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I { . issxygp great t-weehi^ l. m oeist's sons. Publishers. % Ifamilg Beirspaper: Jor the promotion of the political, Social. Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the jjjeopte. {TKIt^i'^'corr.nt5 established 1855. YOHKV11.Llv S. C., TUESDAY, OCTOBER (i,19Q8. MO. 80. SERVING BY SARAH BRL (Continued from last Issue). He came back to the doctor in the evening, full of amazement at what he had beheld. "I saw," he said, "nothing of the former rotten rookery. I could not believe at first that I was in the same place. I walked through a quiet street, clean and orderly. Mothers were nursing their children on the doorsteps; there were flowers in the windows, and more than one bird trilling as I passed by. There is not a pothouse or tavern in one of the rows. It seems to have become the abode of genteel workmen, - - * ? t ...U i-sv ana peace ana comion reign n iracum and disease, drunkenness and crime, once festered and reveled unmolested. It is a remarkable change and i great improvement." Then Dr. Girtney flamed out on him. "All that was Anthon's work. That is what he has done with the check you sent him. Such as that is what he does with every check that comes to him. If he saves the lives of the rich, it is only to be a salvation to the poor! This is why, miser-like, he is glad of money! With all your millions, have you ever made a waste place like that sing with joy?" Croesus quailed a little; but he was a manly man, too, and his spirit was roused up within him. He sat down at the doctor's table and wrote a few words on a scrap of paper. "There," he said, handing it over, "make him glad once more with that for his poor. He that could make Besmer Street blossom like a rose must not go into such slums empty-handed." j And Dr. Girtney looked at the generous order on a bank, and shook hands with Croesus and told him he was "all right," and Croesus felt very much like a happy schoolboy who has been commended by his master. But Dr. Anthon went upon the usual tenor of his way, working just as hard as if the world outside of the destitute and debased had never heard of him. The civil war came and he burned with the ardor of patriotism; there were times when his hands ached for a sword, and a martial inheritance in his southern blood made his veins tingle with a very passion of military desire. I But the war passed, and he was still at his post In the city's haunts of miseryHe. too, had fought his battles, but they were unseen of men. He was growing to be an old man, older in his looks than Dr. Glrtney, who was considerably his senior; his hair was quite gray and his face furrowed. Even the mother who bore him, if she had lived through his youth and had not seen him since, would scarcely have recognized that mysterious something which we call Identity, though there was something of early grace left in his spare figure, and no man ever looked In his eyes without trusting him, and no woman without yearning. Patience, which is "the soul of peace," and an exquisite sympathy, shone in his seamed countenance, which a vivid intelligence made luminous, amid its never changing sadness. The many sufferings he had witnessed, the inward strife he had undergone, the unceasing labor which he had never relaxed, had made their marks on him. Yet he was beautiful beyond expression to the sight of many, and if blessings had been lilies, the path beneath his feet would have been white as nevermelting snow. And through all these year3 of toil, of privation, of perpetual,'enforced selfabnegation, a woman's face forever haunted his dreams, and a woman's name was cherished like a sacrament in his heart. But he had never once heard of her?he had never dared to inquired. Between them forever lay his own terrible deed: neither could ever pass across the stark body, with the white face ever upturned to his own, that had been her brother. She might be dead?he did not know; but on earth or heaven, she was buried in the secret place of his life. So the years passed away. Then there came up from stricken cities in the south an awful cry for help. Fever, the most dreaded, the most fatal, devastated their populace and desolated their homes. Fear seized upon the multitude. Al! who could go, fled away from the virulence of the plague, leaving only the dying and the dead beneath deserted roofs. The very ties of consanguinity were ignored?fathers abandoned their wives and children, children left their parents to die unaided. In some places there was scarcely a house without its sick. The large cities became like solitudes, and the villages even as the wilderness. The heroes of humanity, the physicians, the nurses, the volunteer assistants, fell one by one beneath the prevailing scourge, or propped into their graves from exhaustion. Day after day all over the land flashed the frightful news; the commonest newspaper reports were pathetic with the tragedy of facts. Worse and worse grew the accounts, more and more harrowing the scanty details, till one morning this appealing telegram assailed the compassion of the north: "Send us physicians?if only one? ours are all dead." Dr. CJirtney had the paper before him when Anthon walked into his office. "You have seen it?" the latter said pointing to the dispatch. "Yes.' said uinney; out \mu can go? It Is certain death to an unacclimated man. There would be but short use and shrift for any among us." "I am going." Anthon simply answered. "Anthon," somewhat severely replied the other, "there is such a thing ir this world as being