Newspaper Page Text
THOS. 1 ADAMS. PROPRIETOR.
EDGEE?ELD, S. C., THURSDAY, APRIL 7, 1892.
VOL. LVII. NO. 13.
?TIS LOVE THAT MAKES THE WORLD
A thousand years ago, or more, .
A maiden and a youth
Discovered for themselves anew
. An old, yet living trutn;
For through their love these lovers
'Twas love that made the world go
As youths and maidens bad before
A thousand years ago and more. *
A thousand years from now, or more,
A youth will know the bliss .
Of gazing into eyes that flash
The love-light back to his;
Aud send the world for many a day
A-spinning gayly on its way, 'jtt
A-sphming faster than before, ?
Another thousand years, or more.
And, Love, have you and I not found
Tis Jove that makes the world go round?
-Gustav Kobbe, in Harper's Weekly.
THE END OF IT ALL. 1
HAT'S the last word, is
it?" It was Bale who
asked the question. He
had screwed his courage
to the sticking point at
"That's the last
word," zmd belina,
'and to my mind, Mr. Tolley, it's T
bit of a pity it ever went so far."
"As how?" said Bale. He was very
gloomy and quiet, and unlike himself,
and she had ceased to feel afraid of
"In this wise j Mr? Tolley," she an^
ewer ed; "I never chose your com
pany, and I never liked iii I look
on what you've said to me as a
liberty. And I defy you to say I ever
showed von a sign of encouragement
"That's true enough," said Bale
gravely, and without touch of irony.
"I'll do you that much credit. You've
made it pretty clear as you disliked me
from the beginning."
"And that," the girl retorted, "is
why I look on what you've said in the
light of a liberty, Mr. Tolley."
"It won't be repeated," Bale an
swered. "Good night!"
He lingered as if in expectation of
an answer, ' but the girl turned away
?without a word. The garden gate
clicked behind her, and Bale was left
standing in the roadway.
"Well," he said to himself, "it's
what I looked for, and it fits my
its." He pulled a handful of loose
of U?3 jacket
out a movement, he filled his pipe, lit
it, and walked away,
The girl meanwhile had reached the
cottage kitchen. She took a candle
stick frpm the high chiraneypiece, and
set it on the table with an angry
emphasis. She stirred the waning
fire with the same petulance, and,
having thrust ? thin sliver or two of
wood between the bars, she knelt
down before the grate and fanned the
embers with her apron. When they
blazed she drew out one of the sticks
and lit the candle. As the wick be
gan to burn she looked up and gave a
faint cry at the sight of an unexpected
figure in the room.
"Mother!" she said, with a hand
upon her heart. "How you frightened
"Hast no cause to be afraid o' me,
wench," her mother answered. "So
Bale's got the sack, has he?"
"Got the sack?" Selina echoed.
"No. He was never in my service."
"He never got any wages, poor
lad!" said the old woman. "That's
another matter, however. In your
service he has been this three year."
"Well," returned Selina, "I never
had any truck with him, and I never
wanted any. And now, if that's what
he wanted to know, ho knows it."
"Yes," said the old woman, knitting
away with the same tranquillity, "you
let him know it."
"Why, mother," cried th? girl,
"what would yon have me do? D'd
you expect me to say 'Yes!' to him':"
"No, my dear. It would hr.' given
me a rare sore heart to hear in. But
I've known him since the day he was
born, and I've been sorry for him
many time. He'J a nobody's child,
poor Bale is. He was bred on charity,
and he was made to feel it. He's gone
wrong, my dear, like a good many
mere, because he'd hardly ever the
chance to go righi.; but there was the
makin's of a fine man' in him. You
was quite right to say him nay, but I
could wish as you'd been gentle with
Selina lit a second candle and sat
down beside it with her sewing.
"His father was a travelin' conjur
or," saiti the old woman, after a long
pause. "I saw him once alive, and a
finer figure of a man I never saw. I
helped to lay bim ont, poor fellow,
that same night. He broke his back
bone with a camon ball doin' some
juggler's trick with it. They said at
the time he was in liquor, and he'd no
right to do a dangerous thing like
that at such a time. He'd built a bit
of a tent across the road there on the
waste ground, and there was the wife
a-wai tin g her confinement. The child
wasn't born half an hour when some
blunderin' idiot told her the news.
