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* ISSUED SBXI-WSBHL^^ l. m. grists sons, Publishers. { % Jfamitj fieicspaper: Jfor the promotion of the political, Social, ^grituttupl and (Eommencial Interests of the feople. {"mno'le toA. hvS cLAm A1<CI! ? ESTABLISHED 1855. ~~ YORK\rILLE, S. C.,FRIDAY, .IIJTs'K HO, 1908. NX). 51. i fflMRGl i S&W W I COPYM/CHT. /90T I 1 vSyV a. c /yrCluac 4? ca CHAPTER VI. When we met at breakfast the next morning there were no signs of the breach between Vincent and myself except his unusual pallor, which suggested to me that he. too, had spent a sleepless night. The girls were inclined to joke our solemn faces, but so long as the meal _ passed off without disclosing that something was amiss between us I did not care. All day we saw nothing of each other, but this was not unusual, as we always pursued different courses. 1 spent most of my time with Agatha # Fourth, the only honorable, whom I foupd to be a really delightful girl and certainly the possessor of remarkable musical talent. In the evening the others went out to row on the lake and left Agatha Fourth alone with me. She sat at the piano and played everything she could think of, while I lay on a broad divan where I could watch her and listen to the soft music. KI suppose that my bad night had something to do with the fact that I was boor enough to fall asleep while the beautiful Agatha Fourth was playing for me. Certainly I know that I was guilty of that appalling rudeness, for I was suddenly brought to a state of consciousness by the sound of a clock striking. I counted the strokes mechanically?there were 12. I must have slept for hours, and. sure enough, the room was dark except for the fire% light, and my slighted hostess was gone from the piano stool. As I was about to rise I heard voices and, turning, I saw on the other side of the piano a man and a girl. The man was Vincent, of course, and I thought, as I looked at him sitting full in the bright firelight, that he had never looked so handsome. His evening dress showed off his superb athletic form to the best advantage, and his face was fresh and strong, with the bronze of his tan extending to the roots of his hair, which was cut close to conceal a wave in the 4 gold of it. It occurred to me at once that his face had lost much of its boyishness and he looked every inch a man. But it took me some time to >, realize that the girl who sat with him ^ was none other than the secretary. At first I could not tell what It was that had so changed her, whether It was her shimmering white evening gown, or the gleaming bracelets, until at last it came to me in a flash that it was nothing more nor less than the glory of her hair that had wrought the transiormauon. i nau never seen mc secretary with her hair done any way but plainly and unbecomingly, but now it was dressed as I knew it should have been dressed long ago. She wore it low on her long, slender neck, rolled at the sides and rippling loosely back w from her forehead, in shining waves and little wilful rings held in place with big shell combs. And when at last it dawned upon me that it was really the secretary who was Vincent's companion, so breathless was I with amaze that at first I hardly realized that I could hear perfectly what they were saying. And when I k did realize it, I wanted to rise and let V them know that I was there, but on second thought I saw that I must have been there for .so long that they would never believe that I had not heard the whole of their conversation. Furthermore, it occurred to me that it might |r be well if I stayed to hear what Miss Marsh had to say for herself. "And so I calmly took the dress and put it on, just to amuse myself." I heard the secretary saying, "and did my hair the way the others do theirs, you know. And it was so late I thought no one would find me here." "And if I hadn't left my pipe on the table no one would have found you, and 1?think what I should have missed!" Vincent's voice was eloquent. "Of course, it was very vain of me, very vain." she went on: "but you know when a girl has to earn her own living she gets a little tired of all work and no play and sometimes the impulse to pretend she's fortunate and happy and?and pretty"?the secretary flushed under Vincent's gaze as she faltered the last word, and hurried on?"and like the others?is so strong that it tempts her to deck herself out in borrowed plumes and sit in an empty drawing room at 12 o'clock at night enjoying the illusion for a brief hour." "No," said Vincent, softly, "I don't [think it was vain: 1 think it was the most natural thing in the world, and? ?and I'm glad you did it," he ended, rather lamely. The secretary laughed, and I wondered what there was about the sound that made Vincent rave over it. Then, as his eyes wandered to her hair, he sighed. "Why sighest thou. oh. furnace?" she smiled at him. "I was just thinking about something." "About what?" "You don't want to hear?" "Ah! But I do!" ^ "All right, then." He turned on her swiftly. "I was just looking." he said, "at your hair. I'll bet the angels have halos like that." * v-i ViAcri/1 TUP Sfcreuny oiu.