Quixotic. Let m< say plainly that such as you are toe indispensable to be lost. It will be throwing away your life." "Not necessarily." replied his friend "I face death every day?sometimes ir even worse forms. And the need is too sore to consider that." Dr. GIrtney sat thinking a momen before he replied. "Very well, then." he said, at last "When are you going?" I [ HIS TIME OCES STEBB/NS. "Tonight. I have been foreseeing this, and been attending to everything here in order to be ready at once." "I will come and see you off." "Thank you; but, friend, you will not speak of it to any one else-1?let me slip away quietly." That evening, when Dr. Anthon met Dr. Girtney at the train, he noticed that the latter had also a traveling bag, and when the time came to start, he was astonished to find him taking a seat beside him in the car. "Girtney, where are you going?" ho asked. "With you," was the reply. Anthon faced quickly round, and re - * J V- I A I peaieu wnai imu ut*cn ?tiu iu unuscu that morning. "Why should you go? You know it is likely to be certain death." "Not necessarily so for me more than for you." coolly answered his companion. "For me?ah, Girtney, you know it is no matter for me?it is my mission." "Well," responded Girtney, "I am not going as an apostle. I am going to study the disease," and he settled himself comfortably in his seat as the whistle sounded; but Anthon caught hold of him. "See here, Girtney, it is not too late to give it up. Don't run the risk. Why ?oh, why should you go?" And Girtney took his friend's hand, and said, solemnly and resolutely, but tenderly as a woman: "I am going, Anthon, to be with you in life or death." And that moment repaid the other for all the loneliness of the past. Still the danger pressed upon him strongly, as. in a broken voice, he replied: "My friend, my friend, I cannot accept this sacrifice of life!" And as the train started the professor pointed to his white hair, and answered, smiling: "You must admit that it will not be much of a sacrifice." As they neared the stricken city to which they were bound, they beheld, extending for miles, camps of the refugees who had no means to flee further, and who were dwelling precariously in tents or collections, of hastily erected huts, and as they drew closer the peculiar stench of the disease which pervaded the air was heavy and sickening. Upon the silent streets of deserted houses they met only carts carrying: the dead, bands of marauding: negroes braving the fever in search of plunder, or. solitary and solemn, an Intrepid Catholic priest passing from one deathbed to another, ministering the offices of his religion. From many windows hung black or red cloths as signals and cautions of the pestilence within: while here and there were scattered the charred remains of the fires lighted at night to indicate by their lurid smoke those habitations where death had entered, and which served at once as weird warnings to the living and as calls to those whose office it was to bury the dead. The two doctors had but little difficulty in entering upon their melancholy task, for though all unacclimated services had hitherto been rejected, the need had become too sore for the refusal of any willing assistance, and the reputations of these gentlemen were too celebrated not to be welcome passports. MaL- nnoonoclnn nf nn nf x lie) iwn JUUIv. pvokjvooivit v4, M?* w* fice whose former possessor had fallen a martyr to the same cause, and were almost Immediately besieged by crowds imploring their assistance; and, though they went out each day with a long list of visits prepared which would fill every moment of systemized time, yet their hearts were constantly wrung by being obliged to refuse appeals which beset them at every step of their labor. A day or two after his arrival, Anthon made the strange discovery that Constance Paget and her father were dwellers in the same city, and a little inquiry elicited the information that, after the death of the son, they had removed thither: and. both having had ,the fever years before, were among the very few who had remained to participate in good works, the father being an active member of the Howard association. Only the long: and severe apprenticeship to sternest duty, through which he had come to conquer the impulses of selfhood, prevented him from the charge he had undertaken, and flying from possible chances of meeting: for though he had learned of their presence?of their fearless and constant devotion to the smitten?there were some things he could not know as he carried amid his dreadful labor an al' most heart-rending shrinking from any contact with those two. He could not know that the many bygone years had dimmed the memory of this dead son i and brother, as inexorable Time always does dull the recollection of and grief for the nearest and dearest; that, after the first ireful and vengeful feelings had passed, his father, who was a man of much sense and a strong spirit of justice, had reflected that there must have been provocation to his i doom: that, even in the midst of the greatest sorrow, parent ana (ihukhici had been aware, without a word spoken between them on the subject, that ! her heart had been bestowed on him whose hand was stained with this kindred blood, and could never be given to another. This tragedy in their lives had drawn them very close to each other; but I while the father had almost ceased to ! dwell upon it in his thoughts, the } daughter, after experiencing every* gra> dation of mental suffering, had yet ? never ceased to cherish the image and