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^ __ _ _ _ SSSTJ3EP SE3?X-WI5E?X.^^ ^ ^"~ ^ l. m. grist's sons, publisher, j 1 Jamil!) JBeurspajier: Jor the promotion of the political, Social. Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the people. jks?*g l*k'ooA.Viyk 14*V?VAM: K ESTAKMSIIEU 1855. YORK VILLUS. O., FRIDAY, DECEMBER 1 1,1908! 7 NO. 09. am ???1 r??^____^__TMMi^??-?^Mirr????^?? IW 1*1 in IW 111 II* WWWWIWIWtW ! By OPIJ Copyrighted 1896, by Wm. I By Permission of La m in m an mil hi hi *m > CHAPTER XL Cuinea and C'hyd, old Lini and his wife went to church the next day, i leaving Alf and me alone. Alf held himself in reasonable restraint until the old people were gone, and then he broke out so violently that I really feared for his reason. And it was mainly my fault, for I read him a passionate poem, the outcry of a maddened soul, and he swore that it had been written for him, that it was his, and i oj.iia-ht his sDint and fancied that he might have written it, for I beiieved I then, as I beiieve now, that great things do not come from a quiet heart, that quiet hearts may criticise, but that they do not create, that genius is a condition, an agony, a tortured John Bunyan. I went to the spring to get a bucket of fresh water, and when I returned Alf was nownere to be found. I went out and shouted his name, but no answer came back. I went out into the woods, walked up and down the road, but could see nothing of him. The V shadows fell short and the old people ' and Guinea and Chyd returned from church, and the noon tide meal was i spread, but Alf came not. But save K with me there was no anxiety, as he I was wont to poke about alone, they said. Evening, bed time came. Chyd went home, and I went up to my room. I heard the old man locking the smokehouse door?heard his wife singing a hymn, heard Guinea's faint foot-steps as she returned from the gate, whither she went to bid her lover good-night, and her little feet fell not upon the path, but upon my heart. I went to . bed. leaving the lamp burning low, and ? was almost asleep when I heard Alf 011 the stairs. He ran into the room with both hands pressed against his head. 1 sprang up. He ran to me and dropped upon his knees at the bed-side, drop* ped and clutched the covering and buried his face in it. I put my arm about him, knelt beside him, heard his smothered muttering, and put my face against his, 'Bill!' he gasped in a shivering whisper, "Bill, I have killed him!" nrwi " t r>ri*>d. snrineing .UCIUIUI uvu. V. , - K _ back. He reached round, as if to draw ^ nie down beside him. "Hush, don't let ^ them hear down stairs. Come here. W Bill." I I lifted him to his feet, turned him I round so that I cauld see his face. It was horror-stricken. "I have killed ^ I>aw i tuart." He stood with both hands on my shoulders looking into my eyes. "Wait a minute and I'll tell you. It wasn't altogether my fault. He ought be be dead. He tried to kill me. 1 left here without any thought of seeing him; didn't want to see him. I went away over yonder into the woods, w I heard you calling me. Later in the C day I came out near the wagon mak ?*All/\nro U'OrO er'S snop, ana seveitti raiuns sitting there, and I stopped to answer a question somebody asked me, and pretty soon here came Stuart. He grinned at me, but this didn't make me want to kill him. Do they hear me down stairs?' "Go on, for God's sake!" I urged. "Why did you kill him? Didn't you know?" "1 knew everything. Bill. But I didn't want to kill him. I turned away, and walked up the road, and he came along after me on his horse. And ; when we were some distance away he made a slighting remark about Millie. I wheeled around and he snatched out K a pistol and pointed it at me. I hadn't a thing, and there he was on a horse and with a pistol pointed at me. There was not a stone, nothing within reach 1 was cool. I had sense, and I told him that he might have his fun, but that I would see him again. And when he had cursed me and abused me as much as lie liked he rode away, leaving me standing there. I ran over to Farker's and told him that I wanted a pistol to shoot a dog with, and he gave it tr me. Then I went back to the road and f waited. He had gone over to the general's, I thought, and I know that he would come back that way. I would make him swallow his words?I knew that he didn't mean what he said about % Millie?knew that lie simply wanted I-, stir me up and have an excuse to kill me. So I waited in the road not fat from Doc Etheredge's, waited a long time and at last I heard some one coining on a horse. I didn't hide; 1 stood in the middle of the road. A man came up, but it wasn't him; it wan Etheredge. He spoke to me. asked me j good naturedly why I was standing there, and I told him that I was waiting for a dog that I wanted to kill. j He turned into his gate, a short dis/ tance off. and 1 stood there. After a V while 1 heard another horse, and 1 knew his gait?slnglefoot. It was Stuart. He was singing and he didn't ap^ pear to see me until he was almost on me. His horse shied. 'Who* is that?' he asked, and I told him. 'And you are going to take back what you said,' 1 remarked as quietly as I could, 'or I'm going to kill you light here.' He didn't say a word?he snatched at his pistol and then I fired, and he fell forward on his horse's neck. The horse jumped and I sprang forward and caught the fbody and eased it to the ground? stretched it in the road and left it But I went up to Etheredge's house and hallooed, and when he answered I told him that the dog had come and that his name was Dan Stuart, and that he would find him lying in the road. I heard him shout something, but I didn't wait for him to come out, but went into the woods and came on home. And now I've got to go." "Go where?" I asked, facing him r-Minri as he strove to turn from me. "To town to give myself up. Don't tell the old folks tonight. Tell them in the morning?tell them that they'll T find me in Jail." I strove to restrain him: I could scarcely believe what he had told me. I asked him if he had not been dreaming. He shook his h^ad, pulling awav * from me "If you are my friend. Bill. do as I tell you. It's all over with me iwwiwifwuwm wui in hi in m i E READ. H. Lee?All Rights Reserved. >ird & Lee, Publishers. j HI Ml ill HIMII now, and all 1 can do Is to answer to the law." He caught up his hat. "Teh them at morning; make it as soft as you can?tell them how I love that girl?tell them that I a.