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V ISSPgD SBMl-HM!Kt,^^ l. m. grist's sons, Pnbii.her.. } % ^amitg .geicspaper: 4or the fromotion of the political, JSocial. ^grieuUnpt and (Eomntepiat interests of the jpeopli;. {"*^0'L^PAT T"| established 1855. " . yorkville, s7c., frid a^y, june 19, 1908. nol49. I Wau. COPYA/CHT. /907 i A. C ffClOGC U CO. r* CHAPTER IV. For some days after that I was In a quandary. Here, In the face of my discovery In the library, was Vincent's positive information that Agatha Fifth was the heiress. Reluctantly I determined that the likeness between Agatha Sixth and the picture of the baroness was accidental, and began to devote myself to the unfortunate Agatha Fifth. She seemed much inclined to discourage me, DUt 1 persevereu arm we suun uccame great friends. I found she was only 18. and drew my own conclusions ^ from this fact. At 18 one's convictions are never very deep-rooted, neither are one's love affairs, and 1 thought It likely that the girl would soon forget her ill-prospered attachment for Vincent's handsome face, and might begin to think of someone else. Surely this was a very natural belief! So the first ^ two weeks of our stay at the castle sped by and I saw to my satisfaction that I was gaining ground with the Honorable Agatha every day, while poor Vincent wasted his time flirting with each Agatha in turn (he had taken up Agatha Sixth since my desertion) or in assisting Miss Marsh to write up a lot of old dead barons who were much better left to a decent and dignified obscurity. One day. toward the close of the two weeks. I met Vincent hurrying through tiie hall toward the stairs. He had on an old velveteen coat covered with i paint daubs, his luncheon basket was over his shoulder, and I guessed that he was going on one of his sketching tours in search of fresh woods and pastures new. "Where are you going. Wilfred?" I asked, as he stopped, "and Where's Agatha Second?" She usually accompanied him on his sketching expeditions. "Painting." he replied, concisely, ignoring my second question: "and where may you be going?" "For a walk with Agatha Fifth," I answered, smiling at him?a little pity' * ingly, perhaps. He had lost such a chance! Vincent chuckled and his eyes looked ^ wicked. "Wish you luck. Arch." he ^ said. "I've been watching your char'1 - ~ " ? ?* ?v?a /v??f n Kn o I " IlilUlt* CIllM in HI IUI IIIC UUl Uiiu wv a father to my little friend, Agatha Fifth, with great admiration?but I forgot to ted you"?he lowered his voice, for we could see Agatha Second on the veranda talking to Agatha Fifth?"I forgot to tell you that what Agatha Fifth told me isn't true!" "Isn't true?" I repeated In consterf nation. "No; she confessed to me about a week ago that she only said she was the real Honorable Agatha to make me marry her She thought, the foolish little girl, that she only had to tell * me she was the heiress to make me love her. And she said she was sorry and wouldn't do it again and cried like a child, and I forgave her and comforted her. She'll get over it all right!" and laughing hilariously the young rascal ran upstairs. I was really vexed with Wilfred about this. I thought it was very unkind of him to keep me in the dark for so long about Agatha Fifth's confession. What a lot of time I'd been H wasting!* I resolved that I would return to Agatha Sixth at the first op portunity, ana i ren giaa, even jusufled, that I had not told him about that album which had betrayed the secret to me. At this moment Agatha Second appeared in the doorway. "Hullo, Mr. Terhune," she said, "where's Lord Wilfred?" "He went upstairs." I said; "I don't know for what." I could hear him in the distance singing at the top of his lusty young voice? "Gentlemen rankers all are we-e-e?" % till an ear-splitting shout from Agatha Second drowned the song completely. "O-h-h-h, Freddy," shrieked the young lady, with a lung power that equaled Vincent's. I shivered with indignation at the liberty. "Freddy!" indeed! At the third shout he heard her and stopped singing to rend the air with an answering cry. "For goodness* sake, what are you so long about?" she called. " Do hurry up!" "Coming!" roared Vincent, clattering down the two flights of "stairs like a wild horse, and I hurried out to join Agatha Fifth, my hands over my ears. Young people are so noisy nowadays. Several evenings later Agatha Fourth had arranged to give a progressive dinner party. She was to be the hostess and the rest of us were her guests. It was an evening-dress affair, and I must say as we sat down to dinner I never saw a prettier group of girls. Then the fun began. Agatha Fourth's idea in having a progressive dinner party was for each of the girls to move up one place with each course so that they could all have turns sitting by us. It was delightful; really, I don't know that I ever attended a jollier dinner party. Vincent kept quoting from the Mad Tea Party in "Alice in Wonderland." and the girls laughed at every single thing he said. Mrs. Armistead. 