remembrance of her first and only love. He could not know all this; so his , heart was heavy with his own private ? cares as well as with the general distress: but his physician's instinct kept t hitn steadfast and wise in the duty he had set before him. Very soon after he had heard these tidings, there entered into a sick-room | where he was engaged an old man, tall portly, upright, with white hair and a countenance beaming with goodness and benevolence. For one instant the blood seemed to sttfnd still in his veins as he immediately recognized Mr. Paget; but in the other's face and bearing there was no corresponding reminiscence. The alteration was coo great from the happy, high-hearted young man who had been Charlie Paget's companion. Mechanically he returned the first civil greeting, "but when, with the cordial salutation, "Dr. Anthon, I presume; I am pleased to meet you, sir," a friendly hand was outstretched, Dr. Anthon was too busy with his patient to see it, and the old gentleman too respectful of his absorption in an urgent case to resent an apparently involuntary discourtesy. Anthon's experienced habit of making his emotions subordinate in his services to suffering stood him in good stead now; there was no sign about him of his own pain; and John Faget stood by, watching and weighing him, with an admiration for his rare knowledge and tenderness that moistened his eyes and swelled his heart within him. He came out of his house and walked a short distance with him, talking of the sad condition of things, and left him, convinced that, with great merit in his profession, Dr. Anthon was the most modest and reticent person he had ever come across. But Dr. Anthon walking slowly on with downcast head, was suddenly accosted by Dr. Girtney, as he was going his round of visits, who was instantly struck by the pallor and anguish of his friend's face. "What is it, Anthon?" he immediately asked. "Oh, Girtney, Girtney!" and the answer came from him like an agonized cry, "they are here?the Pagets?I have just met him. I cannot bear it?what shall I do?" Girtney intuitively surmised the struggle that was raging in the troubled soul, and comprehended the falntness and weakness caused by this unexpected crisis. He loved his friend as Jonathan loved David, and felt as if he could lay down his life then and there to spare him from this new torture, which he saw had seized and shaken him out of his usual self-control; but, though he was indeed his true friend and brother, he was, above all, a physician, and he administered a tonic. "Anthon," he said, gravely, and almost severely, "you came here to give your life to a grave duty; you are but one man pierced with> your personal pain. Think of the many who cannot be saved from bodily suffering, the many to whom death will bring sorrow sharp as your own, if you should now forsake the field. God made you a brave and noble man to bear whatsoever He appoints! Stand to your post! Do your work, though you bleed at every pore! You are in God's hands. Trust His ways and purposes, though your heart-strings crack at His dealings with you. You are wanted in this place. You have no right to be anything here except the wonderful doctor that you are." His last words rang out like a trumpet on the silent and deserted streets. Anthon lifted his head; the old sad strength came back into his face, but there was an expression in his eyes as he looked up that made the other long to fold him in his arms when he said; "You are right, Girtney; no coward should call you friend. I will fight it through." That evening Dr. Girtney saw no patients; the sick he was attending looked for him in vain, and the dying died without him. Shortly after dusk he went thoughtfully toward Constance Paget's home, and found father and daughter there, resting from the charitable labors of the day. He introduced himself with a plausible excuse for calling, and his welcome was genial from both. Naturally the conversation fell upon the one prevailing topic of the epidemic, which Inevitably brought Anthon's name into prominence. Then Dr. Girtney with the eloquence of affliction, with the unrestrained estimation of character and genius, told his hearers of all the beauty of his friend's life? of his long, untiring, self-sacrificing devotion to the poor, the downtrodden the fallen, the stricken; of the sweetness and purity of his nature; of his great gifts and culture in his profession; of his persistent refusal of and shrinking from all honors and fame? till his listeners glowed with him at the story, shared his enthusiasm, warmed with reverence and love also for this stranger in their midst, whose life seemed to them like a holy hymn inspired by the Father in heaven. Tears rolled more than once from Constance's eyes; her parted lips and interested manner betrayed her sympathy with the heroism, the unselfishness, the earnestness, indicated in the stirring tale; but when Dr. Girtney, cautiously, gently, let fall the merest hint as of an uncertain suspicion of his own?that this career of abnegation, of chivalrous labor, of generous wisdom, was a possible expiation of some repented crime or error of youth ?a vague and scarcely definable trouble trembled in her heart, though it did not seem to affect her less susceptible father. Nevertheless, Dr. Girtney had accomplished this piece of work well, as he generally did all things; happen what might, these two could never again knowingly look upon Arthur Fletcher save with eyes made clement by tenderness for Dr. Anthon. A few days after, Constance had occasion to