Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, November 01, 1904, Image 1
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ISSUED SEMI-WEEKLY. V__ .
i. m orist's sons, Pubii.her., j % Jfamitis getrsjaper: the promotion of the fjolitkal, Social, Sflricnltural, and gommtyial gntirwls the jitoplt. {TggM^o?0o0opT*^'c?^ANC'"
ESTABLISHED 1855. YORKVILLE, 8. C? TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 1904. NO, 88.
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f LITTLE
A ROMANCE OF THI
I GREAT LORD HAWKE"
\ CYRUS TOWN
Author ot "Commodore Paul Jones,"
of the S
C! ?3
Copyrlfht, 1901,67IX Ap
CHAPTER X.
THE BEGINNING OF THE HAZARD.
SIX bells were striking on the
Sutherland as Wolfe and
Grafton came out of the
cabin. As the soynd of the
mournful couplets rang out through
the night the belis of the other vessels
caught up the slow refrain and the
sound was repeated from ship to ship !
over the dark river. The character of J
the night had changed slightly. Faint .
clouds were drifting athwart the star
lit heavens, and there were heavy j
banks to the southward which looked
like rain. .
"Will you show the signals, Admi.
ral Holmes?" asked Wolfe, as he
stepped on deck. "We are all ready,
, I believe, sir."
"Very well, general," responded the
admiral, turning to Capt Rous and
giving him an order. A moment later
two lanterns were hoisted, one above
the other, at the spanker-gaff end.
The signal was immediately repeated
throughout the squadron. Shrill
whistles rang out as the boatswain's
mates of the different ships bawled
out hoarse commands.
Instantly the soldiers and sailors
came swarming to their stations.
"CoL Howe," said Gen. Wolfe, addressing
an officer of the light infantry,
who appeared at the head of
his men, "after you have mustered
your battalion will you explain to
them that I have designated them to
lead the way in the attack to-night?
Choose a forlorn hope of 24 men to
scale the heights, sir." I
" 'Tis an honor indeed, sir, I thank
you," answered the young officer,
smiling with pleasure. "I myself will
lead them."
"I expected as much of you. Capt
Grafton." he said, turning to the sail
or and resuming the formal method of
public address, "will you see that your
flotilla of boats is ready to receive my
men?"
"I know it is, sir, but I will look
again," answered Grafton. "Capt.
Reus, may I take Lieut. Hatfield in
my boat to assist me?" j
"Certainly," answered Rous, a veteran
sailor. i
Followed by the delighted officer,
Grafton sprang to the gangway and
called for his gig. Meanwhile Howe
was addressing the light infantry.
When he called for volunteers every
man responded, and it was difficult to
make selection of the required number.
Presently, upon Grafton's assurance
that all was ready, the men slowly
filed down over the side and took their
places in the boats. Taking his own
boat the captain rowed from ship to
ship, finding that all preparations had
been made everywhere, and that boats
filled with men and manned by stout
seamen were already clustered under
the lee of the ships where they could
be screened from the observation of
the French at Cap-Rouge.
By 12 o'clock, midnight, the embarkation
had been completed, and aa
it was nearing the end of the flood
the boats slowly put off from the ships
end headed for Cap-Rouge, Gen.
Monckton being in charge and Wolfe
remaining on the Sutherland for the
present.
The flotilla approached close enough
to Cap-Rouge thoroughly to awaken
the attention of the troops of Bougainville,
who sprang to their arms in
expectation of the threatening attack.
But the advance was stopped
before they were near enough to engage.
After some little maneuvering
off the shore, the boats, as if deterred
by the promptness of the French soldiery,
rowed back to the ships and
sheltered themselves under the lee of
their broadsides again where they
could not be seen. Once there, the
men, without going aboard the ships,
waited patiently for the turning of the
tide.
At four bells in the mid-watch, or
two o'clock on the morning of the
13tb, Wolfe entered the heavy cutter
which Grafton had exchanged for his
gig, and gave the signal to shove off.
Following the general's boat came the
boats of the light infantry, and after
them the rest of the flotilla.
It was darker than ever. The sky
was filled with light fleecy clouds drifting
rapidly across the stars, their wild
motion, driven as they were by some
upper current of air. only accentuating
the stillness on the water. Hugging
the opposite shore" for" a time the
boats floated silently down the river |
with the young ebb. As they appeared
to be unnoticed from the camp at Cap- I
Rouge and as their maneuvers excited
no attention, oars were broken out and ,
the boats crossed to the Quebec side,
the seamen rowing gently as they
passed rapidly down the river.