That killed the mother. Then poor
Tolley's wife took in the child and
kept it, and we all helped a bit; and
he growed up to b a called Tolley. And
as if he hadn't had misfortune enough
to begin life with, old Tolley must
needs go an' christen the poor little
cree tur' by his own name of Balaam,
as 'd been a laughing stock for the
whole o' Castle Barfield for 'ears an'
'ears. ' He learned himself to read an'
write without any help as iver I heerd
on. He was put io work at the pit
bank by the time he was eight 'ears
old, and he lerned himself the engine
drivin' by looking at the engine an'
watohin' the chaps at work at it. Poor
A bright drop 01 two fell from the
girl's eyes and glistened on the stuff
she was sewing.
In the meantime, Bale, the rejected,
had walked down into the valley, had
lingered for a while at the forge gates
ko stare in at the white-hot, half-naked
figures that dragged the bloom from
the surface, and ran it on its iron
trolley to the steam-hammer, and had
waited to see it beaten from its incan
descent heat to a dull red glow.
"It takes good stuff to abide that
kind of handling," said Bale. "The
good stuff's the better for it. But it's
no use trying it on slag. A? a matter
of fact, you can't have the good stuff
without it, but it's a pity to treat all
sorts alike." -
"He was making a parable of the
matter in his own mind, and he walked
on thinking of it in a sore-hearted and
rather empty-headed fashion. He
passed the frowsy town and came out
on the road to Quarrymoor, with its
almost instant hint of country odors
in the darkened air. It was late
spring weather, almost cummer, ac d
the smoke veil hung high and thin.
The stars shone through it vaguely,
and a dew was falling. He walked on
for an hour, clean into the country,
not knowing or caring where his feet
led him, and suddenly he was aware
that the moon had risen, broad and
full, and that a nightingale was sing
"Why, Bale, old lad!" a cheery
j voice called out. "What brings you
here?" ' .
"There's a nightingale in the copice
yonder," said Bale. "Listen!"
They kept silenoe for a minute, and
the bird's song, which had been
checked at the sound of the footsteps,
began again. The new-comer fidgetted
a little, and after a minute or two said:
"It's a pretty music enough. But
who'd ha* thought of your caring for
it, Bale? Going home again?"
"Yes," said Bale. "At least-I
don't know about home. I shall drop
in at the Sir Ferdinand."
"Ah!" cried the other,*rstriding on
again with Bale at his side, "I should
think that was more in your line. "
"Well, yes," said Bale, "I suppose
it is. Shall we set ourselves to walk
toward a glass?"
"Why, no," said his companion.
"Not to-night. I've better work on
hand. You've always been a trust
worthy sort of chap in' a way, Bale.
You can keep a secret?"
"I've kept one or two," Bale ans
"Why," said tho other. "The
secret's this, Bale. I'm going to get
"Oh!" said Bale. "You've squared
the old lady, have you?"
"Yes. I've squared the old lady,
and I'm off now to the top of Hill Road,
my lad, to carry the news to the young
"The young lady?" said Bale.
"The young lady," said his com
panion. "She's been, rare and down
hearted this Six months past about lu.
old woman's opposition. She'll chee* .
up above a bit when I break the
to her. And look here, BaV
You and me have always had
one io~ another. There's a ...
diiierence in OUT stations In^t. .
!. I've never made a Difference on .
.account, Have I, now? Come! Have
"No," cried Bal?; "you never have."
"When a man's married," said the
other, "he's got to let his wife have
something of a say about the company
he keeps. Now, sometimes you are a
most extraordinary racketty chap, Bale.
You know you are. Selina's got a bit
of a down on you, old lad."
"Don't you trouble about me,
George," said Bale. "I know what
Miss Bice thinks about me, andi know
what I think about Miss Bice. We're
never likely to trouble each other."
"Why?" said the lucky lover, check
ing his walk suddenly and facing
round. "What do you think about
"Oh!' cried Bale, "don't let's have
. any .misunderstanding. I've the very
i highest opinion of Miss Rice. She's
mado up her mind that I'm a wastrel,
and she's let me see her opinion. She's
quite right, George-quite right. I
am a wastrel. I'm no fit society for
her, and if, as a married woman, she
makes up her mind as I'm no fit com
panion for her husband, why, all I say
is, her will be done. I shall never
think the worse of her. It's a woman's
business to keep her own man straight.
