current educational theo
ries, until what with the fear that the
dear child will have her "individua!
ity" suppressed by hearing a good.
round "Don't!" and what with the de
sire to turn all work into play to level
every hill difficulty, even at the ex~
pense of liever reaching house beauti
ful, many parents are hard put to it to
force themselves to even an attempt at
discipline. Then some day they wake
up to the fact that if their daughters
are to be controlled it must be by some
other hand than theirs. This be wvholly
their oivn fault. Or it may be partly
the result of those subtle antagonisms
of blood that sometimes arm children
against parents-kin against kin-and
make sympathy and confidence impos
sible, even in the presence of loyal
love and trust. Whatever the cause,
when the home does not teach the les
sons of respect and obedience the girl
must learn them elsewhere or the dis
cipline of life will find an unready and
rebellious subject. Sometimes, until
she goes away to school, the poor child
does not know what it is to obey.
Then the school, with its steadying
routine, its quiet insistence upon un
questioning obedience, its unspoken
demand for respect for authority and
those in authoritf; lay its hand upon
her, and almost before she knows it.
she is quieted, humbled. started to
ward self-control.-GOod Housekeeping.
POTTERY AND) PORCELAIN.
"How shall I know po'-tery from
porcelain?" is a question often asked.
They may be distinguished by the fol
lowing very simple test: If you hold
your piece up to the light and can see
through it-that is. if it is translucent
-it is porcelain. Pottery is opaquer.
and is not so hard and white as porce
ain. The main differences in the man
ufacture of stoneware, earthenwar-e
and norcelain are due to the ingre
dients used, to the way they are mixed
and to the~ degree of heat to which
they are subjected in firing. Most of
the old English wares found in this
ountry are pottery or semi-china, al
though the term china is commonly ap
plied to them all. Potteries in Stafford
hire, covering an area o1: ten miles~
long, were the most important in Eng
land. These pottery wares were sold
at ridiculously low prices when they
were first made. and the price has
risen little by little until it has become
quite preposterous. It must be dis
tinctly borne in mind, however, that it
i the historic crockery only which is
lating to our own early history or to
our heroes, and, with but a few excep
tions, made in rich. dark blue. With
reference to a particular ware. people
often say that they own Wedgwood.
I always ask. "Is it markedy" You
may set it down as a rule that all real
Wedgwood. that is. "Old Wedgwood."
is marked with his name. It was trial
pieces only, and such as escaped the
workman's notice, that left the pottery
unmarked. There are peculiarities
about this marking, too, which must
be noted. The name, in small capitals.
is always clearly and carefully marked,
whether impressed or printed in color.
-From "The Collector's Manual." by
N. Hudson Moore, in the Delineator.
A NEW WRINKLE.
Here is a new wrinkle for the girl
who likes to make things. She will
need as a starter a shirt waist of very
fine white linen or lawn. Tan is even
better or a pale shade of buff. This
waist is the starting point for one of
the prettiest articles in the wardrobe.
Take any thin linen waist, or a waist
of washable organdie, or anything that
is sheer and dressy looking and match
it with a piece of lace. You will need
just enough to go across the front in
yoke fashion, and enough for the cuffs.
Take the lace and apply it. Then. with
embroidery stitches, buttonhole
stitches, fagoting and cross stitch, go
over the lace working it here and
there until it seems to be a part of the
waist material. When it is done,
dampen slightly and press flat. In
this way you will get the effect of lace
worked in the material like a pattern
dress. There is something of an inlaid
effect, though the lawn or the linen is
not to be cut out underneath.
A lovely waist was made recently
for a woman who likes pretty things.
It was a white linen, very heavy, with
heavy lace medallions worked into the
linen. They were elaborately stitched
into the goods and were then pressed
until they seemed a part of the mate
rial. This same idea can be carried
out with a flannel and cashmere, as
the lace seems to sink into the material
b'etter and become a part of it. Care
must, however, be taken to use a
great many stitches in order that the
medallions lie perfectly flat. They
must be stitched in the middle as well
as along the edges, sort of worked into
the pattern.
.-mWear
The smartest glove is undoubtedly
Ithe elbow-length white Suede mous
quetaire.
The economical shopper will be glad
to learn that maline ruching boas are
for sale by the yard.