Presently the boats swept around a
huge headland jutting out into the
stream. Below the headland lay a little
cove. The current shot swiftly
about the promontory and swept
around the little bay. The boats were
carried below the landing-place and it
took some hard pulling before their
Rtems touched the shore.
Wolfe had gone forward In the cutter.
and the others drawing back to
give him passage, he was the first man
to set foot upon the muddy shore. It
was four o'clock now. They could hear
eight bells chiming faintly across the
h ills. Around them in the shadow it
was as still as death?that most silent
Jiour before the day breaks. A
rv* \
FRANCE f
2 DAYS WHEN "THE
WAS KING OF THE SEA
SEND BRADY <
"Reuben Jamei," "For tha Freedom
em," etc.
plttoa k Co., New York.
gentle breeze had sprung up and was
sighing softly through the trees at
the top of the cliff; the sky was overcast;
they would have rain presently.
About 200 feet away, since It was
low tide, the bluffs rose precipitously
from the level beach. There was room
at their base to disembark the whole
army. After Wolfe and the officers, In- J
eli ding Grafton, had landed, the light
In'iintry noiselessly clambered out of
the boats and advanced toward the
foot of the cliffs.
V zigzag path, up which a single
file of men might with difficulty make J
its way, broke the sheer face of the
cliff. It had been barricaded with
heavy timbers and was at present unscalable.
|
There was a momentary pause.
It seemed as u tne wnoie enterprise,
so brilliantly conceived and so successfully
carried out hitherto, would
,a>. blocked by this unfortunate obstacle.
They bad succeeded In landing
unobserved, but If they attempted to
tear down the barricade they would
Inevitably attract the attention of the
negligent defenders at the top of the
path. Under such circumstances the
at empt would have to be given over.
A.a Wolfe had said, 100 men might
hold that towering cliff against an
army.
"I think we can scramble up the clIfT
by the aid of these trees," said Howe
at last.
It was a bold proposition. Wolfe
looked at him gratefully and approvingly.
It was their only chance, and
the young general gave the signal for
the attempt in these not very encouraging
words:
"You may try It, Col. Howe, but I
do not think you will succeed. Captain,"
he added, turning to one of his
staff, "tell Gen. Monckton to keep the
rest of the men quiet in the boats for
a few moments. We may have no need
for them."
A ? Uowa art/9 Mo crollonf
AS I1C Djwnc nunc u><u u?u 0w..??
24 sprang at the cliff. They were soon
lost in the shadow covering the face
of it, and the watchers below could
trace the course of their slow and
painful ascent by the crashing sounds
they made, as by the aid of stunted
trees growing in clumps here and
there they made their toilsome way
upward. Why the French did not discover
them has never been explained.
Presently the sounds died away altogether.
The silence was broken by
the sound of a musket-shot, followed
by another and another. A quick
fusillade rang out from the sky above
them. They were thgre, then! They
were engaged! What had been the
issue?
Concealment was no longer possible
or desirable. At a word from their
commander the men on shore sprang
at the barricades. The scene changed
from one of absolute quiet to Intense
activity.
"Have they won, think you?" asked
Grafton.
"We shall know in a moment," answered
Wolfe. "If they have lost,
somebody will come tumbling down
the cliff to tell the tale. Meanwhile,
I am staking all on the chance of their
success."
The little cove was now filled with
noise. Catching the contagion the
men began to spring from the boats
and fell in on the shore. The feelings
of the soldiers, repressed so long
through the night, found vent in
cheers and cries. Presently a hail
came down from the cliff. It was
Howe's voice.
"We have the post!" he shouted.
' The enemy has ilsd! The way Is
open!"
"Hold it at all hazards!" cried the
commander.
The cheering men fairly tore the
barricades to pieces and scrambled up
the path, Wolfe himself in the lead.
Oapt. de Vergor, who commanded the
French guard, was incapable and a
coward. He had kept negligent watch.