secure Dr. Anthon's services for one she knew, and went to his of fice at the time, always very limited, appointed for such calls. She found it thronged with anxious applicants, and, coming in almost the last, took her station in the background, awaiting her turn. Dr. Anthon, standing up, took down in a note book names and addresses as fast as he could write, asking few questions, almost divining the exigency of cases by the countenances that appealed to him for them. At the first tone of his voice Constance shivered, and drew back intc the shadow of others. She felt as il something terrible had befallen her, and leaned against the wall for support. She looked at that gray head, that deeply furrowed face, that sorrowful mouth, those pathetic eyes, and a yearning too deep for words, a tide ol passionate lovingness, swept over hei like a flood. He was changed beyond recognition , by others, but she knew him througt i It all. She forgot her errand, she fori got her dead brother, she forgot the long and weary years. She had met i him again, and he had suffered greatly?that was all of which she was conI sclous. i Rapidly, one by one, the Intervening crowd dispersed, and Anthon stood, just a second or two, waiting for this one woman, left thus alone, to come forward to him. As she did so, slowly, tremulously, he caught at the back of a chair between them, as if to steady himself, and across It they two, separated so long and by such a cause, once more looked into each other's face. Ah! he knew her also," though her hair, too, had lost Its early hue, though mere were lines upon ner diow, iuuu&u her once bright countenance wore also a settled sadness. For the space of about a minute It was the meeting and mingling of two souls, then it suddenly seemed to him as if there had been thrust betwixt them a stark body, with a bleeding wound and white, upturned face, and with a groan of anguish he turned swiftly away from her. Another half moment of silence passed, then she crossed over to him and stood at his side. "Arthur," she said, very softly, "let the dead past bury Its dead. I have forgiven." He sunk upon his knees at her feet he covered his eyes with his hand, and then burst from his overcharged breast only the most terrible sobs. 3he laid her hand upon his head, and he could not see, in the emotion that wla almost strangling him, that she was white as death, and that her light form swayed as she stood. Girtney just then entered, took In the situation at a glance, madt a rush forward and caught her as she fainted. Anthon sprang up, cast one glance upon her, and then, gasping loarsely out. "Take care of her, Girtne/'!" fled out from the room into the rtreet. Where he went, how long or tow far he wandered, he never knev. His mind was all chaos. One thlrg only was clear before him?the woman's fnce that had been before him all his life?the woman's face, but so clanged, so saddened, so pitiful, so tende\ that the sight of it, the thought of it drove him on and on, unconscious of all things physical. Gradually he became aware tiat he nad ceased moving, that someoie had hold of him, weeping bitterly, sailing to him by everything sacred to come to one beloved, one who could not wait, who was dying for want of aid?a woman whom he had never seen, whc had followed him, clutched at him and Implored his help. He listened, scarcely understanding at first, and followed passively, reeognlzlng the cry for assistance, dimly remembering his mission, and in a kind of dull way doggedly recalling Girtney's words that he must "stand tc his post." He had been before tils, as far as conditions would allow, calm, calculating. reasonable In the exercise of his profession. Now he seemed to be seized with a sublime passion of healing. No more sleep, no more husbanding of strength, no more pauses of reflection over symptoms or treatment; he became like one Inspired; all the garnered knowledge of hts life seemed to burn Into the focus of amazing lntiitlons; his body appeared to be only he willing instrument of his ardent brdn. It was the gigantic flght of one ran with the awful, omniscient Spirit of the Pestilence. Men who watched ilm came to regard him almost as a dmlgod; even Dr. Glrtney was struck Mth wonder, with awe, and where heliad once been master, became even s an humble pupil to acknowledged nperlority. "Good heavens, how great h<is!" ~ V?AiicrKf o a Vl, fplt Wits lil? uuiisiaiu iiiuuQitk, uo Mlike a little child before this deelopment of wisdom and power. But Anthon heeded naught of this; he was battling with death as Iccely, as keenly, as though It were a iving and tangible thing. The contes was magnificent. It was a conflict <f Titans. i But in the very midst, as Johi Paget came out of his house one monhg, he I beheld a solitary figure slowly vending; up the quiet street, stopping short now . and again to lean against a step or a wall, a figure bent, listless, leaning forward, feeling the way as one nearly; blind. He had seen such things often; lately, cases of sudden fever, for somei had even laid down and died upon thel wayside; but that this man should bei stricken at last, this o$e should suffer! who had saved so many?ah! his whole! soul went but to him. t He walked directly over to him, puti his arm round him, and lifted, rather than led, him into his own house and his own chamber. Anthon was unconscious almost before he was placed up-i on a couch. Paget called his daughter, who, woman-like, had hid from him her recen'i discovery and bore her new experience alone, and went Immediately in searclr of Dr. Girtney. They