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: YORKVILIE ENQUIRER. ISSUED SEMI-WKKKLY. i. m. orist's sons, Publisher.. } % ^[amitg Uemspaper: jfor promotion of the foluital, ^ociat. ^grioultupl and ?ommei[rial Interests of the people. {TEsraoLKpVnra? VA,NCI! i. established 1855. YORKVILLE, 8. O., FRIDAY, JULY 31, 1908. NO. 61. _____ hi ina^mwif^tf mnttilbtimf ! t~ wm?rmtfrtt?int?wtl"m'r',';t^'''t? ^ i | ASi 4* BvETTA "Does he suffer much pain?" asKea Hume, glancing at Rose, who stood on the lowest step of the porch, her blue ribbons buttering In the night wind. "Yes, I suppose so," she answered, indifferently; "that is. I don't know. It really cannot matter, for he isn't aware of it?at least, not much. A fewmonths ago Bess sent for a Portland doctor to come here. It cost?I don't + dare tell you how much. She paid him herself; and. after all. he could do nothing. He said the case was hopeless. , Hume lifted his hat, and went off across the cliffs, through the bright moonlight. A few moments later the two girls ascended to the chamber which they shared together, and began to make ready for bed. "I've had a delightful evening," said Rose, stretching her pretty mouth In a yawn; "but my new ribbons are spoiled, and there's a dreadful rent in my I dress?you must mend it for me tomorrow. Mr. Hume does dance divinely. I like him so much?so much!" Bess had turned her back on the pretty, frivolous creature, and was ^ drawing the pins from her satin-black braids. "You have no business to like him at all," she answered, severely. "You made me very unhappy tonight. Rose." "Pooh!" scoffed Rose; and she set about smoothing out her tangled gold hair. Suddenly there was a gasping cry?the noise of a comb Hying against the opposite wall, and lo! Rose was ^ down on the painted floor, clasping her cousin about the knees, and sobbing out. "I don't care; I don't care! Life grows more unbearable every day. f Why will you not let Uncle Caleb send V Andy away to some asylum? Why pay P his board out of your own small fortune. and force us all to tolerate?to care for him here? He is nothing to you, yet you put me to sname a uozen times a day by your kindness and devotion to that idiot. Oh, I might have done better?I had so many lovers! Why did I throw myself away upon him? It kills me to think of it now. Both you and Uncle Caleb opposed my marriage. You said I was too young? ' too childish to be any man's wife. But I would not listen to either of you, and! now, see how I have been punished!" She ended with a cry of poignant despair. The elder girl dropped g promptly down to the level of the younger, and gathered the slight figure into her arms. Long black braids mingled with copper-gold curls. The olive and the rose-leaf cheek pressed each other, and both were wet with tears. Rose," said Bess Hillyer. solemnly, "I do not see how anyone but God can help you, since He only can restore that which has been taken. My dear, my dear! Andy shall never go to an asylum! If life is hard for you, how ^ v much harder is it for him? If you I pity yourself so much," reproachfully, W "pity him still more! You loved him once?remember that. Be kind?be patient?make the best of your spoiled I life. As for myself," she grew very pale, but set her lips firmly; "I think I am doing right. Andy is something to me?a fellow being?the victim of a shocking misfortune. Christian charity?no. common humanity, forbids us to do less than we are now doing. Think what he once was. Rose, and what he now is. We are his only friends Oh. Rose!" with a burst of t irrepressible indignation, "he loved you! How can you be so hard, so heartless?" "I want Uncle Caleb to send him away?away?at once!" clamored Rose. The tempest which was shaking the ? younger girl seemed to communicate itself to Bess. "Never!" she cried for the second time. "We will take care of him here, always?always. He Is harmless?he gives little trouble to anyone. In an asylum he might be abused?neglected. He loves us"? "Oh!" interrupted Rose, with a gesture of horror, t "And so far as Andy can comprehend misery, he would be miserable were he taken away from us." Rose lifted a face like a rain-wet Illy. . "Why do you not think of me a little?" she queried, angrily. "I tell you I abhor the sight of him?I shudder when he comes near me! I have no pity, no patience left. I wish that he ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^, CHAPTER XV?Continued. The dance at the flshhouse ended at midnight. Hume walked back to the cove with the Hillyers. Uncle Caleb was grumbling at the lateness of the hour. Bess maintained a grave silence. Rose chattered and laughed in the gayest of spirits. "Very odd about Harold." said Hume. "What could have sent him off so suddenly, and without a word to me?" * "Bess knows, maybe," whispered Rose. Then she began to hum, in a sweet, mischievous voice: " 'Why shouldn't I love my lo\e? Why shouldn't he love me? Why shouldn't I love my love. Since love to all is tree?' " Hume glanced doubtfully at the pretty creature. Was love free to all? Alone in the cottage porch, seated on his favorite bench, and holding his head in the old, miserable, distressed way, sat Andy Gaff, a solitary, re^ proachful ghost, silvered over with the J moonlight. Bess ran to his side. "Andy! how lonely and forsaken you | look! And your head Is full of pain again. It was cruel of us all to go seeking our own pleasure, and leave W you here alone with your suffering." He knew the voice of a friend. His hands dropped from his head. He grasped her dress eagerly. "I must go." he said, in a hoarse voice; "they're waiting?they're expecting me?It's time?time!" "Why. so 'tis, Andy?more'n time, for all of us as calls ourselves honest folks, to get to our beds." grumbled ^ Uncle Caleb. "You're about as sensible as anybody, though you have lost some brains." And he shuffled into the cottage, drawing Andy with him. {*4*4*4*4*4*4*4*4*4* 4* 4* 4* ^ ^ | * ^ ~~ J ??? \A7 t>TT7T?PT7 * f f A Ai^AWM ^ or I were dead?I do not care which, but one of us. To be free from him? that is all I ask." "Oh, hush! Do not talk like this, Rose?it is wicked?wicked! What has Mr. Hume been saying to you?" sternly. "Nothing," answered Rose, with a curl of her short red lip. "He tried to make me happy for a little while tonight, because he knew, I suppose, that I was miserable?anybody would know that. He is kind and pitying?nothing more. How could there be anything more?" with a flash of temper. "He is well aware, is he not. that I am Andy Gaff's wife? Let us not talk of Mr. Hume. I am opening my heart to you now, Bess, and I tell you plainly I will yet free myself from the chains that hold me. I will not be cheated out of my youth, my opportunities. Should anything happen, recall what I said to you in this very room. If I ever do a wild, mad, reckless thing, remember that you kept me in a constant state of repression?mai ior uvu years yuu forced me to live under the same roof with Andy Gaff, though I repeatedly told you that you were driving me to desperation"? She stopped abruptly, as though she perceived that she was going too far. Tossing back the disordered hair from her pale face, she began to laugh discordantly. "How startled you look, Bess! You think I am meditating something very bad? I am! But let that pass. I now I ask you to humor me in one little whim. Write your answer to Mrs. Kllicott's letter before we sleep." "Rose, it is one o'clock." "Never mind," answered Rose, feverishly. "I cannot close my eyes tonight. I fear you will change your mind about Mrs. Ellicott's offer?you will never be able to resist such a temptation. Bess. I feel it in the very marrow of my bones?you will surely accept that fortune!" nuW VYC&klt ^uu IIIUOI Ilium inc. said Bess, a little Indignantly. "Have I not promised to stay with you and Uncle Caleb? Very well. Since you are determined to murder my sleep, as well as your own, get pen and paper, and you shall dictate an answer to Mrs. Ellicott to suit yourself." Changeable as the wind, Rose sprang from the sailor girl's arms, put pen, ink and paper on the table beside the oil lamp, and drew up a chair for Bess. Then, half unrobed, her hair sweeping her shoulders like a yellow cloud, she leaned on her cousin's knee, and dictated a reply to Bess Hillyer's unknown kinswoman. It was brief and plain. Elizabeth Hillyer thanked Mrs. Ellicott, but, having other and nearer relatives, whom she dearly loved, and could not possibly abandon, even for wealth and ease, she begged permission to refuse the offer of the Ellicott fortune. tsess laugnea, as sne wroie me iew curt lines. "Mrs. Ellicott will bless Providence for my decision. Rose. She will say. 'What a disagreeable creature! I am glad she declines to come!' Now, do you feel quite satisfied about my sincerity. dear? In the morning carry this letter to the village, and post it yourself." "Oh. Bess, you are very good!" said Rose, with a sudden ring of remorse in her voice. "How can you give up so much for our sakes? I am sure you love us better than we love you." Then she crept to bed, and fell asleep, with her golden hair nestling close to that of the girl whom she meant to deceivo and betray. Early next morning Uncie Caleb went off in his boat, taking Andy Caff with him. An hour or two later Rose lazily descended the stair to the table that Martha Bray had left waiting. The sky was dark with gathering clouds. "Make haste, Rose," said Bess, "or the rain will catch you before you reach Berry's grocery." Rose did make haste. The writing of the letter had evidently removed a weight from her spirits. She looked uncommonly bright and gay as she put on her hat before the glass. "Mr. Harold went away very early last night?did he not?" she said. "He did not dance once. I'm afraid our poor cove people failed to amuse him." The sailor girl did not move an eyelash. "How could you expect a man like Mr. Harold to find amusement in the antics of a lot of fishing folks? He has lived in cities, and knows the ways and refinements of what is called polite society." A shadow fell on Rose Gaffs fair face. "I long to live in a city," she said. "I long to understand all the meaning hidden in that exhaustless word, society. Good-by. Bess. Is my hair quite right? Am I lovely in this pink gown? Mr- Hiirnu tnlrt me last niirht that, hntll Harold and himself must soon leave the cape." "The sooner the better!" replied Bess Hillver, dryly. Rose went off down the path. She walked rapidly till she reached the cliffs; then her pace slackened. The salt coarse grass rattled, the bayberry sent up its pungent sweetness from under her light feet. The wind, damp with coming rain, blew boisterously upon her. A gull Hew landward, its dazzling wings shining white as snow against the background of violet-black sea. Rose looked upon it all, and loathed it in her heart?yea. as much as Bess loved it, she loathed it. "Could I borrow that gull's wings." she thought, "I would fly far?far?and never come back to this hateful Maine shore again?never come back to lTn cle Caleb or to Bess, even." She reached a lonely hollow between the cliffs. Not a living thing was anywhere in sight. She flung herself down in the grass, and tearing the gloves from her hands, began to dig a little grave among the roots. The coarse sand sifted through her fingers, ran back into the hole, and was ejected again with nervous haste. Having made the cavity deep and smooth, she drew the letter addressed to Mrs. Ellicott from her pocket, tore it into minute fragments. placed it in the grave and piled the sand upon it. Carefully she reset the grass above the spot, carefully removed all traces of recent disturbance. She had just completed her task of burying the letter, which she had never meant to post, when she heard a mock-heroic voice behind her say: ?" 