Howe and his handful of men had
surprised them. The fall of New
France must be laid at the feet of one
person; and, singularly enough, the
beginning of American independence
may be traced to the splendid exploit
of the young soldier, who, as a general
long after, at Long Island, White
Plains, Brandywine and Germantown
did his best to stop its course.
fUADTPP YT
ON THE ROOF OF THE WORLD.
IT was ten o'clock in the morning.
Every available English
soldier had been landed on
the Quebec side and had scrambled
up the cliffs to the Plains of
Abraham. The hours intervening
since the first attack had not been
idle ones. French batteries erected
at Samos and Sillery, not far distant,
and on either side of the cove,
had been gallantly taken by assault,
and scouting parties had cleared the
adjacent country of stragglers. The
sailors under Grafton by herculean endeavor
had drawn two six-pounders to
the crest of the plateau. Since eight
o'clock in the morning these two guns,
excellently served by the seamen, had
been replying to a heavy fire from the
three larger guns of the French, who
had begun assembling as early as six
o'clock on the hill beyond the English
position.
From the covert afforded by the
trees and underbrush on the side of
the St Charles river valley, as well
as on the St Lawrence edge, Indian
j and backwoods sharp-shooters had
been pouring a gallant- rifle Are upon
the English, to which no effective reply
could be made. The thin red line
of soldiers that had so often stood between
humanity's progress and the
armed world in opposition, keeping
open the pathway of the future, was
drawn up in three ranks. The lines
were not long enough to reach aross
the plateau, and tho left flank, where
Townshend commanded, was refuseddrawn
back at a right angle from the
battle front.
Col. Burton, with the light infantry,
was held in reserve to anticipate
a possible attack from Bougainville.
That worthy officer, however,
knew nothing of the landing and remained
nuietlv in camD at CaD-Rouge.
expecting the return of the British
ships with the changing tide. The sky
was overcast, and fitful showers, light
in charaqjm* and brief in duration, besprinklecithe
sod, soon to be wetted
by a liquid substance of greater consistence
and more ominous color.
If the scarlet-clad Englishmen presented
a vivid though menacing picture
to the French, the aspect of the
latter was sufficiently picturesque to
awaken the admiration of their foes.
Very handsome the white coats of the
French regulars looked against the
green grass that morning. Alas!
many of them were destined to sport
the red colors of England before the
day was decided.
The two armies were about equal in
number. The qualities of the French
regulars were as high as those of the
British army, but the average of the
French forces was sadly diminished
by the fact that the larger portion of
their army was made up of Canadian
militia. These hardy peasants were
excellent fighters in forest service, but
poor material indeed with which to
face regular troops in the open.
But Montcalm had been hasty. He
might have waited longer, until
Bougainville with his excellent division
had joined him, or at least
reached a position from which he could
support the French attack by a demonstration
in force in the rear of the
English. Fight the French must, of
course, or starve, but they would not
have starved in a few hours, and a
few hours might have materially
changed the situation. There were
battery after battery of field pieces
back in Quebec which should have
been dispatched to Montcalm's assistance.
His repeated and most pressing
requests to de Ramesay, the commander,
bad only brought three guns
to him, and the cowardly de Vaudreuil,
the governor of the province, was
holding at Beauport thousands of men
idle in their intrenchments, who
should have been dispatched to his assistance.
How explain the Frenchman's reckless
haste? The fact was that Montcalm
had always beaten the English.
He had never in his whole career met
a single commander among them who
appeared to have the slightest military
genius, and he made the fatal mistake
of despising his foes. Perhaps
the fact that they lay there stubbornly
taking the galling skirmish fire from
the coverts on either flank so silently,
in spite of its ghastly effectiveness, replying
only to his heavier guns with
their two six-pounders, gave him
greater confidence; at any rate, at ten
in the morning he ordered an advance.
With feverish Impatience the English
held themselves in restraint under
the peremptory orders of their
commander. As Wolfe saw the French
rising on the crest of the hill, giving
I AtiUrtn/ia n# thali* IntonHnn to to!r? Via t_
CflUOUVO VI bUVit 1UVVU?..VM vw JVIU mmv
tie In close encounter, he walked rapidly
up and down his own line speaking
those simple, hearty words of encouragement,
as he passed by his soldiery,
whjch do much to make a man a hero.
A quiver of delight ran through the
compact ranks. With fierce pleasure
the men looked to their pieces and
made themselves ready.
