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% ^^^MSOT^KKI-WKKKL^^ i. x. gbists sons, PubUih.ni.} J. <Jfamil8 Jietnsjaper: 4or th< fromotion of th< political, jSoitiat. ^griquttniial and ?ontmei[tiat Interests of th< feojle. {T 'L?em,mS ^^VA"UI! 4 ESTABLISHED 1855. 'YORKVILLE, 8. C., TUESDAY, AUGUST 10, 19Q9. NX). 64. The Care ' < BY OPIE READ AI Copyrighted by Laird A Lee, Pu By Permission, o CHAPTER XXIV. , The Governor Meets The "Bad Man." Many a wise man has given himself over to the study of his own conscience, surprising himself with its many phrases and unexpected complexions. And he who buffets the world and has in turn been buffeted by it, finds himself gazing into a kaleidoscope when he turns his eye inward; the colors may not be bright, but the shapes are many. It is hard for the honest man to find that he himself is disinterestedly honest. At one moment he may believe that he is so, but the fragments that go to make up his conscience tumble apart, readjust themselves and lo, there is a complete change. Honesty has its degrees, its morning, noon and night phases; but there is one quality in man that undergoes no change, a quality superior to conscience or honJfr esty,?honor. This tram of thought was running through the Governor's mind as he strolled slowly along a street in the residential part of the town. He argued that honor might stray off + like a deer, to feed upon rich pastures in a strange land, and still like the deer, it might come back again to nibble the short grass of its native hill-side. He heard the talking of children, and halted to look at two little girls, playing in the corner of a fence. On the fence sat a boy, com^ passionately, and yet with a contemptnmia wiw nf hln so nerioritv. look ing down upon them. There were a number of dolls on diminutive chairs, little things made bright with ribbons and lace; and a short distance off, in ^ a sort of pen made of bricks and stone, there was a hideous monster of a rag doll, with great charcoal eyes and a mouth of frightful width. It was a "man-doll," with a bull neck, an unsightly paunch and knockknees. On his head he wore horns, made of the long thorns from a locust tree. The Governor spoke kindly and the girls looked up smilingly at him. "You have a very pretty house and ^ are very neat housekeepers," he said. "It would be nice, but everything is upside down, now," said the larger of the girls. "We have so much trouble." "With our young rrlend up here?" ^ said the Governor, nodding at the boy. "Oh, no, with the old 'Bad Man,'" she replied. "The 'Bad man?"' "Yes, there he is," and she pointed to the doll in the pen. Then the younger child spoke. "He's all the time coming In and tryin' to take the little ones away. See the hair coming out of Lillle's head?" she added, pointing to a doll that was ^ losing its yellow wool. "Well, he did that when we wasn't looktn.' He's the meanest thing." "Why don't you have him killed?" the Governor asked, and the boy snorted. "He can't be killed," replied the larger girl. "He has been shot oh, so many times; but It don't make no difference to him. He don't mind It at all. Heh eats bullets and powder and smacks his mouth and wants more." "Ho," said the hoy, "I could rip him all to pieces in a minute." This was a brutal piece of iconoclasm, and the larger girl resented It. "Now what do you want to talk that way for, Billie. You are aP the time tryin' to break up everything. I _ wish you'd go home." "You call the old fellow over there th? 'Rad Man.'" said the Governor. "Hasn't he any other name?" "Oh. yes," replied the child. "His other name is 'Governor Crance.' " The Carpetbagger winched. He not only saw the abhorrence in which he was held in the present, but saw himself in the future, pictured as a beast. These children, in the years to come, * would tell their grandchildren of the monster who once made his den in the state house. The strong man may defy the opinion held today, for he can confront a charge and frown upon it; but he may nevertheless be afraid of the opinion forming, mist-like, away off yonder in the unnamed days to come. There he cannot defend himself, and his helpless descendants must bear the odium of his misdeeds. The Governor, with his arms resting nn tho fpnrp. and with an occasional look at the "Bad Man" In the pen, the thing now having a sort of fascina^ tion for him, mused over the little girls, knowing them to be ignorant that the namesake of their rag-rufflan was so near. "But is this Governor Crance such a very bad man?" he asked. ^ "Awful," said the larger girl. "They have to watch him all the time. He goes out when the nights are dark and steals sheep, and he drags them Into his den and sucks their blood out and then throws "em away. And one night when an old man sat counting his money, a hand came in at the } window and grabbed the money and the old man grabbed the hand, for it was all the money he had and he didn't know where to get any more, but the hand wouldn't let go. and neither would the old man. so he was r dragged away out in the woods. And the next morning they found him in a sink hole, with one of his hands cut off. and that day a man saw Governor Crance go to the window of the awful place where he stays