->nt-?i. n ......... r hair." she said, giving it a vindictive little pull that only brought it to a more charming disarray. "I hate the color of it. Why. when I was a child I never could bear to have the heroines of the fairy tales have a shining head of golden hair, and I used to think mine was gold, and one day when I v said so and was told. 'No. your hair is red. not gold.' I cried for days afterIk ward." "You poor little thing!" he said, his face as full of sympathy as if those tears had just been shed. And for the life of her the secretary couldn't help her lip trembling, though she knew it was absurd and was very much ashamed of herself. Vincent broke the silence first. "We might do a little on the 'Dead Barons of Wyekhoff,'" he lAgatm r PICTURES BY WEIL y WAITERS * A rjstfr CAMPBE y' Aixsmm WILSON suggested. It was evident that our affair of last night was uppermost in his mind, for his air was veiy abstracted. "No, thank you, my lord. This is my evening off. I am no longer Miss Marsh, the secretary, but Miss Marsh, the lady of leisure." "I didn't think of it as work, and I thought perhaps you didn't, either, when we did it together." "Little boys shouldn't think; it's a bad habit," she said, severely; "besides, you talk like 'I* in the 'Dolly Dialogues.' " At this Vincent's face grew desperate, and I saw that she had goaded him into asking her the question that iiad been on his mind all day, and I nearly fell off the sofa in my efforts to hear without being seen. "Do I?" he said. "Well, that's because I've something I've been wanting to ask you all day long. It's something very personal, and, of course. I've no right?that is, you won't think so," the boy was stumbling pitifully, "but I've got to know: it's so hard to believe that you would do it deliberately. Is it true?" "Lord Wilfred," said the girl, straightening up, "you must speak more clearly if you want me to understand what you have been saying." "It's this." said Lord Wilfred, facing her abruptly and terribly in earnest. "Someone told me last night that you were a married woman. Is it true?" I could not see the face of the seciretary, but I could not help perceiving the ring of truth in her voice. "I'm not married," she said, simply. "I told Mr. Terhune so because I [wanted to disabuse him of a false impression he was laboring under. But what is it to you?" "This," said Wilfred, and he leaned [toward her suddenly and grasped her [hands and put his face within an inch of her?I could see by the firelight its look of determination and ineffable relief. The secretary gave a little cry and drew back. I conjectured that Wilfred was on the point of making an Irretrievable ass of himself, so I interrupted proceedings by knocking a book off the sofa and rising to my feet. At the first sound of the book falling the two had jumped to their feet and stood, the girl shrinking close to Wilfred and Wilfred with his arm thrown around her. "Who goes there " he said, sternly, as he discovered my figure in the gloom, and "Ah!?it's you, Terhune," as I came into the circle of light, in a tone I hope I may never hear from him again. As the secretary saw who it was she sprang away and was gone from the room in a second. "Well," he said, with a sneer, as the curtains closed behind her, "eavesdropping. meddling as usual. What can I do for you?" I sat down on the stool. "Sit down." I said, with quiet authority, "and we'll talk it over." He sat down. In moments like this he forgets his independence and remembers that at one time he used to obey me habitually. I wanted to comfort him, but I knew my duty better. "Vincent." I said, appealingly, "don't you see it won't do? She's no match for you?a girl with no family and no money, and, of her station in life. Give it up. I implore you. Think of your father. There has never been a mesalliance in the family: it would break his heart." Vincent raised his head. "Mrs. Armistead says her family is perfectly respectable." he said. "I asked her." "Perfectly respectable!" I repeated, contemptuously. "Think of a Vincent marrying a girl who has nothing in her favor but the fact that her family was 'perfectly respectable!'" Vincent sighed pathetically and I delivered one more blow. "Think," I said: "your brother Edmund is over 4ft. unmarried*, and a sufferer from rheumatism of the heart, as you know. Supple he should die?wouldn't you make a more creditable heir to the title if you hadn't tied yourself up to a wife of obscure origin?a penniless American girl? And if you don't come into the title you're only a younger son, and you know yourself your propensity for getting into debt, and the foreign office for a boy of your age is not a paying business. No, Vincent, you're not cut out for making money, and it's certain you can't depend on your father forever. Can't you see how rash and foolish you are to consider such a thing?" I leaned over and put my hand on Vincent's shoulder. He turned his head, and when I felt his smooth cheek against my hand 1 knew that the battle was won. "I'm awfully sorry. Arch," he said, "that I was such a beast last night. I'll never forgive myself for trying to strike you. Only, you see. 1 lost my head, and I didn't know quite what 1 was doing." "Of course," I said, "I understand?" Hut he would n<?t let me stem the tide of his remorse. "And INtMl, yi?U KIH'tt , I lit l %V??U no.