Suddenly the crest of the slope in
front of them was tipped with flame
GRAFTON KNELT BY HIM.
and covered with smoke. The rattle
of arms crashed over the field. Bullets
ran? Ihrnuirh the morning air.
Men were dropping here and there
among the ranks of the stolid British;
some moaned and shrieked in the anguish
of shattered limb or torn body,
and some lay still and quiet in the
grass, recking little, minding nothing
of the roar of battle about them. The
French, after the first volley, began
firing continuously and irregularly,
still advancing.
Suddenly, when the cheering and
yelling whitecoats had reached a point
perhaps 100 yards away, a sharp command
rang out in English. The officers
repeated Wolfe's signal.
"Steady! Ready! Aim!"
Be quiet all, for now was the time'
The muskets of the waiting red ranks
came smartly down.
"Fire!"
The first rank delivered a volley
which crashed over the plateau like
cannon-shot Their drill was magnificent
A moment of startling silence
supervened and the second rank repeated
the performance. Ere the
echoes of the discharge had died away
among the hills, the third rank sent its
sheet of destruction in the face of the
advancing men. The field was covered
with thick smoke. The English could
see nothing. For a moment no reply
was made to them. Then a scattered
fire, confessing weakness by Its feebleness,
ran along the French line.
Again and again the deadly discharge
of the English was poured out The
French seemed to be making no reply
at all. Presently there was a
slight respite and the smoke cleared
away, revealing a horrid picture of
carnage.
The crest of the hill was covered
with bodies. Most of the horsemen
were down. Montcalm and one or two
officers were striving desperately to
reform their men. The Canadian militia
unahle to stand aeainst such a
fearful Are, had melted away. The
French grenadiers, the white-coated
regulars, were rallying in bewildered
little knots here and there upon their
officers. The French advance was
completely barred. Now was the moment
to strike.
"The picture?" said Wolfe to Grafton,
who was standing by him. "You
have it?"
"Here."
"Remember?and good-bye, old
friend. Now, gentlemen," he cried,
"let us go at them. Forward!"
Like a common soldier the young
general, sword up, face smiling, put
himself at the head of the Louisburg
grenadiers. The French had at last got
into some sort of order, rallying in
thin, broken, and exhausted lines.
Their courage was superb. They saw
death in the advancing mass of the
British infantry, but they did not
waver. The battle was lost to them:
they would strike another blow at any
rate.
It was the English who cheered now,
the French had passed the cheering
stage. This time it was they who
poured their tolleys into the advancing
British. The execution done
among them was fearful. A bullet
shattered the wrist of the general. He
caught a handkerchief about it and
pressed on. A second shot hit him,
but still he did not falter. A third
bullet struck him full in the breast;
he staggered a moment and fell. With
a fierce yell for revenge his army
swept by him. A last volley from the
P.aMa1i Af,<l Kavnnota PrnoaoH In tho
riCUWU UUU WO/ VUUW V* wuwvw mmm ? ?
smoke.
Wolfe, In the rear of the line, was
down and dying. It needed no surgeon
to translate the look of death upon
his face. Orafton knelt by him and
took his hand, tears streaming down
his face. The*path of glory was Indeed
ending here. Others quickly assembled
where the soldier lay bleeding to
death on the field.
"The battle," whispered the dying
man. "Tell me?"
"They run! They run!" cried
Grafton, rising and surveying the
field.
"Who run?" he asked, eagerly opening
his eyes and looking up at his
friend from where he lay In the arms
of the surgeon on the grass, stained
red by his own blood.
"The enemy! The enemy! They
give way everywhere!"
"Go, one of you, to Col. Burton,"
said Wolfe, smiling weakly, "and tell
him to march Webb's regiment down
to the St Charles river to cut off their
retreat from the bridge"
It was the last thought of a soldier
?his duty. He sank back In the arms
of his attendants.
Philip, filled with grief, dropped on
his knees beside him. Wolfe opened
his eyes again for a moment.
"Philip," he whispered, "remember
the picture?Quebec?" He turned on
his side. "Now, God be praised," he
murmured. "I will die in peace."
There was a fierce struggle going
on all over the field. The French
were dying hard. Grafton ran along
the line to inform Monckton, the second
in command, of Wolfe's death.
He found that brigadier desperately
wounded, and then ran over to the
left flank to carry the news to Townshend,
the second brigadier.
