Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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- J “-v ’ V ■% HORSE-SHOE ROBINSON A TALE OF THE TORY ASCENDENCY BY JOHN P. KENNEDY l««n* Between a Daughter. father,” Interrupted Mildred eagerly, and with Increaslnf? earnestness, “I abhor the thought. Be assured that If age. poverty, and deformity were showered upon nte at once. If friends abandoned me, If my reason were blighted, and I was doomed to wander barefooted amongst thorns and briers. I would not exchange that lot. to be hig wife amidst tenfold his honors and wealth. I never can listen to his hateful proposal: there is that In my condition which would make It wick ed. Pray, dearest father, as you love your daughter, do not speak of It to me again.” "Resume your calmness, child: your earnestness on this subject afflicts me: It has a fearful omen in It It tells of a heart fatally devoted to one whom, of all men, I have gr atest reason to hate. This unhappy linger ing passion for the sworn enemy of his king and country, little becomes my daughter, or her regard for me. It may rouse me, Mildred, to some Chew What You Know Know What Yc Ml* M y r- jz* m CHAPTER XI. to derogate from the character of an Father and ! honorable man.” “Wearing an assumed name, father, « i and acting a part, here, at the Dove When Mildred entered the library i g ^ necessary for his purpose Liadsar was already there. He stood un der this roof, he should ap- hafore one of the ranges of book shel-' pear In masquerade? May I know vea. and held a volume in his hand , whether he treats with you for my •a hand in his roal or assumed charact which for a moment after hls daugh-j or —^ permit me to know who ter’s entrance, seemed to engross his, is?” attention. Milderd was sufficiently, “All in good time. Mildred. Con- aMute to perceive that by this device tent you, girl, that he has sufficiently he struggled to compose his mind for I certified himself to me. These are . „ ^ r ,, ta e it* rview of which sin more than ) perilous times, and Tyrrel is obliged j unkind wish against thee. Oh. I could w.eBsed the import She was of a, to practice much address to find his | curse myself that I ever threw vou in constitution not easily to be. driven i way along our roads. You are aware i the way of this insidious rebel. But- Crom her self-possession: but the con-1 it would not be discreet to have him [ *er. Nav you need not conceal your i sciousness of her father’s embarrass j known even to our servants. But the tears; well do they deserve to flow «>«nt and some perplexity in her own time will com- when you shall know j for this persevering transgression j f««!tngs at this moment, produced by; him as himself, and then. If 1 mistake against the peace of your father's; * «*miie of the difficult part she had to not, your generous nature will he I uouse. It requires but little skill to perform slightly discomposed her; j ashamed to have wronged him by j road the whole history of your heart.” i there was something like alarm in her unworthy suspicions.” | fJndsay now alked to and fro j step, aad also in the expression of her “Believe me. father, ’ exclaimed ^cross the apartment, under the i features as she almost stealthily seat- .Mildred, rising to a tone of animation i tluence of emotions which he was •d herself in one of the large loumr- that awakened tv natural eloquence | afraid to trust himself to utter. At ■ Lug chairs, ^or a moment she uncon ; of her feelings, and gave them vent I length resuming his expostulation, in | scion.dv employed herself in stripping i„ language which more resembled the | a somewhat moderate tone, he con-1 a little flower that she held in her display of a practised orator than the i tinned: hand of its leaves, ami looked silently , declamation of a girl, “believe me, he; Mill no laps' of lime wear away! upon the flow; at length, in a low ac-, hni>oses on you. His purposes are this abhorred image from your mera- •rnt. she said. “Father, I am here at intensely selfish If he has obtained iWV Are you madlv bent on bring- yonr bidding.” Lindsay turned quick- an authority to treat with you orj‘ n E down miserv on your head. I do It round, and, throwing down the vo! i others under an assumed name, it has | no ^ aTira k of my own