1 am ashamed to say. t was not present: her head ached and she had dined in her room. I am not naturally noisy or riotous, but the laughter and jokes of those six girls were so infectious that I was obliged to join in with them. Vincent sat at one end of the table and I at the other. with three girls on each side of us. The secretary, of course, was not present. K Agatha Fourth had decorated the table with some of the yellow roses and wild fern that grew near the castle. Agatha Sixth and I had found them many times in our wanderings and, by the way. she was looking especially lovely that evening. The girls all wore shimmering white gowns, similar in design, with silver ornaments, but Agatha Sixth's gown was cream tioiim I r 1 PICTURED BY WEIL y WALTERS A W*JSfY CAMPBELL y AiESnnm WILSON | color with ornaments of gold, and well did it become her dark beauty. We had reached the very end of the dinner and had just made the last change of places, which left me with my favorite Agatha Sixth on my right and Agatha Third on my left. Suddenly, as the talk died down and a certain contented silence fell upon us, Vincent rose to his feet, and bowing to us formally, began to speak: "Ladies and gentleman," he said, making the last word pointedly singular, while the girls all laughed, "I think you are all with me when I propose a vote of thanks to?to?er?our hostess"?(1 felt that he had nearly said "Agatha Fourth!")?"our hostess, for giving us so delightful an entertainment." He bowed to Agatha Fourth and went on: "If all progressive tea parties are termed mad I hope I may attend many such. But as looked around me, gentleman and ladies fair, across the red glow of the candle that turns the roses to redder gold, and as I gaze upon the youth and beauty here assembled, the like of which I have never before looked upon"?he made a courtly inclination of his head that included every maid at the table, and they all sighed ?I heard them?"as I look upon this noble room, this exquisite table, and think of the graciousness of such hospitality. I am inspired to propose a toast in which I feel confident you will all join me." At this climax Vincent raised his glass above his head. "To the real Agatha!" he cried?"to the real Honorable Agatha!" There was an instant of dead silence, and then to my surprise my left-hand neighbor, Agatha Third, rose to her feet, and, with quivering lips, started to say something. But she had hardly time to rise before the other five girls sprang to their feet, and raising their glasses, Agatha Third with the rest, they cried with one voice: "To the Honorable Agatha!" and although it seemed to me that Agatha Third had very nearly let the cat out of the bag by rising, as if to acknowledge the courtesy, yet by the promptness of the other girls the day was partially retrieved, and Vincent and I were still somewhat at a loss as to the identity of our fair and wealthy hostess. I asked Vincent afterward what he made of Agatha Third's behavior. "It looked to me," said that young person, "as if those girls had themselves so much in command that they would never betray the secret they're guarding, no matter what wou did." "But didn't you see Agatha Third get up. before the others did?" I said, excitedly. "She gave herself away. I tell you. Wilfred, she's the real honorable. without a doubt. There can be |no two ways about it!" "How keen you are!" he said: "and 11 tell you what it is. Arch'bald"?VinIcent always call me "Arch'bald" with the "i" left out and the emphasis on "bald" when he's particularly affectionate or sleepy: he was the latter just now?"I'm just as keen about marrying this heiress as you are: the only difference is that I insist upon being in love with her into the bargain, and you don't. For I'm hard up. fearfully hard up, you know, and the governor's so awfully good, I hate to ask him for another month's allowance just now. I'm 'way behind as it is, and I owe Jack Gordon for that prize polo pony of his. I offered him ?100 for her the day of the Hurlingham games and he sold her to me on the spot. Jack's as hard up as I am?poor fellow. And then, you know, it's all perfectly fair. If we only had the time, that's all. It's pretty quick work to expect a man to find out the heiress, learn to love her and teach her to love him. all in six weeks, and propose on the last day of?" "But that's just it," I interrupted, "you're not expected to find out the heiress first. That's just what old Fletcher Boyd wanted to prevent when he made the will." "Nevertheless, you yourself mean to find out first, don't you. Arch?" was Vincent's facetious response. I was disgusted and made no answer. "Of course," he went on. "I wouldn't propose to any girl I didn't love, but I'd like the chance to learn to love this particular lady, the Honorable Agatha. I feel that there would be no trouble about her learning to love me!" Vincent has few really serious faults, but I don't attempt to deny that he is conceited. "The trouble is," he said, "they're all so attractive I could love one as well as another. I wish, though. I could just naturally fall in love with one of them, and I'd propose to her on the last day and take my chances. Who knows? I'm sometimes lucky. I might win the prize!" "So you might," I said, ' but as it is, we haven't even discovered the heiress as yet?" "And I can't fall in love with any of 'em." finished Vincent, "because I'm madly in love with the whole six. and there you are!" and he shook his head ' hopelessly. "Come, let's to