\i crazy. Don't nold me, Bill. I must go. God bless you." He pulled away from me and went down stairs so easily that he made scarcely a sound. I followed him, begged him to let me go with him, but, creeping back half way up the stairs, he said: "You can be of more service to me here. Tell them and tomorrow you can see me in jail. I don't want them to come and take me there. Do as I tell you, Bill. Don't let the folks see me in jail. Go on back." I went back to the room and sat there all night, and at morning I heard the old man unlock the smoke-house, heard his wife singing a hymn. I knew that they expected me at early breakfast, so that I could reach the school house in time, for my new session was to begin that morning. So the sun was not risen when I went down stairs. But nature held up a pink rose in the east, and the hilltops were glowing, while the valleys were yet dark. Guinea came out of the sitting room, and seeing me in the passage, walking as if I were afraid of disturbing some one, laughed at me. "Why, what makes you slip along that way? You act as if you were the first one up. Why, I have already gathered you some flowers to take to school. And you won't even thank me. Why, Mr. Hawes, what on earth is the matter?" I held up my hand. "There will be no school today," I said. "Don't say a word, please." "But what's the matter?" she asked, with a look of fright. "Come out here under the tree. Will you promise not to scream if I tell you | something?" j "But what can you tell me to make me scream? Oh " "I'm not going to speak of myself," ; I broke in, fearing that she might think that I was going to tell her of my love. 'Come out here, please." She followed me to the bench under the tree and she stood there nervously gazing at me as I sat down, waiting for me to speak and yet afraid to hear me. "What is it, please? But don't tell ne anything bad?I don't want to hear anything bad." "But you must hear this. Alf?Alf has had a quarrel with Dan Stuart. It was worse than a quarrel, and has " Killed him?" she said, gazing at me. 'Don't tell me anything." She sat down beside me and hid her face. "Alf has gone to town to give limself up, and we must tell your fathI >r and mother. It wasn't murder?it I was self-defense. You go and tell your mother, tell her as quietly as you 'an. I see your father out yonder. I will tell him. Tell her that they got 'nto a quarrel last night." She went away without looking back it me, without letting me see her face ind as I passed the corner of the house I heard her talking and before I reached the old man I heard a cry from that poor old woman. Old Lim was at the door of his "stockade," oiling the lock. "Devilish thing don't work well," he said. "A >ai4jck is generally the best lock or the worst; you never can tell which. *f I could jest git a drap of the grease into the key-hole I'd soon fix it. But t won't go in, you see. By jings, the ievil has his own way about half the time, and his influence is mighty powerful the other half. Now, we're gittin' it it. I reckon we'd better go on to breakfast though. I almost forgot that vou had to go to your school. Why. man, what the deuce is the matter with . ou this mornln'?" He dropped the chain to which the 'ock was fastened and looked steadily at me, "What's gone wrong, man?" "I'm not going to school today," I answered, endeavoring to be calm. "What's the matter? House burnt lown again?" "Worse than that, Mr. Jucklin. \lf " "What about him?" he broke in. nervously grabbing the chain. "Did you know that he was in love with Millie Lundsford?" I asked, now determined to be calm. "Well, what of it? Young folks are n and out of love with each other nighty nigh every day in this neighborhood. Is that Susan callin' me? 3e there in a minute!" he shouted. Hasn't had a row with the old general, ias he?" "No, but with Dan Stuart. They luarreled last night and fought and Dan was killed." His shoulders drooped; he spoke not. but he jerked the chain, the gate flew pen and he stepped inside and shut t with a slam; and I heard him funibing with tlie fastening that held the door of the coop. I strode away as fast is I could, went to the school house :o dismiss the children and to tell them hat I knew hot when the session would j?- resumed. And when I returned everything was quiet. The old man was dowly walking up and down the spring house path, evidently waiting for me. "Tell me all about it." he said, when f i.'inw. in,- "j.*11 mr. fpnm the hoi'lnnln'I to end." And I told hiin just as Alf had told ne. He listened with his mouth half open, rolling up his shirt-sleeves and then rolling them down again, as if ho knew not what to do with himself. "Well," he said, when I was done, I don't know that I can blame him, poor feller, but they'll hang him." "Do you think so?" I cried, with a start, for I had not dwelt upon that possibility; it had not occurred to me. ?o wrapt had I been in thinking of his ?wn mental distress and the heartbreaking grief of his mother. "Do ou really think so?" "I know it?j'lvt as clear to me as that sunshine. Stuart's kin folks have got money and they'll spend every ct-nt of it to put Alf on the gallows. Etheredge don't like Alf and J will spend every cent he's got; and here we are without money. Yes, they'll hang him." "But General Lundsford?won't he he stand as Alf's friend?" The old man shook his head. "He can't, and I don t know that he would if he could. I mean that he can't and still be true to himself. Ever since our