suffering. Will wmo he had been perusing, approach-, only been to further his personal ; forever nurse a hopeless attach ing his daughter with a smile that, ends. Already has he succeeded in j men t for a man whom, it must be ap- «eemed rather unnaturally to pi-y l plunging you, against your will, into ; baront to yourself, you can never wrer his grav<- ami almost melancholy | the depth of this quarrel. Your time, | mee ^ a S a i n - Wfhom if the perils of, •onntenance. and it was with a forced niv dear father, which once glided as i f^e field, the at mining bullet of some j attempt at pleasantr. he said, as he j softly and as happily as yon spark-! l°val subject, do not bring him merit-j ling waters through our valley is now ' “A punishment, the halter may re-1 consumed in deliberations that wear ! ward or. In his most fortunate^ des- out your spirit: your books are aban j disgrace, poverty, an(V» shame; doned for the study of secret schemas | P urs »e- A re you fo r ever to love that of politics: you are perplexed and j „ anxious at every account that reaches Mildred stood before her father as wrong,” was Mildred’s grave and al-| ns of victory or defeat. It was not 1 Jj 0 brought this appeal to a close: I •ost tremulous reply. j so. until you saw Tyrrel: your nights. | “w eves filled with tears, her breast ‘Thou art a good child, Mildred,” j that once knew a long and healthful wild Lindsay, drawing a chair close «leep are now divided by short and beside hers, and then, in a more ser unrefreshing slumbers: you complain ioug tone, he continued, “you are en- of unpleasant dreams and you foretell e' 1 - sae looked wltn an expression of tllrelv sure my daughter, that I love some constantly coming disaster. In- j a Boost angrv defiance in his face, as ^ yon, and devoutly seek your happl- j deed, dearest father, you are not | p ' le an swored For ever, for ever, wess?" I what you were. You wrong yourself j an A hastily left the room. “Dear father, you frighten me by by thes« cares, and you do not know! arm lone in which Mildred Ais solemn air Why ask me such a bow anxiously my brother Henry and spoke these last words, her proud and Mostion ” ! myself watch, in secret, this unhappy ' a ' nioa J haughty bearing, so unlike | "Pardon me, my girl, but my feel- p^ange in your nature. How can I an .'’tulng Lindsay had ever se^n be- i«gs are full with subjects of serious think- with patience or this Tyrrel imnort. and I would have you b dieve ! when I see th^se things?” itaat what I have now to say snrlngs ] “The times, Mildred, leave me no from an earnest solitude for vo”- wol-1 "hoiee. When a nation stniTgies to •are.” I ♦t’row off the rule of lawful authority, "You have always shown it father.” ♦h'> friends of peace and order should "T come to speak to you. without .re- -ememher that the riotous nassions There is real pleasure in chew;:?;v the best lobacco grown—where the best tobacco grows—in the famouo Piedmont Country. Only choice selections of this well-matured and thoroughly cured tobacco is used in making SCHNAPPS. 1 hat s why SCHNAF PS and othe r; of the Reynold’s brand i, as shown by “the Internal Reven in statistics xor a h seal 3 ear, made cne /rondci l. A >cX« / «- * • * 4 A r V *. - l.‘vj * j _I, w-t L w. J) - ei. SCHNAPPS t ^. / fir La J.J: Cl tiian there are / - h .* .. v •• SCHNAPPS r, *■» ? / > 4 • ^ **,■'* i /“ crl t e A e ■! “H/e, PS Is »ike £ cu j /' - i •'"i o • ^ ■ r' i vj nc- quartei gain cf g 'ov/ch of six and c* H'ion pounds, or a net mt-thirci of the ent re t ; ion cf chewing ^ w * j . v a tnc t * ii l .l Ci a . v;oe> *ook hf»r hand: “Now. I dare say. you think you done something very wrong an ■ ibat 1 have brought you here to give tou a lecture.” *T hope, father. I have* done nothing r, cannot re:i ; sf r: hey cheer SCHN APP .