-very hard to bear, and you see. after all, it wasn't true. She told me it wasn't. Did you hear her?" "Yes." I assented, "and I believe she told you the truth." "Of course: but then you're always* right, Archibald, always right. When 1 go away from here and never see her any more"?his lips quivered uncontrollably?"I may be able to forget her." "Of course you will," I assured h>in, cheerily, though there was a lump in my throat. "Men have died, but not for love. Many have been as hard hit as you and have recovered." "Oh. yes." agreed my patient but without enthusiasm; but at any rate 1 had gained by point, and Vincent had agreed with me that marriage with the secretary was too rash and foolish for him to contemplate. "Ity-the-by, Arch." ne said, carelessly. as we still sat before the fire trying to make believe that the incident of the secretary was closed, "I huvt something: to tell you. The secretary told me outright which one of the six girls really is the daughter of Fletcher Boyd." I looked at him in utter astonishment. "What!" I said, excitedly; "do you mean to say she deliberately gave away the secret? Which one is it, for Heaven's sake? And why did she do it?" "It's Agatha Sixth. You were right all along. As for the reason, I don't know what she did it for, unless?unless?" he hesitated. "She's such an honorable little thing I think she felt that the marriage would displease my family, so she wanted to turn me from what she saw was coming and used the disclosure of the Honorable Agatha's identity for bait. Come on to bed," he added, with a little return of his old spirit; "you'd better get rested for your last try for the twenty millions. If you make up for P?^t neglect you ought to win Agatha Sixth hands down." "Then you don't mean to try?" JM X AGATHA His face clouded again. "I don't mean to try," he said, and we went up to our rooms in silence. And so we came to the last four days of our stay at Castle Wyckhoff, and I began subtly and by degrees to win back my former place in the regard of Agatha Sixth, and with every inch of ground I gained in my pursuit of the Honorable Agatha I thought of Vincent with a fresh pity. The evening before the last day of our stay we all spent together in the music room. We were very jolly, and yet underneath it all I think the girls were a little saddened by our approaching departure, and Wilfred and I felt a certain regret that the end of our delightful visit had come, though of course 1 had fully determined to propose to Agatha Sixth on the morrow. I was rather surprised, therefore, when Vincent suddenly complained of headache and, excusing himself, went up to his room. When I went up to my own room I rapped on his door, but he made no answer and I concluded that he must be asleep. The next morning, much to my astonishment, he did not saunter in and out of my room as he was accustomed to do of a morning. but as it was late I did not stop t<> investigate. But when 10 o'clock came, and still no Vincent. I went up to his room, for I thought he should be up and doing on this, his last day at Castle Wyckhoff, when he was to leave for London on the 4.15 train that afternoon. I say "he" not "we," for I felt more confident of my success with Agatha Sixth that day than I had done the evening before, and although I had not yet had the opportunity to put the great question. 1 felt that it was very possible that in the guise of accepted lover I might not have to take the 4.15 that afternoon. when i rpsiehed Vincent's room I knocked twice, jind, receiving no answer, entered, and was somewhat alarmed to find that he was not there, though his bed had been slept in. Anxious, without knowing why, I tore downstairs and called for Mrs. Armistead. That good lady met me at the foot of tlie stairs in answer to my summons, with an air as anxious as my own. "Have you seen Lord Vincent?" I asked her. "Have you seen my secretary?" she replied, without answering my question. "She's not in her room, though her bed has been slept in. Hut she hasn't had her breakfast, and I can't ' lind her anywhere." "You don't mean it!" I ejaculated, and a sickening fear turned me cold. "Perhaps this has something to do with it," said Mrs. Armistead. "I found it on the front hall table underneath the mail bag." Her anxiety was apparently sincere. 1 and yet somehow it rang false to me. 1 With impatient fingers I seized the folded paper she drew from her reticule. It read as follows: "Dear Old Arch: Sorry to deceive you so, but I've gone and done it? ' that rash, foolish thing you told me not to do; at least, by the time you get this note the deed will be done. And I so dreaded your reproaches that I never so much as asked you to be the best man. But I couldn't help it, Arch, honest I couldn't. Not to save my soul. She shouldn't have had eyes like stars and hair like autumn leaves. As for the money, hang the stuffy old millions, I say! Every pound of it is so many glass beads to me in comparison to what I have this day gained. I wish you joy of them and of the Honorable Agatha. Dear old boy, forgive me if you can; and if you want to do me one last favor come down to the station In time to meet the eleven-seventeen for London and hear my