bed," he added. "Not just yet. Freddy." I said. I never call him that, as I have before stated, but his hair was all rumpled up and his face flushed and I felt warm toward him because he was so dense. "Surely with a rival as unobserving as he is." I thought, "I am not heavily handicapped." For I had made up my ndnd that Agatha Third was indeed the real and only Agatha. That involuntary rising of hers was proof positive. "L say. Vincent." I called after him. "was that a master stroke of yours, i giving the toast that way? Did you intend to try to surprise one of them ! into betraying herself?" Vincent laughed sleepily. "flood old Arch'bald." he drawled, "you're always looking for master (strokes, but 'pon my honor I never thought of such a thing." And I might have known that he wouldn't. Left to myself, I was thinking out my plan of campaign as regarded Agatha Third when a slight noise in the back of the room attracted my atention. I looked up, startled, for it was late, and the large, dimly lighted drawing room was rather an eerie place, and saw over the back of my chair the slight form of the secretary approaching. Her hair was as neat as usual and her dress was the same simple gray gown she wore when I had seen her first. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Terhune," she said, timidly, yet without hesitation. "I am sorry to disturb you, but would you have the goodness to give me a little of your time?" "Certainly," I replied, rising, "though rnilMirm eagerly. At last I had stumbled upon the truth, for I knew the secretary was in the secret. But she only smiled at me. "You are a good man." she said, "a good man." The room was growing chilly and the fire was getting low, and as she spoke she slipped down from the high chair and seated herself on a little stool at my feet, stretching out her slim hands toward the blaze. "I thank you." she said, simply, and gazed into the fire a moment, while I gazed at her slender young figure, her pink and x j in -4 J fli ' \ AGATHA the hour is late. Won't you be- seated?" and I found her a chair. The secretary leaned back against it and folded her hands. "I shall be quick," she said: "but I want to ask you something." She spoke in a low voice, but with perfect composure, though she never lifted her eyes. I caught myself wondering whether she cast them down habitually, so that people might observe the length of her black eyelashes. "Yes?" I said, to encourage her. "Of course, you know Lord Vincent very well, don't you?" As she asked me this direct question she looked me full in the face, and as my eyes met hers I mentally thanked her for her mercy in not often permitting man to gaze intj them. "Yes," I said, recovering myself, "I know him very well." "And he tells you things, doesn't he?" "Most things." I replied, wondering at what she was driving. "Then could you tell me. please, if? if he accepted Miss Agatha?the one with the hazel eyes that you call Agatha Fifth?when she told him she loved him?" I was never more astounded in my life. How did she know that Agatha K.,,1 ?n1,l Vlnnont vlio lnvfri htm. I and how did it concern her? Perhaps, however, she was acting under Mrs. Armistead's orders, hut if so she ought to have said so. "That's a question of a very personal nature." I said, and eyed her searchIngly: "hut I don't think Lord Vincent would mind, as long as you know so much about it. if I tell you that he refused the young lady who was indiscreet enough to ask him to marry her." The secretary gave a sudden start, and then, by what seemed to be considerable effort, regained control of hers If. "He refused her," I continued?for the gild and her question and her genuine feeling interest ' me?"although she told him she was the real Honorable Agatha." I was so proud I of Vincent for that that I was glad In he able to tell someone about it. "She said that?and he i-efused her?" repeated the girl in an awed tone. "How could he do it. how could he?" "Then it was true? She is really the daughter of Kletcher Boyd?" 1 cried white skin, straight, little nose, and wide, red mouth with its Du Maurier chin?and all In a moment I felt myself pitying the poor little girl. Vincent was such an attractive young scamp, he might be playing fast and loose with her affections without Intending it or realizing that he was doing so. Involuntarily I leaned to| ward her. ?. "My dear young lady,'" I said, and as I spoke I caught myself thinking her really good looking. "If she only [did her hair decently," I thought, "I'd call her a beauty, I really believe I (should." "My dear young lady," I said, "tell me in confidence and perhaps I [can help you. Do you?er?are you?