came in togeth e er, at last, to find him still in this feara ful swoon, and Constance ministering to him with trembling hands. a Girtney soon saw it was not feveia Anthon was dying of exhaustion anic fatigue. As soon as he had recovered him sufficiently to leave him a littlj while, he took Mr. Paget into anothea chamber, and then and there told hir the whole truth. t A sudden sternness suddenly diat persed the old gentleman's former so^ iicitude, and in the moment's sllencs which followed, Girtney Inwardly cursn ed himself for the betrayal of h'jj friend. Then, with streaming eye0 Paget answered: b "Sir. I am a God-fearing man. v have tried all my life to keep the go c den rule. Such an expiation as this d<h serves reverence and pardon. Sir, have lived too long for so mean p thing as revenge, and your friend is p great soul!" tl When they re-entered the roojt where he lay, Anthon was all himse'a knew them, knew where he was. Coin stance was close to him, her hand upcti ? his pillow, but he had not even toucl w ed it. ? I He raised himself slightly as th? ti approached, and in a clear voice spolti : out: 1i I "Mr. Paget?it Is right you shout] l know?I am Arthur Fletcher." o T "I know it." replied Paget, "ai * there is not a man, sir, in the wor that I honor as I do you. I forgi b i you and I love you, sir." tl i Then over the pallid face suddenlj broke the glory of a heavenly beauty. "Thank you," was all he said, Ir broken tones. He took Constance's hand, and drew her gently to him. "My love! my love!" he murmured "Kiss me once. I have loved you all my life." But as her tears fell on his brow, as her lips touched his, the Joy was too great. He had borne unflinchingly sorrow, labor and suffering; he had no strength for happiness: he fell again into another swoon that was the very image of death. As Dr. Girtney strove with this last attack, he himself felt a chill run over him, then a sharp and burning pain in his head, and all his senses were momentarily confused. "Ah, ah!" he thought, "I shall not be long after him. The plague has got me." But he was a hero, too, and made no sign. When Anthon again recovered speech, he looked over at a clock near by, and said: "Girtney, at twelve o'clock the twenIty years will be up. I have got my tlcket-of-leave." With a mist before his eyes and j parched lips, Dr. Girtney solemnly anI swered: "And God He knows that Arthur Fletcher served his time!" And then, with the woman's face before him that had been before him always, with the arms around him of the woman he loved forever, with Charles Paget's father clasping his hand, and the friend beside him, who had come thither to be with him indeed, in death as in life, when the hour struck, Dr. Anthon died. THE END. GOVERNMENT FOREST STATIONS. Models of Timber Growing Areas Will Be Established. Forest experiment stations will soon be established in a number of national forest states of the west, according to plans which have just been completed by the United States forest service, says a Washington letter. These new stations are expected to do the same for the development of American forests as agricultural experiment stations have done Tor the improvement 01 tne country's farms. As a first step In this work an experiment station has already been established on the Cocomlno national forest in the southwest, with headquarters at Flagstaff, Arizona. Stations in other national forests will be established later, and it Is the intention ultimately to have at least one experiment station In each of the sllvlcultural regions ol the west. One of the most Important parts of the work of the new experiment stations will be the maintenance of model forests typical of the region. These areas will furnish the most valuable and Instructive object lessons for the nuhUo i? eeneral, for professional foresters, lumbermen ana owners or rarest lane and especially to the technical and administrative officers of the national forests. In the recently established station on the Cocomlno national forest one of the first problems to be taken up will be the study of the reproduction of western yellow pine and the causes of its success and failure. A solution of this problem of how to obtain satisfactory reproduction of the yellow pine Is of the greatest practical Importance to the southwest since the yellow pine, which ife by far the most valuable tree there Is, In many cases not forming a satisfactory second growth. The study will be carried on largely by means of sample plots, which will be laid out for future observation to determine the effects of grazing, of the different methods of cutting and disposing of the brush, and of other factors on the success of reproduction. Other studies which will be taken up soon are a study of the light requlrer ments of different species at different altitudes and the construction of a scale of tolerance which will be based on the actual measurements of the light intensity, and not only, as has hitherto b^en the case, on general observations alone; the takin of meteorloglcal observations to determine the effect of < the forest upon temperature, humidity, melting of snow, wind velocity, etc.; i a study of the relative value of the ' terminating power of seeds from trees 1 :if different sizes, ages and degrees of < lealth; and similar studies of value to i :he region. A complete collection of I he flora of the forest will be made to j form a herbarium, which will be kept < >n the forest and will be available for < eference at any time. I i ANTIQUITY OF CONCRETE. < Jse of This Common Material