'Let us sit upon the ground, And tell sad stories of the death of Kings.' " She gave a startled upward glance into the lean, brown face of Nigel Hume. His smiling look assured her that he had seen nothing. "I am going to the village." she I - *1 ~ Daoc stammered, to man a icnn iui ucm, But I danced so much last night, that I find myself obliged to rest by the way." "Poor child!" he answered, half in jest, half in earnest. "Shall I walk with you?" She shook her head. He picked up her gloves. Laughing, she tried to thrust her dimpled hands, soiled with the sand, behind her. He took them in his own. and with two or three strokes brushed them clean. "What have you been doing?" he asked, lightly. "Digging a grave for all my troubles," she answered, in a light tone. "You are going to the cottage, I know. Tell Bess that you met me on the cliffs, and that I was on my way to mail her letter." "All right," he replied, and left her there, and continued his walk toward tho cove. CHAPTER XVI. Disaster. The world was two weeks older. On the little beach at Hillyer's Cove sat Rose, a soft, motionless, meditative heap, her chin resting on her hand, her violet-dark eyes fixed on the sea. A soft haze swathed the sun's ardent face, and tempered the intense blue of the summer heaven. For once the winds were still. On a neighboring headland a flock of sheep grazed?flecks of murky white showing against the scanty herbage. Seaward appeared a fleet of fishing schooners, tacking and standing off and on. Distant islands dotted the bosom of the deep?filmy, indistinct, like "A dream remembered in a dream." Rose had just returned from the postofflce. For the last few days she had walked that way often and secretly. Neither Bess nor Uncle Caleb dreamed of the feverish anxiety which was consuming the girl, nor her stealthy flights to the village by the unfrequented cliff path. Now, as she pressed one hand to her bosom, the rustle of paper answered her, and she smiled at the sound. A letter, scented with violets, was concealed there. Today Rose Gaff had something pleasant to think about. ? , ? "Once I went sailing in the jigger," she murmured to herself, "and we came in sight of an Island called the Storm. Uncle Caleb said it was the property of a Boston gentleman who had traveled everywhere, and knew everything. How can I find the place again? It is far, far off?I dare not go in search of it." An approaching step, shuffling heavily along the beach, dispersed her meditations. Andy. He did not seem to see his beautiful wife, but advanced in the aimless, mechanical way that always suggested a mind blotted out, a soul groping in dense darkness. Rose lifted her chin from her pink palm, and watched him. A few yards away Caleb Hillyer's boat was drawn up on the shore. Andy's eyes chanced to alight upon it, and he quickened his pace, as though some flash of intelligence had been convey-ed to him by the sight. He unmoored the little craft, pushed it into the water. took his seat with a suddenly light and easy motion, and, fitting the oars in the thwarts, began to recede from the beach. All the while Rose sat with her indifferent gaze fixed on her husband, fully aware of what he was about to do, but speaking no word, making no movement to prevent him. The boat shot out into the water. Did the watcher on the shore care nothing for the danger which threatened the unfortunate man? Luckily other eyes than hers were upon him. Swift feet came flying down the path from Caleb Hillyer's cottage. The voice of the sailor girl cried, indignantly: "Rose, how could you let him do that?" And she began to call to Andy. He paused, with oars uplifted. His clouded intelligence responded to that voice as to no other. "Come back?come back!" she cried. "You will be carried out to sea, Andy, and lost!" In her terror she waded Into the water, holding out her arms?coaxing the poor fellow by every kind word which she thought he might understand. "Andy, you cannot manage the boat ?you do not know the harbor. Come back at once. Do you want to drown?" "And suppose such a thing should happen " sneered Rose. "It would be no misfortune, either to himself or to us! You will drown yourself, if you don't take care!"?for the sailor girl was shoulder deep in water by this time. "Rose, it !s simply murder for you to sit there and watch your husband destroy himself!" The younger girl laughed. "How tragic you are! Look! he is coining back. Have I not always said that you are the only person who can manage him?" Andy had actually comprehended the distress of the sailor girl. He put back to the shore, beached old Caleb's boat, and followed Bess, as. dripping with brine, she started for the cottage. "After all, he knows his friends," said a voice at Rose's shoulder. She looked up, and encountered the critical gaze of Nigel Hume. "You witnessed that pathetic scene, then?" she drawled. "I was coming along the beach?I could not shut my eyes." "Of course you think me very heartless." with a shrug. "To tell the truth, it did not occur to me that Andy was in peril till Bess rushed to the rescue. He will always listen to Bess. Considering how little he knows, her power over him is quite surprising. Some time she may be able to restore his wits altogether." A moment before her utter callous ness had aroused his indignation, but as he looked at her now, Hume felt the emotion melting away. Anger, when directed against Rose, was generally short-lived. She wore the simple blue flannel gown in which he had first seen her. A rough blue Tarn o'Shanter cap rested on her mop of yellow curls. Her liquid dark eyes, her matchless fairness, disarmed him, in spite of himself. It was easy to forgive her heartlessness for the sake of her exquisite beauty. In the last fortnight Hume had constantly visited the cove, but without making any new discovery. The Terrible Case was still a profound mystery to the young fellow. He knew no more about Andy now than he had known at first sight of the poor wretch in old Caleb's porch. "Andy understands some things," began Hume, doubtfully approaching