‘tA: .cheers them • other cbev/ing to- o', v.y man that chews p passes the good thing along --one chewer makes otlier chewers -until tire fact is now es tablished that there are many more /oc eno I just enough : . ’citing 7d >. Pa 7 AT • Pd pleases all r .A, be- wach w that - O ym f Is i iC're large 10c. or md viicv get moo* m- 01 . a i by to- 1 5 con- 01 i r . than .. that nprop- if 7 n 1 >1 the nan who cnews tobacco for tobacco s sake, there is no chew like SCHNAPPS. h-aving as if It would hurt : and sum moning up all her courage for her r© ply. w'hen this last question was ask- 4|p Sold at SOc. per pound in 5c. Cuts. Strictly lOc. and 15c. Pluses R. J. REYNOLDS TOBACCO COMPANY. Winston-Salem. N. C. band against his king, who wno fore, and her abrupt departure from his presence, gave a check to the cur- | rent of his thoughts that raised the most painful emotions. For an in-. stant a blush of resentment rose Into his cheeks, and he felt tempted to call : his daughter hack that he might ex- rve, of Tvrrel,” resumed Lindsay; j of the refractory people are not to be l,ress sentiment: it was but of a moment s duration, however, and “and you will not respond to my con J subdued without personal sacrifices •donee, unless you answer me In the i “You nromised yourself, father, vrry truth of your heart. This gentle- 1 here at the Dove Cote to live beyond man. Mr. Tyrrel. has twice avowed to tbp snhere of these excit°ments. And. me of late an earnest attachment to as I well remember, you often, as the you. and has sought my leave to pros- ; -'-ar raced, threw yours°lf unon your •cute his suit. Such things are not j knees, and taught us—your children, apt to escape a woman’s notice, and —to kneel bv your side, and we nut you have doubtless bad some hint of an our joint expressions of gratitude kis predilection before he disclosed to God that at least, this little asylum M to me.” j was undisturbed by the angry pas- All the woman’s bashfulness dlsap jslnn of man.” pearAl with this announcement. Mil- “We did, my dearest child. But I •red grew erect In her seat, and as should think it sinful to nray for the the native pride of her character same onlet when mv services might •earned forth from every feature of he useful to restore harmony to a dls- •er face, she replied— | 'ract^d and misguided country.” “H<j has nevfcr, father, vouchsafed | “Do you now think.” asked Mildred. bp give me such a proof of his good ^‘tha* your efforts are or can he of •pinion Mr. Tyrrel is content to ' anv avail to produce neace?” mako his bargain with you: he is well i “The blessing of heaven has de- awarc that whatever hope he may be | seeded unon the arms of our sever- idle enpugh to cherish, must depend ! elgn,” replied Lindsay. “The south »rn provinces are subdued and are f sst returning to their allegiance Th" hones of England brighten, and a sneedv close of this unnatural re- more on your command than on my regard.” “H© has never spoken to you, Mll- •red?” asked Lindsay, without mak »g any comment on the indignant re- ! bullion Is at hand.” •entlon his daughter has given to his , “There are many valleys, father. Hsclosure. ‘ Never a word? Bethink , anf1one , < ,j these mountains, and the you, my daughter, of al! that has late- forests shade a solitude where fy passed between you. A maiden Is i^* rc .p an( i populous nations mav be apt to misconstrue attentions. Can a i mo9 t f r0 m human search. They you remember nothing beyond the w ho possess the valleys and the wlld- ■aen- civilities of custom. j erness T have heard It said by wise * * n t *V; c0 * 1 ' men. will for ever choose their own 4nct of Mr. Tyrrel but the devotion to j » the purpose of embroiling my dear . ...... father In his miserable politics. I can Mi ' dred ' ^ are a dutiful daught »emember nothing of him but bis low C r ;. aTld ar ? T 10 * w ? nf to ,j° ry T !,P i 7 °* r voice and noiseless stens. his mvster-' father s w,she8 1 could de8,re to Ioug Insinuations, his midnight sittings, kis ^ll8ome flattery of your services hi the royal cause, the base means by which he has robbed you of your rest and taken the color from your cheek. I thought him too busy in distracting your peace to cast a thought upon me. But to sneak to me, father, of attachment,” she said, rising and tak ing a station so near Lindsay’s chair as to be able to lean her arm upon Mb shoulder, “to breathe one word nf a wish to win my esteem, that he dared not do.” “You speak under the Impulse of acme unnecessarily excited feeling, daughter. You apply terms and 1m- rnte motives that sound too harsh from your Ups. when the subject of them is a brave and faithful gentle man. Mr. Tyrrel deserves nothing at •ur hands but kindness.” “Alaa, my dear father, alas, that yon should think so!” “WTiat