and throw a hand out in the yard." "Yes." the younger girl spoke up, "and when he blows his breath at a cow she can't give any more milk: ^ and my uncle he had a cow and Governor Crance blowed his breath at her, and she couldn't give a drop of milk. She tried, and tried, but she couldn't." The boy snorted. "Ho," he said, l "I'd put a hole through him if he was to come blowin' his breath around any of my cows." > 1 >ETB AGGER i "" iD FRANK PIXLEY blishers?All Rights Reserved. >f the Publishers ipwpwpwi m iw m mm w m if m "You are awful brave, ain't you?" said the older girl, half tauntingly, and yet with the light of admiration in her eyes. "I'm brave enougn to put a hole through him," the boy replied, shaking his head; "and when I get big I'm going to do it, whether he blows his breath at my cows or not." "If you shoot at him," said the smaller girl, "he'll catch the powder and throw it back at you." The boy shouted. "Ho, catch the powder! Whoever heard of catching powder! Girls don't know a thing, do they, Mister? Ho, catch the powder. You mean bullet" "Well," she said, "it don't make any dnTerence wnai ne wouia caicn, he'd catch It Just the same, and he'd throw it back at you and kill you with It." "How long since Brother Crance over there broke out?" the Governor asked, nodding at the rag-ruffian. The younger girl looked at the older one as If this were an Important matter and should be answered after due deliberation. "Yesterday," said the older girl. "Some visitors came, and while we were talking to 'em, we heard a screamin' and a loud bellow, and when we ran in here, the old 'Bad Man' had choked Mollie and Jennie nearly to death and had pulled Lille's hair till she was blue in the face. It was all we could do to get him out, and as soon as we shut him up, he said he wanted a sheep to eat, a great, oig, whole sheep; but we wouldn't give him a poor sheep that never did anybody any harm, so he's hungry yet, and we don't care if he starves to death." On the opposite side of the street, not far away, there was a refreshment booth presided over by a fat German. The Governor asked the children if they would like to go over with him and eat ice cream. The boy tumbled off the fence, and the faces of the girls brightened, xney went with him, the girls hanging to his arms, and the boy proudly marching in front as if he had inspired the expedition. When they sat down at a table the Governor told them that the entire establishment was theirs If they wanted it. They had liked him at first; now they were enchanted by ' him. The smaller girl gazed into his eyes and said that they were like her own grandpa's, always trying to laugh at something. "What is your name?" the older girl asked. "My name," said the Governor, with his eye on the proprietor, now bestirring himself in the execution of an order, "why you may call me Mr. Oldfellow." "What a funny name," cried the younger girl. "But you ain't funny. You are the best est sort of a man, ' and I'm going to think of you when you are not here, and when my uncle is Governor in place of the bad man that's there now, I'm goin' to make him give you a big dinner and all the people will be there and you'll be glad." "Your uncle?" said the Governor. "What is his name? Not?er, Major Reynolds?" "Ah, ha. He's my uncle, and when he's Governor?" "Let us have all the different kinds of cake you have," said the Governor, breaking in upon her as the proprietor came near. "Yes, bring us ' everything you've got. Cover the table." "Ain't he good!" cried the older girl. The proprietor shrugged his heavy shoulders. "I vould say he vos. Und you don'd know who vas doin' all /Iaaoa ViqK 9 Tf woo nA/1 ovorvnArlv UCC3C, I1U11 11 > uo 1IVVI v t vi j dat had ice cream und cake bought by de Gof?" The Carpetbagger lifted his hand. "Don't." he said. The proprietor understood and bowed as he went back to where his wife stood wiping dishes. "A man vot can ketch de leetle ones, like dot," he remarked, "can't be so bat in de heart." CHAPTER XXV. Food For Scandul. When the feast was done, the Governor bade his little friends goodbye, the smaller girl putting up her lips to be kissed, and strode full of thought along the street. He pictured the horrified change that would have spread over the faces of the children had the German told them that it was the Carpetbagger who had ordered the feast. He could see the boy scampering off, to save himself, and could hear the two girls begging for mercy. "And this is America," he soliloquized. He passed along by the post-office, still musing, with no thought for the scenes about him, when he was called out of the depths by a soft voice at his side. He looked up and a flush flew to his face as he met the gaze of the widow Fairburn. She had just come out of the post-office. for she had a letter and a news paper in her hand. The Governor was surprised, not indeed to find her there, for everyone went to the post-office, but surprised that she should speak to him where every eye could see her, where every look would he a reproach. He bowed to her, halting thoughtfully to let her pass on. and murmured something which sounded like "delighted to see you. Madam." Hut she did not go; she stood face to face with him. looking with