Well, here's the Sir Ferdinand. Good
night, George, and good luck."
"Not yet," returned George. "We
haven't got to the bottom of what I
wanted. Try and be a bit steady, Bs le.
That'll bring Selina round; and I'd like
to see an old chum at the fireside now
and then. I don't want to lose you,
"Oh, well! We'll ir?k o' that an
other time. Neither Miss Rice, as she
is, nor Mrs. Truman, as she will be,
wants me about her. Good night,
George. We shall meet to-morrow."
How Bale Tolley, who had gone to
the bad this three years, went head
long to the worse ?om that evening
forward, is not worth telling, and yet
was told in a thousand households.
There was good choice of blackguard
society in the neighborhood for any
man who cared to seek it. Bale found
the worse, and played the uncrowned
king among it. His name grew to be
a byword. Anxious parents warned
their sons against him. Only the old
(woman who had sometimes "moth
ered" him in his lonely and miserable
childhood had ever a sympathetic
thought abont him.
"Poor Bale!" she would say to her
self, for she hardly dared say it to an
' other, Bale was so flagrantly a sinner.
"He's got the very look of his father on
him. It might be prix ted on his back
and be no plainer reading. Ruined
dare-devil. It's wrote large all over
him. But he's a beautiful figure of a
man to look at yet, an' if iver a child's
heart was i' tho right p-ace, that child's
was when he was a chi?d,"
George Truman and Selina Rice
were cried in church, but of this Bale
knew nothing, for he did not mix with
chu :ch-going people. But George and
Selma were married, and that fact
came to his hearing. Except Selina
and her mother and Bale himself, no
soul had an idea that it concerned him
in the least.
The married pair took up residence
in their own house after a three days'
trip, and George Truman went back to
the office cf the mining engineer who
employed him. Bale drove his engines
at the mine, the Three Crowns Yard;
and a year went by. Then the two
men met again, Bale in his laboring
grime at the engines, and George in
his more respectable working gear.
"Hallo, Bale, old lad," said the
lucky man, "how art? I've come to
have a business look at things."
"Going down?" asked Bale.
George nodded and looked about
him, rather evading Bale's eye than
not, said an indifferent thing or two
about the weather and so on, and
went his way.
"Ting!" said the little bell. Bala
handled his levers, and watched the
"I could smash him like an egg,"
said Bale, "and not a living creature
would think it was anything but an ac
George's mind was in his work, and
he had no guess of what was passing
in thought s of the man who at the in
stant controlled his destinies. The
descending skip swung to its stopping
place like a feather. The married man
stepped out and made his way along
the wordings in pursuit of his own busi
ness. The bachelor above ground
folded his smeared arms across his
chest, planted his back against an iron
upright which ran from floor to ceiling,
and pulled at his pipe, awaiting the
"Here, you!" he shouted to the boy
whopassedthe door. "What do you
mean by letting all this cotton-waste
lie about here? Clear it out."
"All right, gafier, " said the boy. "In
"Ting!" said the little bell. Bale
set down his pipe, and took the levers.
The pipe fell over. Wh-jn his im
mediate task was finished he looked
for it, and could not find it. He raked
the cotton-waste here and there with
his foot. No pipe. Bale cursed a lit
,tie to relieve his feelings. "Ting!"
said the little bell, and he went back
to his work. He swung the skip up,
the careful eye seeking the dial every
now and then. Being free once more,
he began his search again. He kicked
the oily waste savagely, and all at once,
as if it had been a living thing, a flame
broke out at him. He raced swiftly to
the door and shouted "Fire!" "Ting!
ting! ting! ting-a-lingle-ling-ling-ling!"
The little bell was mad.