the forbidden subject. "I wish you would permit me to ask a few questions. If I could get at facts on which to build a theory"? Rose started up from the sand with an aggrieved air. "Have I not told you that you must not ask anything about my husband? You have tasted the hospitality of Hillyer's Cove?don't repay us by attempting to pry out our secrets." "Rebuked again!" he answered. "My curiosity is purely professional. I have often wondered if something could not be done for him." "And did you think you could do it?" she asked, mockingly. "Why, you are only a medical student?you have not got a degree as yet." She shook her yellow head. "I wish," she added, with a smile that robbed the word9 of half their harshness?"I really wish you would not meddle with things that do not concern you, Mr. Hume!" . ti ...UK a "1 Will noi, lie (UISYI CICU, n U1I a. keen sense of discomfiture. In his heart he vowed henceforth to let Andy Gaff severely alone. Why should he meddle with him, against the express wishes of the Hillyers? Rose stood pushing the coarse sand back and forth with one restless foot. "Mr. Harold left the cape very suddenly, did he not?" she said. "Do you know the reason why? I think he wanted to marry Bess." "I dare say," answered Hume. "Bess will never marry; she will always stay at the cove?she has given me her word. It seems"?in an injured tone?"as though Fate was determined to take Bess from us!" "How can you expect to keep your cousin always?" he asked, amused at her selfishness. "Both Uncle Caleb and Andy need her constantly." "Une nugnt tnina mat yuu were mc proper person to look after Andy." "I am wholly unfit for such work." she answered, with a petulant air. "And Bess doesn't mind. She likes to stand betwixt me and trouble. When do you follow Mr. Harold?" "Tomorrow. I am here to bid you good-by." She gave a slight start. "So soon?" "It really is not soon when you come to think of it. I have spent more time at the cape than I could well afford, and yet?not enough for my own satisfaction." There was nothing sentimental in his tone, for he was thinking of the case of Andy Gaff. The witchery of Hose's beauty had left no mark upon Hume She heaved a soft sigh. "You do not care? You are glad to turn back to civilization? In your place, I should feel the same. There is nothing I so long for as to see the world?the great, lovely world!" spreading her arms expressively. With a sudden change of manner, she stepped across the gunwale of the boat which Andy had left near by. "Though I have lived all my life by tho " shp said. "I cannot handle an oar. Will you row me a little way, Mr. Hume? and when we come back, you can make your adieux with Bess and Uncle Caleb." The request was without coquetry. He decided swiftly that it was not his place to find her in scruples. "Yes, I will row you wherever you like," he answered, springing into the boat after her. "But remember that I know nothing about this coast. I must rely upon you to act as pilot." She seated herself in the stem, and took the rudder. The hickory bent, the water Hashed under the brown oar blades. They pushed off from the beach. "Good-by! good-by!" said Rose, waving her hand to the receding cove. "One would think you were taking a last farewell of it," said Hume, lightly. "Perhaps I am?who can tell?" she answered. Through long lines of floating rock j weed they glided out. into the little harbor. The sea was unusually calm. There was not wind enough to fill the sails of the fishing fleet. "I heard a ghastly story only yesterday about this harbor," said Hume, tugging manfully at the oars. "Some young fisherman?has name was Grant ?Dave Grant?foun-' himself baffled | of his heart's desire?tnat is, ne iosi his sweetheart, and he jumped into a boat?rowed out here, and deliberately leaped overboard. His body was washed ashore, and buried in the cape graveyard." She looked at him in a curious, breathless way. "Who told you that?" "Widow Pole. She was betrayed into an allusion to the story by an item which I chanced to read in a daily newspaper. By adroit questions I finally made myself possessor of the cape tragedy." "All of it?" "Really I cannot say. Dave Grant killed himself?that naturally ended him. Tragedies, I take it, are unfrec.uent here?at least, tne widow seemed both scared and sorry because I had coaxed her into relating this one. She begged me to refrain from speaking of it. She evidently thought it a matter important enough to shake the nations. I asked who the obdurate fair one was, but she stubbornly refused to tell." To be Continued. <*' ' There is no doubt that all books kept for a long time In libraries and other places become the abode of the germ and microbe. To prevent this a French professor has introduced a method of disinfecting books. They are placed in an oven under pressure, in u'hinh ihe ovnitrtmlinn of a certain liquid causes the breaking up of the aldehydes. It is said that all sorts of books, big and little, can thus be disinfected without harm to the cover, the paper or the binding. ^Uscrllanrmtsi #ra<Un<). THE NEW ROAD LAW. Reasons For Its Enactment and Wisdom of Its Provisions. Editor Yorkville Enquirer: On salesday in January, 1908, rep resentatlve members of the Farmers Union from all sections of York county met in the York county court house and passed resolutions censuring their representatives in the general assembly for not having the moral or poli ical courage to pass a sensible, practical, intelligent, systematic road law and calling upon the present representatives to pass such a law and also declaring that they were ready and willing to tax themselves from a half to ? million dollars for road purposes. Confronted with this resolution, and recalllnr 'o mind that since the estabJlshmer.i of the chaingang In York fcounty some sixteen or more years ago, fully two hundred thousand dollars had been taken out of the pocklets of the taxpayers of York county 'for roads and bridges