frankness into his eyes, and though he turned neither to the right nor to the left, yet he knew that the passers-by were casting reproachful glances at her. It was embarrassing: ne wouiu not inus expose her to the censure of her friends. . owing again, he moved off and was surprised to find that she was walking beside him. True they were neighbors and had talked across the ?i i in .. . & imt / * Jgt'fi ' ,: ' ^L , 8^ iTkWI FOHEMOST I fence; they were more than neighbors, for she had given him a rose, and one evening he had walked home with her, bidding her good-night at the door of her house; but she had never invited him to enter that house, had never encouraged him to recognize her when they met by chance in the street. Many a time she had passed without raising her eyes, without even showing by her countenance that she knew he was near. So, what could be the meaning of this bold recognition? He slackened his pace to let her walk on, and she walked slower; he quickened his steps to pass her, and she moved along beside him. "Mrs. Fairburn," he exclaimed, hastily, "have you forgotten that I?? Don't you know that your friends will??" * i -V. - ' les, l Know, sue tr|Miru. uui there are considerations higher than the approval of friends. A duty can sometimes be so strong and imperative as to put every friend in the back-ground." "I don't understand, Mrs. Fairburn." He glanced at "her and saw her eyes, full of a soft light, turned toward him. "Governor, I heard something about you yesterday, and I determined then I would thank you, no matter where 1 might meet you or who might be displeased." "Heard something? Well, you can't always believe what you hear, you knov/' "But I can believe what I heard yesterday. I know that you have turned over to a committee of pur citizens?men whose honesty cannot be questioned?two hundred thousand dollars to found an orphan asylum for the state. I want to thank you." "No, let me thank you," he replied. She caught her breath, and they walked some distance before another word was spoken. "Our roads lie In the same direction," she said. They were going toward home. "I hope that our paths may never cross," he replied, without looking at her, and they walked on a long distance without speaking. "Mrs. Fairburn," he said, at length, "a conscience encouraged to clear Itself of a weight, ought to feel thankful. I know one that does." "Governor," replied the widow, "the seed of reformation lies in the soil of every conscience." "Ah, but it may not sprout till water is gently poured upon it. Then let that conscience thank the hand that poured the water. Mrs. Fairburn, a conscience is sometimes a sort of Central Africa and has no! within it the germ of self-civilization." They were now at the gate. She halted and after a few moments' silence, said: "Won't you?won't you come in?" Had it cost her an effort? He thought so, and hesitated. "Do?er?do you mean it?" "I never say things that I do not mean." He stepped in at the gate, she beside him, and silently walked along the paved pathway that led up to the steps of the old mansion. There were rocking chairs on the veranda, but she did not ask him to sit down there; she led him into the old-fashioned parlor where there was a cool, sweetsmell. He glanced about the room, so full of the wasteful richness of the past: the heavy furniture brought from foreign lands, paintings from Italian walls, and an old grand piano which once had been the marvel of the community. ine uovernor landed that he could almost smell the music in it, and he sat down, with his mind on the wheezing melodeon in the cheerless "best room" of the farm-house where he had lain, cold and miserable, "up chamber," listening to a tune that was intended as praise to the Lord. "I used to think that all the sweet tunes came like a perfume from the South." he said. "And they seemed to come of a summer evening, just after a rain." "Why, Governor," she said, with brightening eyes, "you are really sentimental. Your old home must still be warm in your heart." Wo uhnnlf "Mv hpfirt could have made a home warm, bur I had no home." He looked through the window at the whitewashed negro cabins in the distance. "Out there they used to sing and dance at night." he said: "but with us there was sometimes a mockery of freedom, calling upon us to get up and work with the cattle. Hut It was a great gBx h \ / 2Sh I-? 1GUEES IN TFE EE VISION OF luxury to lie in bed till after the sun had come up, and it could not be hoped for except on Sunday." Her eyes were full of sympathy. "I remember an old song," he went on, slowly rocking in the soft chair. "Something about the 'Yellow Rose of Texas ' Won't you sing it for me?" She went to the piano and the first note she touched sent a thrill through him. Her voice was low and rich, suited he thought, to the paintings on the wall. He forgot his office, forgot the war, the blood shed by brothers. In the world there was nothing but melody. He did not know when she ceased to sing but, looking through a mist, lie saw that she had turned upon the stool and was facing him. He had not dreamed enough, had not forgotten enough of the war and of the blood of the son on the shirt of the father. "Sing again," he whispered, leaning