"Shaft afire!" roared a voice from
the side cf the distant downcask
"My God!" said Bale, and dashing
back to the engine house, he fought
wildly with the growing flames. . He
stamped out the blazing waste, and
turned again to his levers. Bound
spun the shining wheels. Smooth and
steady went piston and crank, round
crept the hand on the dial. He looked
behind him and the floor was smoul
"Fire here!" he shouted. "Engine
"Ting!" said the little bell. There
were a hundred and fifty men below,
and ho was their one helper. He !
obeyed the bell, and then rushed once
more int'' with |
choked, blinded, ineu ucit.
a roar of voices. "Ting!" said the I
inexorable bell. Ho held on to his post, j
fighting against death. Outside, men,
formed in line., passed buckets from 1
hand to hand, and the contents being !
dashed upor. the flames filled the room
with scalding steam. He could not
see the dial any longer, but he worked !
by instinct, and the instinct never be- j
frayed him once. . "Ting!" and the 1
first stage of the cage was filled with :
rescued men. "Ting!" and the sec
ond stage was filled. "Ting!" and
the third stage was filled. Then he
tore her up like fire, checked her,
coaxed her, stopped her to a foot.
"Ting" and "Ting" and "Ting" and
the three stages were empty, and that
batch of thirty was back to iife again.
Then he sent her down like a stone,
and lived along the plunge in his own
mind until he felt she should bo there.
Instinct prov?d true again by the
His body was in hell, but his soul
leaped with a passionate intoxication
of revolt and mastery to defy its pains.
The men outside dashed water on his
burning clothes. They howled ap
plause at him. Some among them j
wept as they cheered, and one went
shrieking, with both hands writhing
in the air, as if he himself were tor
It was all done at last, 'and there
went up a cry of triumph terrible to
hear. Bale reached the open air
charred, blackened, scarce human
to look at, and as he fell into the
nearest comrade's arms the roof of the
engine house dropped in. They car
ried him to the neare-^ cottage, and
all that could be dor' for him was
done. He was consci' to the end,
and he made shift to i for Selina
She came, her mother w her.
"I wanted you to kuo Bald Bale.
"I could't ha' gone thro-. with it if
your George hadn't been i rn."
Selina stopped and kit ed him, her
tears raining on his face.
"There, there!" said Bale. - "That's
the end of it all."
God has made nothing stranger
than mau, to bo blackguard and hero,
devil and angel in a breath.-New
A Father of KoyalUcn.
The oldest reigning sovereign in Eu
rope-the King of Denmark, who is
thirteen months older than Queen Vic
toria-is the oldest reigning sovereign
in Europe Though the Queen's senior
in years, he has not reigned much
more than half as long; but that is
longer than all the others, including
King Leopold, who only succeeded to
the throne of Belgium in 1865-two
years after Christian IX. 's accession.
He has been a singularly tactful and
prudent monarch, intensely beloved by
his subjects, and carrying a weight in
the counsels of Europe far greater than
the n>"re size of the kingdom would
justify. No family is so extensively
allied with the Boyal houses as his;
the Emperor of Russia is his grandson,
the King of Greece his son, the heir to
the English throne his son-in-law.
Source of the Missouri.
An explorer says that the Missouri's
source is at the crest of the Rockies,
8000 feet above the sea level, just with
in the boundary of Montana. The
stream is two feet wide and two inches
deep, its water coming from melted
snow. This source is 4221 miles from
the Gulf of Mexico and 2945 miles
from its confluence with the Missis
sippi, making the river the longest un
broken current in the world.
UNCLE SAM'S JUBILEE J
SIXTY YEARS OF GROWTH IN THE
Great as England ls, the Unite/: States Are
Greater-In Population, wWlth, Manu
actures, Batlroads, Education and Fro?
duct Ivo Power This Country Leads.
The burden of the Victorian jubilee
song, says the New York World, is the
great growth of Great Britain at home
and abroad during the sixty years of
But, in the language of the Man in
the Street, "there are others."
Uncle Sam's jubilee, for instance,
would be very much more impressive
even than Queen Victoria's.
The British Empire in 1897 includes
a total area of 11,335,806 square miles
and a population of 380,000,000,. using
round figures. While a greaffpartof
this vast territory was acquired either
by conquest, treaty or settlement^ in
the reigns of Victoria's predecessors,
yet the population and development
thereof have been accomplished mostly
within the past sixty years.
It is not the number of square miles
that make a nation great, but the num
ber and the quality of the men to?- the
In 1811 (the year of the first Vic
torian census) the United. Kingdom
had 27,000,000 inhabitants. In 1891
it had nearly 38,000,000. It appears
that the Queen is ruling to-day over
about 11,000,000 more subjects than
she did in 1837.