last injunctions. VINCENT." "When did you find this?" I gasped. Eut 1 didn't wait to hear her reply, for a glance at the hall clock told me that it was five minutes of eleven. Bare-headed I rushed arouna to tne stables and fortunately found Christopher just putting the marc Into the dogcart. "Get in." I yelled, "and drive like sin!" "Sin, sir? Where, sir?" asked Christopher. SIXTH. "The station!" I cried, jumping up beside him; and we flew down the winding drive at a. pace that I would not think of attempting in cold blood. Through Mrs. Armlstead's criminal delay in handing me the note many valuable minutes had been wasted, yet I thought I should still be in time perhaps to save Vincent from carrying out the last fatal step of his incredible folly. It might not be too late to part for in suite of what he had said in his note I could not believe that the worst had actually happened. As we approached the last strip of woods before we reached the station I caught sight of a puff of white smoke down the track. A moment later, when we drew up at the platform, the great locomotive thundered into the stauion, ami there, at the other end of the platform, I saw them. There was Vincent. clad in the things he had worn on the train when we had first come through the fields of Wye, and with him was a remarkably pretty girl with beautiful wavy red hair, in a gray tailor suit and a smart black hat. Or course it was the secretary. 1 waved at them frantically and they waved in return, and I could see Vincent smiling happily at me as they entered one of the carriages. As I came up with their carriage Vincent opened the window wide and thrust his head out. "Oh, Vincent!" was all I said; "am I too late?" "Not at all." he said, genially; "you're just in time to congratulate me. But what 1 wanted of you. Arch"?and he leaned toward me and lowered his voice?"was to ask you to break it to my father." "Then it's true?" I said, not quite able to believe it. even yet. "Yes, it's true," he said aloud, and with a radiant smile he drew back a little so that I could see the erstwhile Miss Marsh. "It's true that I've married the secretary." "But it's not," said that lady, much to my surprise, and thrusting out her pretty head. "It's not true a bit. He hasn't married the secretary nt all. I was only 'playing' secretary. He's married no one but the Honorable Agatha, the first, last, and only honorable!" And for proof of her astonishing words she snatched off her glove and displayed to my marveling gaze the big emerald cross of the Wyckhoff ring, winking in the sunshine. At this moment the train began to move, and I was filled with a sudden and justifiable nige that Vincent should have so deceived me. To think that he had been in the secret all the time and had helped to make a fool of me! Flut one look at his face proved to me that I had done him an injustice. He was as stricken with amazement as I was, and 1 knew that then, and not until then, had he- become acquainted with the truth. Gathering my wits quickly, for the train was moving faster, I ran after their carriage till I caught up with the window again. "Good-by!" I shouted, and "God bless you!" And Vincent, reaching out his big hand, had just time to catch mine in his strong grasp before I dropped back, outstripped, and he had withdrawn his radiant face from my view. Afterward I learned many things. First, that they had been married very early that morning, before the rest, of us were up, in the little chapel at Wye, with Mrs. Armistead. who was in the secret, as witness. That explained her delay in giving me the note. Dreading my interference, they had not wished me to know until the whole thing was well over and Mrs. Armistead back at Castle WyckholT. Second that it had been the Honorable Agatha's own idea to play the part of secretary to her aunt, thus improving upon her father's plan, and making it still more difficult for the competing suitors to discover her Identity. Third, that her reason for telling Vincent that Agatha Sixth was the real Honorable Agatha was only to prove him once more and to the uttermost. And Vincent had stood the trial without faltering and had even proved himself equal to disregarding my wishes. Yet I really think that on that night when he had agreed with me that It was best to give her up he meant to do so, but his love for the girl proved stronger than his love for gold or his feeling for his friend And it was thus that the 'boy won?because he had loved truly and faithfully. Arid I also learned afterward that the six Agathas, shortly after the elopement of Vincent and the secretarylthat-was, had all gone to their homes in America. Later some of them married certain suitors who had once beeq guests at Castle WyckholT. Among these were Agatha First and young Branoepeth, who, I am happy to say, has led a reformed life since his marriage. And it also came to pass that Vincent and his bride took possession of Castle Wyckhoff as their country seat when they came back from their honeymoon. And there I often visited them. But on that eventful day when the train had pulled out of the station none of thesQ things was known to me. and I stood on the platform dizzy with the unexpected turn events had taken. And so it