agreement, the one I told you about, he has been putty open in talkin' to me, and I know that he wanted Millie to marry Stuart. No, he's too proud to neip us." "But can he for family reasons afford not to help us? His son " "Don't speak of that now, if you please, sir. Are you goin' to the house?" "I don't know. I am almost afraid to meet his mother." "Don't be afraid of that. She won't reproach you; she knows that you had nothing to do with it?knows that he never would have killed him if he had asked your advice and followed it." "I don't mean that?I mean that I cannot bear to look upon her grief." "She is a Christian, sir. She is praying to her God, and whatever comes she will trust in Him. The stock that she is from has stood at the stake, sir." We were slowly walking toward the house. Suddenly he clutched my arm with a grip that reminded me of Alf, and in a voice betraying more emotion than I had known him to show, asked whether I intended to leave him. I put my arm about him and pressed him to me, just as if he were Alf telling me of the love-trouble that lay upon his heart. "I understand you, God bless you," he said. "Don't say a word; I understand you. Git on the mare and go to town and find out all you can. I won't ;o jest now?can't stand to see my son in Jail. But don't say a word, for 1 understand you. I reckon the neighborhood is pretty well alive over it by this time. See if they'll let him go about on bail, but I don't reckon they will, even if he did give himself up. They'll think that he dene it because lie must have knowed that they were bound to catch him. Go on and do whatever your jedgment tells you, and 1 know it will be all right." Over the road I went, toward Purdy, and the people who had come out of their houses to speak words of encouragement to Alf and me when we were on our way to see the Aimes boys tried, now stood about their doors, gazing stupidly. At the wagon maker's shop a crowd was gathered, and I was recognized as I drew near by young men who had met me at the general's house the night before?now so long ago. it seemed?and they came out into the road and urged mfe to tell them all I knew. I felt that Etheredge had already stirred in his own coloring, but I told the story of the tragedy just as I had told it to the old man; and I had gathered rein to resume my journey when a man rode up. "I'm going back n'ox'ino hlchfinri w Willi. K1I.IU1VU, "IV...O to a man who stood In the door of the wagon maker's shop. I rode on and he came up beside me. "Are you Mr. Hawes?" he asked, and when I had answered him he said: "I am Dr. Etheredge." I bowed and be nodded with distinct coolness. He was not of happy appearance; he was lean and angular, gray beyond the demand of his years, and it struck me that he must be given to drink, not because he was gray, but because there were puffs under his eyes and broken veins where his skin was stretched over his high cheekbones.. "A devil of an affair, this," he said. "Man met in the public highway and murdered." "Don't put it that way," I spoke up, "for perhaps you are not yet acquainted with the causes that led to it." "No cause, sir, should lead to murder." "I agree with you there, but many a man has been compelled to kill in order to save his own life." He sneered at me. "But has many a man been compelled to stand for hours in a public road, and in order to save his own life shoot down an innocent person? I always held that Alf Jucklin was a dangerous and a desperate man, and everybody knows that he comes of that breed. I never did like him; and he took a dislike to me without cause. Stood near a church in a crowd of men one day when I seemed to be under discussion and declared that a man to be a doctor ought to be smart and to be smart a man must say something to prove the thought within him; and then he asked if any one had ever heard me say anything worth remembering." I felt that he wanted to quarrel with me, and I was in the humor to gratify him. "And did anyone ever hear you say a thing worth remembering?" 1 asked. "Sir!" lie snarled. "You heard what I said. And I take a degree of cool pleasure In telling you before we go further that you can't ride a high horse over me." "A pedagogue's pedantry," he muttered. "A man's truth," I replied. "And by tlif way," I added, "you appear to be well horsed. Suppose you ride on ahead." "Does tills road belong to you. sir?" he demanded, turning a severe brow upon me. "A part of it does, and I am going t<> ride over that part without annoyance. Do you understand?" "Sir, I can understand impudence even if 1 can't say a tiling worth remembering. Hut rather than have words with you I will ride on, not to accommodate you, but to preserve my ?wn dignity and self-respect." "CSood!" 1 mockingly cried, "and if . on continue to Improve In expression I shall after a while be forced to believe that All's estimate of you was placed too low." "I thank you, sir, for giving mo the ipportunity to say that a jury's estimate will hereafter most influence your friend, and that he will be placed high enough." "You continue to improve, doctor, and 1 believe that your last remark Is worth remembering. At least, I shall remember it. and when this trouble Is over, no matter what the result may he, I will hold you to account for it. And to prove that I am In earnest I'll ' nd you the weight of this." And with 'hat I cut at his face with a switch. Ills horse shied and the apple tree sprout whistled In the air. He said something about hoping to meet me again and rode off at a brisk canter. I anew tnat I had acted unwisely, felt it even while the impuise was rising fresh and strong within me, but I was in no numur to near with him. I rode along more slowly than 1 was disposed, to let mm pass out of my sight, for every time I looked up and saw him I felt a new anger. And I was relieved when a turn in tne road placed him beyond my view. 1 heard a galloping behind, and, looking round, I saw the old general com.ng