> er?er?interested in Lord Wilfred? If so. allow me, I conjure you, nay, I beg of vou to nut all thought of him out of your head. He doesn't mean, it for he FOURTH. is a graceless young flirt. He doesn't mean a word he says. Let me warn you?be advised?" I stopped short. In the midst of my well-meant flow of words I stopped short, for, could I believe my eyes, the secretary was laughing at me. "My dear old man," she said?she did. actually?"my dear old man, your warnings are superfluous, for I am a married woman." and, still laughing, she left the room. To be Continued. Hiix ox Bryan.?David B. Hill, former United States senator, and for a long time the leader of the Demdcratie party in New York, sailed for Europe last week, on the steamer Baltic. Discussing his retirement from active politics Mr. Hill said: "There is no Democratic party. When I met the late Governor Altgeld in a little room up a back stair in a Chicago hotel, shortly before the first so-called Bryan convention. I told him that the policies which he represented would drive the Democratic party to hell. Then years later, I said: 'You are most there: stop before you have absolutely ruined the party.' But Bryan was nominated, and I saw the futility of a minority report with only I ten votes back of me. I "I admit that the Republican party is badly disorganized at the present time. | Roth parties are disorganized. "There was an opportunity, but I fear it has been overlooked. The key of this political campaign should be 'Taft, the candidate of political patronage.' What else is he? He is put before the people as a candidate by the power of political patronage." Nothing else. "Now, both sides in the coming political struggle will have to go to the masses for their votes. They must draw from the masses, and what better man could stand against the candidates representing the 'power of patronage' than John Johnson, who spent his boyhood days in a county poor house? Think of it?torchlight processions with banners reading 'John Johnson, the poor house candidate.' And from what I have been able to learn. Mr. Johnson is more than a mere near-to-the-people candidate; he is a well-balanced man and an able man. "Every time Bryan says 'I kept the faith,' it makes me smile. He has kept the faith indeed. He kept it out in Nebraska, his own state, which is now Republican to its political core. "The Democratic party never wanted Mr. Bryan. Mr. Bryan wanted the Democratic party. He forced himself upon the party in 1X96 and again on what was left of the party in 1900 and now in 1908 he cals himself the Democratic party and says. "1 have kept the faith.'" After visiting the British parliament and the English eouits, former Senator Hill will visit the reichstag and possibly other foreign parliaments. 'it'.' The industry of flintmaking still thrives in Brandon, England. The Hints are sent to Africa and other countries where the guns of 100 years ago are still in active service. land, where he can only hope to secure one-half to three-fourths of a bale in good crop seasons, is speculating? gambling?just as surely as do the exchange gamblers whim he condemns, and he has to borrov/ money to gamble on. Much soil that is too clayey to grow cotton profitably will produce a hay crop worth more than the cotton, and with much less labor and expense. It THE WAY TO FIFTE "Plain Talk In Plain Lar St. Louis Globe-Democrat. Following are extracts from a pamphlet by Roland Stone, recently published by the Union Farming Publishing company of Birmingham, Ala.: The area of cotton land Is limited and climatic conditions have built a vail about It, the impassable barrier of lature on which is large writ, "Thus 'ar and no farther." Cotton growing las been tried in all known habitable .lections of the world, with the result 'hat we may safely claim: "The world must look to the cotton states of America for more than half of its supply for all time." Grass will grow In all lands under the sun where there Is "soil." Wheat, oats and corn will grow In some parts of all the cultivatable .sections of the earth. Rice, the food of some nations, must have peculiar climatic conditions and irrigation. Cotton can be grown in many places, but lis natural nauiiuL uic sinuiiiauu wi America, where inure varieties and a more profitable crop may be secured than In any other section of Christendom. May be, mind you; should be? but is this the case? It seems a mania withimany planters to put in seed on every acre of land available, regardless whether it is "cotton land" or in reality tyetter adapted to some other crop that would pay more profit, requiring no niore expensive treatment or cultivation. This is what one might call "putting the mule behind the plow" instead of ahead of it. Mere mulishnoss or pig-headed stubbornness will not raise a good crop of cotton?a paying crop?on land not naturally adapted fOT It. And they plant only cotton. The wheat growers of the great Northwest became "wheat mad" a few years ago, with the result that No. 2 spring wheat sold on the Chicago exchange at 52 cents per bushel, and did not average 50 cents to the fanner on the crop ($7.50 per acre). The "corn country" overplanted one particular year within my memory, and shelled corn sold delivered in feeders' bins at 15 cents per bushel. Years before that in Illinois corn "on the cob" sold at 10 cents per bushel, and was burned as fuel on the railroad locomotives. Low-priced wheat and corn put Kansas "on the hog," as they said at the time, and that was the salvation of Kansas. She took the tip, put the corn "into the hog," and made him walk to market with it, saving the freight. She bought range cattle and fattened them; she began the raising of live stock, poultry and swine, and took up the "little things" of farming, and In a few years the farmers of the state emerged from a blanket of mortgages, under