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Cameron County press. [volume] (Emporium, Cameron County, Pa.) 1866-1922, September 09, 1909, Image 6

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Wave-Tossed and Castaway.
| UK beginning was at Cape
Town, when Blake and
Winthrope boarded the
■teamer a3 fellow passengers with
Lady Bayrose and her party.
This was a week after Winthrope
had arrived on the tramp steamer
from India, and her ladyship had ex
plained to Miss Leslie that it was
aa well for her not to be too hasty in
accepting his atteutions. To be sure,
h© wa3 an Englishman, his dress and
manners were irreproachable, and he
was In the prime of ripened youth.
Yet Lady Bayrose was too conscien
tious a chaperon to be fully satisfied
with her countryman's bare assertion
"that he was engaged on a diplomatic
mission requiring reticence regarding
bis Identity. She did not see why this
should prevent him from confiding
In her.
j Notwithstanding this, Winthrope
came aboard ship virtually as a mem
ber of her ladyship's party. He was
■o quick, so thoughtful of her comfort,
and paid so much more attention to
her than to Miss Leslie, that her lady
ship had decided to tolerate him, even
before Blake became a factor in the
From the moment he crossed the
Gangway the American engineer en
tered upon a daily routine of drinking
and gambling, varied only by attempts
to strike up an off-hand acquaintance
with Miss Leslie. This was Win
thrope's opportunity, and his clever
frustration of what Lady Bayrose
termed "that low bounder's impu
dence" served to install him in the
good graces of her ladyship as well as
In the favor of the American heiress.
Such, at least, was what Winthrope
Intimated to the persistent engineer
with a superciliousness of tone and
manner that would have slung even a
British lackey to resentment. To
Blake it was supremely galling. He
could not rejoin in kind, and the
slightest attempt at physical retort
would have meant irons and confine
ment. It was a British ship. Behind
Winthrope was Lady Bayrose; behind
her ladyship, as a matter of course,
was all the despotic authority of the
captain. In the circumstances, it was
not surprising that the American
drank heavier after each successive
Meantime the ship, having touched
at Port Natal, steamed on up the
east coast, into the Mozambique chan
On the day of the cyclone, Blake
had withdrawn into his stateroom with
a number of bottles, and throughout
that fearful afternoon was blissfully
unconscious of ilie danger. Even
when the steamer went on the reef,
he was only partially roused by the
He took a long pull from a quart
flask of whisky, placed the flask with
great care in his hip pocket, and
lurched out through the open door
way. There he reeled headlong against
the mate, who had rushed below with
three of the crew to bring up Miss
Leslie. The mate cursed him vir
ulently. and in the same breath or
dered two of the men to fetch him up
*n deck.
The sea was breaking over the
steamer in torrents; but between
Waves Blake was dragged across to
the side and flung over into the bot
tom of the one remaining boat. He
served as a cushion to break the fall
of Miss Leslie, who was tossed in
after him. At the same time, Win
thrope, frantic with fear, scrambled
Into the bows and cut loose. One of
the sailors leaped, but fell short and
went down within arm's length of
Miss Leslie.
She and Winthrope saw the steam
er slip from the reef and sink back
Into deep water, carrying down in the
Torte* the mate and the few remain
ing sailors. After that all was chaos
to them. They were driven ashore be
fore the terrific gusts of the cyclone,
blinded by the stinging spoondrift to
all elße but the hell of breakers and
coral reefs in whose midst they swirled
so dizzily. And through it all Blake
lay huddled on the bottom boards
gurgling blithely of spicy zephyrs and
swaying hammocks.
There came the seemingly final mo
ment when the boat went spinning
stern over prow.
Half-sobered. Blake opened his eyes
and Btared solemnly about him. He
(was given little time to take his bear
ings. A smother of broken surf came
seething up from one of the great
breakers, to roll him over and scrape
him a little farther up the muddy
shore. There the flood deposited him
for a moment, until it could gather
force to sweep back and drag him
down again toward the roaring sea
that had cast him up.
Blake objected—not to the danger
of being drowned, but to interference
with his repose. He had reached the
obstinate stage. He grunted a protest.