Aided by heavy skirmishes in the
wood, and by the fact that Townshend
was compelled to refuse his lines, the
battle had been more fiercely contested
here than elsewhere. A squadron
of cavalry, the only party of horse on
the field, which had been sent scouting
by Bougainville, suddenly appeared
on the flank, and charged furiously
down upon Townshend's men.
They gave way. That general had
started for the center of the army
when Grafton told him the sad tidings,
and at his request the sailor hurried
to the extreme left flank.
Without thinking that he was left
unsupported by the temporary retreat
of the English soldiers, Grafton sprang
forward to meet the cavalry. He
brought down the first horseman with
his pistol, but the second struck his
cutlass from his outstretched hand,
inflicting a deep cut in his arm, and
the third caught him by the collar.
"I'll take this one prisoner. Yield,
monsieur!" he cried in French.
"We are beaten!" cried the otncer
commanding the cavalry, as the English
rallied and came forward again.
"Look, we give way everywhere!
Sauve que peut, mes braves!"
"I don't lose this man, though," said
the soldier, stubbornly. "Will you
run, or be dragged ?" he called to Grafton.
Not waiting for a reply, he
wheeled his horse, and, keeping tight
hold of Grafton, galloped off with the
rest.
It was not a dignified position, but
there was nothing for him to do but
to strive to keep^ his feet as best he
might. If he fell he would be trampled
to death by the horses; if he did not
run he would probably be dragged until
he choked. He was a wise as well
as a brave man, so he struggled desperately
on.
His arm had been badly wounded
by the blow which had disabled It,
and as his captor reached the St. Louis
gate of the city a bullet struck him
In the back. His strength Anally gare
way at that, and he fainted. He was
a small man, and the big trooper lifted
him to the front of the saddle by some
unexplained Impulse, laid him across
the horse and held him there as he
forced his way into the panting, terrified
mass of retreating soldiery.
Ahead of them was an officer on a
big black horse. He was deadly pale,
and blood was trickling over the white
lace of his shirt and staining his open
waistcoat He would have fallen from
bis horse bad not two soldiers on
either side supported him. He sat
with his hands on the pommel of the
saddle, leaning forward. His race
wore a stricken look. Tears were
trickling down his cheeks?not on account
of his wounds, however, but
from a deeper hurt. It was Montcalm.
The gate was open now, and toe
fugitives were pouring through. Inside
the walls a crowd of women, chil
dren and old men were congregated
In the Rue St Louis. There was weeping
and wailing and wringing of hands
as the wounded, battered, shattered,
terrified mass of fugitives swept
through the gate. The deadly rattle
of small arms, which since early morning
had kept up without the walls,
had nearly died away. The bugles of
England were calling a halt, the redcoats
were assembling on their colors.
They were too weak to assault
the ramparts yet, and therefore allowed
the shattered French army to
enter the city. Presently the marquis,
still on his horse, was drawn within
the gate by the eddying crowd.
"Oh, mon Dieu! mon DIeu! Le Marquis
est tue!" cried a woman.
Her words were taken up by the
crowd, who loved the great and gentle
soldier with a passionate devotion
which they withheld from the thieving
scoundrels who made up the civil
government Even then his first
thought was for the people. As he
heard the cries of the multitude he
lifted his head and said:
"Ce n'est rien, ce n'est rien; ne
vous affligez pas pour moi, mes bonnes
amies." (It is nothing, it is nothing;
do not be troubled for me, my good
friends.)
Meanwhile the dragoon, with Grafton
lying limp across his saddle, rode
a few rods down the street until he
escaDed from the thick of the crowd.
Then be turned his attdtatlon to his
prisoner. The Englishman was lying
pale and apparently lifeless before
him.
"Nom de chien!" cried the Frenchman.
"Have I been carrying a dead
man all this time?"
With an expression of disgust he
lifted him from his saddle and let him
slide to the ground. He was riding
near the pavement at the time and the
street was narrow. The soldier had
not thrown him roughly, and Philip
slipped gently down upon the sidewalk,
his head falling rather heavily
against the open doorstep. A woman
standing gazing from the door
screamed and shrank back. The shock
and the pain of his wounds caused him
to open his eyes. He was dimly conscious
of a face as beautiful as an
angel's bending over him. He heard a
sweet, startled voice, filled with music,
murmuring In exquisite French:
"Mon Dleu! He is living, then!**
He knew no more.