A maize-colored mull was very pret
ty, with profuse trimmings of white
Talenciennes insertions.
No woman who once tries the expe
dient of making a gown with two
waists will ever abandon the practice.
A fine mull gown. printed all over
with a shadowy pattern of gray leaves,
had scattered over its sur'face a few
pale green sprays.
Cordays and sailors are the usual
shapos, and are almost universally be
coming. The hats soil Easily, of course,
but they dry-clean very well.
Ribbon purchased at almost any of
the large shops may be tied by experts
at the ribbon counter in just the right
kind of a bow to finish the bat.
Many of the finest lawn and muslin
gowns are trimmed with ruffles of fine
Brussels net, and this trimming is ree
omended for its delicacy and airy ef
fet.
A pale blue mull was greatly ad
mired. If time were of no particular
object such a gown as this could easily
be made at home, buJt it would prob
ably have to be built on a form to
preserve the accuracy of its lines.
Watch the lace sales, and at the right
time invest in two pieces of inch-wide
Valenciennes. Buy a frame, cover it
neatly with white wash net for a foun
dation, and just as neatly put on the
lace in a series of ruchings. Any wom
an can make such a hat.
A Captain of Industry.
For several days the policemain on
tte beat had observed a small boy who
spent th~e most of his time lounging
near a dowvntown street crossing, and
seemed to have nothing to do. One
morning he accosted him.
"Tommy," he said, "or whatever your
name is, you do entirely too much
loafing round here. Hadn't you better
be at home?"
"I ain't loafin'." indignantly replied
the boy. "I got a reg'ler job here."
"You've got a job? What is it?"
"De guy wot owns dis store pays me
a dollar a week fur kteepin' dis Crossin'
swept clean."
"But I never see you doing any
work." said the policeman.
"Of course not," returned the b~oy.
"I takes de money an' lets out de job
fur fifty cents a week to de kid wvot's
out dere sweepin' de crossin' now. Hie
gits his pay reg-ler. an' (don't have to do
no head-work huntin' jobs."-Youlh'5
Companion.
The Proper Thinr.
lie Ihonorable Timothy D. Suliv:m:.
of New York City fame, did not reaich
London in time to receive an invitation
to the wedding of Princess Margaret.
If he had, all anxiety respecting his at
tire would have been dispelled by the
Lord Chamber'lainl's explicit direction
in the Court Circular, contained in
these words:
"The dress to be worn by their
Majestes' guests will be:
"Ladies-Evening dress, demi-toil
"Genteme-Full dress coat, with
trousers."
Trousers, of course, means pantse'
mearpe's Weekly -
SOUT HERN '- f
TOPICS OF IN TEREST TO THE PLANTE
Nuts on the Farm.
The nut industry is new. So comi
pletely so. it scarcely has a nomnltc!:
ture. Occasionally in the past there 1
appeared on the market an unusunb 1
hickory nut, a chestnut of good size.
iut of indifferent quality: a pecon.
long. but thick shelled: and so on. But
now this line of work is assuming the
importance of an industry.
And just as soon as we realize that
mit trees will afford not only pleasure 1
in their (are, but also considerable
profit. their worth as a cultivated crop
will be appreciated and careful atten
tion will be givel hem.
Nuts and raisins: What dish is more
wholesolne or delicolls. or healthful? :
What food have we that combines
!lesh maoteirials and energy-produciig I
materials so cheaply. so completely?
And now nut trees can be well comli
hined with farmling. Think of the
roadsides. often for miles. devoid of
trees. I cai think of nothing that
would add more to the value of the
farm than nut trees of various sorts
along fence rows and the roadsides. i
Aside from tile shade they would make.
the improved appearances they would
present. would come the conmercial:
value of the crop. Of course this phase
would not bring the financial reward:
that a cultivated, specially formed 1iut1
grove would. Stili its importance
should not be overlooked.
The old roadsides and perman-it
fence rovs and old creeks and
branches would be ideal so far as loca
tion for walnuts. pecans, chestnuts and
hickory nuts.
If you do not care to get nurserY
stock. pla:t the nuts. but look after
them a little. Keep tile weeds down:
dig around the young sprouts one or
twice a year. A bit of fertilizer will
tickie the roots. and a little breedin 1
in this way will bring about a faster
growth and a quicker full !ar%*est.