which they had sweated themselves, back to sound health. Nature sent the "Hessian fly," "black rust" and other wheat pests to cure the overseeding disease of the crazed growers, and they have now learned a part of the lesson unmistakably pointed out. During most of this year of great depression wheat, has ranged near the dollar mark on the great exchanges, corn has. brought from 60 to 75 cents per bushel. (Chicago Board of Trade quotations.) If it had not been for the depredations of the boll weevil in 1906-7 we would have seen a 6, 7 and 8 cents cotton market, beyond a doubt. The "specialist" in fanning everywhere has come to grief many, many times, whether he grew wheat, corn, oats, cotton, or peaches, grapes, apples, pears, oranges and melons. The "single-cropper" has had lessons without number, and in any year his success is an accident for .which his shrewdness or foresight was in nowise entitled to credit. The one class who succeeds?every year?is the class that practices diversification, promotes the cultivation of "little things" and "side issues," making a living and keeping out of debt. The principal crop, be it corn, oats, wheat, fruit, vegetables or cotton, being virtually all profit, Is certain to return a surplus. The golden rule of success has proven to be: "Do not put all your eggs in one basket." Profitable Crops. This is not a dissertation on the profits of so-called "Fancy Farming." The following crops can be grown by the southern farmer of average intelligence and with a profit: Hay, corn, oats, potatoes, (both Irish and sweet), onions and cabbage?as well as cotton. Of course there are many others. In every patch of 10, 20. 40 or 80 acres there is a certain amount of land that will grow three-fourths of a bale or more of cotton to the acre. I^ind that will not produce threefourths of a bale to the acre?profitably?by judicious seeding, fertilizing land cultivation?had better be planted in something else. What satisfaction in spending more in fertilizer, highpriced seed and labor than you can get back? Yet many thousands of planters do this very thing, year after year, bringing their average crop down to one-third and one-half bale to the acre. All their profit making cotton is grown on a certain section of the "cotton patch." Deduct the cost of seeding. fertilizing and cultivating the unprofitable sections of the land, it would have been sound business to let that acreage lie fallow; sounder still to put in grass or forage crops to feed their live stock. I am now speaking of land that can not be made to produce three-fourths of a bale of cotton to the acre, no matter what means are employed, and there are thousands of acres planted every year of thin class. In any year when the market ranges under 10 cents, what profit can there be in anything under three-fourths of a bale to the acre? What guarantee have we that the market price will be above 10 cents, especially If we plant "all-out-doors" in cotton and raise nothing else? The farmer who nlants cotton on poor ;en cents cotton iguage to Plain People." may be good wheat land or oat land. The owner can easily, and without much expense, ascertain Just what his soil?the various portions of his farm? will beat produce. Government soil experts or state agricultural college specialists will inform him, gladly. On light, sandy land that may be too porous to hold the fertilizer, he may grow sweet potatoes, melons, early Irish potatoes, onions and other crops with judicious care and cultivation. If a farmer docs not understand the practical growing of other crops than cotton it Is his business to learn, and from the pages of any first-class agricultural paper he can acquire the UnAn.io/tiro rltiHn<r winter months The farm journal Is the original "correspondence school," p^.d a few letters of Inquiry will bring the farmer the desired Information?no extra charge. 6n good corn land the southern farmer can produce a crop at 30 cents per bushel cost. How many times In ten years can he buy corn as low as that?; Oats <mn be grown cheaper than they can be bought any year, considering the extra value of the straw: generally the cost is less than half the market price of the grain. An acre of potatoes, early or luie, Irish or sweet, should produce more not profit than a bale of cotton on average markets. Any of the above crops are worth growing for profit and an acre or two In each one increases the growers' chances for a good profit, on one or more. The market is rarely glutted on any of them?never on all In any one year. The planter's answer to the question why he does not grow a diversity of crops Is: "I can get more out of cotton than anything else, and therefore can afford to buy all my supplies." He has said this so often that he actually believes It?self-hypnotized into believing an untruth. If the average planter will look carefully over his fields he will admit there are many acres of land planted In cotton that do not pay, one year with another. If he wll examine still further he will readily see that he could produce a profitable crop of something else on this otherwise? dead horse. He could grow those things he now has to buy. Why Do You Borrow? Why does a planter borrow money to "finance the new crop?" He needs