Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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■■■if j By IQUUl HTTB8T. (O^frtgfet, UN, br Am*rto*n Ptmm Xamt clatloA] CHAPTER t §• ^ * «m mnM>BR xt not QBxjrom. “Half an hour late! Of course she la What can yon expect? It wouldn’t have aorprlaed me if she had bean an hour. There must be three feet of mow between here and Chicago. ” “Yep, it be a mortal bad winter. Never had each a stiff ' one since *81. That wfs the year as I had 20 cows trace to death in ono night ” “Tm; I’ve heard all about those cows a. —a »♦ Dtfore. “It was a moet strordinary affair. I said to myself as I went to bed the night afore, ‘Now, I shouldn’t be s’prlsed if some of them cows ain’t fh*e in the mornin. ’ ” “She's whistling. ’’ “And I said to myself just as I was goin to sleep, ‘I shouldn’t bes’prised if some ''l them cows ain’t frose to death in the mornin. ’ M “And you got up in the morning, and M were dead?” j “Yea but the strordinary part of tfiT thin^ is I . lid to myself,. ‘I shouldn’t be s’prised if some of them cows ain't iToi©- ,' * “Well, never mind the coWa Here she comes. Are you taking any oho?” “One gent toNorcumbe; that's all Things ain’t a bit like they was when 1 was young, and when they gets the new railroad I s'poee I shall have to go into the poorhouse. ” A rumble in the distance growing nearer and louder gives warning of the approaching train, and i« a few seconds the express from Chicago comes to a standstill in Barnstaple depot, and a solitary passenger alights and stamps his feet vigorously npon the platform. The station master, forsaking the in dividual whose sole conversational pow ers seemed to be confined to reminia* "Os you Um omt a* wmU comber’ to go to Nor- his oencea upon the untimely death of 20 cows, enters into a lively cunvi tlon with the engineer as fc> the state of the road between Barnstaple and the end at the jonrney The few ]>aMH>ngers In the train gaze aniionsly otat of the steamy windows and growl disconso lately Then the engine gives a mourn ful bool a disconsi date and fatigued kind of pull and slowly they leave the station and issue forth into the night The lights are lowered, and Barn staple relaiwoe into slumber. "Well that’s a bad journey over,” aoliloquises the traveler left upon the plgtfonn as he endeavors to restore hie circulation by a variety of Ingenious adaptations of the cellar flap “Now fur the worst part—seven miles along coun try roads in some ramshackle convey ance. 1 suppose. ” , “Be you the gent as wants to go to Noroom be ?” “Yea Have yon got a carriage?” “It would be no jpattsr of use a-try- tn to get four wheels to Nurcombe, so I’ve brought a dogcart, and I don’t •’pose we’ll get there in that It be a mortal bad night ” “Well we 11 try, eh?” “Yep, we’ll try,” the man answers In a melancholy voice as he clambers Into the high dogcart, while the pas senger takes a seat by his side and, glancing at the horse, estimates that the driver is not very far wrong and -that they are not likely to get to Nor combe after all Bat in two seconds he has altered his opinion altogether and arrived at the conclusion that he does pot know a horse from a tenpenny nail “Old man, ” be wonld often say aft erward in recounting the incident to some particular chum, “if you want a sure cutq for epnni or a sluggish liver toy a seven mile ride on a frosty night, with the roads like a sheet of glass, be hind a Kentucky nag Tobogganing in Canada's a tool to it If you’d seen that horse, it looked as if he couldn’t raise enou;. . energy to drag a hearse, take a slipitery hill nearly as steep as the side of a house, at an easy trot, without so much as winking, you’d have gasped, and when he got to the top and went full speed down the other aide your only regret would have been that you hadn’t doubled the amount of your accident insurance. Of all horses in the world give me a Kentucky horse, as fast as a railroad train and as sure footed as s mule. Imagine, my boy, a ■even mile drive on a frosty moonlight night behind a quadruped that treated the whole affair as a joke, and then imagine a jay, with the reins in bis bond, who did nothing but say : ‘He can’t go like he need to. He’a gettin old and lazy. ’ It vvas a drive Tve never farogtten and one I’m never likely to forget” “It’s a mortal bad winter,” the driver again observes as they spin over the frost bound road, “mortal bad. ” “Yea; it's a bit