and that so far as ,visible results were concerned, the county authorities might just as well have collected one hundred and fifty thousand dollars of that amount in front of Tnrlf (>nnrt hnnw rinnr and annlied a match to it and consumed It In smoke and ashes?looking around them and seeing that the farming lands were being depopulated of white people, who were moving to the towns because the roads were so bad in winter they were unable to convey their families to church and school and the farms in many places were being turned over jto negro renters, and, reasoning that if the farms were exhausted, city, town and village alike would suffer? Recalling to mind that the United States census of 1900 proved to the world that there were fewer white people in Bullock's Creek township that year than there were in 1890, and, seeing the country churches drained of their membership year by year, and, farnestly desiring to build up the country and thus build up the whole county and turn the tide of white population back again from the towns to the country and make our waste places bloom as the rose, one of our representatives did have the moral and political courage to frame a road law that will revolutionize road making ir York county; and, the other members of both branches having consented c I same, are equally responsible for the I passage of the said road law. Let the old plan be contrasted with the new system. Under the old plan York county was spending from ten lb twelve thousand dollars a year on her roads and bridges and this amount was increasing year by year. I ask every intelligent taxpayer in York county if that money was being spent so as to finally result in a system of good roads and eventually reduce the amount of taxes collected for roacl purposes? Under the old plan hundreds and hundreds of dollars were being spent every year for tools for overseers and as the farms were being turned over to negro renters the day was not far distant when the county would have to supply every road hand with a tool to work and this Item alone would run up Into thousands. Under the old plan It was part work and part pay, and, the result was neither work nor pay. Under the old plan, the overseer had tn draw his commutation tax money out during the fiscal year, or, it'was put into the general fund. This very fact placed honest overseers under the ban of suspicion and those who were not honest could do as they pleased. I know when a charge was made a few years ago that supplies had been bought with commutation tax money and the charge was sustained, while the matter was undergoing investigation, men from different sections of the county remarked, "Well, we could tell of other instances, but we do not want to fall out with our neighbors." I know of my own knowledge of numerous complaints of this kind from overseers. "I am overseer of a certain section of such and such a road. I have called out my hands and put four days on my section. There are several other sections between mine and the court house that have not been touched this year and were not touched last year and the hands belonging to those sections hav?> escaped road work for two ?*?- vi.. linmlo hau.i rahcllprl and } cars. aij jiuiiuo >>u * I agree with them. It is nut fair to make them work for the public when others do not do so, and I tell you here and now I will do no more work on my section until these other sections are worked." Result, no work on any sections. And even if a little work was cone, would not the truth be stretched to call it work? The hands simply put in time. All our roads are good now, but if you wish to see what a miserable failure the old plan was, travel over those roads in January and February when you have to market or warehouse your cotton and haul out your heavy fertilizers, breaking down your vehicles and wear 011 your costly mules and horses. You will then reach the conclusion that some of our roads have not been worked since the war and the kind of work done on some of them only makes the mud deeper and stlflfer. To sum up results: The old plan was a f"it hau hppn tried for a auar ter of a century and for all practical purposes, a whole century, and from the very nature of things, it could never result in a system of good roads. The old plan was a costly plan. The amount of money paid out under the old system was increasing every year, and I assert as a fact, a fact that can be proven and demonstrated, that the taxpayers of York county will actually spend more money under the old plan between the year of grace 1908 and 1918 then they will spend under the new Saye law if carried out in every particular, during the same period of ten years. Because there is no stopping point under the old plan. It is systemless and the amount of money needed to carry it out is increasing every year and no man can truthfully say our roads are being Improved under it. Under the Saye law, there Is a system and only one system, a plan and only one plan. Every road is to be worked under the contract system. The roads are to be worked under the direction and supervision of a competent engineer, who Is to lay out and straighten the roads of the county and not follow the buffalo paths of a thousand years ago. It would have been positive economy If a large part of the $150,000 that has been wasted in the past two decades had been used in employing competent engineers to lay off, straightened and prepare plans and specifications for the roads of York county. Our sister county of Chester saw the necessity of employing a county engineer three years ago and now on the road leading from Chester to Rossville, where I as a boy saw mules stall many a time, you can now trot the entire way both going and coming from town. I had no idea such a road could be laid off in that country'. Where we formerly crossed three streams and could not cross them at all when the creeks were up, only one stream Is now crossed on a high bridge and it matters not how much it rains, you can jqSnoj.w jaaujSua nAP V ssojo sXb.