During the same period the United
Kingdom has sent out about 9,000,000
surplus population, one-half of whom
have come to the- United States.
The actual increase in the number
of the Quocn's white subjects at home
and abroad appears to ha ve been about
23,000,000. Sir Walter Besanfe esti
mates that, flattered ove:r~the whole of
the B~' '
While the people who speak English
under the British flag have been about
doubling themselves, the people who
speak that language nuder the Ameri
can flag have multiplied four and one
third times. Putting it most gener
ously for our British jubilee friends,
we have been adding to our population
twice as fast as they have for the past,
Passing now to the comparison of
wealth, there are no official figures
available to show what tho aggregate
national wealth of the United Kingdom
was in 1837. But there are abundant
later statistics to warrant the state
ment that, great as the growth of
British commerce, manufactures, rail
roads and the resulting total produc
tion oi wealth has been under Vic
toria's rule, the contemporaneous
creation of wealth in the United States
has been much greater.
Editor Stead, in the current Beview
of Keviews, says that the .wealth of the
United Kingdom has been mnltipliid
four times since 1837. U he is cor
rect, its valuation when the Quesn
was crowned must have been abcut
The census taken in 1840 show?d
that the aggregate wealth of ?e
United States was about $4,000,001,
000, or an average of $410 per capia,
As !a^t couiputed, by the census bf
1890, the total wealth of this county
is rf ;"),0;)7,000,000. That is justabo^t
thirty-three per cent, greater than tie
computed total of the wealth of Great
England's total wealth to-day is
estimated by her own famous statisti
cian, Dr. Robert Giffen, at $50,175,
000,000. So she is behind the United
States in the size of her pile by about
$14,000,000,000. Uncle Sam's farm is
worth more than John Bull's in the
proportion of at least thirteen to ten.
In the one ?item of real estate the
valuation of this country stands rela
tively to that of Great Britain as two
to one. The lands and buildings of
the United Kingdom were last valued
at about $20,000,000,000, and those of
the United States at just about $40,
The wealth in houses in this "land
of the free" represented an annual in
vestment of about $12.50 per inhabit
ant for the twenty years ending with
1890. The annual average ia Great
Britain represented an annual invest
ment of less than $G per inhabitant for
the same period.
Inasmuch as economists tell us that
the outlay on houser is the surest
gauge of wealth, it thus appears that
the average accumulation of property
in the United States h more than
double what it is in the British Isles.
Coming next to commerce we find
Mr. Stead claiming that British trade
and shipping are about five times as ex
pensive and valuable in 1897 as they
were in 1837. He points to the fact
/h J nunn j f I nu abs
?gjs?_? * Kn I *| fl ??? Wff?
8 R/Tl SH EX PENO/TU RE Fot
But we can dwarf these figures also.
Sixty years ago tho total imports and
exports of the United States were less
than $200,000,000 per year. Now they
are over $1,500,000,000 a year. While
British foreign trade has been multi
plying five-fold American foreign trade
has multiplied eeven-fold.
In the matter of railroads, Mr. Stead
says truly that the great bulk of Brit
ish railroad mileago has been bx?lt
since Victoria began to reign. Even
so, our railroad building record beats
it "all hollow."
The total railroad mileage of the
United Kingdom to-day is about
21,000 miles. The railway mileage of
the United States is more than nine
times as large. We have over 180,000
miles of railroads already built, and
that is more than the combined rail
road mileage of all the nations of Eu
rope put together.
Coming next to manufactures, Mr.
Stead gives a diagram showing that
between 1837 and 1897 the value of
British manufactures has about dou
bled. That is a good lively gait, but
it does not touch the pace at which
the manufactures have grown in the
United States. Our statistics are not
complete enough for close comparison
away back in 1837, but" we have the
figures from 1850 to 1890.
In 1850 the gross value of the man
ufactured products of this country was
$1,000,000,000, using round figures.
lu ?690 the gross valne of the product
of American manufactures was $9,
400,000,000. So that in forty years
-t, \>N\l-Y V?0RMN&
%^f>* ^^^^^ P0VVER
American manufactures increased in
value nine-fold, as against a two-fold
inorease in the value of British manu
factures in sixty years.