TO BE CONTINUED.
MORPHINE HABIT
la Contagious, and Victims are Nearly
All Cultivated Persons.
The contagious character of the
morphine habit is beyond question.
How often one encounters it; and
not only among; the poor. On the
contrary, it develops, above all, among1
cultivated minds, which take a pride
in success. Most of the physicians
who are addicted to it derive such a
plentitude of happiness from it that
they ardently desire to share it with
their wives, and, sad to say, succeed
In persuading them to the extent of
20 or 25 per cent of cases. Their
propaganda extends to hospital attendants
and nurses, but it stops
there. A feeling of respect for humanity
and a fear of lessening the
confidence of their patients prevent
doctors from speaking to them of the
practice.
Authors or literary men addicted
to the morphine habit are less reserved
in regard to their propaganda.
As soon as they hear of any one suffering,
or hear any one complain of
suffering in their presence, these fanatics
produce their precious talisman,
the precious Jewel from which
they never part, and propose to make
a consolatory "piqure" on the spot.
On occasion, in order to attract and
convince a new votary, they practice
an injection on themselves, at the
same time painting, in the most brilliant
colors, a picture of the wellbeing
that will ensue. It is a fact
u ? that "fammofl fill
IU utr i ciui ucu kuu.b Aviiiuivw ?
monde" are even more zealous propagandists
than men.
The poisoning, that Is to say, the
morphinomania, Is an accomplished
fact within a very short time. At the
end of two or three months the habit
is confirmed. The need of injection
becomes irresistible, otherwise the
intellect remains sluggish, the apathy
is extreme. One is no longer good
for anything. Unfortunately, the tonic
or exciting effects can only be
maintained by constantly increasing
the doses until, sooner or later, the
victim arrives at one gramme, two,
three and five grammes, for the "habitude
toxique," otherwise known as
"mithridation," sets up at the end of
two or three years.
It is easy to understand what a seductive
charmer morphine is until
the moment when, after a honeymoon
more or less prolonged, It returns,
an inexorable devilfish, which carries
off its victim to the tomb, after having
caused him a thousand tortures. The
victim, in fact, quickly becomes an
egotist, a liar, uncleanly, a dreamer
and a thief If necessary to procure
his stupefying poison; a murderer
sometimes, and more frequently still
a madman.?New York Herald.
pisrfUanfous Reading.
FOREIGN COTTON.
What Is Being Dons to Grow ths
Fibre.
England Is not moving alone towards
the extension of the world's cotton
supply. The schemes of the British
Empire Cotton Growing association,
which has now received a royal charter,
are of much greater dimensions
than any other now before the world,
and the chief augmentation of future
cotton crops will come from the British
dominions. But if the present attempts
to promote international action
are carried out, and there is a general
concentration on cotton growing in
suitable localities, the foreign sources
of supply are worthy to be taken Into
consideration. Prance, for Instance,
has wide colonial regions suitable for
the crop, and in the valley of the Upper
Nile there has been a considerable
output of cotton. Algeria, too, has
proved Its suitability by past evidence.
During the cotton famine following
the outbreak of the American civil
war an abundant crop of cotton was
grown mere, ana some rrencn manufacturers
believe that the lnduatry
might now be revived. At that time
30,000 acres of cotton were cultivated,
and if at the present time 36,000 acres
could be restored to such cultivation
France would enjoy an annual native
crop of 10,600,000 kilos of cotton. Cambodia,
too, produces a considerable
quantity of cotton, and the cultivation
is being extended.
In Spain a bill to encourage cotton
growing has been introduced in the
cortes, the plan being to extend the
crop by offering prizes and other inducements
to those who raise It.
Italy has a great and growing cotton
industry, employing 2,700,000 spindles
and 171.000 work people; it employed
340,000,000 pounds of cotton in 1903,
as compared with 270,000,000 pounds
In 1900. In 1882 the value of the produce
of the Industry was ?6,800,000;
In 1903 it had grown to ?13,600,000.
Naturally such a market would welcome
native cotton, and it is believed
that the crop might be cultivated profitably
in Italy. At any rate, the cot
lull WHICH was giv/wn mcic U)/ w *viv
was useful, though not of very high
quality, and a better staple might now
be obtained. Germany has been very
active In this matter, and has In some
respect gone ahead of England. It offers
many incentives to colonists to
devote themselves to cotton growing.
