The watchman and southron. (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, June 29, 1898, Image 8
\ jj BY hS?BE
'% far one,** said the yerang gradu
?ntentious?y, "think that the vrb
fury system is a relic of English t
I"' terian, and the sooner we gat rid of
Jc^ia t^^ for ii
Ss tipped his chair back against *
pine boards and drew clouds enoc
ant of his brier wood to obscure 1
naosfc ludd argument
L It was a party of fonr, made np of
fcydraulic engineer, -a captain in 1
lavy on a furlough, a graduate of H
?ard going to stnay law in .the -fs
< tad an nude of the yoong man, Juc
Qhambers, one of the justices* of the i
perior court of Connecticut. The juc
was the patriarch of the quartet, t
owner of the camp and caught m<
fish than ali of the rest of the men
iBgether.
He took off his glasses, and as
wiped them he scrutinized his nepi*
with fond contempt.
The hydraulic engineer spoke quit
ly and systematically, like the pun: pi
of coe of his own motors.
"I myself think the juryman is t
most outraged free man I know <
While the criminal is receiving U
qnets from silly women and feedi
?like a gamecock the poor juryman
deprived of wholesome air, of dece
iftfcod, of exercise and always of sleep u
til a verdict is agreed upon. I won
like to know what sort of verdict a mi
. is going to give whose whole rou ti
.tif life is changed and who iscoero
.lbj the lack of food or sleep. "
J**We dbnH think of patting the of
eera of a court martial under guard .
? in irons until they bring in a verdict,
? the captain observed with the nncoj
scions intonation of superiority in
which the seaman always falls when :
presence of the landlubber.
The judge took his cigar ont of h
.mooth, and the rest turned to him .wit
deference. The young man started 1
say- irreverently, "Oh, you're preji
diced,*' but for once held his peaci
The judge was not a talker, but whe
he opened Ms mouth ms friends respec
ed his well digested experience, if nc
bis arbitrary opinion. >
^TJhe jury system, " he said judicial
ly, "is an abomination as practiced i
England and in most of our states. W
in Connecticut passed an act of legisl
tare so that the juryman serves as th
other officers of the court and goes fro:
the jory room to his home as I do nr ;
sell To pot a juryman, like a school
boy, on honor is to get the best results
I have known of but one case where
jory penned up assisted justice mc??
titan it would have done had it bee:
free. But in this case justice was servo
in a blind, haphazard way at a terribl
cost. It happened in my own circuit 2
-let me see-it was 23 years ago, ar.<
a fri m fiar case might not happen agaij
in the century.*'
Bain had now set in. It was chill;
on that Hay evening, and the fire ar.?
the tale to come tempted the company
to draw their chairs in a closer circl
around the chimney, for a leaf from th?
judge's ponderous volume of experience
that covered S5 years of fighting at th*
bar and ruling on the bench was sure t<
need no further illustration to hold at
tention than his owu genuine elocution.
The tale is paraphrased a little inU
^continuity by one of its auditors auc
will not be given precisely in the frag
- ; J?entary and conversational form of it;
original narrator.
Broadfields is one of the most pictur
esque. one of the oldest and one of tnt
loveliest villages in Connecticut It con
Gists of two streets, each about a mile
- fang, intersecting each other at rigit
angles. A double row of elms plant?id
in King Charles' time guards each ave?
nue. The town reminds one of old Had
-./. ,3ey, famous for its stately streets, its
colonial homes and undisturbed peace.
On the 26th of May, 1872, Broad
nelda awoke out of an insensibility that
had lasted for over 200 years. What pol?
itics, crops, war, marriage, debt or in?
heritance could not accomplish had now
come to pass.
At 9 o'clock at night, or perhaps a
little later, Mrs. Burns, the wife of the
richest, the most crabbed and the most
feared man in this ancient community,
electrified her next door neighbors by a
cry of "Murder!** Then Broadfields,
lethargic asa stone hitching post, awoke
to new and awful responsibilities.
