The county record. [volume] (Kingstree, S.C.) 1885-1975, October 01, 1903, Image 2
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f A NOVEL OF AMERICAN LIFE
n f MAURICE
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CHAP ITU X\TL
IS THK KM::.
"Do you kuow mo?"
"i'n! Yes. bow do yon do?"
It was evi lout th.it Mr. Vernon was
trying bard to cast off surprise a i.i
appear quite at ease; but lately ue
Lai been baling this more ui.licult
than bo was willing to ackuowiedge.
His mind bail beeu disturbed, and
?ue burning suspicion was falling
deeper and deeper into bis heart.
Ho could uot just theu fairly understand
why to see Barns standing before
him should startle him so. True,
the old man's face and form wero
clothed upon with au indescribable
suggestion of weirJuess; bat to a man
like Mr. Veruou this coald uot bo n
source of mental disquiet; it was not
specially observed on the moment.
"I hojie that yon ami voar lanmy
have been well auJ happy siuce the
time of your great kiuduess to me,"
said Burns, offering his hand, which
Mr. Vernon felt to bo like ice when [
be touched it.
Not the chill wind nor yet the almost
numbing rain conld account for
the singular shiver and repulse which
came out of that hand-clasp into Mr.
Vernon's blood. It was like touching
the flesh of a corpse, only it was far
colder. On the old w anderer'a cheeks
burned hectic spots.
"Yes?yes, we are all very woll?
yes, very well. I a>n glad to see yon
ag&iu, sir. The ladies will be proud
% to have you come. Why haven't you
been to the house?"
' I have been often but could not
get in. Yonr man thinks I'm a beggar."
"Ta! I'll teach hira better."
Evidently, the presence of Burns,
while not exactly an aunoyance to
Mr. Vernon was by no meabs a pleasare.
Aside from any effect produced
upon him by an apparition so unexpected,
and taking no account of the
startling expression of the old preacher's
strangely emaciated fac e and con
ceutrateu gaze, there was something
inopportune, ont-of-place ami no welcome
in the sadden meeting. We
have moments when any index to oar
past ii unbearable. Mr. Vernon was
, constrained; his manner ami voice
were unnatural.
Burns eyed him a moment, then i
said :
"No. Don't bother with it. I am j
a beggar, a tramp, and I do not wish {
to disturb a happy family. What I {
want is easily told." j
"Speak it, my dear air, speak it; it j
is already yours."
Mr. Vernon was still holding that '
clammy hand and looking firmly and
lcindlv. Albeit with a sort of artificial I
expression, into Barns'* deep-sauken j
and inflamed ejes. /
"No, that is a polite lie. Wait till
1 make my deaire known, then eec if j
you can be generous." j
"Ta! I see you are ill. Come in !
and bare some wine,"
"I drink nothing bat water. I am
not ill. I am well and strong and
shall reach my goal soon."
"I am glad to hear it, air?very
glau, indeed."
f Mr. Vernon wanted to shake him
off for the present and go into the
club room of the Chats-Huants; he
wanted to seo Colonel Loriug again;
bat Burns would not be abandoned. ;
"I am close on the track of Pierre '
Raracan,'* he said, "and I want your
help. Turn yonr hand for me now, '
*ud I have him."
Mr. Vernon stood silent, and n
peculiar shadow crept over his face. ;
"Ah, I see you are quite prompt,
quite ready!" exclaimed Burns, after
a mere moment. The irony was ,
merciless.
"What do you mean, sir?" demand- !
cd Mr. Vornon. A gray film of passion
or of somo other deep feeliug
crept over his cheeks above the beard.
"".Ball wuere were jou guiu^ J,4!"k
now?" demanded Burns, as if with
authority.
"Sir!" j
"I can tell yon. Yon woro going
upstairs, in there, to the room of the
Chats-Hnants, to meet Pierre IUrncau,
the robber."
"Sir!"
"You know that it is so."
"It is not true?it is "
'"Don't bo angry. Stop aud think.
Stop and turn about. I like you; 1 j
owo my life to you. I would save
* yours now. Don't go in there."