have you discovered. Mild red. that you should deem so Injur iously of this man? Who has con jured up this unreasonable aversion in vour mind against him?” “I am Indebted to no sources of in formation but mv own senses/’ re plied Mildred; “I want no monitor to tell me that he is not to be trusted. He is not what he seems.” “True, he is not what he seems, but better Tyrrel appears here but as a simple gentleman, wearing, for ob vious reasons, an assumed name. The letters he has brought me avouch him to be a man of rank and family, high In the confidence of the officers of the king, and holding a reputable commission in the army: a man of ■ote. worthy to he trusted with grave euternrlses. distinguished for saga- cltv. bravery, and honor, of moral vir tne s which would dignify any station, end. as you cannot but acknowledge from vour own observation, filled with the courtesy and grace of a gen tleman. Fie, daughter! It is sinful see you. with that shrewd aunrehen- sinn of yours, that quickinslght. and that thoughtful mind, thoughtful be- vond the quality of your sex. l°ss favorably bent towards the enterprise of these rebel subjects. I do utterly loath" them and their cause, and could wish that child of mine abated In no one jot of my aversion to them.” “Heaven, father, and your good tutoring have made m© what I am." returned Mildred, calmly; “I am but a woman, and sneak with a weak lodgment and little knowledge. To mv unlearned mind It seems that the vovmnnent of every nation should be wfiiat the people wish It There are good men here, father, amongst vour friends—men, who. I am sure, have all kindness in their hearts, who say that this country has suffered grievous wrongs from the insolence of the king’s representatives. They have proclaimed this In a paper which I have heard even you say was temp crate and thoughtful: and you know nearly the whole land has roused grief at what he felt was the first al j tereatlon he had ev^r had with his | child, succeeded, and stifled all other emotions. He flung himself Into the chair, and, dropping hls forehead up on his hand, gave wav to the full tide of his feelings. His spirits gradually became more composed, and be was able to survey with a somewhat temp erate judgment the scene that had lust nassed. His manner, he thought, mleht have been to peremntorv—per ,, ans It was harsh and had offended hls daughter’s ’’rid 0 : he should have Peen more conclMatory In his speech. “The old.” he said, “are not fit coun sellors to the voting; we forget the warmth of their nassions. and would reason when they onlv feel. How small a shan has prudence in the concerns of the heart!” But then this unexpected fervor of devotion to Sutler—that a'armed him. and h® hit hls iln as he felt his nneer rising with the thought. "H°r renugance to Tvrrel. her nromnt reiectlor, of his suit, her Indignant contempt for the man. even that T could hpar with oa- tlence.” he exclaimed. “I seek not to trammel her will bv any authority of mine But this Butl°r! Oh! there is the beginning of the curse unon my house! there is the fate aealnst which t have been so solemnly warned! That man who had b°en the author of this unhanniness. and whose al liance with mv nam© has been de nounced bv the awful visitation of the dead.—that Mildred should cher- l«b his regard is misery. It cannot and shall not be!” These and many such reflections passed through 1 ipd«av’s mind and had roused his feeMngs to a tone of evace’-hatien against. Arthur Butler, far surnassing any displeasure he had ever before Indulges against this in dividual In the height, ef this self- communion he was interrupted hr the return of Mildred to the apartment, almost as shruntlv as she had ouitted j It. She apnroached his chair. knelL 1 Ie.