back in his chair. "Sing an old tune?something so gentle and peace-loving that It did not dare to lift its head during our storm." She understood him. She knew that he was trying ta forget, that he found a sweetness in putting a blight on the present. Again and again she sang and he floated away in a warm sea of melody. The tavern bells clanged the hour for supper. He got up and held out his hand. "I want to thank you for one of the happiest days of my life." She smiled as she took his hand, and something in that smile told him that she was sorry for him, nothing more. Had it not been for that pitying smile he might have said something that had crept into his heart, but now he drove it out almost resentfully. The command of "guide, right," came from the street, and, looking out, they* saw a company of militia passing. It had all come back now? the memory of the war, the adventure on the one hand and the insult of the Reconstruction period on the other. "Yes," he repeated, "a very enjoyable time. I wish you good-evening, Madam." (To be Continued.) CRIMSON CLOVER. Mr. Hughes Gives the Proper Method of Growing This Valuable Crop. As I have received a good many requests for Information in regard to sowing crimson clover, I want to give a little Information that I have which will be of some help to any one who wants to sow clover. This plant has many qualities to commend it to our attention. It is one of the best winter cover crops, and will furnish considerable grazing for stock when It Is most needed. It makes a fine hay crop if cut before ripe and Is a fine soli Improved. Nitrogen gathered this way Is much cheaper than when supplied through commercial fertilizers. When cut off for hay the roots and stems left In the soil add more fertility In the form of nitrogen that we secure from what Is considered a heavy application of commercial fer tillzers. When the whole crop la turned under It often doubles the yield of the land for the succeeding crop. Many farmers in York county believe that clover cannot be grown here, that it is only a chance crop. When properly understood, this crop is no more trouble to grow than any other farm crop and the farmers who have tried it In the right way have succeeded with it well. Mr. J. L. Stacy, Clover R. F. D. No. 3 made two tons of cured hay on one and one-half acres this year Clover makes a slow growth through the winter months and will not be ready to graze before the 1st of March. About this time it starts up vigorously and If not grazed will be ready to cut for hay about May 1st. If cut for hay, it should not be allowed to get too ripe as there is some danger in feeding it 'after the seed have formed In the heads. If used to turn under as a soil renovater, it will die down in plenty of time for corn and other spring crops. And I know of nothing else that will cause the crops following to give as big yield at so little expense. How to Sow. Without a doubt, the best method to sow clover is to double disk and harrow pea stubble as soon as the pea crop is off the land, get the top soil fine and mellow so it will hold moisture, anri sow clover broadcast and follow with a brush or light drag- of some kind to cover the seed. A weeder or light drag harrow is all right?(don't turn pea stubble for any crop in the fall.) r < mam JMi ^k ^1 ffi V / ?N^H ^^Wp|p iVj r M^l THE TARIFF. If you haven't the pea stubble to sow then take other land and prepare it well. The land should be broken 6 to 8 Inches at least three weeks before sowing, and in a way that will not turn it bottom side upwards. Two or three good disking* or thorough harrowing should be given the land as soon as broken. This Is absolutely necessary In order to secure proper planting and germinating. Two or three good ra'ns on land thus prepared will settle it down and make an Ideal seed-bed. When to 8ow. As a rule, early plantings have been ?" . frrvrv> A noniot 1 Kth fn IIIUDV OUCWCOOLU11 AiUlM AUQUOV avvh ?v September 16th, is probably the best time for this locality, but some farmers have gotten very good results planting as late as November 16, but late planting should not be depended upon. About twenty pounds of seed per acre Is enough. Where It Is possible to do so, I want to urge farmers to try this crop if in only a small way this year. Inoculation. Clover being a leguminous plant must have inoculation to do well on most soils. Inoculation produces the germs that enable It to get the nitrogen It needs from the air. This nitrogen from the air is not only necessary for the growth of the clover, but Is a rich fertilizing Ynaterial that is left in the soil where such plants grow. There are three ways of inoculating soils. One way is to continue sowing clover on the same land for several years until it gets the soil well filled with the necessary germs. This is a slow and expensive way. Another way is to get the Inoculation from a culture prepared and sent out by the department cf agriculture. Still another and by far the best and cheapest method, is to get the soil from a well inoculated clover field and spread It over the field at the time of sowing and harrow it in. If for any cause you should fail to get a stand of clover the first year, then sow the same ground again