Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, December 11, 1908, Image 1
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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.
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Copyrighted 1896, by Wm. I
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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.