Dates 1 Back Many Centuries. s "Another wise man has Just made the emarkable discovery that concrete is 1 inly In Its swaddling clothes," a cement \ nanufacturer remarked to an electrical i mgineer, apropos of a quasi-scientific i iiticle in a popular magazine on vari- ? us phases of this material. "The same r LStounding discovery used to be made 1 ibout electricity," returned the electri- c ian, "until the novelty wore off, and a he public refused to be astounded any r onger. Then your line was hit upon 1 ,s a more fallow field." v The cement man's sarcasm will be s tetter appreciated when the fact is r akon into consideration that concrete t lates back more than a thousand years, ays Van Norden Magazine. The Ro- a sans employed concrete In road build- c sg and foundation work. Through- b ut Italy will be found structures, em- o odying the use of concrete, whose age h rill easily reach a thousand years. Of t ourse, the Pantheon at Rome is, per t< aps, the most noted. o Coming down from the time of the c tomans, the ancient city of Ciudad f todrigo, in Spain, has walls existing at 1 he present day in which are buried irge boulders of stone. These walls tl re in a good state of preservation at tl he present time; in fact, so much so, a hat they still bear the prints of the e ooden forms or molds which held the li oncrete in its semi-liquid state at the f< tine it was put in. The modern prac- a ce of putting large masses of stone r i concrete masonry follows exactly il 1e scheme used in building the walls e f Ciudad Rodrigo. e ? d tif Manchuria's coinage system is to ti c revised, with the silver dollar as a le standard. ii WHAT ADMIRAL SPERRY Manila, October 5.?The Atlantic hurricane, which swept Manila bay tc ashore. Typhoon signals were displaye broke over the bay suddenly and unex hoist the cutters and launches belongli smashing them against the steel sides were sent scurrying inside the breakw mained all night. The storm quickly 1 rains shut in the ships. At 8 o'clock Sunday night the sto gradually tapered down until at mid though heavy seas swung across the h During the storm all the battlesh gency. Rear Admiral Sperry finally oi Kansas, Minnesota, Vermont, Virginia f close to the breakwater and Admiral S The six vessels steamed down close to < At times the wind blew at the rati cation with shore was cut off. It wa storm to see the warships through the was dangerous to go about. Several c trees were blown down, electric wires iirtrAA^o/l Ulll UUitU. JHisffUancous grading. TO MAKE THE FARM PROFITABLE. President W. W. Finley Urges the Importance of Good Roads. lCdltnr nf_ The Yorkville Enauirer. In their replies to my letter of July 31st, 1908, on the subject of diversification of southern agriculture and Industries, some of the editors to whom It was sent asked me to write to them from time to time on matters of interest to the people of our section. This has led me to take the liberty of addressing you on a topic of importance to all our people and especially to the farmers of the south. If the farm is to be profitable It must not merely produce abundant crops, but its products must be put where they can be sold. By whatever means of transportation they may ultimately be carried before they reach the final consumer, our farm products move primarily over the country highway, and the condition of the road leading from the farm to the shipping point or to a nearby consuming centre, such as a manufacturing town, affects materially the profits of the farmer and the value of his farm. The condition of the road controls the size of the load that can be hauled over it and the speed at which it can be carried. An improvement by which the farmer is enabled to carry, with the same vehicle and the same team, a load seventy-live to one hundred per cent heavier, will result in a substan- j tial saving in his time and in the wear , and tear of his vehicles and teams, j The construction of good roads lead Ing from a market town has practi- < eally the same effect as bringing the | farms nearer to the town. It extends s by several miles in every direction the i irea of territory in which farmers j ?an profitably engage in market gar- | iening and dairying. That this is ] :rue has been effectively demonstrated c n those localities in the southern i dates and in other sections of the r :ountry where road improvement has t jeen carried out intelligently and c >ystematically. 8 The cost to the farmer of hauling r lis products over poor roads is not al- 1 vays appreciated, for the reason that c t is rare that a farmer pays for hav- t ng his hauling done. The United t States department of agriculture has v nade an investigation of this matter, a lowever, and the results show the g ost for cotton, for Instance, to be an p iverage rate of twenty-seven cents >er ton a mile for an average haul of .1.8 miles. That road improvement vould materially reduce this cost is hown by the following striking statenent in the Year Book of the agriculural department for 1906. t "If It were possible to increase the t iverage weight of a wagon load of c otton in the United States from three a ales, as it now is, to four bales, with- c >ut increasing the cost of hauling the I oad, the saving on a crop equal to t he one picked in 1905 would amount ti o $2,000,000; and if the average load S f wheat, now 55 bushels, were in- n reased by 20 bushels, the saving ef- y eeted in hauling a crop like that of p 905 would be more than $8,000,000." fi In addition to what may be termed " he commercial aspect of good roads k hey have a