with a C8.valryman's recklessness. He dashed up and did not draw rein until he was almost upon me. "Whoa! I have been trying to overtake you, Hawes. What did 1 tell you? Didn't I say that the country was gone? I'll swear I don t know what we are coming to when a man is shot down in the road like that." "General, did you overtake me to ride in town with me?" "I did; yes, sir." "Then you mustn't talk that way." "I beg your pardon, sir. Perhaps I should not have expressed myself in that manner. Let us ride along and discuss it quietly. Tell me what you know." "It were better, general " "Never mind about your grammar and your bookish phrasing. Tell me v. hat led up to it." "Must I tell you that your daughter is " "By G?, sir, what do you mean?" "You needn't turn on me, sir." "Surely not. Pardon me. What about it?" "I don't know that I ought to tell you?a man of more judgment wouldn't ?but I suppose 1 must now that 1 have gone so far. Alf is in love with your daughter, and on that account Stuart insulted him, abused hin at the point of a pistol." Then I told him all that I could, all but the fact that Stuart had spoken slightingly of tht girl, for I knew that this would only enrage him and indeed. set him harder against Alf, as he would doubtless believe that my friend had simply forged a mean excuse. For some distance after I had told him the story, he rode along in silence, troubled of countenance and with, his head hanging low. But just before we came into the town he looked up and said: "Poor fool, I can't help him." "But you can see that Justice is done." "Mr. Hawes, in this instance we may take different views of justice. Pardon me, but your friendship?and, indeed. I can but honor you for it?your friendship may cry out against justice." "I admit, general, that my friendship is strong, although I have known the young man but a short time, yet I think that I respect justice." "We all think so until justice pinches us," he replied, placing himself in firm opposition to me, yet doing It kindly. "I am more concerned In this, Mr. Hawes, than you can conceive. I can say this, but I cannot follow it up with nn explanation. But the fact that ho stood waiting there in the road is what will tell most against him. Had he met him at another time, under almost any other conditions, it would have been different, would have taken away the aspect of calculated murder. Yes, 1 am deeply concerned and on two accounts. But I cannot mention them. Dan Stuart was near to me; I had known him all his life and he was a voung man of promise, was popular throughout the community?more popular than Alf. and this will have its effect." "But wasn't he more popular because ho had nioro mnnev''" I asked, and the aid general gave me a look of reproof. "Money does not make so much difference in the south, sir. You have been tilling your head with northern books. It is refinement, sir, real worth that weighs in the south." ' I hope not to antagonize you, general, but I am of the south and I have cause to hold an opposite opinion. Have I not seen the most vulgar of men held in high favor because they were rich' The mere existence of a state line does not change human nature. Mar is not changed even by the lines drawn about empires." "I admit, sir, that the south has undergone a change, but in my day a man was measured according to his real worth, not in gold, but in honorable qualities." "It is but natural to look back with the prejudiced eye of affection, general, and it is respectful that I should not argue with you. I turn here to the livery stable. Good morning." "I honor you for your consideration, sir," he replied, bowing. "Let us hope for the best, but I must stand by justice." When I had put up my horse I went directly to the jail. A crowd hung about the doors, eager to see the prisma*. When I told the jailer who I was he admitted me without a word Alf sprang from a bench, seeing ma enter tiie corridor, and came forward to the bars of his cell. "Not much room for shaking hands here, Hiil," he said, smiling sadly. "It is already an age since I left home. How are you, old man? Tell me how they took it. No don't, I know. Well, I gave myself up and the sheriff wouldn't believe me at first, but he he got it through his head after a while. He was very kind and when he had locked me in here he went to see whether I could be let out on ball, but 1 understand that I can't. It's all right; I might as well be in here. Bill, 1 have tried to feel sorry for killing him, but I can't. I reckon I must be about as mean as they make them. And it will all come out pretty soon, for ?.*;n |M cAooiAn on/1 oil tVlPv'vP L'UUI I l> "? I 111 ill ocooiuii uutt ui> - ? jot to do is to tiff up their jury after the inquest and go ahead. I'm going to make the best of it. The worst feature Is the disgrace and suffering at home, and, of course, that almost tears my heart out when I let it. But to tell you the truth, I'd rather be hanged than to he on the grid-iron all the time. Who's that?" Kthoredge came into the corridor. He leered at A If and Alf sneered at him. "I suppose you found the dog that I told you was lying in the road? the dog that tried to bite me," said Alf, with a cold smile. "Jucklin, I didn't come In here to be insulted." "All right, there's the door. Say, there. Jailer, you have just let In a nay rat and I wish you'd come and drive him out." I turned to Ethcredge and pointed to the door. "I must respect your wish," he said, speaking to me. "I've an engagement with you?you are to be my guest," and without another word he strode away. I remained with Alf as long as the Jailer thought it prudent to let me stay, and then I went about the town to father its sentiment. And 1 was grieved to find that every one declared it to be cold-blooded murder. My heart was heavy as I rode toward home, for the old people were looking to me for encouragement. Guinea met me at the gate. She tried to smile, but failed. "Don't try to look pleased at seeing