Then doit negleet an orensional wa a -
over the young trees as they grow. The
enterpillar.is :ire enemies: burn thm
out. Trimming will pay by makina
better appearing tree.
By caring for trees in this iinner
you can expect rather quick returns.
In more Northern climates, native wal- t
nuts, peeans and liickories will usually 1
bear when they are twelve to lifteen I
years old.
Chestnuts come in at a still earlier
age. In the Southern States most nut
trecs that have been given some enire
and attention will produce crops in five i
or ten years.
The commercial nut orchard should ;
receive attention similarly given to the i
apple. the peach or the pear: that is. I
the orchards should be plowed andt
cultivated: the soil improved inl a phys
cal way through the use of legumes. I
cowpeas anid clover. Fertilizers should j
also be added to feed the tree: and j
orous. healthy growth should be done.
What is said here is not a discus
sion about the commercial nut orchatrd: f
a diferent treatment is needed there.
This is a plea for nuts.,on the farm: :
a side issue that will mean good re- 1
silts in many ways. It means a larger
idea of the farm. We have looked ;
too long on the farm as a corn or wheatc
or cotton producer. Let us look on it
as the great American institution. and
let us grow nuts to help miake thatc
institution complete.-C. W. Eurkett.
in the Progressive Farmer.(
"How My Cow Payc."r
The following is fronm the Southlern
Rhuraist. The hint about keeping we:
sacks over and about the milk is a
good one, the evaporationl would keen
down the temperature several degrees.
I have but one cow. but I wvill tell
ou how I manage the business onl a -
small scale. My cow is not a full
blood. She has some Jersey and somte
H-olstein blood mixed in her. I feed
her night and morning with about at i
pek of hulls, one quart of cottonseed
meal and two quarts of bran. She has
a good Bermuda pasture to graze on min
the day. In winter I feed the same,t
with plenty of shucks or hay. t
"I milk at 5 o'clock im the morningI
nd at 6 at night, during the summer.
In the winter at G in tije morning and
5 in the evening. L always carry a
two-gallon bucket of water and wetr
the hulls and meal good before she
eats them. I think that eating dry
hulls and mneal causes many cows to
die with~ what is called dry mur-ra in.
"I have a good stall to keep her
out of all bad weather. and I milk
her thoroughly. Leaving milk in the;
udder causes a cow to soon go dry.
I take my calf away from the moth""
when a few days old and teach it to
drink milk. When it is two or three I
weeks old I teach it to drink butter
milk. The first calf I ever raised was
raised entirely on buttermilk atfter it
was one month old. - t
1 keep my cowv in. full flow until
nearly timc for her to come in aigi.
Then I milk once a day aiid ha fe to
keep it lip until SheC enlves. She is
never dry. We are-c never without mil k .I
ntore than twenty days. I salt ha
Pointed Paragraphs.
A woman who whistles is prefeable
to one who whines.
A wise man doesn't waste any time
arguing with a prize fighter.
A man is apt to feel put out when
hc isn't able to pay his board bill.
Few men can refrain from boast
i-:- f. tile good acts they do by mis
A woman never forgets her flst
love-a man to manage an automo
bile or a mule.
Lots of people are liberal with their
smpathy because they can't turn it
into hard cash.
A girl who expects some man to
ome along and propose to her after
the manner of the hero in a novel
is bound to be disappointed
If a man is looking for trouble all
he has to do is marry a woman older
than himself aicd then tell her she is.
goin to hma her lif insured in his
qlM ''- /OTESS
9 STOCKMAN AND TRUCK G.9W EP
wery time I feed. mixing it thorough
y in her feed.
"I have sold . -m- :ailons of sweet
nilk siuce the 21st of October at six
:en cents per gallon. making $51.12. 1
lave had plenty of nilk and butter
For home use and sold $16.50 worth
>f buttermilk and butter, making a
otal of $73.G2.
"Sold my butter and buttermilk at
iome: received twenty cents for*Pbut
:er and ten cents a gallon for butter
nilk. I sent my sweet milk to the
:ty.
"She gives about three and a half
rallons per day. Now, if I could have
totten forty cents a gallon for my
weet milk I could have realized a
alce sum from my cow.