mules, Implements, vehicles, fertilizer and seed, but more than these he needs feed for his hands and stock. Mules are a quick asset and can always be sold at a price; vehicles and implements do not wear out in a year and are a tangible collateral. Fertilizer and seed he must use, but he has sold tons of seed from last crop. Why has he not saved a "sinking fund" to buy the bushels he needs for planting? Has he saved and utilized all the homemade fertilizer produced on his plantation? But the chief expense, a living for his help and his working stock, that requires more than any other item?whal of it? He should not need to buy a dollar's worth of either. That should have been stored in his grain cribs, hay ricks and meathouse all grown on his own plantation the year before. He could have raised it' for half what it will cost him to buy it. Then he has the interest to pay on the loan. Not only does he pay interest. but assumes an obligation which must be met on a certain day, and to meet it he must sell cotton?whatever the price?deliberately putting himself in the hands of the speculator whose business it is to beat down the market for the occasion. Suppose that a planter, or a whole community of planters, have exceptional land that is all good cotton soil and will grow a bale or more to the acre on the average?it sometimes happens. This is the man with whom his neighbor on poor ground must compete. This planter und his tenants, if he has them, can thrive on 10 or 11 cents cotton, while others near by cannot raise more than one-half bale to the acre on their inferior soil. They can not make a living at it. He is, of course, the rare exception, but he exists. He must buy his supplies; why not from his neighbor? The latter is not forced to grow cotton. He can produce all the grain, fodder and meat that are now brought from distant markets and have a cash demand at his door. During any year the raising of these crops would produce a good living for the upland farmer, and in such a year as we are passing through he would have had the bulge on his cotton-growing neighbor. Corn at 80 cents to $1 a bushel, oats at 60 to 70 cents and potatoes at $1 or over would have netted him more than the same ground in cotton on a l!i-cent market. The planter who grows cotton?and only cotton?speculates when he might "hedge" beyond the possibility or loss. He goes "short on the market" for all his supplies (because he does not grow them). He bets that meat, corn, stock feed, flour and all the necessities for his crop making can be bought for less than he can grow them, or that his cotton will bring a high enough price to offset any difference. He may get whipsawed on the deal, in that cotton may be cheap and everything which he must buy be dear. He borrows the money to "margin his deal." He doesn't know whether the rain?or drought?or weevil will leave him a crop of cotton or not, and he doesn't seem to care?he takes the chance. How many merchants could succeed in business if it was conducted on such a basis? Rxperience has taught him that in years when the cotton crop is lightest prices are usually the highest, and he gets about the same amount of money for his surplus. The greatest disadvantage he faces lis the necessity for selling cotton at a fixed time to meet his financial obligations. This he would avoid if he raised the stuff he now buys, and be able to use his judgment as to a favorable market to sell on. The whole system is behind the age and should have no place in twentieth century methods. Cotton Raising a Business. It should be a reproach to any land owner that he did not try, at least, to get all the returns he possibly could from his precious acres. There are some who do try and succeed. They do it by being business farmers, not merely soil grubbers They use their heads and direct with their intelligence the hnnds of others; they get a return from their own labor and a profit on the labor of tenant or "hired hand," which is their right. They would not succeed if they did not put both head and hands Into the game. Every farmer should work with his hands unless he can obtain better results by directing the labor of others, and It's healthful work and In nowise degrading. No, farmer can afford to use his hands In work on one part of his land when his head Is needed for the issuing of orders on another section, they should naturally be hitched to the same pair of shoulders. Many a farmer loses dollars while saving pennies by false economy. I know a wealthy planter who has made a great fortune by being a "business farmer." He began as a renter ? without a dollar?not so many years ago-. He c.vers that his case Is not at all exceptional, and that his success may be duplicated as well these days as "In the good old times" the unsuccessful are forever prating about. He didn't do much of the physical labor after the third year, but he used his head all the time?and it doesn't show any signs of being tired yet. He has always planned Just what he was going to do, thought It all out in advance, as well as the best way to go about It, and knowing what he wanted to do, the doing was the easiest part of the task. The soil grubber makes no plans, works out his energy, falls of his purpose, thinks for a moment how