«d her head upon his lap .and wept' aloud “Whv. my dear father." she said, at length, looking up in Ms face while the tea-s rolled down her ch°ekB. “why do you address language to me that makes m© forget the flutv I owe von? If you knew my heart you would snare and nttv mv f°elin«rs. Pardon me. dear father, If my con duct has •offended vou. I knew not what I sooke: I am wretched and cannot answer for my words. Do not think I would wound vour affection of Tvrrel without agony.” “Rise daughter.” said Lindsay, al itself to say that paper was good, i ’ T,< >Bt lifting h*r un, "I do not chide Oan so many men be wrong?” | vn, i for vour reuugnar.ee to Tvrrel. “You are a girl.” replied Lindsay. ' T < 0, , , ™nk I would “and a subtile one: you are tainted ! j 1c,at * to vour air * ot, °!iV my ®rr1ef with the comm©" heresy. But what l 18 ” !, „ deeper This Arthur else might I expect! There are few B,,t!er ” men who can think out of fashion. When the multitude jh sunnosed to so-*ak that Is warrant enough for the opinions of the majority. But it Is no matter, this is not a woman’s theme, and is foreign to our present conference. I cam© to talk with you about Tyrrel Upon that subject I will us" no persuasions, exnress no wish not In the sligMest point essav to Influence your choice When he disclosed his purpose to me. T told him it was a question solely at your disposal Thus much It Is my duty to say, that should his suit be favor ed”— “From the bottom of my heart, "Snare that name, father!” inter- meted Mildred, retiring to a seat near *he window and covering her face with her hands. "Gurse him!” exclaimed Lindsay. “Mav all th“ plagues that torment the human bo«om fall unon him! Mark me daughter I trust 1 am not an un reasonable father I know I am not sn unkind one: there are few reouests that vou could mak© which I wou’d not freely grant. But to h°nr with "atlen©*. th© nam© of that map on vour Hns. to think of him ns allied to ~u bv any svmnatbv an "haring "nv portion of vour esteem—him a rebel •raJtor who has raised hls sacrilegious ho has sold his nam© to infamy, wflo has con tributed to fill these peaceful provinc es with discord, and to subvert the happiness of this land, which heaven had appointed to bo an asylum where man, disgusted with (he lusts, rapine, and murder of his fellow, might be take himself as a child to the bosom of his parent—I cannot endure the thought of him! Never again. Mild red, 1 charge you, never allude to him again!” “If I could but tell you all!” inter rupted Mildred, sobbing, “if I could but patiently have your hearing!” “Never a word of him! as you de sire to preserve my affection. I will not hear. Get to your chamber.” said Lindsay, almost sternly. “Get to your chamber, this perverse and resolute temper of thine, needs the restraint of solitude.” Mildred rose from her chair and moved towards the door, and as she was about to depart she turned her weeping countemance towards her father. “Com© hither,” he said “thou art a foolish girl, and would bring down wretchedness and woe upon thee. God forgive you from the bottom of my heart. I forgive you. This thing Is not of your own Imagining: some malignant spirit has spread hls bale ful wing above our house. Go. child, forget what has been said, and be lieve that vour father buffets thus harshly with fat© for your own wel fare. Kiss me, and mav heaven shield you against this impending 111!” "Dear father, hear me,” said Mild red, as Lindsay Imprinted a kiss upon her forehead. "Away, away!” interrupted Lind say. "I would be temperate nor again forget myself. In all love. Mildred, away” Midred left the room, and Lindsay, to restore the equanimity of hls temp er. which had h°en so much over thrown by this Interview wandered forth Into th© valley, whence It was some hours before he returned It w'as not lone after the termina tion of this conference before Henry rode un to the door. The clatter of Ms horses’s hoofs brought Mildred from h°r chamber into the parlor. “What! slst"r. your eves red with tears?” said Henry. "Who has dis tressed you ” “Ah. brother. I have had a weary time in vour absence. Our poor fath er i« sadly displeased with me.’’ “Have you told him all?” asked Henry, with an expression of anxiety. "H© bade me,” replied Mildred, “never mention Arthur’s nam© again. He would not hear me speak of Ar thur. Have I not reason, dear broth er. to be miserable?" “I love you. Mildred,” said Henry, kissing his sister "and what’s more, I love Arthur Butler, and will stand up for him against the world. And I hav» a good mind to go to mv father and tell him I am man enough to think for myself—and more than that—’that I. for one. believe these rebels, as he calls them, have the right of R. Why shouldn’t I? Can’t I shoot a rifle as well as the best of them, and stand by a friend in