was that Vincent got ahead of me, just as he has always done. And so It was, also, that I returned to I/ondon, still an eligible bachelor, still the prey of match-making mammas and smiling debutantes. There was but one comforting thought in the mixture of disappointment and cbagrln that made the sum of my feelings as I drove slowly back to the castle. This much had been given me: At last I had not made the fatal mistake of proposing to the wrong Agatha, and I hugged myself as I thought how near I had come to put ting the question to Agatha Sixth that very morning. That, at least, I had managed to avoid. From that folly the innate caution and unerring inrttftict of Archibald Terhune had preserved him. Thank Heaven! THE END. CARING FOR BIRDS. Solid Citizens In Maine Busy Looking After Them. Up in Maine there is a growing interest In birds. Chlefest among the influences which have awakened and kept up an Interest in bird protection in Maine are the Audubon societies and the village improvement societies. To one who rides along country roac'ls leading from any main city, says the Floston Globe, the Improvement Is very marked. Within the past five years the number of birdhouses and bird shelters erected in suburban Maine has increased by more than 2flO per cent. Magazines and papers devoted to bird protection are found in many homes. The Sunday newspapers which give illustrations of model birdhouses are preserved with care for future reference. Teachers in the common schools are showing the boys how to use their Jackknives to whittle shingles and tack together sections of boards, and how to bore out dead limbs on trees, and to tack up tin cans and aged hats in ways that shall make these homely devices most welcome to bird couples that are about to start housekeeping. Six years ago there was not known to be a pair of purple martens or of crow blackbirds breeding within the limits of Presque Isle. At that time Judge George H. Smith, a prosperous lawyer, and Sidney Cook, a deep-sea diver, who had retired from active labor, resolved to see what they could do toward tolling the birds back to the village. Tt would make an Interesting book to relate what these two men performed. Fortunately, the barest results will tell the story. Last year Judge Smith had the pleasure of sheltering more than ninety pairs of purple martins in lofty houses on his place. Twelve pairs of summer yellowbirds nested and brought up two successive hroods of young among his willows. He claims to have raised "more than a cartload" of young robins. He has induced three pairs of cliff swallows to build mud nests under the eaves of his barn, and his small orchard and surrounding shrubbery were noisy with bird life from May until October. Mr. Cook spent most of his summer in a camp on the shores of Squawpan Lake, eight miles from the village, but with the help of his son he became instrumental in getting a flock of blackbirds to nest in a grove back of his home, and when the birds departed for the south last fall he estimated there were more than 200 in it, or double the number which came in May. He also lured two pairs of blue birds and three pairs of whitebreasted swallows to nest in boxes which he put up about his buildings. Mysterious fioures.?Put down the number of your living brothers. Double the number. Add three. Multiply the number by five. Add the number of living sisters. Multiply the result by ten. Add the number of dead brothers and sisters. Subtract 150 from the result. The right hand figure will be the number of deaths. The middle figure will be the number of living sisters. The left hand figure will be the number of living brothers. THE WAY TO FIFT1 44 Plain Talk In Plain La (Continued from our issue of June 23.) St. Louis Globe-Democrat. (Extract from Pamphlet by Roland Stone and published by Union Farmer Publishing Company, Birmingham, Ala.) The Cost of Production. The business farmer?and all farm| ers must use good business methods to succeed?has many things to consider. First of all is his cost of crops of every kind. He should know to a dollar what it costs per acre to secure a harvest from every acre he plants. If ground does not pay for planting to one crop he may try another, and If the soil will not pay for working? why work it? Why buy fertilizer and seed and throw away labor? Let It go to grass; blue grass, clover, cow peas or any other forage crop that only requires seeding and harvesting. Pasture It, even If It is only a- quarter or half an acre or more. You can stake out a horse, mule or cow and while they get something out of it the droppings will enrich the soil to some extent, but don't waste the labor of cultivation on it, put in the time with an extra working of some crop on good land. Don't plow and sow ten or twenty acres just because It's all in one field; some of it is not worth plowing this year. You may bring it up again by the right treatment and in a few years I have seen land that would not grow thirty bushels of corn to the acre brought to the stage in three seasons of judicious handling. Do not think it necessary to plow, fertilize and seed ten acres out of which only seven is worth cultivating. You know where the lean patches are ?the weeds of last season