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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.