me," I said. It Is too much of an effort." And if she could not smile she could give me a look of gratitude. She went with me to the stable, saying . n W/J T Kr* r\ liui a ? ui u aiiu >? irvii i uau IUI u^u the horse loose she followed me to the sitting room. At the door I faltered, hut Mrs. Jucklin's voice bade me enter. She was sitting In a rocking chair, with the Bible in her lap, and placing .ier hand upon the book, she thus spoke td me: "Don't hesitate to talk, foi His rod and His staff shall comfort me.'' I had not noticed the old man, so bent were my eyes upon his wife, b"* now he arose into view, coming ?.c me. he whispered: "From the stock that stood at the stake." I told them all I knew, which was not much; and then knelt down and prayed with them. To be Continued. AN AMERICAN HERO. He Used His Own Body to Stop a Leak In a Ferryboat. One morning in January, when the ice In the Hudson river ran unusually heavy, a Hoboken ferryboat slowly crunched her way through the iloating does until the thickness of the pack choked her paddles in mid-river. It was an early morning trip, and the decks were crowded with laboring men and the driveways choked with teams. The women and children standing ln>lde the cabins were solid mass up to the swinging doors. While she was gathering strength for a further effort an ocean tug sheered to avoid her, veered a point and crashed int? her .side, cutting her below the water line .n a great V shaped gash. A moment more and the disabled boat careened from the shock and fell over on her oeam, helpless. Into the V shapeo gash the water poured a torrent. It ^eemed but a question of minutes before she would lunge headlong below tne ice. Within 200 yards of both boats and free of the heavy ice, steamed the .vrecking tug Reliance of the Offshore vV recking company, and on her deck forward stood Captain Scott. When .he ocean tt.g reversed her engines af.er the collision and backed clear ot tne shattered wheelhouse of the ferryooat he sprang forward, stooped down, ran his eye aiong the water line, notea if> a Hash every shattered plank, ciimtjed into tlie pilothouse of his own boat and before the astonished pilot could uatch his breath pushed the nose of the Reliance along the rail of the ferryboat and dropped upon the latter's aeck like a cat. With a threat to throw overboard any man who stirred he dropped into .ne engine room, met the engineer naif way up the ladder, compelled him to return, dragged the mattresses from the crew's bunks, stripped off blankets and snatched ?p clothes, overalls, cot.on waste and rags of carpet, cramming them into the great rent left by the tug's cutwater. It was useless. Little by little the water gained, bursting out first below, then on one side, only to be calked out again and only to rush in once more. Captain Scott stood a moment as ii undecided, ran his eye searchingly over the engine room, saw that foi .lis needs it was empty, then deliberately tore down the top wall calking ie had so carefully built up and before the engineer could protest forced .lis own body into the gap, with his arm outside level with the drifting ice. An hour later the disabled ferryboat, with every soul on board, was .owed into the Hoboken slip. When they lifted the captain from me \\ l eeiv ue nan uhvuhovivuk tw.v. jurely alive. The water had frozen his blood, and the floating ice had torn the lesh from his protruding arm from shoulder to wrist. When the color beian to creep back to his cheeks he >pened his eyes and said to the doctor who was winding the bandages: "Wuz any of them babies hurt?" A month passed before lie regained his strength and another week before 'he arm had healed so that he could get his coat on. Then he went back to the Reliance.?Everybody's Magazine. OHIO WAR VESSELS. Built on the Inland River to Clear Gulf of Pirates. Strange as it may seem, gunboats, Ironclads, war schooners, and lightdraught monitors were actually constructed and put together on the banks of these rivers, the boatyards forming veritable hives of activity at such times as the War of 1812, the Mexican war and the greater conflict of 1861-65. Even prior to the war of 1812 war vessels were built In Pittsburg, says the Pittsburg Dispatch. Roatbuilding Is beyond doubt the oldest industry of Pittsburg. At a time when the country swarmed with Indians, hundreds of canoes were turned out here, and later, when the Indian trader and trapper came o the "forks of the Ohio," he built rude tlatboats to transport his furs anil peltries down tne river, boatyards were established as early as the Revolutionary war, a large number of barges being constructed in 1777 for army use at a point just above the mouth of Turtle creek. Boat building for the United States navy began in this city more than a century ago. When war with France was imminent as the result of Napoleon's highhanded actions in closing the mouth of the Mississippi to American commerce and travel, the galley President Adams was built here on May 19, 1798. It carried General Wilkinson. commander-in-chief of the United States army, down the Ohio on June 8 of that year, being built in record time. Shortly after this the keel of ai other galley, the Senator Ross, was laid out, but the galley was not launched until the spring of 1790. Ass war with France did not occur, these vessels did not see any service. iUisccllaucous trailing. SEED CORN GROWING. York County's Corn Production Can Be Tremendously Increased on Present Acreage. A suit was bruught in an Illinois court by a man who had recently purchased a dairy herd of fifty milch cows and who alleged that he had later discovered one of the cows to be barren. SShe would not produce calves and therefore was worthless on a dairy farm. The point is that the dairyman, found that hd was supporting a cow ?2 per cent of his herd?at an absolute ioos and ne coiiaiuered tile matter uf enougn importance to bring suit. of course upon finding out tne conditions he immediately weeded