severe ” “Ah. we’ve never had such a winter since ’81, when I had 20 cows all froze to death in one night ” ^ “Ah?” “Yea, and the strordinary thing was that I said to myeelf as I went to bed. ‘Now, I shouldn’t be s’piiaed If some of thorn was froae in the mornin,'. That’s Ashot I mid the night afore. ” “Then why didn’t you get tip and try to make them wanner T’ The driver tarns a look of blank <m Q*rb«rt Doxzwt It is the first tium that Mich a reasonable suggestion iiss been offered to him. and its novelty is a hit bewildering. ‘•City folks don’t und.'nitund cattle, ’ he grumbl<« at last and falls to rumi- Mting why he didn’t get np and do some thing for those 20 cows but as be can not arrive at any satisfactory solution, he presently breaks the silcnce-agfilu “You’ve just coine up from Chicago. eh.r ‘ "Yi*-’ “Aht What do th^y think of us?’ “Think of joaI’L— “Yep. What db they think of our murder?” he explains, with a ghoulish appreciation of -the unenviable notoriety that Norcombo had suddenly achieved “Have you heffifd about it. sir?” “Oh. yes; I saw something in the pa pers—Mr. Mansion, the old Britisher, at the country place he called The Orange. ” “Yep; that’s right—old Marsden, close fin ted old Marsden He was a great miser, he was, sir If young Marsden comes into the property, things will be better, but he’s a wild devil” “Son?” “Eh?” “Marsden’s son?” - “No; picked him up somewhera Perhaps he is. You never know. “ ' "Who murdered him?” j - “I bin no Like to shake hands with him.” “Indeed I You seem an amiable kind of individual. ” “Bnh I Good riddance to bad rubbish. I was goin along all right till he raised my rent so that I couldn’i make both ends meet, and it’s Imrd times, sir, with such a had winter. 1 mind me, sir, that we never had such a winter since ’81.” “Yes. yes; you told ipe about that and the cows. Now, us to this murder Have the police no clew?” “No; can t have any. It was done by ghosts The Grange is haunted. ” “Oh. indeed I Then yon d like to shake hands with a ghost ?” The driver shivefed and glanced half apprehensively over his shoulder. Then, sinking bis voice to a mysterious key. he continued, "Home one went into the house and murdered old Marsden and never come out Again; and he’s not. there now. and no wo but a ghost could do that. ” "U< ally ?’ "And exp«vt we’ll have one of them clever deP'ctivrs minin down from. Chicago, but ho won-’t find out anything, ’cause it was done by*s ghost, and no doUs-livee can catch ghost* Whoa I’ The horse is pulled up with n sudden jerk "This is Norcombo. The 1‘alaco hotel eh, sir?". “Yea ’ , “If you’d like to have a Ino^ at The Grange, it’s nL>nt o quarter of a mile up on the sight ”. "Thanks I’ll stroll op in the morn ing G<«id night ” “Good night ” Hi-rls rt Uurrcnt climbs out of ,the dogcart and the driver gathers np tbs reins, sets the horse’s head homeward, and the animal maters off as lively as ever , * The man stands at the door of the village hotel in the ruddy light stream ing through its short crimson curtains until the ^chicle is out of sight and then turns and walks thonghtfully down tile nisin street until he reaches a cottage dignified by the legend "Po lice Station "'inscribed in large black letters on s white Laird—primitive aL«le of the law as re|iresentisl in the person of a young policeman in a very badly fitting uniform who is just quit ting the honac and smartly salutes as he opens the gate. “Are you Mr Dobson?” iONo.'slr: he sinsida" "< >1? duty? "Yes; it’s my ronnd." "Then 1 won’t detain yon, bnt I •ball want to see you in the morning, early. ” “Very good, sir I’ll be here at 8 ■harp GfSs] night ” “Good night" “Smart young fellow that,” Darrent observes t>‘. Iiimself as he pushes open the door "Th ink goodness they’re not all so old fogyidi ms my prosy driver l" The door op» ns right into the kitchen of the cottage, where Dobson, chief of police of Norcombe. is lounging in his chair before toe fire The police cares of the day art- over, and he is smoking an exceedingly dirty clay pipe and rev eling in the luxury of purely animal idleness as only a man of absolntely en feebled intellect can Still be can be pompous at times, as befits one who nolds and b is held for a years the important post of chief of po lice of Norcombe, an office that is little morO than a sinecure, and, removing his pipe from his mouth, he gazes at his visitor with an expression of min gled ammyimce at being