he might have done differently, but is too tired and discouraged to correct his self-conscious errors. My friend believes that land which he cannot depend upon to produce a bale of cotton to the acre In average season should be put to other uses. He raises all the oats, hay, corn and vegetables needed on his large plantation and "Is sore at himself" when compelled to buy In the markets, as sometimes happens. His hogs, cattle and sheep, his poultry yard and dairy make him independent of the foreign supply vender, and he lives as well as any man ought to live, on the produce of farm, garden and orchard. He has tenants und finances them, making it easy for them to carry their cotton until they are ready to sell, and as a rule they simply say: "Sell our cotton when you sell yours." They know he is much better posted than they can be. which is well; and they trust his judgment nnd honor, which Is better. Some people are worthy of trust, you know?ever in these degenerate days. What Is the result? Tenants overrun him for the chance to till his rented acres: they thrive and he thrives? a case of genuine co-operation with mutual benefits, the true solution of the cotton grower's problem. Patterning after his methods, working under his advice, direction and supervision, they live better and have more net profits In a year than they ever did before, and neighboring planters have found It wise and profitable to take a few leaves out of his book,, to the lasting Improvement of the entire community. This is no fairy tale: It Is the story of one man's success, builded from the dead line, and may be repeated In a greater or less degree by the application of similar methods, if one will but study, think and work with a strong man's energy. But, boys, you can't do It by following In the trail of your grandfathers. Tt be Continued. A SUBTLE LETTER. The Boy Knew Just How to Rouse His Mnthor't ftvmmthv "My son certainly does know how to 'get around' his mother," said a wealthy merchant at his club recently. "That boy of mine Is a fine fellow, but he has such queer ideas. He writes verses and little sketches, or whatever you call them, and is furious because I want him to be an attorney. "A few weeks ago he and I had a talk about his future. 'Father,' he said, 'just give me my fare west and I will get a position on a newspaper out there and make you proud of me, but it would be so awfully dull to be only a Boston lawyer.' "Well, I bought him a ticket to San Francisco and gave him $25 for pocket money. He had been mollycoddled quite a lot and made to think he was a genius, and I knew to 'get out and rustle' would be the best thing for him. "I arranged through a western friend of mine to see that the youngster did not starve to death, and I awaited developments. He did not write for money, and I learned through a friend, corroborated by a letter the boy wrote to my wife, that he was earning $8 a week. "But that youngster will make a good lawyer just the same. You ought to see the last letter he sent to his mother. After reading it she wired him $50 as soon as she could get to the telegraph office. She never said a word to me until afterward. "Here is nis letter: "Dear Mother?I have not written to you for quite awhile, i have been so busy. I seldom get to bed before midnight, and I am usually too tired to write. There is an awfully nice lot of boys on this paper, and we are trying to save money, I am writing this in my bathrobe because I pawned my best suit to pay my room rent, and the landlady is pressing the other. I sold the rest of my clothes, as a fellow only needs two suits. I think father was so wise to decide I must shift for myself. It was the best thing, and I am doing splendidly. Before this I never thought I could live on the food I eat now, but it seems to nourish me. I had rolls and coffee for breakfast, and I find I do not need any luncheon. Then I have discovered a place?and it Is quite clean ?where for dinner I can get beans and coffee or a stew and coffee for ten cents. I do not mind a bit about the kind of people who eat here. They are just as good as I am. I hardly ever have to go to bed hungry. Lovingly. "YOUR BOY. "Do you wonder my wife hurried downtown to telegraph $50? I am going to send for that son of mine to come home. I may be able to do something with him after all."?Roston Advertiser. ittiscfltanrous LEADING WAGE-EARNER. John Hayes Hammond and His Interesting 8alary. "I would like to see Mr. Hammond.". "His time Is valuable, sir." "Only for a minute or two." "His time Is worth S6 a minute, sir." "What's that? I didn't know it was so expensive." "Yes, sir, he figures it at that rate, and It costs him about 16 cents to say 'Good morning,' so he Is rather careful about receiving visitors. The other day he lost $4 listening to a Joke, ?nd the laughter amounted to nineteen cents." "wen, wen i wouian i i-are 10 ruu Mr. Hammond of his time at .that rate, although I would like to shake him by the hand ten cents worth. It's worth while to shake hands with the leading proletarian of the country. He Is a wage-earner, Isn't he?" "That's what they say, sir. He makes $300 an hour."