\\|b this miracle in road building. And yet some people in York county seem to think we do not need a civil engineer. That his salary is an extravagant expenditure of money. Any man with an ounce of grey matter in his head who will stop and reason a little will know that unless an engineer is employed to straighten, lay off and prepare profiles for the public roads, we can never do any intelligent road builcT ing. On every spot on tnis gioDe today, where Intelligent road building is going on competent engineers are employed at good salaries. Road building without an engineer is a farce. York county should have employed an engineer years ago. What little road building has been done on the Charlotte road, or in any other section of the county, was all mapped out by competent engineers. But it Is said that the engineers' pegs will all be rotten before the chaingang can get around and it is nonsense for him to lay off and mark out all the roads. I think by a little calculation it will be no trouble to prove that it will take the chaingang about six thousand years to get over the roads of York county. But under the Saye law the chaingang may be abolished altogether if it is found It does not pay and if it is used it is to be used In permanent road work on the real highways, the trunk lines of the county. Under law everv nnhlio roa/i Is to be worked under contractors, who may contract to repair a mile or as many miles as they see fit. There will be hundreds of contractors all working at once and It Is an absolute necessity for the engineer to lay off and straighten and prepare plans and specifications so that these roads may be ready for the contractors next summer when the crops are laid by. The poorest and smallest white farmer in the county can take a contract to repair at least one mile of road. And every cent collected for road purposes under the Saye law will go right back into the pockets of the people in mid-simmer, right at a time when they need a little ready cash. Any poor man who haa no cash to pay his commutation tax can either take a contract and get the money advanced under his contract, or, he can arrange with the contractor to pay his commutation tax for him and work it out. The contractor will be his neighbor?a man he knows and In whom he has confidence. This commutation tax Is not collectible until late in the spring, and, any poor white man can take out a contract to repair a mile of road and soon have the county in debt to him. But it is said there are no exemptions under the Saye law and every one from 18 to 55 years must pay this tax. Well, I want to say that after an experience of fifteen years under the old plan, 1 oAnn o ornnH nvurmppr who llttvc lie vci ovtn U V? v.wv?. was satisfied with the exemptions. If a negro got his finger cut, he wanted to be excused from road duty. The many and useless exemptions was one of the abuses of the old plan. If there are any genuine cases where exemptions are really necessary' the law does not go into effect until next year and the general assembly does not meet until January, and the law can be amended practically before it goes into operation. The eighteen year limit was intended for the brother in black and eighteen years has been the road age in York county for years and years. The commutation tax under the old law is three dollars. Seven days' work of ten hours each or three dollars commutation tax was required of every 18 year old boy under the old plan. The Saye law is in no respect different from the old law as to the amount of commutation tax and the minimum age for road working. Exemptions from juryduty and exemptions from road duty have played havoc in this state, and it is about time to call a halt. Under the Saye law, after the roads have been laid off by the engineer and worked under the plans and specifications prepared by him, both the commutation tax and the la?id tax can be reduced to a notninai sum. Jn the end it is down right economy to adopt the Saye system, for under the old plan more and more money is being spent every year and no results accomplished. Under the Saye system, every cotton mill, every railroad, every corporation, every town and city and village will contribute a large proportion of the money to be used in building up the country roads. Lands will advance in price. With good roads in sight, the white people of this county will soon begin to leave the towns and go back to their farms and one of the great evils of the day will be corrected. Men do not mind giving money in taxes or otherwise, if they are receiving \alue. Let them once see the great and lasting benefits they are receiving for their toad tax and they will never begrudge it. The Saye law is not peculiar to York county. Several counties in the state have adopted the same law. In less than five years, every county in the state will adopt a similar law. Twenty-five hundred years ago the imperial masters of the "Eternal City" saw the necessity of good roads and made every known nation help to contribute to Home's good roads. Is York "niinlu tr> tolfo a haoUward? Will she rebuke the man and the only man who has had the moral courage in the last fifty years to frame an intelligent road law? Were the farmers of York county in earnest when they asked their representatives to frame such a law, or was their resolution only a bit of hypocritical irony? But it is said, that persons living in towns will pay their street tax and also the three dollar road tax. That Is not true, legally or otherwise. The old law read as follows: 'All male persons from the age of to 50 years, both Inclusive in this state, shall be required annually to perform labor upon the highways In York county five days, or, pay a commutation tax of three dollars." If the town man could be made to pay his street tax of three dollars and also his road tax of three dollars, under the Saye law, how