her out of ins herd. How many farmers, stock-growers, or plant growers are sure that they do not need to apply the weeding out process, perhaps to a far greater extent man did the dairyman? The subject ot mis article is corn growing and there is probably no American crop where the weeding out of poor metnods and poor seed by the growers would prouuce a greater increase in prohts. Corn is our greatest crop, with an estimated yield this year of over two and a half oiliion bushels, yet the average tor the United States never runs above 30 bushels per acre, while in some states it is as low as 13 bushels. Not only the average good corn field, out all except the very best few fields contain not the 2 per cent of the dairyman, but 7 or 8 per cent of barren parents, and yet it is one of the simplest matters imaginable to reduce this item of dead loss by at least one-half. By this and other not more difficult processes the yield of corn can be increased 10, 20, 30 and even more bushels per acre. The barren stalks constitute one of the reasons why the corn yield for this year Is estimated by the bureau of statistics of the department of agriculture at only 26J bushels per acre for the whole United States; but there are several other causes for this small average, most of which are largely within the control of the corn grower who will give a little intelligent study to the subject of breeding his seed corn. Breeding seed corn and largely increasing the yield is a simple problem in farm management and lies within the province of every individual farmer. It is not a complicated question like breeding up wheat seed, requiring a long period of years; the results will prove most gratifying and profitable after a single year and will continue with each year of breeding. Tlie necessary expense is pracuca.uy nothing. The variation in different stalks and ears of corn of the same variety is the most distinctive trait of this crop. At the same time corn comes remarkably tru% to the seed ear and in this fact lies the ease with which the yield can Be increased. Many farmers carefully select fine ears from the bin and rub off the poor kernels from either end, or better yet even pick good seed ears from the field; but this is not going far enough. It will be money in the corn grower's pocket to grow his own seed patch and if he gives it only average management he will increase his general corn yield, after the first year by a very large percentage. The corn plant produces both male and female organs. The pollen from the tassel vitalizes the silk on the ear and this produces the kernels. To prove it, tie a bag over a corn ear before it has silked and the result will be that no kernels will develop. Now where corn Is self-pollinated it is inbred, and like all inbreeding the result is bad. All corn ears to be saved for seed should be pollnated from other stalks. This is one thing to provide for; another is proper selection. Two ears of perfect looking corn may produce widely different yields; but when a good strain is once established, having the various characteristics which make it most desirable, succeeding generations, if the strain is kept pure, will come remarkably true to the parent. If a start Is made with an ear of highly productive corn the following generations will all be highly productive. "The open secret of a good yield of corn," said C. P. Hartley the most prominent vorn breeding exnert of the department of agriculture, "consists In causing each stalk In the ?eld to produce at least a good ear." At first glance, it would not svem very difficult to get an average of one good ear to every stalk and not beyond the bounds of possibility to get an average of one and a half ears per stalk. But just figure out, if you please, what would be the result of this on an aciv. Corn is planted in different ways in various parts of the countfy. Take, for example, where the stalks stand IS inches apart in rows 3i feet wide, this will give 8,297 stalks to the acre and if each stalk bears an ear weighing a pound the yield will be 122 bushels of ear corn per acre (68 pounds to the bushel). This Is worth working for, if your average is not better than thai for the entire United States. But you may be fanning In the richest part ct the corn belt and already produce 150 bushels of ear corn per acre, possibly 200 bushels. There Is still room foi great Improvement. If you can make every stalk average two 1-pound t rs your acre yield will be 244 bushels of .?ar corn. In some splendid corn fields where the yield is 150 or possibly 200 oushels of ear corn per acre there will oe found many stalks producing two and a less number producing three good ears each. In such fields the aim must he to breed to secure all two and three ear stalks. Unless special attention has been given to seed corn there will be found in the most productive fields entirely barren stalks to pull down the average. The corn men of the department of agriculture made an exact count of a field containing 25,507 corn stalks, planted from a seed patch from which the year before most of the barren stalks had been removed, and for these only 3.43 per cent were barren, while two adjoining fields planted with the same corn taken from the crib, and which of course hid received the pollen from the barren stalks of the fields, conalned 8.11 per cent of barren stalks The two extremes are barren stalks ind stalks which produce two or three good ears. The objects of the breeding olat are to eliminate the former and work up to the latter trait. The following Is a concise description of how to manage a breeding plat: First, go into the field and select the 100 best ears procurable, having in mind not only the ear but the piant. Experiments conducted by the department of agriculture have demonstrated that important stalk characters, such as heignt, height of ear, character of root growth, quantity and width of blades, number ot suckers, number of ears per stalk, and