Again the flood seethed up the shore,
and rolled him away from the dangar.
This was too much! He 6et his jaw.
Sleeping the Sleep of the Just and the Drunkard.
turned over, and staggered to his
feet. Instantly one of the terrific
wind-blasts struck liis broad back and
sent him spinning for yards. He
brought up in a shallow pool, beside a
Under the lee of the knoll lay Win
thrope and Miss Leslie. Though con
scious, both were draggled and bruised
and beaten to exhaustion. They were
together because they had come
ashore together. When the boat cap
sized, Miss Leslie had been flung
against the Englishman, and they had
held fast to each other with the des
perate clutch of drowning persons.
Neither of them ever recalled how
they gained the shelter of the hum
Blake, sitting waist-deep in the
pool, blinked at them benignly with
his pale blue eyes, nnd produced the
quart flask, still a third full of whisky.
"I sliay, fren's," he observed, "ha'
one on me. Won' cos' you shent—
notta re' shent!"
"You fuddled lout!" shouted Win
thrope. "Come out of that pool."
"VVassama'er pool? Pool's allri'!"
The Englishman squinted through
the driving scud at the intoxicated
man with an anxious frown. In all
probability he felt no commiseration
for the American; but it was no light
matter to be flung up barehanded on
the most unhealthful and savage
stretch of the Mozambique co>st, and
Blake might be able to help them out
of their predicament. To leave him
in the pool was thereforo not to be
thought of. So soon as he had drained
his bottle, he would lie down, and
that would be the end of him. As any
attempt to move him forcibly was out
of the question, the situation demanded
that Winthrope justify his intimations
of diplomatic training. After consid
ering the problem for several minutes,
he met it in a way that proved he was
at least not lacking in shrewdness and
"See here, Blake," he called. In an
other lull between the shrieking gusts,
"the lady Is fatigued. You're too much
of a gentleman to ask her to come
over there."
It required some moments for this
to penetrate Blake's fuddled brain.
After a futile attempt to gain his feet,
he crawled out of the pool on all fours,
and, with tears in his eyes, pressed his
flask upon Miss Leslie. She shrank
away from him. shuddering, and drew
herself up-hi a huddle of flaccid limbs
and limp garments. Winthrope, how
ever, not only accepted the flask, but
come near to draining it.
Blake squinted at the diminished
contents, hesitated, and cast a glance
of maudlin gallantry at Miss Leslie.
She lay coiled, closer than before, In
a draggled heap. Her posture sug
gested sleep. Blake stared at her, the
flask extended waveringly before him.
Then he brought it to his lips, and
drained out the last drop.
"Time turn in,"he mumbled, and
sprawled full length in the brackish
ooze. Immediately he fell Into a
drunken stupor.
Winthrope, invigorated by the liquor,
rose to his knees, and peered around
It was impossible to face the scud and
spoondrift from the furious sea; but
to leeward he caught a glimpse of a
marsh flooded with salt water, ita
reedy vegetation beaten flat by the
storm. He himself was beaten down
by a terrific gust. Panting and
trembling, he waited for the wind to
lull, in hope that he might obtain a
clearer view of his surroundings. Be
fore he again dared riso to his feet,
darkness swept down with tropical
suddenness and blurred out everything.
The effect of the whisky soon
passed, and Winthrope huddled be
tween his companions, drenched and
exhausted. Though ho could hear Miss
Leslie moaning, he was too miserable
himself to inquire whether he could do
anything for her.
Presently he became aware that the
wind was falling. The center of the
cyclone had passed before the ship
struck, and they were now In the out
ermost circle of the vast whirlwind.
With the consciousness of this change
for the better, Winthrope's fear-racked
nerves relaxed and he fell into a
heavy sleep.
Worse Than Wilderness.
WAIL from Miss Leslie
roused the Englishman out
of a dream In which Le had
been swimming for life across a sea
of boiling oil. He sat up and gazed
about him, half-dazed. The cyclone
had been followed by a dead calm, and
the sun, already well above the hori
zon, was blazing upon them over the
glassy surfaces of the dying swells
with fierce heat.