A price has been offered In advance
for crops raised and premiums have
been given for the best crops. The colonial
committee also furnished gins
and bale presses free of charge and
the German Steamship Line, of Hamburg,
offered free transport. The result
was that the Saxon Spinners' union,
which had previously had cotton
from German West Africa, received In
1902 the first consignment from German
East Africa, and there was the
prospect of supply from Togo, Saadanl,
Usambara and Pongene. Germany
also sent Its experts to the cotton
fields In ^he southern states to study
cultivation, and established an office
at Dar-es-SaJaam to organize all cotton
schemes and see them properly
carried out. Rallwav development for
transport from the Inner lands to the
points of shipment has aiso been taken
in hand.
This systematic work has had the
best results. The Togoland cotton has
shown a marked Improvement in consequence
of the teaching which has
been imparted, and it was estimated
that the crop there in the current year
would reach 200,000 pounds. The area
sown has been greatly extended, and
next year's crop is expected to yield
1,000 bales of 500 pounds each. The
Reichstag has voted the funds necessary
to construct a railway for transport
from Lome to PaJime. In German
East Africa there are 2,000 hectares
under cotton, but when the Nyassa
railway is completed it will be
possible to cultivate the Kilwa district,
where there are 100,000 hectares
n* cr^\A r>nttnn.B!TOwlne land. To ob
tain the advantage of cheap transport
the banks of the RufldlJI river are
being cultivated and the area will soon
extend over 150 kilometres, for which
distance the river Is navigable. Germany
is fully alive to the necessity for
cheap transport and Is aware that
nothing would tend to develop cottongrowing
so much as the opening up
of light railway lines.
The Dutch have also given attention
to this Important question, as It affects
their East Indian colonies. Two
varieties of cotton have long been cultivated
In Java, and much has been
done to develop the trade. In 1902 the
cotton export of the Dutch East Indies
amounted to about 5,300 tons, half
of which was of Javanese growth.
The administration of the residency
of Samarang, the chief centre of the
cotton cultivation, Is promoting and
protecting the Interests of the planters.
and the government has provided
- - * ?ka ork'qnppH fLS
a. sum ui (nunc/ iv uw ?
loans and premiums. The regent of
Denmark has studied the question
closely, and has succeeded In producing
a staple which sells for sixpences
pound in Holland. Even in Palestine
there is likely to be a revival of cottongrowing.
Up to 1866 cotton was grown
there on a considerable scale on the
belt from Gaza to Tyre, one hundred
miles long and Ave to twenty miles
broad. The export from Palestine during
the war averaged 20,000 bales,
and, though the fall In prices led to
the abandonment of the industry,
there Is no reason why, at fair prices,
It should not be re-established. The
Palestine cotton is Inferior to that of
Egypt, being shorter, but It Is indigenous
to the soil and flourishes, whereas
cotton from foreign seed can only
be grown successfully with extensive
irrigation works. Still, even the Inferior
native cotton is of a useful kind
and cotton from t ie Holy Land may
be obtained once more.
Finally, there art countriea still further
away where, If difficulties can be
overcome, cotton .ihould be a staple
crop. Paraguay :s admirably fitted
for cotton-growing, and it has been
cultivated there foi years, though never
exported. But samples sent to this
country have been favorably received
and should be able to compete with
American cotton. The chief difficulty
in the way of the crop proceeds from
the scarcity of labor. The natives are
not industrious and so long as their
necessities are provided for they will
not work even for higher wages. Guatemala
is another cotton region which
may yet be a source of supply to commerce.
Indeed, there Is no scarcity
of cotton lands, a:l that is needed is
their development, and Great Britain
on this point seems to have induced
many to follow her example.?London
Globe.
A PER8IAN TRAGEDY.
Sublime
Courage by Whioh Prinoeee
Salome Escaped Her Maeter.