would show you if you did not know the land. Remember that If all your acres produced from one-half to a bale per acre?and the same was true all over the belt you would have cotton to burn?not to sell. The world can not take it, has no use for It. Of a normal world's demand of 20,000,000 the cotton states can find a profitable market for about 12.000,000. Any more than that is a menace to the price. Two-thirds of last year's acreage, should produce more than the full market supply In favorable seasons. You ought to calculate that the season will be favorable or else court overproduction, and if it is not, and the crop falls below expectations the price per pound will average higher and your net profits will be practically the same as on a normal crop. You can not grow big crops and get big prices one year in ten. Nine chances to one against you. What sort of a business risk is that? The best grade of seed Is the only kind worth planting. The best grade of fertilizer is the The best horses and mules cost no more to feed than the Inferior sort and will do more work. The best implements are labor savers and money makers. Figure on the selling: value of everything you buy, should you desire to dispose of it after a season's use. The difference In cost between the best and the poorest Is not so much, and cheap implements, vehicles, harness, etc., are dear at any price?false economy. Thorough cultivation always pays. Each of these points is an element in controlling the cost of farm production. Maximum production at minimum cost is the yearly problem of the farmer, and the solution?other things being equal?will be found in thorough, frequent cultivation. Labor Is the item that counts. You must get the utmost return from your investment of money and labor to prevent loss in seasons of excessive production and consequent reduction in prices. If you are fortunate enough to secure a bountiful crop and extra market prices during any season, that is the time for putting by a sinking fund, for you know it Is not likely to happen again in years. Don't squander your dividends; establish a surplus, as your banker does?if he Is wise. Fifteen-Cent Cotton. Perhaps you think I have been a long time reaching a discussion of the subject that suggested the title of this booklet. Well, you have to grow your crop before you can market it? unless you are a cotton exchange farmer, whose plantation is in Wall street or Liverpool. It has taken a number of pages to warn you against the methods and practices which have combined to prevent the grower from getting a fair price for his crop for generations past; those features which are under his control and for which he is responsible. It is plain to me. and I trust will be to the reader by this time, that there is enough good cotton land in the cotton states to produce all the world's markets can absorb, and enough that is not so good?now planted?to render the south independent of outside sources of food supplies for man and beast?if properly cropped. The starting point is with the grower himself?sensible production. No better or quicker way to settle the question than for each farmer to appoint himself a committee of one. with power to act, and cut his own acreage and recast his crop on a selfsustaining basis. He can not control others, but he can control his own actions. If he is independent of the factor and money lender, he is in position to co-operate with his neighbors, the growers of his county and state, in an intelligent marketing plan. Not even the largest planter or a dozen of the largest planters in the south are able to disregard the benefits of co-operative method of marketing their crop. To secure the true value of their cotton they must often hold it until the end of the season; un'iil the exchange gamblers have frightened, bulldozed, coaxed and otherwise obtained from weak holders possession of the bulk of the year's crop before the laws of supply and demand are allowed to become operative for their benefit. LEN CENTS COTTON nguage to Plain People." The small land owner and tenant farmer may think I am taking up too much space in telling of the big fellow's success. I'm not; only pointing to the successful ones because.you wish to become similarly successful. If a man falls heir to the largest and finest plantation in the south he is liable to become bankrupt in a few years if he does not manage his property on sound business principles. I want to say to the smaller planters and tenant farmers that their opportunities are better today for success than they ever were before, because of unions and associations which enable a hundred little fellows to do all or more than the biggest of the big ones. They can combine their forces and imitate the successful methods of the best and most successful. Performing their own labor and directing their own efforts, they can secure a better result, proportionately, than the great planter who depends on tenant and hired help. Ey mutual dependence, co-operation and united action, under the guidance of capable and honorable leaders, they should have all the best of the argument. It is your own fault If you do not. It Is not enough for you to solve the problem of cheap production, or even the