Winthrope felt about for his hat. It
had been blown off when, at the stri
king of the steamer, he had rushed
up on deck. As he remembered, he
straightened, and looked at his com
panions. Blake lay snoring where
he had first outstretched himself,
sleeping the sleep of the just—and of
the drunkard. The girl, however, was
already awake. She sat with her
hands clasped in her lap, while the
tears rolled slowly down her cheeks.
"My—ah—dear Miss Genevieve,
what is the matter?" exclaimed Win
"Matter? Do you ask, when we are
here on this wretched coast, and may
not get away for weeks? Oh, I did so
count on the London season this year!
Lady Bayrose promised that I should
be among those presented."
"Well, I —ah —fancy, Lady Bayrose
will do no more presenting—unless it
may be to the heavenly choir, you
"Why, what do you mean, Mr.
Winthrope? You tolfi me that she and
the maids had been putin the largest
boat —"
"My dear Miss Genevieve, you must
remember that I am a diplomat. It
was all quite sufficiently harrowing, I
assure you. They were, indeed, put
into the largest boat — Beastly mud
dle! — While they waited for the mate
to fetch you, the boat was crushed
alongside, and all in it drowned."
"Drowned! —drowned! Oh, dear
Lady Bayrose! And she'd traveled so
much —oh, oh, it is horrible! Why
j did she persuade me to visit the Cape?
; It was only to be with her—And then
for us to start off for India, when w«
might have sailed straight to England!
Oh, it is horrible! horrible! And my
maid, and all —It cannot be possible!"
"Pray, do not excite yourself, my
dear Miss Genevieve. Their troubles
are all over. Er—Gawd has taken
them to Him, you know."
"Hut the pity of it! To be drowned
—so far from home!"
"Ah, if that's all you're worrying
about! —I must say I'd like to know
how we'll get a snack for breakfast.
I'm hungry as a—er —groom."
"Eating! How can you think of
eating, Mr. Winthrope—and all the
others drowned? This sun is becom
ing dreadfully hot. It 13 unbearable!
Can you not put up some kind of an
"Well, now, I must say, I was never
much of a hand at such things, and
really I can't imagine what one could
rig up. There might have been a bit
of sail in the boat, but one can't see
a sign of it. I fancy It was smashed."
Miss Leslie ventured a glance at
Blake. Though still lying as he had
sprawled in his drunkenness, there was
a comforting suggestion of power in
his broad shoulders and square jaw.
"Is he still—in that condition?"
"Must have slept it off by this time,
and there's no more in the flask," an
swered Winthrope. Reaching over
with his foot, he pushed against
Blake's back.
"Huh! All right," grunted the
sleeper, and sat up, as had Winthrope,
half dazed. Then he stared around
him, and rose to his feet. "Well, what
in hell! Say, this is damn cheerful!"
"I fancy we are in a nasty fix. But
I say, my man, there is a woman pres
ent, and your language, you know —"
Blake turned and fixed the English
man with a cold stare.,
"Look here, you bloomln* lud," he
said, "there's just one thing you're
going to understand, right here and
now. I'm not your man, and we're not
going to have any of that kind of blat
ter. Any fool can see we're in a
tight hole, and we're like to keep com
pany for a while—probably long as we
"What—ah—may I ask, do you mean
by that?"
Blake laughed harshly, and pointed
from the reef-strewn sea to the vast
stretches of desolate marsh. Far In
land, across miles of brackish lagoons
and reedy mud-flats, could be seen
groups of scrubby, lialf-leafless trees;
ten or twelve miles to the southward
a rocky headland jutted out into the
water; otherwise there was nothing In
sight but sea and swamp. If It could
not properly be termed a sea-view, it
was at least a very wet landscape.
"Fine prospect," remarked Blake,
dryly. "We'll be in luck if the fever
don't get the last of us inside a
month; and as for you two, you'd have
as much show of lasting a month as
a toad with a rattlesnake, if it wasn't
for Tom Blake —that's my name—Tom
Blake—and as long as this shindy
lasts, you're welcome to call me Tom
or Blake, whichever suits. But un
derstand, we're not going to have
any more of your bloody, bloomln'
English condescension. Aboard ship
you had the drop on me, and could
pile on dog till the cows came home.