Two or three suspicions-looking fellows
came near and acted as if they
were trying to overhear what was beiug
said. Perhaps they thought it
was a quarrel that would end in ::
ficNL the most interesting thing in th?_
world to such characters.
jBurus, like the Ancient Mariner,
was holding his auditor with his glit
tering eje. Toe wedding-guest was
not more enthralled tiiau was Mr.
Vernon, albeit the lat;er turned
abruptly and would hear no more for
the moment. He could not, however,
tear himself loose from the old man,
who followed him aud stepped again
iu front of him, now Icyiug his hand
ou his top-coat's lapel and thrusting
his eager, cadaverous lips close to hit
ear.
"Come aside somewhere, outv for a
minute. Don't stay here?forheaveuV
sake, dou't!" he exclaimed, in a shrili
whisper. "The tune is nt hand
Vengeance is mine! Come! I hca
them approaching."
r OFa^ |:
Y ISLAND i
n
1
DURING THE WAR OF 1812. i
<
fs'lx' C
THOMPSON,
5
S Robert Corner's Son* 8
"While he SDoke. he was fairly fore
ing Mr. Vernon along, leading him
away from tho door of the restaurant. ]
About thia time, a young man rode
down the street at a swift pace and,
Hinging bimseli from the saddle of his
beautiful horse, ran iuto the place, 5
leaving the auimal standing unhitched f
aud unattended. A little later Colonel j
Loriug came out, mounted and rode t
away. ;
So intent was Burns in his effort to
draw Mr. Vernon aside, he did not
notico this incident. Out slipped the ,
Chats-lluanls, one by one, two by j
two, quickly. silently, scattering and
disappearing as if by magic. c
A little later, a company of mounted ,
soldiers swept round a corner and deployed
in front of the building. Of |
course, they were too late to make ,
the capture they had intended, and j
when they leaped from their horses,
pistols in baud, and rushed in, they ,
discovered that their bird had flown, j
The clatter of hoofs as they cams up i
attracted Burus's attontiou. Ho let 8
go his hold and turned. 8
"In there! In there!" he cried, s
leaping forward. "Up the stairway 6
to tho right! Follow me!"
Ho lod the way with incredible \<
nimblouess for one so old aud frail- ]
looking. A Icng, keen knife Hashed f
iu his hand.
Tho rush was over in a minute.
Tlrtrtrn vcai a ilnqhpf] nn<m or kicked off t
their hinges, and the rooms above ?
aud below were searched without 0
ceremony. 0
Mr. Vernon stood looking on, np- ?
pareutly quite calui. He had seen s
Colonel Loring go, aud now he com- s
prehended tho whole affair. It had g
been well planned and well executed, j
notwithstanding the outcome. Buc
for tho faithful spy at Jackson's head- 8
quarters and the swift courier sent in
thp very nick of time, Loriug would a
have been taken.
'T said all the time that the old n
fool was crazy," growled the officer g
who had led tho dash. "The whole ?
story was absurd." f(
"Ye;*, sir," replied the subaltern ^
whom he addressed, "it was indeed a _
fool's errand. Storming a junk-shop
and led by a ragamuffin!" u
They were coming out of the build- ^
inc_ disaoDointed and vexed, ashamed I ?
of the part they had been forced to
play in a scene so like a farce. u
"You'd better go homo and soak t]
your head, old man!" added one of i
them, turning with brutal severity e
and addressing Burns. "I s'pose f(
you've been drank fo.r a month."
The old man paid no attention to j(
the remark, did not even glance at the q
speaker, bnt walked forth into the ^
street and away, with his chin ou his ?
breast and his knife in his hand.
He overtook Mr. Vernon, or rather ^
they came together when the latter
emerged from a side street a block or
two distant from the scene just wit- -y'
nessed. The rain was still slauting ^
aloug the wind in a fine drizzle; ^
Burns looked pinched and blue. With- f
out a word, Mr. Vernon drew off his '
top-coat and hung it over the old ^
man's shoulders.
"l'ut away your kuife," he said, j ("i
"Toti will need it." w
Barns obeyed mechanically, hiding K]
it somewhere in his bosom. Kvi- a
(leutly he was but vaguely aware of
what he was doing. iJis vision was
iutroverted, his feeliugs were numbed, p
"You will come home with me now," ^
Mr. Vernon added, taking him gently
by the arm. "Wo will have dinuer." R.
Burns looked up quickly with a j."
glauco of suspicion or, perhaps, of ;
deeper meaning.