next season, and you will be most certain to secure a good stand. The artificial inoculating material may be obtained free by applying to any agent of the Farmers' Co-operative Demonstration work, or direct to Dr. S. A. Knapp, U. S. Department of Agriculture, Washington, D. C. Full directions accompany each package. Wet and Sour Soils. It is no use to plant clover on wet or sour soil, as it will not grow on land that is filled with water for a considerable portion of the year?water excludes the air and It is a* plant that cannot grow without air. Crimson clover promises to All along felt want In making up a proper rotation of crops on our southern farms. Until acquainted with method of growing it, farmers should plant only a small area. Just an acre or two, this will not be expensive as the seed for planting an acre will only cost about $1.50. With ciwpeas in summer and clover in winter, we have two soil improving crops, t^at If used in the right way, will soon iouble the productive ness of our land '., and be tne means or stopping many of the ugly gullies that we see now, hi! our barns with good hay, enable u-. to raise more and better live stock >han we now have, cut down the enormous fertilizer bills and help us make farming In this fair land of ours what it should be. Respectfully, C. J. Hughes. Filbert, S. C., August 3, 1909. Home, Sweet Home. Home is where we express our worst and best selves. Home is the result of :earning to bear and forbear. Home is the best school for making true men and women. Home is God's blessings to mankind, the safeguard of the world. Home is where love rules, unselfishness, tuct and harmony er'.t Home is the dearest earthly shelter from the cradle to the grave. Home is an Inn where love is landlord and contentment chief guest. Home is a corporation whose pre ferred stock is contented children. Home is where happiness, health, harmony, heart's ease, holiness, heritage, heaven dwell. Home is where the wife is neat and clean and the husband sob r and industrious, children respectful. Home is a comfortable and necessary retreat and shelter for us in advanced age, and if we do not plant it while young it will give us no shade when we grow old.?Lord Chesterfield. VERMONT AND VERMONTERS Mr. Grist Spends Two Days In the Green Mountains. GREAT PEOPLE MAKE GREAT COUNTRY Hurried Description of the Wonderful Connecticut River Valley?Remarkable as Has Been the Development In Manufactures, the Farmers Are Well Up With the Procession and Still the Backbone of Progress. iXirrcmnjiidence of the Yorkville Enquirer. Rutland, Vt., Augnst 2.?Here I am at the end of my trip and Just starting back after two days of pleasure and novelty, the like of which I have seldom experienced up to this time. The pleasure comes from having oeen in the hands of such delightfully hospitable people as are my friends, Mr. and Mrs. John W. Kellette, and the novelty arises out of the fact that the country is so different in many of its characteristics from that to which I am accustomed. I have no desire to deny that I am charmed; that 1 wish It were so that I could remain In this country a month; but time pressesand 1 have to hurry. As I go back over the New York Central in the night and will be unable to see anything, I would like to describe the trip up here from Waterbury; but I am afraid I am unequal to the task. It is quite convenient to regret lack of space, and all that kind of thing; but the truth is that an adequate description is Impossible without the help of two or three moving picture machines, and these, of course, li-Ulrt. BVmmm YITafarKurtr ur0 IlUt tbVtllltlUlCi X' i Uill TT cHV4 wu* j to Haxtford, the country is hilly and there Is little of interest except a string of towns and villages, with herds of cattle grazing In occasional meadows; but at Hartford you strike the famous Connecticut river, and keep right along with It to Springfield, Mass., and on up to Bellows Falls, Vt There was a short wait at Hartford; but a heavy downpour of rain prevented any attempt at sightseeing. I had a rear view of the magnificent state Capitol; but saw nothing else that was of striking interest But the run up the Connecticut river Is well calculated to keep you occupied. An Insignificant looking stream is the Connecticut There is not half as much water in it as there Is in the Catawba or the Broad; but it Is one of the hardest worked rivers In the world. The waters are clear and run swiftly; but nevertheless they are foul from chemicals and sewage. There are no fish in It I am told, because of its foulness. Nevertheless It is still a wonderful river. Above Springfield tnere are several p iaces wucio u appears to have been macadamized, but this is only because the waters have been diverted from their rocky bed to generate electricity at the numerous power plants. There are mills and 'mills, and mills; hull shall not attempt to enumerate them. The reader would get tired. But there is another feature of the valley that is more interesting. Between the numerous villages, towns and cities there are many pretty farms. .Lying back on the higher ground are to be seen cozy, neatly painted, farm houses and along the stretches of valley skirting either side of the river are