disturbed and the importance that L-fita his position. "Well," he inquires after examining Darrent from head to foot, "what’s the matter with you?” "Yon are Sir. Dobson. I believe?” Mr Dobson nods. Policeman l v •‘Ah. well that doesn’t mattsr, oft* til” the visitor continues good hu mor odly. “Of conree yon know t&ol Chicago detectives rarely interfere oat- side Chicago, leaving everything to the local anthoMties, bat in this murder at The Grange, Mr. Dobeon, your mayor has deemed it expedient, in face of the fact that there is more mystery than usual enshrouding the matter, not to leave the case entirely in the hands of the village police He sent for me, and I am bore. ’ Mr. Dobson again nods his hert. “Here are my credentials You will •ee that from today I relieve you alto gether of the case, and you ore instruct ed to afford me all the assistance I may require ” r Mr. Dobeon is nettled and shows it “Then, ” he answers sharply, “you’ve come on a wild gooee chase No one can solve the mystery of the murder. ” “Just the sort of case I like Now, then, let me know all the particulars, or, rather, let me see if I’m right in my facts so far, as you seem rather slow of speech, Mr. Dobeon. ’’ , The chief of police puffs his fat cheeks in indignation, but something seems to warn him not to answer, and he is wise enough to obey. “Now, then,” mys Darrent cheerily as he takes a seat and refers to his pocketbook, “stop me when I go wrong. ” Again Mr. Dobson merely nods. “Joeiah Marsden; a queer old British er, lived in an old rambling house known a* The Grange, a quarter of a mile from here—lived a solitary life; reported to be a miser; only two or three rooms need; no servants. A wom an came every morning for a few hours and did what was wanted. She went as usual on the 12th of this month; found Marsden dead, killed by a stab from a large clasp knife which was found there; no other clew of any kind Is that right?” Mr. Dobson, who has been sagacious ly nodding his head in assent to each sentence a* Darrent has read it out now nods it more emphatically as he concludes, and. after taking a few whiffs at his pipe. asks. "What’s the reward?” "Nothing nnless the relatives offer it” “Oh I’* “Now, then, what can you add to what I’ve rend?" { “Something that will puzzle the dever Chicago detectives, with all their brag,’* Dobson answers, with a grin ' “On thu night (if the murder there was a heavy fall of snow—it began at 11 and ceased at 1—and none has fallen . since in Norcombe. ” “Well?" "The murderet entered at the front of The Grange; went right in through j .the street door L traced his footsteps |froin the gate to the door.” | “Ym” “That’s all" “What do you incan?"- “Ho never left There were no foot- stejM from the boosa " H. rL-rt Darrent bends his head in thought for a moment Hero was the chief of {tolire r<'[»-iiting exactly tha same story a* the driver of the dogcart had told him He knits his brows and ponders. atUmptjpg to solve the prob lem “Very well. go on. ” be says at last ; “Anything cLe?” “Nothing." shortly replies Dohscn. ' sKpoy.-d at the indifferent air of the de- i tectiva “I snpjsiee yon kno^ftbe mur derer already, eh?” “I think. Mr Dohson.'' he quietly answers, "if you’ve any respect for the poet yon bold, yen’ll keep that fool touguf- of yonre quieter Murder is not s joke specially arranged for an ordi nary ‘cop' to air cheap wit npon. “ The man flashes with wounded pride and glaftw at the lira “I'm getting sick of the whole blessed thing. ” he grpVIs at last "Beingcross questioned twice in one day by Chicago detectives is epoogh to try any one’s tampCT. ” - < “Whatf . “First one detective, then anoihf . It'e sickening. ” “Do you mean to tell me you’ve had a detective here before me?” “Yes; this morning.” “From Chicago?" “Yes." “How do you know ?" “He &!