similar traits are transmitted to a strong degree. A desiraole stalk is one without suckers, thick at the base, with well developed roots. Ihe ear itself should be cylindrical in form with deep kernels, with moderate sized, strong cob. The selection should be made from average mild, not unusually rich. One trouoie witn selecting ears from tne corn crib is tnat whue they may be large and well formed they may have been produced on an exceptionally fertile spot and are not representative. On average ground tney cannot be expected to reproduce tnemselves. Aiany tar?ners use tne neid metnod of selecting ail their seed and think tney have gone tar enougn. On tne contrary, a large number of such fine looking ears may nave been fertilized by barren stains jiiu the progeny will be eitner barren jr approacning that condition. These 100 good ears should be carefully preserved, numbered, and next spring planted in 100 rows, an ear to each row, well apart from other corn so tnat no foreign pollen will be blown on to the oreeding patch. The grouno used for the purpose should be average, not better, and the culture should oe only thorough and usual. When the stalks are nearly ready to tassel, a careful inspection of the rows should be made. This will likely disclose that naif a dozen or a dozen ears were very poor seed, the rows being noticeably poorer than the average. The first elimination or weeding out should commence here and the safest way is to cut the stalks at once and get them out of the way. Also the entire patch should be carefully gone through and all stunted, diseased or otherwise undesirable stalks cut out. A little later, as the facts develop to the eye all barren stalks should be cut out. All this cutting out of stalks, poor for one cause or another, should be done before such stalks have distributed any of their pollen for the poor pollen Is ihe money loser. Now there remain say 86 good rows, with a more or less complete stand. The next step is to detassel every alternate row. This should be done just as the tasiels show plainly in the top of the staiks but before the pollen Is distributed. The detasseled stalks are the ones which are to produce the seed corn; the alternate rows are to be used simply to supply pollen for the detasseled corn. The ears from them are not to be used for seed, as they will be self-pollinated. The working number of the seed plat Is now reduced to about 40 rows, but It Is only from the half dozen best of these thai breeding seed is to be selected. When the corn is ripe each detasseled row should be gone over separately and the ears from the best stalks gathered, weighed and spread out to dry, Its row number being given each lot. This field selection, keeping in mind stalk characteristics, is obviously Important as against harvesting the ears from the entire row, and picking out the best luwiving caia. auwcvcii ao cacu . epresents an ear of seed, the total product of the row should be determined. Therefore when all the ears are well ripened, the ears from each row should be gathered and weighed 1 and the figures for each row added to the weight of the seed ears previously 1 selected from the same row. At the ?ame time the stalks in each row should be counted and a simple prob- 1 lem in arithmetic will show what the total yield per row would have been had the stand been a perfect one. 1 Having now determined the average i production per stalk for each of the < 40 rows, the best ears from the ten or ' dozen highest ranking rows are carefully selected, kernels measured, etc., and a dozen to fifteen of the very best ' ears from the highest ranking rows I preserved for the next year's breed- ' Ing plat. Thus by a series of simple I steps of selection, or elimination, the Ifteen best ears of all those producer ' from the breeding plat have been saver ' to start the strain of new, heavy pro- I ducing corn. At the same time a similar number of second best ears should be preserved as a safeguard in case the first choice should be destroyed, either by vermin or in the following planting 1 season, by hail, flood or other disas- 1 ter to the breeding plat. After the ' improvement has been continued for a I number of years and a highly Improv >d strain secured it is very important to save this reserve supply of seed. The breeding plat work for the second ' uul succeeding years will be much les- ' ened as all of the fifteen ears can be ' iepended upon to produce superior i corn. Now for the money crop. It is hardly practicable to secure rom tne Dreecnng piai improved seeu 'n .sufficient quantity for general plant'ng or sale. The method outlined shows how a highly productive strain ?an be originated. It is not a new idea 1 md the plan described or various modifications have been practiced for a ong time by plant breeders. The point which it is desired to emphasize is that >very farmer should practice it, whether he raises 10 acres or 1,000 acres of tern. When this is done the average tern yield of the United States will not hang around below 30 bushels tc 1 '.he acre, and there will be many less fields upon which the farmer is not lure whether he is making or losing Now we will say that we have worked nut the breeding plat idea and have rotten the new strain started. To then ; nbtain seed for general planting and for sale at an advanced price an "increase field" is grown from the re- 1 maining seed obtained from the highest ranking rows of the breeding plat. J Like the breeding plat this increase field should be separated from other " orn to prevent cross-fertilization by 1 >ollen blown from inferior corn. Otherwise the increase field is planted and "ared for as is any other corn field. ' The increase field is not grow i for the >urpose of improving the strain of "ni'n and corn is not to be selected 'rom it fur further breeding purposes. ] 'ts mission is solely to increase the M'antitv of good corn seed of the strain already improved through the breeding ilat. The breeding