The people of the town were all in
their beds, and Mrs. Burns would have
been had she not stepped out to the
barn, ?00 yards or so back of the house,
* to look for her husband. He had taken
his lantern and had gone out there
alone about an hour before to do some
simple chores, and his wife, actuated
possibly by some subtle influence like
that with which detected crime is able
to draw a crowd out of the bowels of
the earth, felt anxious about him for
the first time in her life. When she
found Mr. Burns dead in his own blood,
she ran to the front gate and uttered
into the blackness of the unlighted
streets her memorable cry.
It took Broadfields no little time to
awake to the consciousness of a crime
of such high degree, but at last a group
of leading citizens stood about the wid?
ow in the anxious light of their sway?
ing lanterns. These good people were
as much perplexed about what to do as
?white cat with a litter of black crows.
It finally occurred to the minister that
Deacon Luke Bassett, who had forgot?
ten the fact himself, was town consta?
ble, and that, as the sole representative
cl the law, it was his duty to see if
NATUUR9|
fT!JuDGE
r^; Cr tfERRERT f> WARD
I Mrs. Bums' story were true, and ll so
j to apprehend the murderer.
j By this time there was a throng of at
least seven persons, and .these the dea
[ cen authoritatively ordered into the
? yard. Mrs. Burns' sister, who was their
household drudge, had in the mean?
while caught up a kitchen lamp and
conducted the bereaved woman into the
j front parlor, as befitted an extraordina?
ry occasion. In the meanwhile the con?
stable had impaneled an impromptu
coroner's jury consisting of the minis?
ter, the doctor and the storekeeper.
Then, trembling, the good deacon led
these gentlemen into the barn where
the deed had been committed.
"We want no mistakes here," said
the constable slowly, with the air of a
man treading ?he edge of a strange
precipice and glancing with perturbed
shrewdness about the barn.
"God forbid I" answered the minister
devoutly. But the physician, who was
growing gray in the narrow occupation
of helping children into the world and
the aged out of it, inspected the body
eagerly. It was his first notable post
mortem opportunity. Indeed there was
no possible room for two theories as to
how Mr. Burns had met his death. He
lay crossways in front of the stalls
where the cows wer e kept, between the
rolling doo! and the empty hay wagon.
His head was gashed with three clear
cuts, any one of which ought to have
produced instant death.
"It must have been a hatchet, " said
the debtor slowly. "The murderer stood
right in front of him when he hit. See !"
With an imperturbability which struck
the other men as almost more than pro?
fessional the doctor swung an imaginary
weapon at the constable, and then,
bending quickly, he pointed out a ver?
tical gash across the forehead of the
corpse. This cut seemed to penetrate
the bram. "The man was if anything
taller than he. Mr. Burns could not
have possibly been conscious after such
a Wow."
"But he was!" The men were star?
tled by this abrupt interjection. ? soft
voice, precise and measured as a metro?
nome, gave the agitating contradiction.
Death always invests the chief
mourner with an unassailable dignity,
or, at least, it used to do so before the
modern craze for arresting the nearest
relative in default of a clew. Tall, slen?
der, with head bent forward, a yellow
silhouette against the black open door,
and, for the moment, chastened of a
little native or acquired shrewishness,
the widow of the dead man compelled
instant reverence. Weather beaten
heads bowed instinctively before the
embodiment of violent bereavement.
The minister made a delicate motion
as if to cover with hay the body from
the woman's view. As he did so, his
hand struck a hard object He pulled it
out- The men uttered exclamations of
horror. Any woman might have fainted
at the sight of the murderous weapon.