({ so. ” “Obi He aaid so, did he. Mr. Dob son, and you believed him? Did you ask him for his authority?" "No.” • ."Then you are a fooll Wake up, man, wake up I Rouse yourself) What was he like? What did he do? What did he say?i Where is he?" shouted round dozen i Darrent in short, snappy sentences like pistol shots. “How do I know where he is? He came this morning and said he’d just arrived by train from Chicago and had driven over. ” *- "What time was thatf’ “Ten. ” “Then how the deuce could he come from Chicago?” "I never thought of that ” ‘‘No, of course you didn’t Mr. Dob son. Go on. - "He said he’d come to look into the “VesT chief of police of Norcombe. ’ i murder, so I took him up to The Grange ‘Well, it’s all the same,” Darrent ! *Pd told him all about it rejoins . "I’m an officer from Chicago. Perhaps you have board my name— Herbert Darrent.' ’ "No; never heard of it before, ” an swers Mr. Dobson, at-once conclnsively proving himself to bo an idiot of the first water by confessing that he is unac quainted with the mime of the man '‘Well, ichut't the matter tcith pouT whom the newspapers ore never tired at calling “the American Leooq”— “never beard it beforey'’ Well, Is that aH?” “I showed him the knife. ’’ ’ “Which, of course,‘you let him take away.” “No, I didn’t He didn’t ask for It ” “Ohl That’s a relief anyhow. Then ‘he didn’t take anything away? “Yea, he did” “What?” “Some chessmen." - ; “Chessmen?” “Yes;-a set of carved Indian chees- mem—horses and elephants and things. He said that be had an idea they had something to do with the murder. ” “A set of carved chessmen—ivory, I suppose?” * “Yes.” “Anything else? •Nothing.” “You’re sure he took nothing elset** “Certain. ” “Very well Mr. Dobson. I shall re port your idiocy to your mayor, ” Dar rent remarks as he finishes writing in his pocketbook and rises from his seat “What the deuoa, ” he mutters to him self, “did he take a set of chessmen for end leave the. knife, and who the dick ens is her’ “Do you want to know anything slaer Dobson sulkily asks se he re lights his-pipe, which he has let so out during the “Yea; give me the name and portie a Ur* about every one related to or friendly wftTi IBedcad matT'Nny soni*?’ “No; at Vast I don’t know Perhaps he is his son Y<* never know Old Marsden always said he adopted him I dob’t believe it ” “Never mind what yon believe, Mr Dobson I’m asking for facta Well who is it?” “Astray. Marsden. ’ v “Astray—curions namo. ” "Yiw;-old Marsden said he was a stray! when he found him. and he stuck to the name. It was hia jako. ” “I see. Where is this Astray ?’ “Quarreled with old Marsden a con- pie of years ago and went abroad. ” “Ohl Never been seen In Norcombe since, eh?” ^ Dobson hesitates under the keen eyes of the detective, who, it seems to him, is reading his inmost thoughts. It will be no good trying to keep anything from Herbert Darrent, so he suddenly blnrts out “Came back on the night at the murder. "• “I see, ” says Darrent again writing in his pocketbook “What time?” “I saw hldi about half past 10.” “Did he seem strange in hia manner at all?” . •- “Not tiarticularly; only a bit cited.” “Did he mention old Marsden?” “No.” “Where dfiTj^meer fchnrtp- "At the corner of the road branches off to The Grange^ “ “How was he dressed?” “Long overcoat and soft hat” “Was it snowing then?” “No; didn’t-oommence till IL” “Right Thank you, Mr. Dobeon. Now. do you know any one else con nected with old Marsden either here or at Barnstaple?” "Only one or two distant relatives and acquaintances. ” “Very well You can employ the rest of yonr evening by making me a com plete list of them, and say all you know abou tern Have it ready by the first ex- that “That's the murderer,” he remorta as ths detective takes the sheet. thing in the morning, please That’s all I shall have a good deal more to ask you tomorrow. Good night ” "Good night Oh—er—I say, Mi — yon think orth while r Dobson has a reward be- pauaes for a "Darrent ” "Er—Mr DarretA. that tb6 sheriff mi to offer a reward It is the eecond mentioned the chance of ing offered, and Darrent moment th»% suddenly confronts him "Now, look hera. Dobeon." he says gently, "yon re simply playing the fool and you’ve given the whole game away Twice you’ve asked after a reward. That means you know something more than yon have told ue tuul expect to oe paid for your knowl ilge. Well you’re wrong. You won’t lie. Yon ought to know even If a reward is offered it Is not paid to those in the service, whose duty is to do their duty. Come, now. Dobson. Own up all yon know and not half of it" "I know nothing except what I’ve told you. ” “Very well then. Mr. Dobson, you’D never get any promotion from your mayor or any reward, which your son) so hankers after." "Then yon will never know. ’ "Ha, hat I’ve got you! So you do know who committed the murder! Very well. Mr. Dobson, very well You are what the law calls an accessory after the fact It’s s very unenviable poal tion. Mr. Dobson. Good night I" “Half a minute. ” “Good night I think an accessory after the facts gets about ten yeara ” “Stop!" “Well?’ “I'll tell you all I know.” “That's L-ttor. I would rather re ward than punish —-Now show your sense by tolling me everything you know, every iota, and your ma^yor may probably look over year indiscretion and remember you *when the proper time comes."” Without answering. Dobson goes over to a desk, unlocks it and. taking out a stained and crumpled sheet of paper hands it to Darrent “That’s the murderer. ” he remarks as the detective take-* the sheet Darrent carefully e- amines the paper —a sheet of note |)aj>er stained ifith one or two nasty smears—and then, in almost illegible writing 3 QS*a ' M. 1 And there it «<wvd. as the p-. n had evidently fallen from the dying lingers and had rolled across the ah *et halving blots in its track. “Where wax thisT L “Crumpled rp in Mardapu’s hand.' “Murdered Py Astra' — “By Astray, don't you see? He had not strength to finish it Ths ‘y’ is miorngT" ' "" ,l . .J ■ * "Knm! Astray Man-den is the murderer._ and you intondod to hold this for tfie reward or else blackmail Astray Marsden. eh T’ “1 put it by and forgot if “That's a .lie. Dobson, ” he answers as bo carefully folds the paper and places is in his pocketbook. "You oould sot have forgotten it in a couple of •lays Have yon shown it to any one?’ Dobson shifts uneasily and tries to avoid the fixed gaze of the detective. “Well anrwer npi" “Onlytoyoung ifareden—to Astray. ** “When and where?” - "Tbs day after tha mard«, at the Moot hotel where ha had pvt up.” “Wen, what did ha dor* “Said he'd coma round and oaa aw “Won, did bar* “No; ha skipped.’ “I see. -Well Mr. Dobeon, whether he oommitte&tiba murder or noh I should advise you to be very carenl my friend. You mar find that you’re got yourself Into serious trouble. To morrow morning I go over The Grange. I shan’t want yon. Send yonr patrol man to meet me there at 9, Don’t for get Good night ” Darrent turns on his heel, and leaves Mr. Dobson to his own reflections,' which, to judge from tost gentleman’s expression at countenance as he moodily pulls at his pipe as he sits before the fire, sib not of a very enviable descrip tion In the short walk from the police sta tion to the Palace hotel Herbert Dar rent marshals his facta The old man, reputed a miser, mur dered, the footprints in the snow lead- jng one way only; the return of Astray Marsden <m the fatal night; the mys terious 1 Visitor of the morning, claiming to be a detective, who had taken mere ly a set of ivory chessmen, when one would have assumed that the weapon That Then have.been the first consideration factor in itself was a problem, there was the writing of the dead man that seemed to reveal the name of the murderer at once and to make' all deer. That paper accused the man who two years ago quarreled Vi th old Marsden the man who only returned to Nor- combo on the night of the murder and had since fled—Astray Marsden Herbert Darrent felt that indeed all his art would be needed in thia investi gation for he knew better than any one that the cases that seemed to be over before they had really commenced very often proved to be almost unsolv able mysteries [to as coirmronD.] Science and Farxino.—Man daily gets nearer and nearer to the heart of nature, so learning steadily more and more of the wonderful truths thal arc there; and it is likely tint more has been done in thia direction during this closing half of the present century than iu all til* past of the world’s history. Matter in all its phases is now being scieniiflcally examined, and ao much in nature long regarded as useless, or, per haps,worse than useless, is now clearly seen to be of high ulilty. Take, forex- ample, what we all know as dust. By means of the light which present-day science throws on this we learn that •‘if it wasn’t for dust man would have to devise a new plan of existence: he would be compelled to provide himself with food by some (ther meant than by agriculture. Th« re could be no farm or garden without du*t. It would not be possible for m crop to grow unless the soil contained an orgaui* 111 capable of converting nllregvnous matter into nitnc acid. Nitrogen ik indiapcusible as plnat food, and plants can assimilate it only when presented in the form ol nitric acid, commonly known as aqua fortis. That is incapable of autolocmo- tion, and can be distributed only through ihe dust which falls upon the soil an<J upon the leaves of trees and plants in general. “Th? soil is continually being reviv ed and enriched by the particles that arc floating about in the atmosphere. They come tr« ni two sources; first, atoms of the earth’s surface caught up by the wiud and distributed elsewhere; and, second, what we call coamic dust —that is, mineral matter of meteoric origin.” It is doubtiul if any branch of indus try has been more helped by the recent investigations of science than has farming.