long fields of tobacco, Irish potatoes and corn, and for almost every corn or tobacco field, a pasture in which there is a herd of sleek Jerseys. In a distance of lees than one hundred miles up through Connecticut and Massachusetts, I am quite sure that I saw more cattle than there are in all of York county, and I have not the slightest doubt either that these cattle are as necessary to the tremendous prestige of this prosperous section as are the thousands of shops and mills. I am assured that I was in error in not taking the com fields seriously, but they amused me. The corn seemed to be only a few inches apart in the drill, with not more than two feet between the rows and was tasseling at about the height of my shoulders, less than five feet I told some of my fellow passengers about C. H. Smith, W. E. Land, Norman Black, Lytle Wood and others making from sixty to eighty bushels to the acre and of otner x orK county iarmers pruuuwms over a hundred bushels and they were astonished. Two or three people took the address of Commissioner Watson with the Intention of writing1 for copies of the Williamson plan. Along the river also are to be seen quite a number of club houses, summer cottages and big hotels. There are numerous pleasure boats in the stream also, some propelled with oars, some sails and also large and small gasoline launches. rotwls along the river are fine and are alive with farm wagons, buggies, carriages and automobiles. Magnificent summer hotels are common on the eminences; but the most striking of these probably is the hotel on ML Tom, about twenty miles north of Springfield. Here the river breaks between Mt. Tom on one side and Mt. Holyoke on the other, and on top of Mt. Tom is a big hotel to which visitors are drawn up a steep railroad by means of a cable. The country, I am told, is filled with tourists, sight-seers and fresh air hunters out of New York, Boston, SnHncflplff numerous other cities. Soon after leaving1 Waterbury, I began to notice that the hills were covered with spruce pines, the timber that Is used so extensively In paper making, and shortly after the train passed the Vermont line, we noticed that the river was filled with logs. At first the logs were noticeable only In eddy water, but a little farther on they began to fill the main stream, and there was little else than logs to be seen for miles and miles. I was told that this was a common condition of the river. The logs I saw belonged to a "drive" that was then being worked to the paper mills at Holyoke and other points farther down the river. I was told also that I would see a lot of log gers somewnere along tne arive; out I missed them. They may have gone into camp for the night or possibly they were hidden by a bend in the river. It !.- not worth while to say much about Bellows Fails, from which place I wrote a previous letter while waiting for a train. I was held up about three hours ^here on account of a connection missed by about twenty minutes. Bellows Falls is a town of several thousand inhabitants.. It is strung along through the valley for a distance of two or three miles, and the principal industries are making paper and agricultural implements. It was night and I could not see very much of the place; but one of my fellow passen gers told me that it la noted for having' the second longest cantilever bridge in the world, and I would have gone across it for the purpose of being able to say that I had been In New Hampshire; but after more or less hesitation concluded that I had better put in my time writing about my visit to Coney Island, etc. I reached Rutland between 1 and 2 o'clock Saturday morning. I had purposely neglected to advise my friends of my whereabouts, because otherwise they would have waited for me all night, and from the train 1 went to the hotel?the Bardwell House, it is called. I am glad I did this, notwithstanding a scolding from Mr. Kellette, when he came around next morning. He thought that I should have come right on to his home. But my experience at the hotel was sufficiently novel to make an impression. The porter who came in response to the clerk's ring after I had registered, was a young white boy of 16 or 16. He wore a neat uniform, consisting of blue coat with brass buttons, and khaki pantaloons laced tightly about the calves down to the shoe tops. He had a kindly, Intelligent face, and a gentlemanly deportment that was Quite notlcef.ble. The manner in which he took my baggage, conducted me to a *"> ?