"No," he said, "I will not." w
Further words on the subject were t:
shut off by tbo peremptory tone and ^
manner. They walked on a little way A,
in silence, heaiiug the surface-water
bubble in the gutter beside the trot- c
toir. Few people were iu the streets; y
but the gambling-rooms were full, ^
the coffee-houses noisy. i(
Suddenly Mr. Vernon closed bis tj
grasp more tirmlv on Bnrns's aria (j
and, looking into bis face said with
the force of a command:
"Tell me, is Colonel Loring Pierre v
Raraeau?" c
Burns started at the mention of the
latter name. t
"You know Pierre Eameau; I know
you do," he answered, jlowly draw- t;
ing out his words. "He calla him- 0
self Colonel Loving here in the citj;
but you know that he is Kirk MacCollough,
son of Jane MacCollough, ^
whose husband was Thomas MacCol- y
lough, the traitor, who was banished
nearly forty years ago. rj
There was a horrible leer in the v
old preacher's eyes. It was the same
glare that had been in the eyes of the t
vultures when they sailed low over v
hiui during those dreadful days in the
woods. Behind bis words there ^
stretched au infinitude of significance; n
it was as if each syllable echoed back t
to some far date and stirred up long
buried sentiments. Mr. Vernon fl
stopped short in the street and 1 eld j
him as in a vise.
"What are you saying?" he de- (
nanded hoarsely. "What do yon j
mow about Thomas MacCollough and
lane MacColiough? Who are you?"
Burns did not speak forthwith.
"Ta! You are crazy!" Mr. Vernon
idded, thrusting him away with such
orce that he almost fell into the gut- !
cr. But there was no anger in the I
act. 1
"Yes, I cm crazy," the old man said, |
rheu bo bud regained bis equilibrium,
'ami you ou^bt to be."
At tiiia moment came a curious exhinge
of gianeos between tlieui. It
ran like a quick arkuowoldgeuient of
i common thought, pang burdened
md unwelcome to one, a matter of
lopeless iudili'orence to the other.
Mr. Vernon picked up the top-coat,
vhich had fallen from Burns's shoullers,
and replaced it with gcutlo
:are.
"I knew Jane MacCollough," h>
iaid; "she was Jane Alexander bef?co
ibe was married."
"Yes."
"And yon said she had a son?"
"Yes; Kirk?Colonel Loring?
Pierre Raneau. These three ar6 one."
"Yon know this?"
"Yon know it."
They stood there in tho rain an 1
learching wind, the water dripping
rora their hat-brims and their gray
ocks tossing about. Mr. Vernon
:ornbed bis abundant beard with his
ingers.
Burns came closer to him.
"I think I had best toll yon," ho
iaid; "for, after all, yon ought to
mow."
"I know a'realy," Mr. Vernon
lalmly roplied, "all that you cau tell
ue and more."
"No, not all. Kirk M.ioCol
ough's let?no, not. exactly last, nor
'et his woist, but one of his acts yon
iavo no account of. I will tell you."
Then the old man doscribod his
neetmg with Pierre Ram can in the
'earl-River country and the cohlilooded
evont of it. Ho showed no
cuile gairulity iu delivering liiinelf.
Indeed, the blnut thrust of his
cntences gave an awful realism to his
tory.
"I felt that it was best to tell you,"
ic added at tue eud, with something
ike a suggestion of regret or apology
or the iuiliction.
"Oh, certaiuly!" said Mr. Vernon.
The coolness of this remark, not
ar removed from sheer iudifferonee,
eemed to excite Burns iuorJinately,
nd, as if in retaliation, he negau at
nee to tell what P.araeau had said re;arding
the fate of Margaret, and conciously
with great ennning or unconciously
with supremo feeling he proented
the absolute dramatic spirit of
he terrible deed.
Mr. Vernon stood in aa attitude of
tark attention. Ths story was
nickly told with few gestures aad in
i low tone.
"Bat?but?" Burns hesitated a
loment as he was concluding, gazing
ixcdlv thg while?"though you saved
ay lite, though I would all bat die
or your and yours, I cannot spare
,itn?I caunot spare him even for
ou!"
Mr. Vernon wrong water from his
card aud stood silent. The raiu
ras soaking his clothes, but he did
ot feel it.