highly important social c< spect as well. They bring the farm- ti r into closer touch with the world at u irge. He and his family are not h orced to remain at home for days at b time because the condition of the S oads may make traveling unpleasant n ' not difficult. Good roads Insure rr fficlent and prompt rural mail deiiv- tl ries, placing the newspaper on the u ay of its publication, enabling him to n< *ansact much of his business by mail "1 nd to take advantage of early ri iformation as to fluctuation in the Id" fm grit NV* J| WILL SEE IN MANILA. battleship fleet has safely outridden a >r twelve hours and did much damage id early Sunday morning, but the storm pectedly at noon. It was Impossible to ig to the fleet because of the danger of of the battleships and the little craft ater In the Paslg river, where they rencreased In Intensity and the torrential rm had reached its height and it then night it was comparatively calm, allarbor. Ips had steam up ready for an emerrdered the flagship Connecticut and the ind Ohio to get under way. They were iperry feared they might drag anchors, -avlte, where they anchored. s of 100 miles an hour. All cojnmunls impossible during the height of the : haze of" rain and spray. On shore it arrlages were overturned by the wind, were prostrated and several buildings prices of his farm products. Good roaas mean mat tne rarmer ana tne members of his family can enjoy to a greater degree the society of their neighbors and friends in the town and country. They mean that his children can be more regular in school attendance and can receive to a greater degree the advantages of education. They mean the bringing closer together of the town and country, with advantages on both sides, for as i the farmer is benefited by being i brought into closer touch with the town, so all the business interests of the town prosper as the result of the l facility with which the farmer and 1 his family can do their shopping. < Good roads also benefit the inhabi- 1 tants of cities and towns by affording i facilities for pleasant country drives. I They invite the business man to the 1 establishment of country and subur- i ban homes, such as he can enjoy only < when he is assured that the condition 1 of the roads will be such as to enable 1 him to reach his place of business i promptly in all kinds of weather. < I think it may truthfully be said that 1 there are few matters of such general 1 Importance to all the people of any t community as the provision of good i roads, and I believe, therefore, that all t of us who have the progress and pros- t perity of the south at heart should do t all In our power to aid in the creation j of a public opinion favorable to road a improvement. The system that should t be adopted in any locality is one on which it would not be proper for me t to tender advice, even if I were qual- t Ified to do so. It is necessarily a mat- c ter that can best be determined by the j people directly Interested and who are ( acquainted with the peculiar needs and 0 conditions in their neighborhoods. The t interest of this company in good roads t is a mearts of aiding in southern de- e /elopment was evidenced In a very t practical way when, a few years ago, f n co-operation with the National Good n [loads association and the department h if agriculture, it sent a special good g oads train over the system, carrying a oadbuilding machinery and expert n oadbullders, who built short stretches tj >f object lesson roads and delivered tddresses at central points where good oads conventions were held. The and and industrial department of this ompany is keeping in close touch with he good roads movement throughout he territory traversed by its lines and vill be glad, at all times, to co-operite with the people of any locality by riving information, or in any other * tracticable and reasonable way. W. W. Finley, w President Southern Railway. ,r Washington, Oct. 1st, 1908. m , c< Doubloons No More. ? , ? m nomance got someining or a seroacK he other day, when from the steps of sl he Royal Exchange of London the w ommon crier made proclamation that ^ fter August 1, the doubloon would fe ease to be legal tender In the West \\ ndies, including British Guiana. Now 30 he boy who finds a pirate's buried reasure will have to dispose of the th Ipanish gold at its bullion value. It tl< ray console him to know that for some ^ ears the doubloon has not been the pi recious thing it was. In 1730, and ec or a century after, it was worth J8, or more or less," but the current doub>on is worth only about $5. It has \\ eased to be coined in its native coun- ju ry, Spain, and now it will soon become ur npopular in the West Indies, where it j 4 as figured in a mixed circulation em- ru racing British, United States and th ru panish coins. In the interest of rolance, however, the name at least pa lust survive. It signifies nothing more th lan that the coin was double the vale of a pistole, but "doubloon" was f0 ever such a mouth-filling mockery as sp pieces of eight," which suggests great ches, but means only Spanish silver Hilars, pieces equivalent to eight reals, (ju TEXAS FEVER TICKS. False Reports Mislead Many 8eekera After Knowledge. Stock owners have recently reported the presence of Texas fever ticks on rabbits and dogs. Others claim to have seen them on persons, and a few state that they found these ticks In woods and fields where cattle have never grazed. These statements are false, although In the majority of cases, the persons making them were undoubtedly sincere. These reports have done some