Mr. Mulhall, the celebrated British
statistician, has pointed out that "the
productive power of a nation can be
measured at each census with almost
the same precision as that with which
the astronomer indicates the distances
of the heavenly bodies." An able
bodied male adult has a daily working
power equal to that required to lift
300 tons one foot. On this basis Mr.
Mulhall reports the physical power of
the American nation to-day to be equal
to 6406 millions of foot tons per day.
To that he adds the horse-power and
steam-power of the country, and re
ports the total daily lifting power in
the United States at 129,806 millions
of foot tons. The meaning of this
statement is better understood when
it is added that, by Mr. Mulhall's
computation, "the United States pos
sess almost as much productive energy
as Great Britain, Germany and France
He tells ns further that an average
farm hand in the United States raises
at much grain as three farm hands in
England, by reason of his superior
machinery and tools. Whence we de
duct the fact that the daily working
power, or capacity for productive
labor, of the United States is about
three times as great at least as that of
Finally, there is the matter of edu
cation, and perhaps after all this is the
point of comparison of which we have
the best right to be proud. The
census of 1890 shows that eighty-seven
per cent, of our total population above
the age of ten can both read and write.
In the words of Mr. Mulhall, "In the
history of the human race no nation
ever before possessed 41,000,000 in
Great Britain is no doubt the lead
ing nation in Europe in the matter of
H. Of_ 6 . MANU FACTURE
popular education, but the United
States had a common school system
away back when Victoria began to
reign and long before, while Great
Britain has only had one for about
twenty-two years. Even to-day Brit
ish expenditure on public schools is
only $1.30 per capita, while the United
States are spending $2.40 per capita
for the same purpose, or nearly twice
Z SWAN'S NEST UPON A ROCK.
A Unique Sight in New York's Great
There is a swan's nest in Central
Park, and two big black swans take
turns in guarding it. There are four
big oval eggs in tho nest, and they are
very precious, for they are the only
swan's eggs that will bo laid in the
Park this year. The nest is built on
a bare open rock ten feet in diameter
and rising but little more than a foot
above the water. Tl is in the lowpr
a matter or wee*.?. vutg ?u a wnue
the male bird relieves his mate from
duty, and takes a turn at keeping the
four eggs warm while the female flies
up .and clown the pond.
Big swans are formidable foes, and
when angered by anyone approaching
their nest fight with wonderful fierce
ness. It is a bold man who dares tc
risk his eyes in a battle with them.
SWAN'S NEST IN CENTBAIJ PARK.
But a swarm of little sparrows, as if
knowing how easily the big birds are
angered, like to hop and twitter mis
chievously about them.
The Park keepers are greatly sur
prised at the spot chosen for the nest.
Last year there was also one solitary
nest for the entire season, but the par
ent birds, a couple of white ones, made
great effort to hide their home, even
adopting the remarkable expedient of
building a false decoy nest to. attract
attention from the spot.-New York .
A Kat Killing: Dael. i
A bet was made at Villa Bica, Ga., a I
few days ago between "W. H. Barton !
and John Bass as to who could kill the i
most rats in two hours' time. The 1
two men repaired to Barton's barn. It i
was full of corn and fodder, and an in- ',
viting home for rats. They moved the
corn and the rats moved out in great ]
numbers. Each man was armedjwith a
club. Barton killed 441 and Bass '.
436, Barton winning by five rats. In i
a cotton basket the dead rats were put
and weighed an even hundred pounds.
-Douglasville (Ga.) New South. ?
Minister Born When Washington Was
This is a picture of a Coldwater
(Mich.) preacher, who was born when <
Washington was President. He was i
REV. W. B. SPBAGUE.
ono hundred years old on the last day
of last February. It was his ambition
to round out his century and live un- .
der still another Administration.
An occasional change, not only of
food, but quarters as well, is conducive
to the health of the hog. Many of
our more successful swine raisers keep
their herds divided up, using small,
stoutly built houses without floors, the
sills of which are rounded up at the
ends, so that with a team the houses
can bo "snigged" to a new location.