But Mrs. Burns had New England
nerves. She stolidly watched the con?
stable take the hatchet, inspect it gin?
gerly, and then hand it over to the doc?
tor. The edge of the hatchet correspond?
ed to the length of the gash, and dis?
membered gray hair on the blade match?
ed that of the victim. So far, the cir?
cumstances of the crime were as plain
as the barn floor. One could almost see
the fatal blows fall
"I don't think there is anything more
here to da " The constable spoke slow?
ly. "We can safely leave the body
where it is and lock the barn for the
night Bring the hatchet along, doctor,
and if you have no objections, Mrs.
Burns, I will spend the night herewith
my wife, and we will ask you a few
questions before we go to bed. "
The minister took the widow's arm
with tenderness and led her into the
kitchen. Mrs. Burns then rehearsed the
facts quietly.
"It was about 9 o'clock-just an hour
ago;" she glanced at the moon faced
clock. "Thomas went out about 8, to do
some chores and lock up as usual. I
thought I heard a cry, and being un?
easy I ran out. I found him where he
is now. His e;, es were open, and I heard
him say distinctly ' Williams. ' He tried
to speak further, but he passed away
without another word. That was all. I
did not see or hear a trace of any liv?
ing soul."
"Let us see," said the clergyman,
with what he considered to be judicial
suavity. "Who is there you connect
with, the name of Williams?' '
"Only George, " answered the widow
easily The men exchanged grave
glances. "Thomas didn't get on well
with folks, you know. I remember he
came to words with George Williams
because he put potatoes into a damp
place in the cellar. That was in March,
and George left on the spot, saying that
he never would work for us agaiu. 1
shouldn't think that was enough"
"Any one else by that name out of
the town?" interrupted tho constable
compassionately.
The widow shook her head after some
deliberate thought Then the deacon's
wife came in and carried her friend
away to the shocked and desolated house.
Everybody in Broadfields knew
George Williams. He was a farmhand
who had drifted into the town a year
or two before, when the crops were
heavy. Of him there was little known,
except that he was a good worker, but
surly for his rights. He was evidently
an Englishman, and he was as hard to
deal with as most of the lower class of
ais countrymen who seek their fortunes
in America. People had expressed no
wonder when he failed to "hitch
horses" with old man Burns. The
emancipated islander could ill brook
i authority as gruff as his own resent?
ment. But there is a long step between
surliness and murder, and the old or?
thodox churchgoers were slow to suspect
the Englishman.
"George! "Why, everybody knows
George "Williams !"
Besides, the dying man might easily
have wandered in his mind. The pro?
fessional detective might not remember
this, but common sense and common
sharity must
Broadfields gossiped quickly, but
moved slowly. It was 8 next morning,
after breakfast when the impromptu
jury met for the second time in the
Burns mansion. The undertaker was
already in imperious possession, while
the premises resembled a miniature
samp meeting. Teams were hitched
here and there, and many people moved
about languidly, talking under breath.
The distant clang of a blacksmith 's
hammer sounded impiously. It was as
if he whd wielded it had desecrated the
Sabbath.
"It can't be him, " said the m/nister.
with the easy disregard of grammar that
comes from living among uneducated
parishioners. "If he'd done it, he'd
have run away. He's in my orchard now
trimming trees. He's been there at work
these last three days." He looked about
him with benign triumph.
"Then I will go and get him, " begab
the deacon constable.
"No," said the minister with gentle
firmness; "I will ga It is a terrible
blot on a man's character even to con*
nect him with a crime like this. No one
suspects him as yet "
The blacksmith seemed to be about
the only person in the town undisturbed
by the moral convulsion. He was a stal?
wart man, deliberate of action and cool
of speech, a contrast to his fussy forge.
He was, moreover, a freethinker, the
only one in the broad valley, and slight?
ly feared as such, as plausible rational
ists are apt to be by ignorant believers.