much more could he be required to do the same thing under the old law. But the whole statement Is political buncombe, stuff and nonsense and untrue. The probability is that only the property I tax will be collected this year, as It I now seems improbable that the com[ mutation tax will go on the books un ti! the fall of 1909. Amendments, and some are necessary, can be made to the law before It goes Into operation next January. I, therefore hope and beileve that every candidate In York county for senate and house will advocate this law and if there are defects in it point them out and remedy them during the first week of the next general assembly in January, so that all defects may be corrected before the law becomes operative. Under a bonded debt system, we would bequeath our children's children a road debt to pay. The beauty of the Saye road system is, we can lower the property or commutation tax whenever we desire to do so. If we turn our faces backward Instead of forward, if we return to the old system, let us amend the old law so as to require the county commissioners to publicly burn, in front of York court house, the large amount of money now wasted on our roads. Let us decide to let our roads wash out into impassable gulfs. Let us decide to turn over our farming lands to negro renters, allow our towns and cities to dry up, and, all decide, decently and In order, to go down together. Respectfully, J. S. BRICE. Yorkvllle, S. C.( July 30, 1908. * ? TREES OF CALIFORNIA. The Sequoia There Grow* 400 Foet High and 26 In Diameter. The sequoia here In Humboldt Is the tallest tree in the whole United States. But the tourist from the east or west knows It not. What would he say to the Information that In the northwest of California grows a mighty continuous forest of these great trees and that It takes days to travel merely from end to end of that forest, which Is longer than the distance from Boston to New York or from Chicago to St. Louis. Yet such Is the case. On the ridges and flats of Humboldt Is the forest, and of that forest the trees grow to 26 feet In diameter and tower 400 feet in the sky. Do you know what those figures mean? Measure the room in which you are now sitting. If it Is a very large ~ Al 4 J I M A ruum (.lie luiifeesi uniieiisiuiis nuuiu just about contain one of these great trunks. Look out o your window and see the people more than a city block away. Thi9 is the distance from which one sees the topmost bough of these stupendous giants. The redwood of California is the great tree of the Pacific coast. Two thousand acres of it exist in Oregon along the Chetco river. South of the Chetco a continuous redwood belt begins and increases in width from ten miles at Del Norte county to eighteen or twenty miles and keeps on unbroken to southern Humboldt county. Here is a gap, but in Mendocino the belt becomes dense again and widens out to thirty-five miles. South of that county the trees grows in isolated patches. The climate and topography of northern California have brought about this limited distribution. North and south along the coast in nearly parallel ridges lie the mountains of the coast range, steep and rising to altitudes of 1.000 to 2,000 feet. A few large rivers, the Smith, Klamath, Mad, Eel, Russian and many sn aller streams cut through them to enter the sea, and along their courses in places are broad bottom lands and gentle slopes. West of the coast range the climate is even and moderate, with a temperature running from just below freez ing to eighty degrees. Snow lies on the tops of only the highest ridges. Thirty to sixty inches of rain falls in the autumn and winter; and during the summer sea fog bathes the coast. Hut east of the mountains, less than fifty miles from the sea, lie hot interior valleys, never visited by fog, parched and rainless in summer and wet only occasionally by the winter rains?conditions too unfavorable to permit the growth of redwood. It requires very little from the soil except that it be moist. It is so dependent on moisture of the air that this factor mainly or wholly determines its distribution and the eastern limits of the forests are determined by the distance inland to which sea fogs may drift. There are two types of the tree? that which grows on the hillsides, and the second, which grows on the fiats along the rivers and streams. The usual type Is that of the slope; that is the growth found on the steep sides of the coast ranges, and side by side with the redwood grow other trees, such as red fir, tanbark oak, white fir and madrone. As the slopes become moderate. the altitude lower, the soil deeper, the forest becomes denser, until on the rich flats and in the gulches the second type is developed. On the best redwood fiats no other tree grows. On the slopes 225 feet is about the maximum length and ten feet its greatest diameter, wnne on me nais, under better conditions, the tree grows to be 350 feet high with a diameter of thirty feet, and occasionally giants exceed this. Most of the redwoods are from 400 to 800 years old. The oldest tree scientifically measured was 1,400 years. After the tree has passed 500 years it usually begins to die down from the top. It has a straight, slightly taper.