This encourages the swine, while dis
couraging disease germs and other
Quack Grass on Sandy Soil. *
It if very difficult to rid sandy soil
of either quack grass or of its equal
pest, the Canada thistle, because
where there is no hard subsoil the
roots mu too deeply for the plow to
bring ;;hem up. The sandy soil is also
BO porous and has so little vegetable
mould that the quack roots do not die
quickly, even if not allowed to send
up she ots. But on land wholly desti
tute o? vegetable matter it is hardly
worth while to get rid of quack. It
will keep a sod and prevent the sand
from blowing, which is difficult to do
with any of the cultivated grasses or
Knack of Onlon-Growlnjr.
Thoiie who grow onions in beds in
armateur gardens must have noted that
?yhe? t. few seeds get scattered on a
patch: cf ground that has been tramped
Ji&rd and solid the result is a crop of
onions much larger and finer than
those grown in the looser soil devoted
to the onion bed proper.. This would
certainly indicate that well compacted
soil is preferable for the greatest suc
cess in onion culture. In many parts
of America, however, the onion is per
mitted to have two seasons for its full
development, They are sown com
paratively late in the spring and
mature by midsummer, making bulbs
about the size of large marbles, which
are known as onion-sets. These are
then replanted the following spring
and grow to a large size by mid-sum
mer, when they again mature. But
the fact that we have noted in relation
to compact soil ought to be as true of
the onion-sets as of the plant which
grows in a single season to its ma
Tho Strawberry Weevil.
In some sections of the country this
little pest is doing a great deal of dam
age. It is not a hard enemy to con
quer when one knows the remedies to
use, but it must not be treated like
weevil on plums, as the fruit is so soft
and ripens so early that it is not safe j
to use arsenical poisons. The weevil I
ia ? Vi
tore, if one is in an infected district,
apply kerosene emulsion in the fol
lowing way: For the emulsion use one
gallon of kerosene, one-quarter pound
hard soap one-half gallon of water.
Dissolve the soap in boiling water,
and while still at the boiling point,
add the kerosene, and mix by thor
oughly churning or putting it through
a force pump until the oil is perfectly
mixed and does not come to the top.
This must be diluted with ten or
twelve parts water, and applied with a
force pump or sprayer. It will have to
be done several times, but will prove
a complete cure.-Vick's Magazine.
The head of a tree needs to be fairly
Dpen to admit sun and air for full
growth perfection of fruit. Further
paore, a moderately low head on a
tree is desirable inasmuch as it flavors
the economical gathering of the crop
It is considered a good plan to oc
casionally put on trees a coat of stroi g
soft soap during a warm spell in win
ker. It aids in destruction of insects
and parasites that are harbored in thc
ba?k of the trunk and larger branches.
Of course the soap will eventually be
be washed off by rains. The eggs of
Ehe tent caterpiller are now to be
found readily upon the naked branches
of tho apple tree. They appear in
bands glued on near the ends of small
Out off the twigs and burn them,
thus making sure of the destruction of
the eggs. How many orchards ap
pear, ('specially among our older set
tlements, that they are really unprofit
able and useless! The trees are
starved, run out, and show but a poor,
mean scraggy growth. Manure lib
?rally and prune severely and ofttimes
these seemingly worn trees will be in
iuced to take upon themselves a new
lease of life.
Tillage, manure, care, are all im
portant with an orchard. A man can
not expeot to receive paying crops if
he does not work and labor and strive
and plan for the same. Do not hesi
tate to give the orchard at least as
tnuoh attention as you would a crop of
corn and potatoes. Not only is it
(rise to take care of what trees a farmer
may have, but it will usually be profit
able to set ? ' u c new orchards.
The mar. who makes a business of
3roharding and uses all modern ap
pliances to aid him in his work prac
ticed, follows the best idea in spray
ing, care of trees, marketing fruits,
etc., and studies modern papers and
books on horticulture, will, we think,
find he has an industry that year in and
?rear out will yield as good returns as
any branch of agriculture.-W. P.
Perkins, in Nebraska Farmer.
The Coming Vehicle.
The horseless wagon is surely com
ing. As previously chronicled, an
"electrio phaeton" was successfully
tested at Hartford last week, and a day
or two later a carriage with a kerosene
motor had a satisfactory trial at Mid
dletown. "It weighs," we are told,
"only 625 pounds, and tho cost is
$1500. Mr. Whitney, the inventor,
took out several of the prominent resi
dents of the city for a spin, and the
wagon went up the steep Hills of the
city as quickly as it passed over the
macadamized principal thorough
fares." The cost of running the vehicle
is said to be two cents a mile. Its speed
is from ten to fifteen miles an hour.