He was a disciple of Emerson, the phil?
osophic dread of the community. It
was whispered that even the minister
dared not cross swords "with the only re?
spectable man in town who belonged to
no church. No one ever knew the man
of the forge to accept an unproved state?
ment as a fact No one ever knew him
to lose his temper. No one ever knew
him to be otherwise than scrupulously
honest He seldom gossiped. He de light
I ed in dry, intellectual disputes and in
getting his opponents angry. His favor?
ite topics of argument were the futility
of religions and the exclusion of pauper
emigrants. He was known to look upon
George Williams with disfavor because
he was not an American born citizen. It
was William Worthely's habit never to
let any one suspect that he was possessed
of the information that others were eager
to give him. Therefore he never had the
detestable custom of interrupting tellers
of stories just before the point was
reached. This self possession gave him
the reputation of being a good listener.
It also gave him a real advantage in a
conversation of which he was not slow
to make use with native adroitness.
Therefore when, on the morning after
the murder, the village gossip stopped
eagerly before the door of his shop the
blacksmith did not even raise his eyes
from the shoe he was fitting with expert
care.
"Thomas Burns"- began the gossip,
halting for the expected inquiry.
"Well?" said Worthely dryly, will?
ing to gratify his neighbor's eagerness
to impart exclusive information.
"Haven't you heard?"
"What;"
"He was murdered last night I
guess they suspect George Williams.
Here's the minister bringing him down
the road. He looks scared enough. "
The blacksmith dropped the horse's
hoof easily from his leather apron and
went to the wide door. By this time
every one seemed to have divined the
minister's mission. Looks cf inquiry
and of aversion were cast by eager and
curious farmers upon the unhappy la
The men uttered exclamations of horror.
borer. The blacksmith looked at the
Englishman compassionately, and took
his pipe out of his mouth.
"Don't be too cocksure," he said
dryly. "It's a serious business, " he con?
tinued loudly so as (to be overheard by
several others, "to accuse a man of
murder."
The minister looked up at the speaker
with a gratified nod. "Amen to that,"
he said solemnly. The two passed by.
Others followed, straggling. The black?
smith gazed after them intently, until
they turned into Burns' yard. Then he
bent over to the gray's off hind foot, as
if nothing unusual had happened. But
there had. His pipe was out.
Suspicious, sullen, frightened, defi?
ant George Williams glared from one
to the other, as the minister, with a
whispered word of encouragement, ush?
ered the farmhand into the presence of
the constable, the doctor and the store?
keeper. The teacher of the town acade?
my had been added that morning to the
impromptu coroner's jury, and he sug?
gested that Williams should be imme?
diately taken to the barn.
"I don't see why I should go. What
have I got to do with it?" pleaded the
unfortunate man.
The five turned pale and nudged each
other nervously. That indefinable in?
stinct which is the gift of great detect?
ives and which incisively points out
the guilty person with occult force
possessed each bystander. This feeling
increased when Williams hun*; back,
pale and trembling, upon the pastor's
encouraging arm. The good man now
had serious doubts, but his Christianity
forbade him to express them to the
man's face.
When Williams was brought into the
presence of the dead man, by aU t he
recognized laws of circumstantial evi
dence he hopelessly incriminated him
self before a question had been asked.
"I didn't do it!" he cried. "Why am
I brought here? I am innocent Before
God, I am innocent. "
"No one has questioned that yet'
said the constable rather coolly. "We
have proof that Mr. Bums saw you on
ly a little while before his death, and
we want you to explain the circum
stances." This shrewd random shot,
fired because of the prisoner's perturba
The blacksmith looked at thc Englishman
compassionately.
tion, was a great success. Williams turn?
ed livid. He stammered like a man sen?
tenced to a terrible doom.
"I-a-let me go-I will go." He
started as if to force his way through
the barrier of sturdy men. He was
caught in a trap.
44 Where were you last night between
8 and 9?"
The laborer shook his head vacantly.
All sense had left his eyes. He was in a
stupor of fear. His fate had entangled
him. His mouth had dropped open.
4'Do you recognize this hatchet?" the
confab- asked sharply.