—Home and Farm. To conceal cracks in floors first oil the floor with boiled linseed oil and thoroughly fill the cracks with putty. When quite dry the floor should be painted, and the cracka will then be invisible. . Soda should lie used to wash any thing thal la greasy. The alkali causes the grease to turn into soap, which does ihe work of cleaning. -The honor of carying off a prize at the-State Fair far outweighs its inlrin- sic value. THE BANNER CORN FIELD. «e SI Urais Gldias-Democrat South of Ato, In Southern Hlnoiir fioiu the brow of oue of Ihe Kinkaid hills, can be eeen the tnoet magnificent field of corn uponiwhlch the white man’ll vision has rested since the lime the Pilgrims landed and learned to know the maize in hasty podding. The September inn is potting the golden color upon 6,000 acres or corn Ip one great body. This is the banner corn field of the world. It will give 600,000 bushels of corn, and average of 100 busliels to the acre. The statement will be questioned. And -the people who kuow moet about corn outside of the American Bottom will be the first to Challenge, Even the Egyptians of Ill inois look askant, at such a claim. But those who have seen the extraordinary spectacle agree that nowhere in the worid Is there such a crop of corn ma luring on the same gronnd space. Even from Ihe nearest hilltop this field appears to be a solid mass. As far as tbe vision reaches the corn extends without apparent break. t On closer approach the spectacle is even more im pressive. The corn stands at an even hqjgbt of fifteen feet. So heavy is it that a man four rows from the outer edge cnnnol be seen. At a little dis tance the edge of the great body pre sents an unbroken line. Close view with" Which the deed- wnz done would- gKoWs an occasional - (hviding boundary but thatjyexr the pige did not get.very much else in addition to the cotton seed. There was a good corn crop the next year and cotton seed were not thought of any more, probably. Mr. Fred C. Black, of Yorkville, who ha* been having more or leaa experi ence with the ginning and groin mill business along with hog raising, pret ty nearly all his life, talked interesting ly ,. u the subject of cotton seed and bogs, in answer to questions, a few days ago. While he has had no experi ence with cooked cotton seed, he says that under certain condition* raw cot ton seed will certainly kill. He has seen it happen that way more than A THIN DISGUISE. cuttle fish has A tricky habit of covering his tracks by exuding an inky fluid which discolors the water and keeps him out of view. There's a good deal of the cuttle fish about some advertise ments, notably those purporting to offer medical advice by a woman to women. An examination of the advertisement will show that no offer of a doctor’s ad vice is really made. And all the clamor about "writing to a woman ’’ is merely raised to divert attention from the fact that a doctor’s advice is not really offered and cannot be given. The real question is not of writing to a 'woman or a man but of writing to a doctor. For the advice of an unqualified woman is just as dangerous a* the advice of an unqualified man. Every day adds to the number of wom en who take advantage of Dr.' Pierce’s genuine offer of a consultation by letter Free of cost. As chief consulting physi cian of the Invalids’ Hotel and Surgical Institute, of. Buffalo, N. Y., Dr. R. V. Pierce has, in a practice of over thirty years, treated more than half-a-million women for female troubles with the re markable record of ninety - eight per cent, of cures. Sick women are invited to consult Dr. Pierce by letter, without fear and without fee. Every letter is held as strictly private and sacredly con fidential, and all answers are mailed ;~ffctf<gff-in-ptain are ing of any kind upon Dr. Piercers Favor ite Prescription makes Weak Women Strong and Siok Women Well C w. in the form of a narrow road or line. On either side of these lines ihe corn rises like a wall high above the wagon. Having