Providence (R. I.) Journal,
Johnson's Chill and Fe
ver Tonic is a ONE-DAY
Cure. It cures the most
stubborn case of Fever in
Thc Electric Bug.
"These swarms o? bugs of which I
see complaint is now being made in
St. Louis are the product of our rapid
development of the electrio force," re
marked E. W. Cashion, of Indianapo
lis, at the Linden. "They were un
known a few years ago, and now they
are pests in all the towns and cities in
this country where electricity is in
considerable use. I talked with a
college professor at Indianapolis about
them recently, and he is convinced
that they have sprung up as a sort of
spontaneous outgrowth of the increased
utilization of the electric force. Ana
tomically, the electric bug is sui gen
eris, and appears to imbide its susten
ance from some property in the air
currents that lie in immediate contact
with the electric currents. The col
lege professor to whom I spoke has
been studying them closely, and says
he is convinced that in the end they
will prove a blessing instead of a curse.
He thinks it probable that after awhile
the enlarged use of electricity wi?l
generate new germs and microbes in
the atmosphere that will be additional
sources of disease and bodily ills to
the human race, and that medical
science will be unable to eope with
them for a long time. Meanwhile, na
ture is responding to the new demands
on her storehouse by sending these
swarms of bugs to purify the air of
poisonous things put in it by the aro
ligbts and the trolley. He declares
that he has watched this strange new
bug cipsely, and has thus far been un
able to find out on what it subsists un
less it be some unknown foreign sub
is tance brought into the atmosphere by
the electric currents. For that reason,
he says, they are very properly de
nominated electric bugs, and he be
lieves they are destined to serve a good
purpose as scavengers of the air in the
years to come."-St. Louis Republic,
Why take Johnson9s
Chill & Fever Tonic?
Because it cures the
most stubborn case
_full hex ?IMO ucgau to now. The
dean inquired the cause, and learned
that it was her wedding day. They
were on their way to church, and now
her white clothes were wet, and she
could not go.
"Never mind-I'll marry you," said
the dean; and he took out his prayer
book and then and there married
them, their witnesses being present;
and, to make the thing complete, he
tore a leaf from his pocket-book, and
with his pencil wrote and signed a
certificate, which he handed to the
"Under a tree in stormy weather, I
married this man and woman to
gether; let none but Him who rules thc
thunder sever this man and woman
asunder.-Jonathan Swift, dean of St.
Quinine and other fe
ver medicines take from 5
to 10 days to cure fever.
Johnson's Chill and Fever
Tonic cures in ONE DAY.
Under the heading of the "Sunday
Penalty of Irregular Feeding," the
Medical Record points out that in our
progress from barbarism we have
evolved a people with whom regularity
in eating is absolutely necessary to
good health. As a result of this arti
ficial existence, the secretions are
poured out and ready for action with
the monotony of clockwork. If this
system is neglected, the violator not
only suffers bodily discomfort, but an
actual injury is done to the digestive
apparatus, which has been so educated
that it requires a definite amount of
exercise and positive promptness in
feeding that requirement. The stom
ach having poured out its secretions,
as customary, waits only a short time
before allowing them to be absorbed
without the accompanying nutrition
which goes to the formation of more
secretions. After a few such experi
ences, the secretions become less in
amount and activity, and indigestion
ensues. Dyspeptics are ordered to
eat at inflexibly regular intervals.
Normal stomachs are by no means
many, yet this rule, so imperative to
sufferers, is regularly disregarded by
the well. Once a week, the three
regular daily meals are replaced by
late rising and abstinence, followed by
gluttony. The gastric juices know
nothiry of a seventh day of "rest,"
and the result is discomfort, stupidity,
and loss of appetite on Monday.
Johnson's Chill and Fe
ver Tonic is a ONE-DAY
Cure. It cures the most
stubborn case of Fever in
A Kentucky strawberry grower re<
ports a clear profit tb is season oi
$729.63 on seven acree of ground.
Numbers of women and children who
would have earned money in no other
way made one or two dollars a day
picking berries. Another grower ol
strawberries reports his clear profit to
have been $357.50 on two aeree o!