""H o severe?' ' whispered the cler
gyn-" x> his deacon. 4 4 There is yet no
proof against him. "
"No, " said Williams feebly. Sudden?
ly he shrieked: "I am innocent ! I will
not be tortured!" Then 1 ^ collapsed.
All the bulldog had gone out of him.
As the constable held the hatchet up
before the prisoner's eyes three marks
were noticed-finely crossed lines, cut
into the end of the handle.
"Why, it is my hatchet!" exclaimed
the parson in innocent surprise. 4 4My
little boy cut thosw marks with his jack?
knife. How could the hatchet have
got into Mr. Burns' barn?"
At these words Williams fell upon
the floor in a dead faint
It only needed the scantiest cross ex?
amination to bring the fact ont that
Williams had used the marked hatchet
all the day before in the orchard. Then
the woman with whom Williams board?
ed felt called upon tc volunteer the in?
formation that her lodger had not come
in until after 9 the night before.
"It seems to me, gentlemen, " said
the constable with the gravity that the
situation demanded, 4 4 that I had better
hitch up and take him right over to the
county jail. It is a pretty plain case.
Will you go along, doctor?"
Low murmurs of approval followed
these words.
"I don't see any mystery about it !
yet,99 said the graduate, filling his pipe i
for the third time, *4and I don't see
where your jury comes in either."
"It was my first important murder I
case," the judge resumed, ignoring the
interruption (at this point I quote the !
old jurist exactly. He was evidently
living his famous case over again), "and
I remember well the charge I gave to
the jury. I practically instructed them
to retire and immediately to bring in a
verdict of murder in the first degree. It
was a neat case of circumstantial evi?
dence, and the defense did little more
than throw itself upon the mercy of the
court." j
The jury was an average one. The
foreman was a choleric, hatchet faced,
sandy complexioned farmer who had
served as foreman before and was im?
pressed with the importance of his own
views as well as of his own position.
Perhaps William Worthely, the black- ?
smith, was the most intelligent as well !
as the most disinterested member of the
jury. He followed the evidence with
keen attention and listened to the charge
with independent courtesy. I happened
to notice*as he marched out that his
great jaws were firmly closed, while the
faces of the rest of the jury were re?
laxed. ,
The jury filed cut. The court took a
few minutes" recess only, expecting to
sentence the murderer in a few minutes.
The spectators remained in their seats.
"Well," ?aid the foreman easily,
stroking his sharp chin, "hay is about
ready to cut, and there's no use of our
staying here any longer. There's no two
ways of looking at it. I guess we can
follow the judge. For the sake of for?
mality we'll drop our ballots in the hat.
We're um-jiimous-guilty, of course.
I've got three miles to ride and have
got to be home to supper."
The vote was hurriedly taken. Then
all but one eagerly rose. Worthely alone
remained seated, smoking his pipe stol?
idly and looking out of the wiudow,
while curious lines of amusement played
sround his eyes and mouth.
TO BE CONTINUED
----?? ? ? . ?M?
Good Sewing Machines from $10 00 up ?t
Rundle's.
EARLY MELONS.
How They Have Been Satisfactorily Grown
on One Small Farm.
A Niagara county (X. Y.) correspond?
ent of American Gardening, who has
? been successfully working up a trade in
the Emerald Gem melons, tells how he
grows them:
Our early melons are started about
! April 15 in cold frames. We have boxes
I about four inches square, without bot
I toms, and usually after taking a crop
of early cabbage plants ont of the cold
j frames we will fill the beds with these
boxes, then fill the boxes with sifted
compost, plant the seeds on these, cover
lightly and put the sash on. We have
been particular to do the planting on
the 15th of April so as to have them
seither too early nor too late. When
the plants appear, we thin to two plants
to each hilL It is necessary to ventilate
carefully on warm days, as the plants
are easily injured by getting the frame
too hot
About June 1 the boxes are taken up,
put into fiats, thoroughly soaked and
taken to the field. The plants are taken
out of the boxes by setting a piece of 4
by 4 scantling on end and slipping the
box down the scantling, thus pushing
the plants with adhering soil out of the
box and carefully setting them in the
cavities prepared for them and packing
the moist, rich dirt close about them.