-d trunk without limbs for more tnan one hundred feet and a crown of horizontal branches that may occupy a third to a half of its length. The roots strike downward at a sharp angle and are so large and so numerous that they form a compact mass. The bark is of a reddish gray color, fibrous in texture, gives to the full gtown tree a fluted appearance and ofTeis such a remarkable resistance to fire that except under great heat it is not combustible. I Insects CIO ll nine Ilium, uic hiiiu vo... scarcely uproot it and fungi seldom affect it.?Humboldt Standard. PERSIA'S RAGGED SOLDIERY. Queer Makeup of the 8hah's "Standing" Army. The Persian soldier, In torn clothing and barefoot, Is more like a beggar than a warrior. For all this he killed the recent counter revolution when he refused to fire upon the parliament. As to the size of Persia's fighting hosts, It is difficult to arrive at accuracy; "officially" the Persian army numbers 105,500 men, but the actual "standing army," says the London Globe, consists of only 24,500 men, who are quartered In the larger towns and on the frontiers. The Infantry numbers seventyeight to eighty battalions, each of 800 ?j j,uuu mrii, uui ine iuii nireiiBin is never maintained, for only half the battalion is called up, and then in a reduced number. The men called up often receive no pay for six months, and thus in eve>ry town the soldiers are forced to work at a trade or to become beggars. There are no proper barracks in most of the towns and the men live with their families in private houses. There is no systematic drilling, and there is no practical instruction in rifle firing; in fact, many men cannot handle a rifle at all. The rifles used mainly are the Werndt gun, which was rejected by Austria in the '80s and sold to Persia; but there are also Peabody and Martini rifles. However, the men serving use nearly always guns with percussion caps and ramrods. The ages of the soldiers vary very much; there are undeveloped boys and toothless men of 60 years for the unfit are not weeded out at the right time. The lists of men liable to serve are badly kept, so that on a levy it is found that some of the men called up, have been dead for several years. The army Is a source of revenue to the governors of the provinces. On his appointment a governor announces that he wishes to get rid of the older men and to have a younger type of soldier. The local people know what that means; a deputation waits upon the energetic new governor, he is asked to name a sum which shall induce him to let things go on as before. He does so, and everybody is content. More than twenty regiments are recruited from the Azerbijan province In Northern Persia, while forty regiments come from the Aratschk-EAnjim province: the rest are recruited in the Khorassan and Kernshan. The "blood tax" paid for evading military service varies: in some provinces it is as much as ?16 per man, in others it is only about ?4. The town populations, certain khans and the leasers of crown domains are free from service, as are also the Jews, the Armenians and the "Fire Worshippers," but the last named are made by the governors of Kershan to contribute the maintenance of twenty foot soldiers. A few provinces, like Yedz and Kashan, furnish no men as soldiers, as the people of those regions are distinguished by extraordinary cowardice. The artillery branch is similar to the Infantry, but the men are much better trained and clothed, while they receive their pay more regularly. Although this force, on paper consists of 6,000 men, yet only 2,000 men are on service, and they are In batallions, each of from 200 to 250 men. The men, horses and guns are all managed by independent officials; thus the horses are in the care of a general who keeps them not near the guns in the arsenal, but In some place where the forage is cheap. The horses are not trained to gun firing. The projectiles are kept in the arsenals and generally they are not charged. The powder is made in private powder mills, and is of very poor quality. There are about fifty guns of the Uchapius type, and also nearly one thousand obsolete guns, of which scarcely a hundred can be used. The infantry possesses no properly organized system of transport. In case of need the people are "commandeered," especially the village folk when they bring their garden stuff and products into the towns.' Thus when the word goes round the countryside that a regiment has to be moved from a town, then the villagers stay at home until the soldiers have been moved. Even the animals conveying caravans of goods are seized, and the owners of beasts of burden will refuse to convey goods for the time, as they dread losing their beasts. Every soldier receives a donkey, while camels are used for carrying the provisions. If a soldier has an ass of excellent quality allotted to him he often runs away with the animal at the last stopnlnor nlflPP F?"0 K?vw. The command of a battalion is sold and sometimes for as much as ?2,200 or $?3,200. Everybody wishes to become an officer, as an officer's pay is continued to his family after his death, thus there are many detachments of ninety men with twelve officers. Persia's cavalry is regular and irregular. The former comprises the Ispahan cavalry regiment of 500 men, trained by German Instructors, and the Teheran Cossack brigade, trained by Russian instructors. This is equipped with the Russian cavalry type of the Berdan rifle. To the Teheran Cossack brigade belongs a|so the division of artillery, with eight field guns of Russian make. This brigade is well trained. There are also in Teheran more than 1,000 "Gulyami," or horsemen, who are the shah's permanent Doayguaru. Sometimes they are quartered in the provinces. The mounted militia is supplied by the Khans of the various provinces, but it has no special organization. Its equipment Is varied, although it can be equipped for war with the Werndt gun, which is stored in the arsenals. According to the lists the mounted militia numbers about 25,000 men, but not all of them are called up. Some of these irregular cavalry belong to very brave races, especially to tribes in northeast Persia, but as they have nothing at all in common with the Persians and are often at enmity with them the Persian authorities cannot rely upon them. In northeast Persia the tribes incline toward the Afghans and in norinwesi i-ersia iuward the Turks. Persia's best irregular cavalry is formed from the nomad tribes of the central region, for they can furnish nearly 100,000 well armed horsemen. However, they can be Induced to take the field only when their own interests are involved. At other times they prefer to attack the peaceful caravans.