once entered the lane the trav eller finds it impracticable to turn around. The only thing to do is to drive to the other side of the great field. Nobody who has ridden through the 6,000 acres questions the estimate *f 100 bushels to the acre. And no body who has visited the field since the present crop began to mature can rc- member to have seen the like of it before Even the cultivators of this excep- , tional field admit that they have never had such a crop a* this year’s. To them there is nothing unusual in a yield of seventy five bushels to the acre. In unfavorable seasons they can safely count on fifty to sixty bushels. But one hundred bushels for the entire tract Is the recordbreaker. A capitalist from the greatest corn-raising section of Il linois, the vicinity of Springfield, last week bought six hundred acres of this banner field of corn. He paid (18,000. A cash offer of (30,000 for one thous and acre* was refuted. By wifi; pf inter esting contrast it may be slated right here that lest than ten years ago the ground upon which stands the banner corn crop of the banner corn year changed hands at (1 an acre. Where the banner crop is denting and harden ing, within half a dozen years wild ducks had a. summer Dealing and hatch ing place. The banner cornfield of the United States occupies what waa recentln Big Lake, In the American Bottom. Water stood st a depth of two feet over au ir regularly lottued tract, perhaps two miles wide and four miles long in iu largest measures. Long ago an abortive allcmpl Ot draining was rnwle. but it failed of IU purpose. Big I.ake con tinued to furnish sport to the duck hua- 'tors, but wa* worthless in all other re spects. Mr Whitney Gilbreath, of Ava, began to specuLile upon the possibili ties of reclamation. The fellow citizens of Mr Gilbreath are now rather loath to iscall the uncomplimentary things they said almut his want of sound sen-e in wasting his time with Big take: They saw him put into the over-flowed land his money until he owned thous ands of acres. The) saw s drainage district formed. A steam dredge cuts channel twenty-five feet wide from the Jake to Mississippi River. This ditch ranges from eight to thirty leet in depth. The citizens commented sar castically and could hardly be patant until the time to say, “I told y«»u“ ” That time never came for them. The water drained from the lake into the cut and i»assed sway, leaving in one body six thousand acres of almost inconceiv ably fertile land. And thal is where to-day ripens this mass of corn which beats the world. Two other lakes have since been in cluded fh the drainage district. Can al# neariyMbirty miles in all have been dug. Where these other lakes were are other bodies of coin two thousand and three thousand acres iu extent. They will show yields proportionate to that of Big take. But there is only one body of six thousand acres w hich will give six hundred thousand bushels The Alliance And Pounca.— The Farmers’ Alliance is uot out of politics in the sense that it is to ior sake the study of questions affecting the welfare of our country, but it is out of politics in tt partisan sense and so fab as mere scramble for office is couccrned. But H will not forget its purpose “to labor for the education of the masses in the science of economical government in a strictly non partisan spirif.’.’^ It will help to make better foembers of all parties. In the Alliauce members of all political parties get together, lay aside prejudice and seek after thetruth. One of the great purposes of Ihe Order ia to educate the people and remove ig norance and prejudice, for, shut our eyes to the fact as we may, the stubborn truth remains that the two giant evils of the country—the twin monsters which more than all other ev ils combined threaten the best interests of the country, politically—are Ignor ance and Prejudice. These are the twin evils which are at the foundation of all political rottenness, the two lions which stands in the path of higher citizenship and purer politics. Against these evils the Alliance and all good citizens must wage unceasing wax. COTTON SEED Tire ffshid If value of cooked hogs has been reprodacad in a i of our exchanges, and we several penonal inquiries fur further ' information. The subject ia uot a new one. Tliere is nothing about the matter that ia iu the nature of a discovery. It is alto gether probable that there la more than one man in this county