curtailment of acreage. These will not avail if you do not use Intelligent co-operation in marketing. If all try to market their crop at one time, the price being unsatisfactory, down go the figures under the senseless flood of the staple. Tour state organizations of the Farmers' Union and Southern Cotton association, through county and local branches, can show you whereby a market may be maintained, simply by feeding the actual demand, and apportioning the supply to average requirements of the world's spindles. Leave the broker and gambler out of your calculation. Hold your eotton subject to minimum price conditions and wait for the buyer with the cash in his hand. He'll come. If you don't seek him, he'll seek you. He's got to have the .cotton. Co-Operation the Watchward. There Is no man In the world, no race of men and no section of the earth wholly Independent of the balance of creation. The strongest Individual is the one with the greatest backing of friends, the strongest nation In the world is the one which has the most powerful allies and the success of all depends upon the oneterm, co-operation applied In some way or other. In nearly three score years of an active life spent In many lands I have yet to learn that any man or set of men monopolize all the virtues or have appropriated all the honesty. There Is good in all men, and the best of each of them Is brought out In mutuality of interests and brotherly consideration of their fellows. All forms of rellgrlon teach it; hundreds of orders, secret and fraternal preach and practise the beauties of brotherly regard, and there Is enough good in the best to counterbalance the evil in the worst of mankind? nioa ii'AitlH ho na aflfotv fnr jinv. ?-!< ?*? UICIC ?? wu.u MV ..W * . Farmers are not a migratory class, as a rule, and If a man can not fraternize and co-operate with a neighbor there Is something radically wrong with one of them. They have been brought up In the same community, their families for generations. They attend the same churches, a*ej members of the same lodges and know each other as members of one family. Their lands, homes, interests are still affected by like conditions. They would band together as one man to defend their homes from Invasion. They would leave fireside and family in a body to fight for their country or stand together on any great issue. They are the people above all others to practice practical co-operation for the common weal. There should be no cause so dear as the advancement of the welfare of their own families. Each day they are growing to see this more and more clearly, and the day Is not far distant when it will be considered a reproach for any man to be outside the pale of some co-operative association having its local habitat in his home community. There may be unworthy ones, selfseekers and those who enter these associations from despicable motives, but the way to down those elements is not to stand on the outside and scoff, but to enter the inner circle where your voice, your vote and your example will work for the best Interests of the institution, and your good will as well. The organizations are sound in principle and based on honest purpose. This being the case, a few black sheep can not dominate the flock. Don't act the Pharisee and pass them by on the other side. We are all human and all have souls worth saving. There is more good than bad in any community, and if you do your part, that Is all that is asked of you. Co-operation among cotton growers means that you can have your warehouse, gin, grinding mill?perhaps a compress?your sawmill, cane mill and all other power machinery without the necessity of single individual investment, and the cost of operation is reduced below that of any other method for like service. You can purchase seed, fertilizer and other of your supplies at a lower rate than your neighbor outside the organization and save money in various ways. You can store your baled product in a good warehouse, where it is insured and keeps without depreciation, and can borrow money on the best collateral the world has to offer, if you are under the necessity to do so. You can keep your cotton under your eye and have it sold for you to much better advantage than you possibly could manage as an individual. You will never get 15 cents for cotton on your own initiative unless by some mere accident, and you can not tell whether you are getting the season's market value or not if you act independently. (Continued on Fourth Page.) JHisccUancous grading. TILLMAN GETTING BETTER. Senator It Enjoying Hit Trip Through Spain. A letter from Dr. J. W. Babcock, dated at Gibraltar on June 8, and addressed to Mr. August Kohn, brings the information that Senator Tillman feels very much Improved as the result of his trip across the water and that he has been enjoying his stay In Spain. Dr. Babcock enclosed the following account of the trip aa dictated by Senator Tillman: "The two weeks which have elapsed since our landing at Gibraltar have been spent In rather strenuous fashton. The long rest on the boat had brought such Improvement that the morning after we reached Gibraltar and found a good steamer about to start for Tangier, forty miles southward, on the west African