a quar rel, and make good my words as well as many a man who writes twenty years to his age? Tosh! I am tired of this boy-play—shooting with blunt ed arrows, and riding with my fath er’s hand ever on the neeb of my horse, as If I could not hold the reins. Give m© sharp steel. Mildred, and throw me on the world, and 111 h© honnd I mak© my way as well as another.” "W© are surrounded with difficul ties. brother." said Mildred, "and have a hard part to perform. We must sooth© our dear father’s feel ings. for he loves us. Henry: and if h© could but think as we do how hannv should w© be! But there is something fearful in hls nassions, and it makes me tremble to see them roused.” “This all comes.” replied Henry, ’’from that devil's Imn Tyrrel Oh, I could find it in my heart to trounce that fellow, sister. But you haven’t asked me about my reconnoitring! I’ll tell you. Tyrrel’s man, Curry, talked a great deal to old Ton? and Mrs. Dimock both, about our frie/ids who went there last last night, and found out their names and all about them: and there wag some fray be tween Horse Shoe and Curry. In which. I’ll warrant you. Horse Shoe gav© him a drubbing; so Tony told me. Well, Butler and Horse Shoe set out this morning at daylight. And Tyrrel went over there to breakfast: and you may suppose he was lucky in not meeting the major, for I am sure there would have been a snot of work if he had. Furthermore. I found out that Tvrrel followed on the same road after Butler, so they may meet vet. you know.” “I pray not,” said Mildred, “Why pray not, sister? I pray they may meet. Let Tyrrel have all the good of it There, now I believe I have given you all the news sister, exactly as I picked it up. But here is a trifle I forget.” said Henry, pro ducing a letter addressed to Mildred. "Ah. ha, you brighten up now! This was left by the major with Mrs. Mimock, to be forwarded to you with car o and speed.” Mildred tore open the letter, and eagerlv perused Its contents. They consisted of a few lines hastily pen ned by Butler, at early dawn, as he wag about mounting his horse for the prosecution of his Journey. Their ournose was to apprise her of the discovery Robinson had made of the true character of Curry, and also to express his fears that this latter per son might disclose to Tyrrel the fact of his. Butler’s visit. He cautioned her to observe the conduct of Tyrrel and to communicate with him at Gates’s headquarters where he expect- d to be delayed a few days on his ’ourney: her letter, he said, might be forwarded by som© of the nartles who at that time were continually passing southward: Henry might look to this: and he con cl’* 4 by assuring * - that he would write as often as be might find means of conveving a r ’acbet to th© care of ~ood Mistress Dimock. who was sufflcientlv in the 'atprest of the lovers to keen falthful- ’v any secret which they might con fide to her. This letter served to exnlain the cause of Tvrrel’s sudden denarture. and to confirm Mildred in the opinion, which she had before expressed that this e-nest of her father was not ignor of the interest Butler had her '-e'-ard. Her determination therefore was to watch hig motions narrowly, and to make her lover aennainted with whatever she might discover. "It Is even so,” she said musing; "Tyrrel either fears or hates Arthur, i shudder to think that that man «hould have anv motive supolled him ♦o contrive aealnst the peam n- safe- tv of one so dear to me. Wretch.” she exclaimed, “that he should be In "Ment enonrh to hope for my regard! Oh! mv father, my father, whaj a snare has been snread for you by this -nan! Thank you, brother," she con tinued. addressing Henrr “You have well executed yonr mission. Be dis creet and ready: I shall have much need of your bead and hand both: vour heart is mine already, good brother.” “T will ride for von. sister.” said Henry “I will mn for you. sneak for vou. orav for you—If mv nrsvem be -vorth anything—and strike for you, if need he. If I am but turned of six teen. I am a man. I trow; and that's -"ore than vou are. Good bye! a sol dier ought to look after his horse, vou know.” “God bless yon, dec..