James Baker, a well known traveler
and writer, tells a curious story of a
war 100 years ago The Persian shah
was beselglng Thlls, and the husband
of the Princess Salome had been slain
In the siege. When the Persians entered
and sacked the town Salome
tried to save her young son, but he
was torn from her arms and hacked in
pieces before her eyes. Her own life
was spared and she was borne to the
camp outside the walls of Tlflis to
the shah. He sold her to Djafar Bek.
who shut her up in a castle?a part of
which still remains?near where now
is the lovely tropliial botanical garden
of Tlflis. Charmed by her beauty, he
asked her to beome his wife. She
refused and begged her purchaser to
slay her. The Persian gave her a
night to reconsider the matter and on
the next dav he lay reclining on a
great cushion under a tree on that ,
hot, sunny blllsk'e and awaited her
answer. Presently she appeared before
him, veiled in a long, pure white
robe, calm and stately, her face deathly
pale. She advanced, her armed
jailers following her. The Persian
waved his followers aside and asked
the princess, "You consent to be my
wife?" "Yes," was the solemn answer.
"I consent to love you, for after
the death of my husband and son
it is my destiny; there is no other fate
for me.
"In Georgia," said the princess.
"there are certain families that possess
strange powers and dark secrets.
My mother foretold I should be the
wife of a DJafar, and from my mother
I, too, received these powers to read
the future." The Persian was impressed
by her manner and her presence.
She saw her power. "Give me
your hand," she said. "Let me read
there if I shall have long years of happiness
with you." He held forth his
hand. She held it until it slightly
trembled In her fingers. Then she
burst forth with a cry of horror, "Oh,
my master, knowest thou that death
awaits thee, perchance this very
night?" DJafar Bek trembled now.
"Thou wilt die by the hand of a man
thou hast this diy offended." "Is it
by Assa Dhoulla Bek?" he asked. "We
quarreled today, and about you. He
would have bought you." "Oh, my
master," exclaimed Salome, "to save
thee L must have some object upon
which he has loo Iced today, then lean
avert this evil and make his arms
useless against thee."
"What! You can do this?" exclaimed
DJafar Incredulously. "Most certainly.
Give me your dagger." He
drew it and handed It to her. She
held it up and Icoking up to the blue
heavens above, murmured a prayer;
then, handing it back to him said:
"Now it is useless. It can slay no
one." He looked at her unbelievingly.
"Try It!" she exclaimed. "Strike
here!" He struck the blow where her
finger rested full upon her heart. The
keen blade went swiftly home, and she
fell at his feet, exclaiming, "O God,
receive my soul!" Then she lay dead.
REMARKABLE FEAT.
Of Negro, Who Threw a Powerful
Steer With His Teeth.
The great event at Cheyenne this
Kmnorlrohlo fOQ t ftf Will
year nao me .Ww.
Pickett, a negro, hailing from Taylor,
Texas, who gave his exhibition while
20,000 people watched with wonder and
admiration a-mere man, unarmed and
without a device or appliance of any
kind, attack a fiery, wild-eyed and
powerful steer and throw it by his
teeth. With the aid of a helper, Pickett
chased the steer until he was in
front of the gr nd stand. Then he
jumped from th saddle and landed on
the back of the animal, grasped its
horns, and brou. ht it to a stop within
a dozen feet. B. a remarkable display
of strength he twisted the steer's head
until its nose pointed 'tralght into the
air, the animal bellowii. vith pain and
its tongue protruding Its effort to
secure air. Again and again the negro 1
was Jerked from his feet and tossed
into the air, but his grip on the horns
never once loosened, and the steer failed
in its effort to gore him. Cowboys
1 + K lariat a Pliaho/T ti\ Pflr.kptt'fl
assistance, but the action of the combat
was too rapid for them. Before help
could be given, Pickett, who bad forced
the steer's nose into tho mud and
shut off Its wind, slipped, and was
tossed aside like a piece of paper.
There was a scattering pf cowboys as
he jumped to his feet and ran for his
horse. Taking the saddle without
touching the stiirups, he ran the steer
to a point opposite the judge's stand,
again jumped an its back, and threw
It. Twice was the negro lifted from
his feet, but he held on with the tenacity
of a bulldog. Suddenly Pickett
dropped the steer's head and grasped
the upper lip of the animal with his
teeth, threw his arms wide apart, to
show that he was not using his hands,
and sank slowly upon his back. The
steer lost its footing and rolled upon
Its back, completely covering the negro's
body with his own. The crowd
was speechless with horror, many believing
that the negro had been crushed;
but a second later the steer rolled
to its other side, and Pickett arose uninjured,
bowing and smiling.?Harper's
Weekly.
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v. g