coast In Morocco, we yielded to the suggestion of two Columbia friends, Messrs. Melton and Earle, who had Just come In on tne Herman L.ioyd steamer, ana put off for Tangier without seeing Gibraltar at all, reaching It about 4. p. m. After resting at the hotel, a saunter of an hour and a half through the narrow, filthy streets, from seven to twelve feet wide and all crooked, gave us all the Idea of Mohammedan and Moorish life and civilization that we wanted, and there was no difference of opinion about returning to Gibraltar next day. "After taking a view of Gibraltar, through which we drove with the American consul, Mr. Richard Sprague, and whose courtesy was much appreciated, we crossed over to Algeciras, Spain, on the opposite side of the bay, where we spent two nights and a day resting and enjoying the magniftcant view of the famous Rock of Gibraltar, and the most gorgeous display of flowers that It has ever been our good fortune to see, hedges of geraniums five feet high, white daisy bushes of even larger size, with other flowers too numerous to mention. These are in the garden or park surrounding the swell English hotel, tlv Reina Christina, and though it was the first of -June we had to sleep under blankets, which has been necessary throughout our trip In southern Spain. Friday we went to Ronda, an old Moorish fortress, In the midst of the mountains, with a most magnificent view. Part of the Journey upwards was through the cork-woods. Most of the way the fields are filled with olive trees, wheat and barley occupying occasional stretches. The wheat in most instances was very good, some of it exceedingly fine. After a night at Ronda and a walk through the old Moorish town to the cathedral we started for Granada, Sunday morning, and although the Spaniards are perhaps the most devout people In Europe, there was no evl clence that the people remembered the Commandment, as they were at work everywhere In the fields. "We spent two whole days In Granada and then left for Seville, taking nearly all day for the Journey, though the distance Is less than 200 miles. I will not attempt any descriptions, but will only say that we were not disappointed In the Alhambra, though our expectations had been raised very high by what we had read, and in Seville there was a repetition of this experience. The cathedral, with its numerous masterpieces of painting, and the Moorish palace must be seen to be appreciated and then seen again and again, while the little chapel in La.Caridad hospital will undoubtedly linger a joy forever in our memories. Here we found the only evidences in Spain of prosperity and modern city life, and undoubtedly, for we all # agreed on this point, our Columbia friends joining in the verdict, that the Sevilllan women as a whole are the handsomest we have ever seen or expect to see. "Friday evening we went to Cordova, famous for Its Roman bridge built by Augustus Caesar and for the Moorish mosque, considered by experts as the most wonderful achitectural triumph of t?he Moors, who conquered Spain In the 8th century. The Spaniards marred In many ways the dignity and strength of this wonderful building, but again I must not undertake descriptions. "We got back to Gibraltar last night, June 7, well fagged out and realized for the first time that it is Just a month since we left Trenton, without having had any news from home or seen an American newspaper. I have stood the strain much better than I would have thought possible and attribute it to an entire change of view and the absence of anything to excite, and the admirable sleeping that the conditions have nrougnt about. "Letters from home this morning tell us of hot, parched conditions in South Carolina and one wonders .at the marvellous Spanish climate that compels blankets in June, where oranges flourish and hot house plants grow in the yards." IT WAS GENUINE. The William Shakespeare Signature That Admiral Luce Had. Admiral Luce was in command of the north Atlantic squadron in 1895. and his flagship for a time was an chored in New York Bay, where it was visited by many people. One day a party came aboard which Included, among others, a very pretty girl and a very dignified and learned Englishman. As Admiral Luce was entertaining them In his cabin he asked the pretty girl if she would like to see an original autograph of William Shakespeare. At this the dignified and learned Englishman pricked up his ears and remarked that he had made a study of the autographs of Shakespeare and was positive there was no authentic example in America. Admiral Luce replied that he was very positive his was authentic and that Its genuineness had never been questioned. This made the Britisher quite mad, and he ' delivered a lecture on the fraudulent autographs and manuscripts that were brought over to America and exhibited as originals. "Well," replied the admiral, "I am convinced that my autograph of William Shakespeare is genuine, and I am going to have the pleasure of showing it to this young lady," whereupon he went to his desk, took out his visitor's book, and turned back a few pages and then pointed out the signature. "William Shakespeare, mayor of Xew Orleans, Jan. 12, 1886." The Englishman gave a painful gasp and retired.