A little later the two old men
arted, 3urns refusing to accompany
lie other any farther or to accept any
id from him. Unconsciously, howver,
he wore away Mr. Vernon's comortable
top coat.
At Chateau il'Or, meantime, Paul! ?
and her mother were discussing a
abject which mothers aud daughters
ave basied themselves with since the
r3t day that love and marriage were
fted to a true sanctity in hnmau
oaseholch. Fairfax bad just gone
way; uud Paaliue, with true French
npetuosity, au inheritance from
ladame Vernon, ran to that warmcarted
woman and flnug herself into
er a^cis. The act interpreted itself,
>r the mother kuew every raovomeut
? iior child and its meauing. She
ad expected this ana was glad of it,
nd yet she felt a thrill that was more
.inn half a pang as she clasped the
the, quivering form and began pasionatelv
to kiss the blooming lips
nd cheeks. She felt hot tears droping
from the girl's eyes.
"But he is going to the army,"
'.inline sobbed. "Going right away
> fight!"
"And your father, loo, is going."
tid Mrs. Veruon, stroking her bright
air. soothingly. "We must be as
rave as they."
Iu fhe midst of hor distress, which
t 1_ ; r?H a ,i;a.
as so laifjui* joj, -? i-'iiiuc itii ? ...?
met satisfaction in the parallel imlied
by her mother's remark. It was
s if she had said: "My dearest one,
>u, is goiug to join the army. If I
ui let mine go, you can let yours gc.
fe are quite on an equality in the
ae matter." The comfort in this
>vcling and blendiug suggestion may
are been remote and obscure to a
egree; but it was nevertheless uulistakable.
"But they will be killed! They
ill be brought back dead!" Fauliue
outimied, putting a hand ou each
ide of her mother's face and gazing
hroagh her tears.
"We'll hope not. We'll pray for
heir safety, my dear. God takes care
f us all. He keeps our beloved ones
.>r us."
"Our beloved ones!" The phrase
ras like a sweet chime in Pauline's
"But why must war come juBt uow,
muima, dear? Just now?just uow
,hen we are so happy!"
"Men must light, yon know; it is
heir glory. Anil we poor women must
rait and pray."
A servant announced Mademoiselle
c Sezanues, who soon appeared, still
unfiled iu lier carriage-clonk, with a
ouch of the rain on her clothes. Her
icauty was much heightened by her
ir of excitement. She had come to
'auliue for comfort in her distress,
jientenant Ballanche had been sent
(own the river in command of a scout g
party detached by order of Geared
Jackson.
(to bz con-tinted.)
Daring the last twelve months at
east a dozen elephant trainers have
men killed?mora than have be?u
ailed in a dozeu years previous.
Household
Matters
Your Dug.
Tie should always have fresh drinking
water.
A puppy when about three weeks
old should be encouraged to lap milk.
Milk for a puppy should be scalded
(not boiled) and slightly sweetened and
fed to him warm.
When a puppy is four weeks old
soup tnickeneu witu stale nreaa may
begin to be gradually substituted for
the bread.
If n puppy be weaned when six
weeks old there's less trouble with
stomach worms.
Well-boiled meat and vegetables of
all kinds (except potatoes, which are
hard for dogs to digest) should gradually
become the dog's food.
Though the dog be by nature carnivorous,
the cooling effect of a part vegetable
diet makes hiui more desirable as
a pet.
Two meals a day is enough for a
grown dog: when he has but one he is
so hungry that he bolts it and gets dyspepsia.
Plenty of exorcise and plenty
of good food make a tine, strong dog.? ;
Philadelphia Record.
A Novel Rook rase.
It seems as though there 'could j
scarcely be anything new in the line of j
furniture, yet there are variations of
old designs which have all the appearance
of novelty. One of these is a
rather low, broad bookcase, at each end j
of which is a closet or cabinet, extending
the entire height of the book
shelves. They are closed with doors,
decorated with carving and metal
hinges and fastenings. The combination
of chair and table called the chairtable
Is not new, but has in the process
of its evolution become a much more
attractive article than It was formerly.