In this way they scarcely feel the trans?
fer and will be far ahead of those plant?
ed outside. Besides, if the plants are
large enough, they will be out of dan?
ger of the striped bugs, while they will
literally eat up those coming up in the
open ground, often in one day, if they
are not closely looked after.
For a crop of Gems in the open
ground we will hereafter sow the seeds
in drills instead of planting in hills.
Considerably more seed is needed in
this way, but the bugs do not stand
nearly as good a chance to carry their
work of destruction to a successful end,
for if they eat half the plants there will
be enough left yet, and they can easily
be thinned with a hoe, leaving the best
plants. The Gem is a short growing
kind anyway and can be planted closei
than other varieties. We have the rows
four feet apart and hills about three
feet apart in rows.
The San Jose Scale.
Professor Slingerland is reported by
The Country Gentleman as expressing
the opinion before the Western New
York Horticultural society that the rep?
utation this insect has gained as the
most dangerous of all insect pests rises
from the fact that we did not know
neither do we now, how to get at the
insect most effectively ; so thus far it
has been mainly a series of experimental
tests to determine which is the best in?
secticide, and, as all fruit growers
know, such experiments result in many
failures. Again, in the east the insect
in nearly every case had full sway, with
practically no other enemies to check it
for three years before the war of ex?
termination was begun. This is au ex?
ceedingly important phase of the situa?
tion which many zealous experimenters
seem to overlook when they find the in?
sect is not exterminated with three or
four attacks of the spray. The fact ia
the size of the job has not been fully
realized. Allow any one of several well
known pests to have the same freedom
as the San Jose scale has had to breed
unchecked, and, he thought, it would be
an equally difficult task to exterminate
them.
An Excellent Japanese Pl nm.
The Chabot plum, also known as the
Bailey, Chase and Yellow Japan, is,
according to Professor L. H Bailey,
deserving of much praise. The tree is a
strong upright grower, productive, and
the fruit is handsme, very firm and of
CHABOT PLUMS.
good quality. In general appearance the
fruit is much like Burbank, but it is
more pointed and from one to three
weeks later, and the tree, which is an
upright grower, is very different Last
year it ripened at the Cornell (N. Y.)
station from Sept lo to 25.
There seem to be two things passing
as Chase, the other one being an earlier
plum and perhaps identical with Doug?
las. Professor Bailey can detect no dif?
ference between Chabot, Bailey, Chase
and Yellow Japan, and the same also ?
passes as Hattonkin, but Chabot, being j
the oldest name, must hold.
Best Ten Russian Apples*
The Dominion horticulturist of Cana
da who has had long and intimate ex- j
perience with the many varieties of |
Russian apples is credited with the j
following list of the best ten of these:
Summer-Yellow Transparent, or j
Thaler (Charlottenthaler), Pointed Pip- ;
ka (Oldenburg type), Lievland Raspber- i
ry, Switzer (late summer), Sim brisk j
No. 9.
Fall-Golden White, Ostrekoff, An- j
tonovka, Longfield (or Good Peasant), ?
Hibernal (or Ronina, or Cross).
Winter-- Arabka, Royal Table.
The trouble in buying stock of Rus
sian varieties is that one can never be \
sure by the name given what he is get- j
ting. *
Qi-lity is fir-.: coos'.drranon of the VFbtte j
machine.
INTERNAL TRANSIT.
GREAT BRSTAiN DISCUSSING IMPROVE?
MENT OF ROADS.
Better Highways Deemed Necessary to En?
able Farmen to Transport Balky Prod
acts-Vast Importance of Good Boads
Not Generally Recognized.