> o innuiroH a fter mv further comfort, seemed to suggest that I was arriving as the guest of one of our private southern homes. Having seen only negroes in this capacity previously, the idea of a white boy acting as porter in a hotel sorter jarred on my ideas of the fitness of things; but the conduct of this boy seemed to impress that his servile position carried no detraction from proper dignity. Although pretty well played out when 1 reached Rutland, 1 was up by 6 o'clock, and put in a couple of hours writing before 1 let Mr. Kellette know 1 was in town, because I felt pretty well assured, that there would be but little further opportunity for anything of the kind during the short ume x was going to allow myself to remain. Rutland is a clean and pretty town of about 18,000 people, located in eastern Vermont, rome 300 miles from New York city, and about 1,000 miles from Yorkvllle. It Is in the valley of what is known as the Otter river, a little stream not so large as Fishing i creek where it crosses the Rock Hill road, and is entirely surrounded by the Green Mountains, some of the peaks rising to a height of 1,500 or 3,000 feet. The mountains are thickly covered with dwarfish trees, mostly spruce pine, maple, butternut, and other varieties, and as their name indicates, quite green In color. The atmosphere is remarkably light and clear, and the scenery in every direction is grand. This city is the centre of the nuufa ble trade of the world. One enthusiastic resident told me that it had 95 per cent of the business; but my recollection of statistics 1 have seen is that this is too great by about 30 per cent. However, the marble industry here is something wonderful. There are solid mountains of the stone, and the excavations of generations are almost suggestive of the Panama canal. rr*'? ?aV?At<f A nf X no U(JCU wui rauga suun a, niutu v. about sixty feet, a depth of more than 100 feet and extend for miles. From the main openings there are shafts running under the mountains a distance of six or seven miles. 1 went nearly to the bottom of one of the deep quarries; but as there was no elevator or bottom in sight, I did not venture all the way, and I was willing' to take the word of the gentleman with me about the distance the tur-: nels run under the mountain. Then are some eight or ten thousand workmen employed in the quarries, and in the big saw mills where the huge blocks are cut into cubes, squares, shafts, rails and slabs. The cutting is done by means of great steel saws, operated by steam and electricity over sand and water. Formerly a great deal of powder and dynamite were used in the quarrying; but now the stones are mined altogether by means or pneumatic anna, i nau hu mm that the quarrymen got big pay, but that is a mistake. Skilled -workmen receive only 51.80 a day in summer and $1-60 in winter. There are in the quarries also thousands of Poles who receive only 75 cents a day. To my surprise the labor organizations here do not count for a great deal, especially in the quarries. The management is immensely wealthy, owns practically all of the marble mountain, has on hand great supplies of marble ahead, and treats the laborers very much as it pleases. A unique feature of Rutland that I noticed the first thing on going into the street Saturday morning, is the liberal use of marble along the streets and in the trimmings of the buildings. The sidewalks are mostly asphalt, especially in the business and more well-to-do residence portions of the town, and the curblngs are nearly all marble. There are miles and miles of I* O nnmhpr C\t ha nri.^nme II. X net c ai c a iiuii>k/v. >-_ ??? buildings, including the public library, that are constructed entirely of marble, and this material enters very largely into many of the other buildings. In portions of the city, the paving of the sidewalks is exclusively of marble, and all of it appears to oe of a very fine quality. During Saturday morning I was introduced to a number of prominent Rutlanders, received several invitations that I could not accept for lack of time, and in the afternoon went with Mr. Kellette to Lake Bomoaeen, a beautiful sheet of water about ten miles to the west and half way between Rutland and the southern extremity of Lake Cbamplaln. This lake is about two miles wide by seven long and is fed from springs and winter snows. On the shore of the lake Is a big: hotel in which they charge from $10 to $100 a week for rooms, and quite a number of cottages. The amusements are fishing, boating, tennis, dancing, and the place is very popular srenerally. I was more Interested In the farms I saw by the way. The farm houses, generally, are good, substantial, neatly painted, frame buildings, and the barns and other outbuildings look as If they are intended to afford shelter and protection against severe weather. The road we traveled was through a valley with mountains all around it, and In the comparatively level valleys are to be seen growing crops of corn, wheat, oats, barley, buckwheat, potatoes and hay. I was struck also, with the large number of cattle, both beef and dairy, to be seen grazing In the meadows and on the hillsides. The prevailing characteristics of the agricultural population, I am told, are thrift and energy, and this is easy to KaKawa. A a nrtntnpo ana lnnor an/1 utuct c. no me niuvcio cm xj ivcid unvt cold, and the summers only a little more than three months Ion*, It must necessarily take hustling to keep things going. I am told that while the farmers have about all they want and are comfortable livers, there is not much wealth among them. I did not see an agricultural establishment that I would be afraid to attempt to match down in York county; but lam certainly impressed with the idea that If our York county farmers would look after things as closely as the Vermonters are necessarily compelled to look after them, they would soon be able to show this oountry something worth while. By the way I am about to forget to mention the turkeys. Vermont claims to lead the Union in the production of turkeys, and I saw many half-grown KlnC? faaA\ntr ohmit (hft farm houses: but I did not see anything nor hear anything to suggest why or how they can raise turkeys here any better or cheaper than In York and I do not believe they can. There are but few negroes here. I have seen only one and he was a mulatto. I am told that there ore not as many as 100 In the ?