who is regular ly fattening his hogs with cotton seed as a principal ration. We do not hap pen to be informed of any such case. It is a common belief that the feeding of raw cotton seed to hogs is almost sure death, and most people are careful to keep their seed out of reach of their hogs. Tins may be wise and again !l may not be. If cotton seed are available for hog feeding porpoees, their use cannot foil to prove profitable and the subject is deserving of very careful in vestigation. It waa Deputy Sheriff Harshaw who first called the attention of the writer to the matter. In a casual conversation he mentioned the ‘fact that one year, when corn was scarce, his mother rais ed a number of shoots on boiled cotton seed and made them weigh from 300 to 250 pounds each. He did not say that the experiment was carried any further, Mr. Thomas A. Edison has become a large landed proprietor. He has bought 56,000 acres of land iu New rdopwvwithoat .pciaL Mexico; but -his intention*. ara< on them. * muc ij agricultural as metallurgical. He proposes to treat gold ore by a now electrical reduction process, and will build a plant for the purpose on his new ranch. The catalogue of Ihe Paris Exposi tion, now in course of preparation, it to be a mounment of the art of printing and bookbinding as practiced int France. It will consist of eighteen volumes, devoted to as many special groups of exhibits. once. If the hogs are let lose on a pile of dry cottou seed, they will proceed to J orge themselves until they choke to eath. Death ie invariably caused by the clogging of masses of hut and hulla' in their throats. He is pretty sure that( it is the lint that doe* the damage, and that there is no poison about the seed, or apytinog else that would cause it to disagree with a hog. In proof of thia, he has many a time fed raw seed, ajren to young hogs, by scattering the seed thinly over the ground. This compels slow eatiug and lessens the danger of choking. Mr. A. F. McConnell, of Yorkvtlla, v baa seen law cotton mixed with corn, fed to hogs regularly, with good result*. The seeds weie generally scattered on the floor of the pen or on the ground. He also ia aaltsOed that it is the lint that makes the trouble, because it is a fact that whether cooked or raw, pigs will thrive on cotton seed meal. In bis opinion cooking of cotton seed would eo saturate them with water os to make them easy to swallow without danger. The matter is certainly one ol very great importance. If even boiled cot ton seed are good for faUcoing hogs, it would certainly be difficult to find any thing that is cheaper for winter fend ing, aud it it not improbable that con- veitien into hog meat is about as profit- , able a use as can be made of them. These luggejUbos, we are satisfied, will be pi city sureo reach the eye id oue or more fanners who are able to throw more light on the subject, and would be glad to have anv further information that anv bod) care* tooffei.— Ytrkvills Enquirer. Some years ago au explorer in Asia diacovered a plant of silken fiber, used br the Turcoman for the manufacture of wiihea and cotd sod, by the Con- agues, for woven goods. Thu plant, known as the Ai*ocyoum venetum, is a sort of bush, with slender, cylindric al branches, aometimu six feet high. It grows in Europe,Siberia, A«i% Minor the north of India, Manchuria and Jap an. The branchee die early, and in the J spring new shoots start horizontally from the roots. It flourishes beat where the land is nnder water during a part of the year, notably in the neighbor hood of rivers that overflow at stated periods. The attention ef the Russian government was called to thia plant in 1891, and in 1895 the authorities began to use it in the manufacture of bank notes, and since then the plant has been cultivated.at Poltava. The results ob tained thus far are considered excellent. The National Export Exposition was formally opened in Iffiiladelphla on September 14th, and will remain open from that date to November 14th.* _ PITTS’ The Stomach* _ The Bowels^ The Blood, OoirrAGiabs FOR" The liver, The Kidneys, The Nerves, Disbasis. Antiseptic Invigorator is a germ-killer, a diuretic, a.blood purifier, a stomach and nerve tonic, a stimulant for the liver and bowels. Manufactured by Pitts’ Antiseptic Invigorator Co. THOMSON, OA. For sale by druggists everywhere. Hold by CARPENTER BROS., Qtrsenville, 8. C. Sent by OMOSNr. QftuUMSt* c $**y*. i—swi.a*. a—* »'*»■.