"The main point is feeding and milk
ng regularly. and milking clean, to
ecp your cow in full flow.
"My cow is now giving me three and
t half gallons and her calf is eight
nonths old. I feed her one sack of 6
ottonseed meal and one of bran every
nomtb. and 300 pounds of hulls. mak
ng the cost of feeding through summer
Z3.35 per month. In wiuter hay and
zucks will run the cost to about $5
i month. I have made clear on my
ow since the 21st of October about
-0. besides having all the milk and
uiter for home use.
"I have a home-made dairy under a
>ig shade tree. covered with sacks,
imd keep water on top with woolen
trin gs in it to feed the water down
ind keep the sacks wet. and I certainly
lo have good milk and butter. I gave
he plan for making it in the Sunny
outh."
sheep.
The Planter's .Tournal has the fol!aw
nig to say of sheep:
H;gs are probabl~y the best paying
mimnais to grow on average farms. but
n some respect sheep arc- preferable.
r!is is especially true on upiar.d farms
hat are too much worn or depIeted of
nmmjas to produce iraple erops in pay
I! quantities. Such .ields. if fc;.ced
-or sheep and converted into a- pasture
or them, will yield a greater net re
urn than if cultivated, and at the same
ime become more fertile. for it is a
rue saying that the foot of the sheep
.ili, s the land. While improving
lie soil. they also improve the herbage
f the patsture by exterminating the
veeds.
It is claimed for sheep that they
nake larger relative gains for food
onsumed than any other kind of live
rock. Another claim set up for them
s that the annual clip of wool will
tay for the expense of keep. Perhaps
his is a little overdrawn, except under
-ry auspicious circumstanccs; which
an only be brought about biy .more
udicious management than usually ob
ains on farms wvhere mixed husbandry
the practice.
They require less attention during
rinter in the matter of housing and
eding. but they should be looked
iter pretty closely at lambing times,
s some mothers ignore their young at
irst. and require to be penned with
heir lambs for a few days in order to
:et them to recognize the obligations
f motherhood.
The objection to allowing sheep and
at cattle to run in the same pasture
an only apply to restricted areas,
there the stock is unduly c'rowvded.
)ne of the most decided advantages in
aisng sheep is that it requires less
annual labor. the most expensive,
enture of farming. thaan cultivated,
rops, but this is aipplicable to live
tok generally. and to sheep in a more
mnent degree.
An important. if not the most im
ottant. essential for prontable sheep,
usbandry is the propeCr seleeili of
reed for the desired end and the use
f pure bred rams.
oato Vinee, Effect on Secretion of Milk.
S. W. Ev'eritt, Stella. N. C.-Please
uswer through your paper the follow
ag question: Do potato vines have a
endency to stop the nlow or dry up
he milk in a sowv that is suckling a
itter of pigs? Or will any bad results
ollo the pigs? I am told here you
'annot raise pigs if the sows are fed
n sweet potato vines. I can't see any
eason in it. as they will produce milk
d butter in a cow.
Answer-I see no reason why the
se of sweet potato vines as a food
or a nursing sow should dry up the
rilk: nor do I believe such would be
be result. I suspect that such belief
one of those traditions that have
en handed down from father to son.
rith no more foundation in fact than
be ief of the influence of the moon
n germination of seeds and the pro
uetiveness of crops. I do not think
litter of young pigs wouid thrive if
he sow and pigs get nothing but po
ato vines.-Knoxville Tribune adt
ournal.
in active service in tihe United States
ay there are 1577 commnissionued and
:)warrant officers, and a force of
0 44 ernlisted men.
Interesting Notes.
It is easier for a girl to lead a man
;o the altar than it is to make him
at her home-grown biscuits.
He 'who says nothing is never mis
luoted.
Gossips and phonographs repeat ev
~rything they hear.
A bigamist is never free from wor
-y until he finds himself behind the
>a rs.
A smile that can be bought for a
lime is soon swallowed.
Race prejudice keeps many a dollar
>ut of the bockmaker's hands.
A rolling stonte gathers no moss
>ut mossbacks are not attractive, any
It is difficult to make a woman be
ieve that compliment isn't the real
:hing.
It is possible to preserve a man's
body in alehohol, but some men's
esides are not worth the time anid