A very ueat specimen of its kind is of
ctninod fo-pst i?reen oak. small In size
and having an oval top, which Is quite j
inconspicuous when folded back. For j
a hall or for a country home, where
economy of space Is an object, this 1
chair-table especially commends Itself. I
Equally practical is a tea table of oak, 1
with metal trimmings. A shelf under 1
and the same size as, the square top, j
Is closed in at two opposite sides, J
while at the other two are little drop
shelves, which, when shut up. enclose
the shelf like a box. This compart- I
ment could be used for tea things, for
sewing materials, or even as a recepta- '
cle for a smoker's set In a man's den'.? 1
Brooklyn Eagle. ltWf!x -v
Laundering Dainty Fabric*. *
The laundering of embroidered linens
requires almost as much skill as does
the manufacture of the dainty fabrics.
Carelessness In this respect may In a
few minutes ruin weeks of work. An
embroidered piece snouia never dc put
In with the regular wash. In fairly hot
water and a light suds of some pure
soap dip the soiled piece quickly several
times. If it be necessary with any
one spot, rub it gently between the
hands, but avoid a general rubbing, as
this is apt to disarrange the smooth
surface of the most evenly set stitches.
Rinse thoroughly in cold, clean water.
To dry, lay it between two towels or
thick line cloths and roll loosely in such
a way that 110 part of the embroidery
shall touch any other part of the piece.
Never fold or haug up a wet piece of
embroidery nor leave it in a little damp
heap "just for a minute" while something
else is attended to. But rolled
between dry towels, it can be wrung,
twisted or lightly pounded to hasten
the drying process, without danger.
When quite dry it may be removed
from the towels and. for ironing, laid
face down on a thickly covered ironing
* "" * - ?'* ? ? fnu
Doara. 'J.I118 gives It sou stuttavc
the relief of the embroidered design to
give into. Otherwise these surfaces
wouhl l>e .'lattened and the chief beauty
of the piece ruined. Spread a clean
white cloth, moistened in clean tinsoaped
water over the reverse side of
the linen and pass the iron quickly
and lightly over the whole surface, being
careful not to press too heavily on
the embroidery itself. Damp linen,
dry silks, hot iron and quick action
are the chief elements of success in
the smoothing of embroideries.?Xew
York Tribune.
. . RECIPES . .
Black Raspberry Jam?Take fonr
baskets of black raspberries and crush
thorn, bring to the simmering point in
a preserving kettle, then put through a
sieve. If there are plenty of red currants
on hand, use one basket of them
instead of a basket of berries. Add
to the juice four baskets of black raspberries
and cook gently for ten ntin
utes. then add two pounds of sugar and
boil to n jaui. Tut iu glasses and
cover with parafflne.
Turkish Chicken?Singe and draw a
good sized fowl, then split and cut
each piece in two. In a large saucepan
melt one tablespoonful of butter, add
one tablespoonful of chopped onion and
one-half of a green pepper seeded
and chopped: cook for a moment, lay
in the chicken, and draw over the hot
fire, turning until each piece is lightly
browned. Add one quart of broth or
water, three eupfuls of strained tomato,
one teaspoonful of salt, one-half
of a teaspoonful of paprika or white
pepper, two cloves, a stalk of celery
and two sprigs of parsley. Cover with
a little saffron, add one cupful of wellwashed
rice and two tablespoonfuls of
grated cheese; cook until the broth Is
absorbed and the rice is tender. In
dishing use a deep platter and arrange
the chicken over the mound of rice.
The rate of suicides per million in
I.cndon Is 95; in Brussels, Berlin,
| Stockholm and St. Petersburg 300, and
In Paris and Vienna^ 400 BeT million.
Y
f SOUTHERN ' F
i-q : D-d
TOPICS OF INTEREST TO THE PLANT!
K?
Twelve Point* in Dairying.
At a recent meeting of the Georgia
State Dairy Association, President
Redding summed up the points in
favor of dairying as follow*:
First?The first advantage of dairying
is that it takes less fertility from
the soil than other branches of farming.
A ton of wheat takes $7 out of
the farm and sells for less than JJlti.
A ton of butter takes fifty cents' worth
of plant food from the farm and sells
for from $400 to 5000, Comment is
needless.
Second?Butter is a condensed product.
Nothing can be made or grown
upon the farm that will bring as much
per pound. Farms remote from market
and communities far from railroads
can send butter from farm or creamery
with the least possible expense.