plat, through the system of rigid selection outlined will each succeeding season furnish seed 5 more highly improved for planting a ' new increase field. Each year the meeumg p?al, the increase heiu and t?ie corn neid will advance one notch, the product of the breeding plat being one year anead of that of itie Increase held and tne Increase held a year anead of tne main crop. Any common sense method can be adopted for selecting tne best seed eacn year from tne Increase held, such as separating the most perfect ears as the wagon loads of corn are unloaded at the cribs, or oetter yet, husking tne best ears from ine best sialics into the wagon in the held. "Corn bred for several years for increased production," according to Mr. Hartley of the department of agriculture, "will produce, with exactly the same treatment, 10, 20 or even 40 bushels per acre more than unselected seed. Counting the increase at but 19 bushels per acre (shelled corn) when corn is worth, say 70 cents per bushel, wnich is less than the bureau of statistics report for this year, well-bred seed produces an Increased profit of $7 on every acre of corn grown. This estimate Is very conservative, the rate or profit often being four times as great. "Some farmers think it necessary to obtain new seed every few years, claiming that their seed has 'run out.' A good strain of corn, like a good breed of animals, will assuredly run out If pain9 are not taken to propagate from the best Individuals. Instead of allowing a strain of corn, through neglect, to 'run out,' it can be 'run up' In producing power by comparatively simple methods. "Oh, this don't stand to reason," It may be said. "A good, sound, wellmatured ear of corn Is bound to produce good corn." Now this Is just what very careful experiments have dlsproven In a large number of instances. The seeds of some plants can be depended upon to reproduce very closely according to the parent; but not necessarily corn. Carefully selected seed ears, alike to all outward appearances, may have a variation in yielding capacity almost beyond the bounds of belief. At the Nebraska station, ten seed ears, planted In comparison for this purpose, ranged In yield from 35 to 81 bushels, or a difference of 46 bushels per acre. The Wisconsin station found the yields of different ears of the same variety of corn to vary from 14 to 97 bushels of shelled corn per acre, showing that some ears, to all outward appearances jood, were almost worthless for seed. The difference in productiveness is not revealed by an examination of the ?ars; that must be ascertained by actual test. The department of agriculture and various of the government agricultural experiment stations are working hard to induce corn growers to increase their corn yield. The government Is oublishlng detailed information and 'nstructions along the lines outlined here. The Enquirer will be glad to ?ee that any readers desiring to nart a breeding plat are supplied with 'nformation on the subject In much rreater detail than it has been possible to describe In the limits of this article. NOT RICH EARLY. Vanderbilt Was Seventy Before He Made His Fortune. The Vanderbllt fortu e, once the treatest financial powei In the United States, probably amounts, at the present moment, to not far from $300,000,500, says McClure's. Of ihl-. William '{issam Vanderbllt, who controls the majority of the family properties, holds 'n the neighborhood of $100,000,000. while twelve or fifteen descendants of the commodore share among themselves the remaining $200,000,000. Perhaps the most remarkable fact in the whole remarkable career of Commodore Cornelius Vanderbllt is that he did his really important work and heaped up his enormous fortune after he was 70 years old. He was born In 1794, and almost all his energies until the outbreak of the civil war, had been absorbed In the management of bis numerous steamboat and steamship lines. Cornelius Vanderbilt, when running his steamboats up and down the Hudson river, had felt keenly the competition of the railroad along Its eastern shore. Later developments led him clearly to perceive, what most of his contemporaries saw only faintly, that kransportation in this country would follow the line, not of the canal and the - iver, but of the steel rail. As soon as be had caught this glimpse of the future, Vanderbilt characteristically actid upon it. Fifty years before, foreseeing the possibilities of steam travel sy ,v<vt?r. he had sold his whole sailing lee. an1 purchased steamboats; actn.; just promptly now, he sold all l:s water craft and began purchasing ail roads. VALUE OF IMMIGRANTS. Much of the Progress In Some Countries Due to Them. "One of the best evidences of the falue of Immigration to a country ike this," remarked Dr. Wilbur L. 7omack of Boston, to a New York relegram reporter, "is the fact that Canada, Australia, South Africa and >ther progressive countries are real zing that much of our rapid advance s due to Immigration and are bidding agerly for a portion of the thousands vho will naturally leave the older ountrles during the next few years. "The fact that the number of deslrible Immigrants Is small must not be jverlooked, and when a wideawake 'ountry like Australia begins to bid, is It Is bidding, directly to the worthy ndlvidual it means that we are liable o get fewer desirable men and wonen and more undesirables. "In Australia the government Is making an appeal to the agricultural immigrant. Xot only are homesteads offered, but the state will finance any man who wants to till the soil. "We cannot underestimate the vorth of such Immigrants as Austraia Is attracting. These are the men ive need In the United States, and the sooner we offer them the benefits ivhlch we are now throwing away annually on a worthless mob of idlers he sooner we will end all of our ivrangllng over the subject of Immigration." tfr Vegetarian experts assert that one lcre of land will comfortably support four persons on a vegetable diet.