Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, October 06, 1908, Image 1
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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.