The dairyman can condense tons of
fodder and crops on the farm into dairy
products and send them to market in
compact and portable form.
Third?Suiter is :i finished product.
It is ready for til? consumer either at
the private dairy or local factory, or
creamery. The only exception is where
cream is sent long distances to a central
station from skimming scattered
over a large section of the country.
But this exception only proves the
rule.
Fourth?Dairying #1 (rings in a constant
income. The man who sells
crops of any kind has to wait until he
can market his product once a year.
There is little satisfaction In this. It
is unbusiiiess-like to go without cash
for fifty-one weeks and then have u
lot of money come In at one time. The
dairyman hns an income nearly or
quite fifty-two weeks in the year.
Fifth?Dairying gives constant and
remunerative employment. The grain
or potato grower must spend a large
part of the year in enforced and demoralizing
idleness; but the dairyman
finds profitable work is most profitable
during the winter time. (The
point is not well taken for this southern
.latitude. It might be said that
the cotton farmer spends eleven
mouths and three weeks of the year
?- Uom-Aofinfr PPnn
in limiting nun uaiumiii, r
and one day to pay $500 worth of I
debts with $400.)
Sixth?On the dairy farm the work
is better divided. The grain harvest
conies so close to haying that it often
gets mixed up with it, to the detri-'
ment of both: but when the corn is
grown and put into the silo for dairy
feed, and not so much or no grain
raised, the harvests are several weeks
apart.
Seventh?Skill and brain work get
better pay in dairying than in any
other branch in farming. To produce
fine dairy products requires something
besides hard work. The dairyman
must have knowledge aud skill, and
must exercise great care.
Eighth?There is more room at the
top, greater opportunity to improve,
than in any other kind of hard work.
C'owh produce from 150 to 500 pounds
f butter per year, and butter sells
from ten cents to $1 per pound. No
branch of agriculture shows anything
like this or gives such a chance to
rise.
? - ^
Ninth?Take tne comnry luiuu^u
and there is no other kind of farm
work so well suited to women as dairying.
Tenth?Dairying leads to thoughtfulness
for the comfort of animals and
thus tends to morality. To do her best .
the cow must be made as comfortable
as possible in every way. She will
tolerate no neglect or cruelty. She is
a teacher of gentleness and kindness.
Eleventh?Dairying is the most progressive
branch of farming.
Twelfth?Dairying pays better than
any other branch of farming, both actually
and prospectively.
Horsa Scntr About IVach Crowing.
In n late issue of tiie National Stockman
John P. Boyer gives some points
011 peach culture, that every observant
person who has had experience will
fully indorse. lie says:
The production of the peach can be
obtained in the sands of Florida, and
in the icy clime of the far north. Yet
we would not expect the best results
in such extremes. The climate should
be free from all dangerous frosts, but
it is not. We get very nervous on cold
nights late in spring when the tem
perature is likely to fall Deiow tne j
freezing point. The only and safest |
way to grow peaches Is to locate our j
orchards on hills where there is more
of an equal temperature.
The man is the most important element;
he can cause failure when the
most favorable conditions surround
him.
The man himself should have an iron
constitution, he must use his brains,
he must know chemistry in order to
know what element of plant food is
removed from the soil. Otherwise the
soil may become exhausted and cause
failure under most favorable condl- j
tions. He must like and have conh-'
rtence in the business, he must be able '
Pointed Paragraphs.
(Chicago Daily News.
Often the price of liberty is $10 for
ten short days.
Lots of people who rob Peter to pay
Paul manage to stand Paul off.
Many a man salts away money in the
brine of other people's tears.
She may be a thing of beauty until
you see her emerging from the surf.
A worship goes on a whaling voyage
when it starts out to whip somebody.
?> ^n?mmmm * f
ARM ' tiOTEs\
><1 & |
f/?, S TOCKMAN AMD TRUCK GROWER. f
?M.in jinuii J??m
to bear reverses. The most important
question before us to-<la.v is how best
and most economically to assist nature
in the work and reap greatest rewards.