The subject of improved highways
for reducing the cost of transit for agri?
cola val produce is being agitated not
only in our country, where in some sec?
tions it is an absolute necessity on ac?
count of the impassable condition of our
mud roads during certain seasons, but
in Great Britain, where her macadam?
ized thoroughfares are generally consid?
ered to beabout as well constructed and
managed as they can be. The principal
object in agitating for better highways
is to urge the necessity of improving
our existing means of transit to enable
our farmers throughout the state to
transport or haul their heavy and bulky
produce to market, or to the consumer,
at a lessened cost.
In speaking recently at a meeting of
the Society of Engineers in England the
president, Mr. W. W. Beaumont, re?
marked: "Few people recognize how
large a proportion of the whole indus?
try of the country relates to the traffic
on land. Fewer still realize how vast is
the importance of good roads for the
use of all. It may safely be said that
the average resistance on country roads
is from two to three times what it need
be, especially if we include the sharp
hills of some counties.
"At present there are at least 1,400,
OOO draft horses at work in the Unit?
ed Kingdom. Quite one-tenth of these
coold easily be dispensed with by im?
provement of the heavier gradients by a
few cuttings and banks or viaducts
and better road surfaces. Supposing the
work of only 500,000 horses to be reck?
oned with, to save only one-tenth of
this nnmber would mean a saving of
$7,500,000 per year, and all the other
450,000 horses would be able to earn
CALLED A ROAD.
from $25 to $50 per year more than at
present. At $25 per year the -aving
would be on this head alone $11,250,
000, making a total pf $18,750,000.
This sum capitalized st S per cent rep?
resents $625, OOO,000, so that the num
ber of horses assnmed to be always at
work is excessive. It is obvious that at
least $500,000,000 of national money
might be profitably invested in the im?
provement of our highways. Also, be?
sides this, it must not be forgotten that
the better the roads the less the wear
and tear, the lighter and better the ve?
hicles and their wheels and wheel
tires."
Up to the present we seem to have
given little heed to the value of cheap
internal transit for the produce of our
farming industries, but if we consider
carefully the advantage to be gained
from having our country thoroughfares
in the best possible condition for the
transportation of the products of our
farms, as well as for other traffic, it
will be found to be far greater than ap?
pears on mere casual observation.
The good roads question is one which
should enlist tbe serious consideration
of agriculturists themselves, they being
the chief beneficiaries, and it should be
looked at from all points of view. If
our highways are in such a condition as
to allow heavier loads to be hauled with
fewer animals, and me extra animals
which were required for the same, or
even smaller loads, on bad roads, can
be utilized for other farm work, a con?
siderable saving is made right there. A
saving in time which can be made on
good roads over bad, is a saving of
money, and a reduction in the tear and
wear of animals, wagons or other ve?
hicles and harness, so that they last a
greater length of time, is also money in
the pocket of the farmer. Besides this,
there is the possibility on good roads
under all conditions of weather, which
enables the farmer to take advantage of
the market whenever it suits him, in?
stead of, as is often the case, having to
miss a good market on account of the
bad condition of our country thorough?
fares at certain seasons of the year.
There can be no question as to the
immense value to our farming popula?
tion of properly constructed and main?
tained thoroughfares, and which, it is
to be hoped, will be forthcoming in the
near future. The subject is again being
given publicity through the columna
of tho public press, and it should be
kept prominently before the minds of
our people until the improved condition
of our country highways is a matter of
hisforv
Perplexed.
"I cawa't understand this blarsted
country," said the English tourist
"Chap said to me, 'Golf makes mo
tired.' 'Ab,' said I, 'you play too
much. 'You're crazy, ' said he. 'I don't
play at all.' Now, how could he be
tired?"- Philadelphia Record.
Hood's
Should be tu every family ? ? ?
medicine ehest and every I J ?ll ?1?
traveller's .crip. They are 111 |S
invaluable when the stomach ?? ? ? ? ^tr
is out of order; eure headache, biliousness, and
nil liver troubles. Mild and efficient.. 3 cents.