Here I'm Blake and you're Win
"Believe me, Mr. Blake, I quite ap
preciace it* —ah—eituation. And now,
I fancy that, instead of wasting
"It's about time you Introduced me
to the lady," interrupted Blake, and
he stared at them half defiantly, yet
with a twinkle in his eyes.
Miss Leslie flushed. Winthrope
swore softly, and bit his lip. Aboard
ship, backed by Lady Bayrose and the
captain, he had goaded the American
at pleasure. Now, however, the sit
uation was reversed. Both title and
authority had been swept away by
the storm, and he was left to shift for
himself against the man who had
every reason to hate him for his over
bearing insolence. Worse still, both
ho and Miss Leslie were now depen
dent upon the American, in all prob
ability for life itself. It was a bitter
pill and hard to swallow.
Blake was not slow to observe the
Englishman's hesitancy. He grinned.
"Every dog has his day, and I guess
this is mine," he said. "Take your
time, if it come 3 hard. I can imagine
it's a pretty stiff dose for your ludshlp.
But why in—why in frozen hades an
American lady should object to an In
troduction to a countryman who's go
ing to do his level best to save her
pretty little self frosa the hyenas—
well, it beats me."
Winthrope flushed redder than tho
"Miss Leslie, Mr. Blake," he mur
mured, hoping to put an end to the
But yet Blake persisted. He bowed,
openly exultant.
"You see, miss," he said, "I know the
correct thing quite as much as your
swells. I knew all along you were
Jenny Leslie. Iran a survey for your
dear papa when he was manipulating
the Q. T. railroad, and he did me «nrt
of my pay."
Skilled Culturist Will Secure SI,OOO Out of One Acre o(
Land in One Year if Conditions Are
What is the real worth of a gar
den? Many people incline to gar
dening—they l'eel they would love the
outdoor life, and not inind the work
too much If they could be sure of a de
cent, comfortable living in return,
writes Moray Bliss in Youth's Com
panion. We hear grumbling enough
from gardeners, who are proverbial
grumblers, that help is scarce, sea
sons poor, prices low, and, in short,
that gardening does not pay.
The market seedsmen smile when
you ask if one can make a thousand
dollars a year if one knows how to
garden. There are many men mak
ing that sum.
If we would live by gardening, we
must study the ways of gardening.
It was a shrewd old English farmer
who used to say to his sons: "Put
the horse to, and let us drive round
and see what other people are after."
The French market-gardeners about
Paris are the most skillful growers In
the world—except the Chinese—and
the average garden of an acre or two
"tilled to the eyebrows," as they say,
shows the following returns, given by
our consuls and business men inter
ested in the matter:
"There are, of course, exceptions,
where the total income from one acre
is $6,000 a year, but as a usual thing
the gardens yield but $1,500 to an
acre, and the average annual profit
of the gardener is not over $1,000."
How many ministers and college
professors and teachers and small
shopkeepers, artists and literary folk
In the Shelter of the Fortifications of Paris.
are there making a healthy living and
putting SI,OOO a year in the bank be
The common Fench gardener makes
this by intensive gardening. True, he
begins with certain advantages. For
generations before him his family
have been gardeners, and the instinct
for the best methods runs in the
blood. Within a ten-mile circuit of
Paris are 2,000 market-gardens, mod
els of care and culture, and some
of which iiave been held by the same
family for 200 years. These gar
dens are not large; the largest is
said to be not over four acres, com
mon gardens are not over two acres,
and not the smallest profits are taken
from plats of a quarter-acre, tilled
with the finest care.
We need not invest in expensive
Seed Frames.
greenhouses of glass in steel framing,
as some of our American growers
now do. The clever Frenchman finds
his cheap board frame, with old win
dow-sash sufficient, and instead of
thick straw mats at eight cents apiece,
he uses reed mats at sixpence each,
which last four years or more. The
reeds grow in most of our marshes,
and mat-making is a very simple and
profitable trade.
For hand-lights, we may take the
substitute used in the gardens of Bel-
Younx Trees More Susceptible to
Injury Than tho Older Ones-
Insects Hard to Find.