Chemists teli us that a well
matured peach contains about eightyeight
or ninety per cent, water, therefore
it is essential to have an ever
abundant supply of water where the
libers can reach it. We must, however,
bear in mipd that the peach tree
will not bear stagnant water. This is
very injurious. But what is the use
talking about irrigation in a section
of country where the streams are down
in the valleys ami the orcbnmls located
oa the hills, especially if we think
about the L'7,0>K) gallons, the amount #
necessary to apply one inch of water
to a single acre of ground, and in a
dry season three such applications a /
week would be none too much. I have r
between seventeen and eighteen thousand
pearti trees in cultivation with .'>
a ground space of about eighty-eight
acres. Were I to apply one inch of
water to each acre devoted To pencil \
trees it would require 2.37G.OOJ gallons
of water each application. Tills would
he an impossibility. Could I apply a
mulch with straw or litter I might possibly
bold the required amount of
moisture, but this is another impossibility.
Thus I have been driven to w'ugtt is
known as horse-leg irrigation.
Hatter Making in the Sontb.
Some time ago we read in an extract
? io+f/?i. um-ihoii Iit a hott er ex- *
LIWUJ ?l IVUVI
pert, now located in Central Ceorgia.
the following statement: "I wish to
J add emphasis to all you have said, that
those who aw making a good article of
butter have a demand for it greater
than they can supply. I came nerp as
a dairy expert, to give special attention
to the making of butter. I And
that I am able to make just as good
butter here as at the North, and we
have increased the dairy herd from
fifty to seventy and we intend to in,
crease as fast as possible to 303. Dairylug
as a side issue In the cultivation of
cotton, in a good rotation, would reduce
the acreage and largely Increase
the profits." What this man says is
the same thing that we hav.e urged
many a time in this paper. He doea
not say it any better thnn this paper
has said it; but he does say it from the
standpoiut of experience and actual
business practice. If the readers of
this paper were all ignorant people,
who could not recognize both the need
for n change in the general line of
farming now in vogue in this section,
and the wisdom of raising such things
as there is a home demand for. we
should not think it worth while to insist
upon this point. But every intelligent
cotton grower certainly knows
that exclusive cotton is not profitable,
and that a change to something for
which there is a good cash demand
at home is the wise thing to do. All^,?^
cannot and will not go to making font'
ter. But a great many can. nntHjf
they will make good butter, they can '
sell it at a good price for cash, at home.
It will be a good change to try. But
ter-selling is the least exhaustive way
of converting farm products into cash,
and dairy fanning is the most pertain
way to improve the farm. When the
need for change and improvement is so
universal and so urgent. It should
surely induce the thinking farmers to
look thoroughly into the proposition.
"We believe butter can be made cheaper
in Georgia than in Wisconsin or Iowa.
Then, why import butter from those
Sthfes?
Hoir to Destroy SR^safro* Sprouts.
G. It. L.. Chattanooga. Teun.. writes:
I find that in a great deal of my best
soil sassafras sprouts come up aud it
is almost impossible to kill them out.
Can you tell me any way to accomplish
this? Is there any certain season of
the year when these sprouts can be cut
so that it will kill the roots and pre- \.
vent their further growth. I have
heard that salt would kill them, but I
fear this would be a very tedious and
expensive method of getting rid of the
trouble.
Sassafras sprouts are exceedingly
hard to got rid of. Angora goats when
placed on such lands help to destroy
them. Probably the most feasible
means of getting rid of them is to plow
the land very deeply so as to bring
most of the roots to the surface as
they do not strike very deeply into
the soil. Then harrow and re-harrow
?he ground well so as to bring them
to the surface and gather up and burn.
It does not cost any more to go about
their destruction in a systematic way
than to trifle with them for several
years and still have them in possession
of the soil. If ordinary plowing
does not cut them off and bring them
to the surface, a plow of the sub-soil
type which will run deeper can l>e
used. It would hardly be feasible to
nse salt to destroy tnem. it is nrricn *
better and cheaper to plow them out
and burn them.?Professor A. M. Soule,
In the KnoxvIIIe Journal and Tribune.
Bulletin Bubbles.
(Philadelphia Bulletin.)
A poor lot?potter's field.
In hot weather even a straw hat Is
felt.
Dead letters do not require a "post"
mortem.
An up-to-date newspaper doesn't always
wear a stylish, wrapper.
A stingy man may hedge and still
not be a hedgehog.
When some men get a job they are
between two fires.
k .. >. j