>wn. From expressions I have heard. I gather that the people here are not nearly as tolerant of the negro as we of the south are. They maintain an attitude which, to me, seems certainly unwarranted. I am unable to account for the exist Ing sentiment except on tne cneory that this, being one of the most democratic communities I have ever been In, there Is a disposition to halt at recognizing the negro on terms of equality, and they can conceive of no other t^rms on which he can be recognized. I am told that regardless of family, position, or wealth, every white man or woman is considered and accepted exactly on his or her merits and that tells the whole story. As to whether this is strictly true, I am not prepared to say. I would have to remain longer before I could arrive at a satisfactory conclusion. Having seen the statement somewhere that the production of maple sugar and maple syrup was practically a dead Industry, I asked Mr. and Mrs. Kellette about It We were at the table at the time. Mrs. Kellette promptly went to the pantry and brought forth a pitcher of maple syrup and a bucket of maple sugar. The syrup was very much like that which we buy from the store*; but the sugar was a solid, dark brown mass, considerably softer than the cakes that are sold in the confectionery stores as maple sugar. Tbey told jpne that If these cakes kept hard over a southern summer, It was a pretty good sign that they were largely adulterated with glucose and other substances. They then told me that many of the groves I saw around the farm houses were sugar maples; that the farmers tapped the trees after the last frosts of winter and let the sap run until Just before the trees begin to bud, when they boiled the sap and made' It into sugar and syrup. The farmer who does not have a certain amount of made sugar and syrup to sell each spring is the exception to the rule. Stringent laws prohibit adulteration and the sugar and syrup are put on the market absolutely pure. While walking along the streets of Rutland I saw a baby two or three years old, tied to the doorpost by a string just long enough to prevent the little chap from reaching the sidewalk. After a while I saw the same thing again and again, and upon Inquiry of Mr. Kellette It developed that this is a common custom. Most of the mothers do their own housework, and nurses are scarce except where there are older children. The tying expedient Is resorted to In order that the little fellows might have fresh air without being in danger of automobiles while their mothers are engaged about their household dutlea Rutland is a dry town. The fact Is, local option prevails throughout Vermont and most of the towns are dry. There Is no liquor allowed to be sold anywhere except under South Carolina dispensary restrictions. That is, there must be no purchases except in sealed packages, and no drinking on the premises where the liquor Is sold. The liquor shops, however, are run by private individuals, under heavy licenses. There Is a liquor shop about six miles from Rutland In what is known as West Rutland; but allcon ? ?? ?Ann<N>^ frt molr? their suuicra cu o i^uuvu w ? ? -? -? purchased In i>erdon. No one is allow* dd to buy liquor except for himself or members of his own family, and the law is pretty rigidly enforced. It used to be that the authorities punished violators by merely calling: in the 11* cense. Now when they catch a man selling liquor they soak it to him in a way that makes him sorry ever afterward that he had tried such an experiment Altogether this Is a most delightful little city and the country around is so Intensely Interesting that I regret having to leave so quickly. From what little I have seen of them, I am sure I would like to know more of thosfl ni>onle socially, and I feel that if I shall ever find the time, I will come back again for a longer stay. W. D. O. Pompey'i Pillar Damaged.?A great misfortune has befallen one of the few remaining relics of Alexandria's former greatness. A large portion of the monument known as Pompey*s Pillar fell, and m its descent greatiy aajna^eu the pedestal, says the Pall Mall Gazette. Pompey's Pillar Is the most Important relic of antiquity In Alexandria. It Is made of red granite from Assouan. The foundation stones were taken from adjoining ancient buildings, one of them bearing the name and figure of Sethos I, of the 19th dynasty, who reigned 1300 B. C. The column was over 100 feet high and was eight feet wide at the summit. The pillar was erected A. D. 302 by the Prefect Pompey as a landmark to mariners, and later on a statue of the Emperor Dioclelian was placed on it by the Prefect Posldlus. At first It was thought to mark the burial place of the great Pompey. xne iau or rne masonry made a tremendous noise, and greatly perturbed the people In Alexandria.