damage, and for this reason persons should not circulate these tales unless they first examine the ticks very carefully and prove beyond doubt that they are dealing with the true Texas fever tick. Many of these reports have been lnVMttenttfH hv CalfIIla/4 vataiHnorlona luhn report that they have found four distinct and separate species of ticks, (which might easily be taken for fever ticks) in the northern counties of this state. The fever tick is only found on cattle, and occasionally cn horses and mules. It never attaches itself to hogs, rabbits or man, therefore these animals need not be taken into consideration when forming plans for the eradication of this pest from pastures. Eight different species of ticks resembling the Texas fever tick have been found in the southern portion of the United States. Probably the most common tick in South Carolina is the "Lone Star Tick" so-called because of the white spot upon its back. This tick Is often found on dogs, horses, sheep, hogs, cattle and man. Even a casual examination will enable an unskilled person to recognize these ticks and distinguish them from the fever tick which has no star or spot on its back. Other common ticks are the castorbean and the dog or wood tick, which are found on cattle, goats, sheep, dogs, cats and horses. The last mentioned tick is very common, and a person's clothing is often covered with them after walking through woods and abandoned fields. Another common tick is the "ear tick", which is found in the ears of horses, mules, cattle and other animals. These ticks are all blood sucking parasites, but do not take any part in the transmission of Texas fever, (commonly called murrain, distemper, etc.) Reports similar to these just mentioned are confusing and discouraging to cattle owners who want to eradicate this dangerous parasite. In a few instances we have met farmers who have become discouraged and have given up in despair after flhdlng ticks on rab oiis, aogs ana omer animais. ?ever ticks are never found on theee animals. I would be glad to receive ticks resembling: the fever tick which are found on dogs, rabbits and other animals.?M. Ray Powers, State Veterinarian. NAVAL PR0QRE8S. What Grew From the Former Low Per Cent of Hits. "The result of this lack of practice showed at Santiago, where there was only about 2 per cent of hits made by the American fleet," says a writer En Van Oden Magazine. "The Spanish fleet was destroyed, but while America was cheering In Its millions Its navy Jefenders were soberly thinking of that rery small percentage of hits. As a result the navy went at target practice In a serious and thorough way. Then for the first time was introduced the b.actlce of firing at low ranges. The iiscovery was soon made that range Inders are of little use?the gun Itself lad to be depended upon to get the -ange. The next Important fact educed was that a variety of calibres brought much confusion, as In the fall of shots the markers were unable ;o distinguish one from the other. Here Vfls nnnthpr mottor of omatioa THa jigger the gun the flatter the trajectory ind with two or more calibres flringat he same time, it was found to be imjossible to distinguish between them, ind consequently impossible accurately o estimate the range. "Then it began to dawn on the navy hat the solution was a ship carrying tig guns only, and as a result the plans if the U. S. S. Feasible and the U. S. S. Possible were drawn by Lieutenant Commander Homer C. Poundstone, one >f the progressive young officers of he navy. These plans were submitted 0 the general board and were approvd by that body. Thus originated the ype that so many nations are now so everishly constructing. But it was ot until Great Britain had launched er Dreadnought and Japan's Aki had one overboard that this country set bout the building of the four Dreadoughts which are now under construcon." JOAN OF ARC'S PRI80N. oundation of Ancient Tower Dug Out In Convent Grounds at Rouen. The prison of Joan of Arc has Just een located near Rouen. The founatlons of the ancient tower in which was have been discovered and open1 up through some new construction ork undertaken by the government l the grounds of the Ursuline con?nt, from which the nuns have remtly been expelled. The workmen in digging for the bw foundations came upon a masve wall enclosing a circular space ith a diameter of about 36 feet, ''hen this was cleared of earth a well as found in the centre measuring 6 et across and about 30 feet in depth. rater rose in it clear and cold as ion as the earth had been cleared vay from the bottom. When the antiquarians got busy ley identified the wall as the foundaon of a building which was known ir ages as "The Maid's Tower." A jcument dating back to 1641 was roduced, which, taking it for grant1 that this tower had been the prisi of the Maid of Orleans 210 years eviously, gave a description and easurements of it, including the well, hlch unmistakably watch the ruins st exhumed. The structure appears to have stood ichanged from the death of Joan in 31 to 1590, when it was reduced to ilns in the course of a siege. In 1769 e city leased the site on which the in stood to Louis Mouchard. In 1780 he appears to have stopped tying the rent. The greater part of e ruin was cleared away about this ne, but as late as 1789 a visitor riting about the place mentions the undation of the tower as visible and eaks of the well. After that it was led in with earth and later the site came part of the nun's garden and e existence of the ruin and the tration attaching to it were forgotten.