- brother, for an excellent hov.” said Mildred smil- tne "man I mean—aye and a brave one!" Henry now walked away, and Mild red betook hessslf to other cares. (CONTINUED NEXT FRIDAY > Remember The Seed Store when _ _ seed Gaffney von ro to buy your garden Drug Co. Marriage Ceremonv In Prose. A local notary public who Is called up quite frequently to perform the marriage ceremony, has evolved frost his poetic brain the following affusion to us© on such occasions in the do- ture: Jim, do you take Bet, Without regret. To love and cherish. Till one of you perish And be laid under the tod. So help you God? Bet. do you take Jin* To cook for him, To set the clock, And darn hls sock. While you have breatU And ne’er stop till deathV This Is the whole story in a nag- sheli and binds them together at fast as beeswax. i A ’mil HKTILIZER T* < amv A it.-4 a k. < «» The i.’n. h<-i ll L*e U'-.'i- r> vi - <vei U< vv n.joh fcrtiliecr r ii ?” caunot be a»- ■inu (.niv in a geu. rat .-ay. It <s H.juctirr.fK i it In this form: What if th' ti i-n-r'i;.!. e amount that tay ho ipi .led j r .-u. Neither can ho <,ueition in th<- inomlcd foitn t»<- xa-t!y a no accurately unswied. Th© oil, its charactoi, I' iaiation. piTparatioti. to., may b- well icnnvi,, or oontrollablo actors, hut wo knew not what the ».ea- ons may bo, ruyv Moi . il. J. Hcdding, Jlrcctor Georgi i Lxperiment Station. L)c- •artment of Agriculture, in the Virginla- Jarolina Fertilizer Alc.anac, We know that «omo crops will bear larger amounts of fertilizers with roasmt* ible assurance of profitable returns that may be expected of other soils. A crop that occupies the soil from the fall season until spring, or early summer, will boa*- heavlrr fertilizing than will a crop that is planted in the spring and ripons f»r haivest in midsummer. The first case is illustrated by outs, wheat, or other small grain, or grass, especially when sown <* the fall of the year. Such a crop nocu- ,ut ■: th- soil during the late fall and wm- Aiol early spring—during which pe- F!; th«‘ rain ’ are usually abundant— Ipt ning for harvest In late spring, or eiy early summer, before the burning . ra-r heat and possible drouths of < and July. <)ats and wheat therefore re hit il crops for liberal fertilizing. <’< rn is rather an uncertain crop on tke !ii i: y dry uplands of the South. 1c i ts nut u short period In which to dovel- p its Mowers—tassels and silks—cover- ’■a but a few days, li very dry weather hall prevail when this critical period is ipproaehlng, and for some time after it is passed, the crops may prove a greater or less failure. There can be no second effort, no second period of blooming. It is different in the case of cotton, which commences to bloom and make fruit in June (or even earlier) and con- Mnues throughout the summer until becked by a severe frost In November. It has a number of “chances.” Cotton is therefore another Ideal crop for liberal fertilizing. A small amount 'f fertilizers applied per acre wiM no doubt yield a larger percentage profit m Its cost than will a larger amount. To 'llustrate: An application of $2 worth of fertilizer per acre may cause an ia- reaged yield of cotton (at 10 cents per pount() of the value of $5 to J8, or a proit if 200 \fo 300 per cent, on its cost. 1 havs frequently had such results. But It doea not follow that twice as heavy an appH- •atlon ivlll produce twice as large re sults, onthat three times as much wouM •ause three times as great an Increaa* In the yield. In other words, the rate of increake In the yield of cotton will not be Ini proportion to the increase in the amount of fertilizers applied. Two dollars' wi rth of fertilizer per acre may yield an li crease In the crop of $6; but $6 worth irould not therefore bring an mcrease o 118. But care ul observation has shown that an appllca Ion of *6 to J6 worth of fertil izers (prop (rly balanced) Is a safe amount to apply p *r acre on cotton. Many farm ers in G©< rgla have secured satisfactory returns fr m an application of so much as 800 pou ds per acre, or about S8 worth. I think «] > pounds a perfectly safe limit on upland In fairly good condition. prepared (and properly culUvated In eot- ^ on k. J ® ^or / ^O^T ' , * would limit the amount to 2ii<» to/300 pounds per acre on old up lands. ' THI ORIGINAL LAXATIVE COUGH GVMP KENNEDY’S LAXATIVE HONEY-TAI M Ctovar BUmmi wM Bsnsr Sm m tmry Mka Wg do not do all kinds of pHntfcn -we do the GOOD kind.