? "Ah! I fancy that his employers give him half an- hour for luncheon? No doubt they do. His day's wages must amount to about $1,666, and In an hour and a half he earns as much ^s the majority of his fellow-American workingmen earn In a year. Is that right?" "Yes, sir. They say he gets a $10,000 bill every Saturday night when he quits. That's a good week's wages to take home to the wife and kids, for a fact, and it makes $500,000 In a >ear. The boss thinks a lot of Mr. Hammond. He's just hired him again on a five-year contract." * ? This conversation is one that might have occurred between visitor and office attendant at a shop in the Empire building, No. 71 Broadway, where Hays Hammond, the most expensive hired man in the United States, works for a living. The president of the United States gets $50,000 a year. Mr. Hammond, the wage-earner, draws this amount in five weeks of toil. A few railroad and insurance presidents find $100,000 in their annual pay envelopes. The horny-handed Hammond realizes as much In the labor of two months and a half. Some monarchs of Europe are supposed to earn more than the champion breadwinner of America, but Mr. Hammond evens it up with the receipt of Christmas boxes and returns from the Investment of his modest savings, which altogether net him as much as his regular pay. Mr. Hammond is distinctly in the class of skilled labor. He is a mining engineer, supposedly the best in the world. His employers, the Guggenheims, who own most of the mines and smelters on this continent, have lately re-engaged him on a five-year contract at $500,000 a year. He agrees to continue to officiate as expert at this wage, and not to buy or exploit any mines on his own behalf, except tflflintr neAnarfUa ho 31 rOflHv %.V? ? ????r owns and which net him annually as much as his salary. The kind of work he does is not calculated to raise any special sweat beads on-his brow. It is rarely that he leaves his shop to enter his private car, travel to a gold mine in the Rockies and take a hundred dollars' worth of glances at a pay streak. He leaves most of that to a graded army of assistants, who enter the bowels of the earth, assay, report and again report. The last and highest report goes to Mr. Hammond, who studies It and briefly says to his employers "yes" or "no." The employers implicitly trust Mr. Hammond's affirmative to mean a fortune and his negative to spell failure. All mines are said to be gambles. Pew of Mr. Hammond's forecasts have proved wrong. The sensational Nipissing deal, in which the Guggenheims, withdrawing from the enterprise, coolly pocketed losses of perhaps $3.000,000, was an exceptional case where something or other failed to connect. This leading member of the American working class has had a picturesque carreer. Born In San Francisco In 1855, he was graduated from the Sheffield Scientific school at Yale In 1876 and continued metallurgical studies at a school of mines in Freiburg, Germany. He came home and became a special expert of the United Stales on the Geological survey and Mineral census, examining the gold fields of his native state. The appetite for larger pay and shorter hours first manl fested itself when he took a Job as superintendent of silver mines in Sonora, Mexico. Back again in California, he was consulting engineer for large railroads and iron works. In 1893 Mr. Hammond went to South Africa as consulting engineer for Barnato Brothers. It Is evident that his wages were not yet satisfactory, for when he met Cecil Rhodes at Cape Town and the gold empire builder said abruptly. "Mr. Hammond, I should like to have you make me a proposition," the expert said he would be willing to work for $5,009 a month or $60,000 a year, and chuck the other Job up. Mr. Rhodes told him to take off his coat and begin right away. The work was to map out all the gold in Africa south of the equator. Rhodes guesied that he and his fellow empire-builders would get It if it was only mapped, regardless of a grouchy Individual named Oom Paul. Mr. Hammond slightly overstepped the bounds of wage-earning when he went to Johannesburg, and with four other men signed a letter asking Dr. Jameson to invade Boer territory and "come to our aid should a disturbance arise here." The Boers were vexed by the Jameson raid and Mr. Hammond was sentenced to death on the charge of high treason. His friends in this country made such a fuss that the sentence was commuted to IS years' imprisonment. Later Mr. Hammond was fined $125,000 of his wages and released. He complained that it was a high price to pay for "a little conspiracy." After representing big syndicates in this country and England Mr. Hammond at last found a steady job with the Guggenheim Interests. It is said that he is employing his spare time Sundays and half holidays writing a book on the order of Dr. Smiles' "Selfhelp," and that, among the maxims which it contains, are the following: "Time is money." "Do not be afraid to ask the boss for a raise." "The successful man goes to the cashier's window with a carpetbag." "A $10,000-a-week laborer who squanders half his wages in drink ought to take the gold cure." "Be content with all you can get." "Look out for your health, so you can continue drawing wages." "Hire a large safe deposit vault and put away something for a rainy day." "Ask Carnegie what to do with the surplus."?New York Tribune.