The twig girdler is a beetle belong
ing to the family of long horned
beetles. It is a little over one-half
inch in length. The ground color
is a brownish gray with yellow dots
and a broad characteristic band of
gray across the wing covers.
It is the adult female beetle which
does the girdling. Beginning in Aug
ust and continuing through the early
fall, she proceeds with her uninvited
task of pruning trees. After selecting
a twig suitable for her endeavors,
she begins making punctures, usually
one puncture at the base of each
branchlet or young bud, and deposits
an oval whitish egg. She then re
treats vO a point between the most
glum, Germany and Holland This
simple hand-light is a frame of wil
low covered with glazed muslin, undei
which the plant grows as finely as un
der glass. Better, in some respects
for the cotton Is not so good a con
ductor of heat as glass.
In place of the immense quantities
of stable dressing which the Paris
gardener uses by the hundreds of tons
to the acre, it is common now to use
hot-water pipes running through the
garden beds of rich soil. Good au
thority says that 50 tons of coke will
heat an acre of glass-houses the year
round. Begin small, as all experts
advise, with a quarter-acre, or even
2,500 feet. You can buy a lot of that
size for five dollars on warm garden
soil near a railway station, three
hours from Boston, and learn that
money is to be made by gardening at
home as well as in Paris.
Probably the best profit in Amer
ican gardens is to be made from to
matoes under high culture. That
means fresh tomatoes eight months of
the year, and 30 pounds at least from
each vine, of large, smooth fruit, red,
pink or yellow, with as much variety
of flavor as there is apples.
To accomplish this the seedlings
are transplanted four or five times, to
make them stocky and throw their
force into fruiting. They are trained
on trellises to catch the full sun, and
when sunshine is scarce in seasons of
fog and rain, it is hinted that the
electric light is turned on the green
houses with ripening effect. The
field of experiment witii gardens is
wide—as are their profits.
Eden lies in every garden rightly
grown. And there are few places in
this country where gardening is not
only possible, but profitable. A well
informed grower told me that the
most money was likely to be made
from market-gardens near the small
er cities and towns, not in the great
cities, which draw on the gardens of
the world for supplies.
If too far for markets, there is good
work to be done raising seed in out
of-the-way places where plants will
not mix. I do not know how long
growers will have to pay five dollars
for a hundred seed of certain choice
plants, but well-grown seed, clean
from weeds, will always command its
price, for busy gardeners cannot both
er to grow their own seed. Women
and children can earn pin-money in
this way from the smallest plot of
My own first garden, six feet by ten,
when I was 12 years old, was plant
ed chiefly to Indian corn, tended as
if it were a pot plant, watered with
house slop, and hoed every week. The
huge amber ears it bore were instant
ly begged by my father for seed, as
better than anything he could get.
An English laborer cultivated a quar
ter-acre with spade and fork, raising 15
bushels of wheat, which is the average
of our wheat crop per acre. It gave
enough flour for him and his wife for
a year; but if he had only known
enough to raise it for seed-wheat,
without much more pains, he could
have sold his crop for a hundred dol
You can, if you have no better
chance, raise seed from plants in
pots on the top ef a bay window in
town, and so learn the work of tend
ing and enriching them for seed. In
deed, there is a good deal of garden
ing to be learned within the scope of
one six-inch flower pot.
proximal egg and the origin of the
twig and proceeds to girdle the
branch, cutting through the bark and
the cambium in the characteristic
This girdling causes the twig to
die, thus offering food for the young
larvae. The twig is soon broken off
by the wind or some other cause and
fails to the ground, where decay sets
in and the larvae have ideal condi
tions for growth and development.
The larvae does not complete its
growth in the fall, but after feeding
for a time it hibernates, completing its
growth and transformation to an
adult beetle the following season.
The adult beetles, because of their
dull colors and general habits, are
very hard to find or catch. The beetle
dies in the fall, and therefore we
must fight this insect in the egg and
larvae stages. The method re lom
mended is to gather and bury all fall
en twigs and the girdled twigs not yet
fallen. This destroys the eggs and
larvae that would develop into next
season's brood.

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