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Florida’s Gigantic Phosphate Industry Attains
^ ^ ^ International Proportions
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By FLORENCE L. TUCKER.
Written for 15/re Sonny South
URING the past year there
a D *
were manufactured in the
United States approximate
ly 3,000,000 tons of com
mercial fertilizer, of an
estimated value of fifty
million dollars—startling
figures when it is remem
bered how recent the de
velopment and use of
phosphates.
Twenty-five years ago Pe
ruvian guano, which is a
material formed by the de
posits and decay of sea
birds found on the rainless islands in
the Pacific ocean off the coast of South
Vmerica, was extensively used in this
country and in Europe, though now it is
rarely offered for sale. The artincial
mixture has the advantage over tne
natural that it is easy to make a mix
ture to suit the requirements of any
soil or crop, ri h in phosphoric acid and
poor in potash, or rich in potash and
nitrogen and poor in phosphoric acid. or
any other combination which might tie
wished.
During the twelve months, also, at
le is; 200.000 tons of dried blood, tank
age and .bane for fertilizing purposes
v ere produced at the great packing cen
ters In Florida. South Carolina and
Tennessee 1.350.000 tons of phosphate
r ck wore mined; 370.000 tons of pot-
•sell salt, valued at $7,450,000 were im-
p rt< 1 from Germany; 30.000 tons of
dried fish scrap were produced at the
i as11 rn fish oil factories, and an im
mense quantity of nitrate of soda was
imported from South America; about 20,-
000 tons ot garbage tankage were man
ufactured and several thousand tons ot
concentrated sheep manure were pre-
; ired.
In view "f the value of phosphates to
this country and a good proportion of
. the countries () f the east, a glance at
tiie phosphate industry in Florida, the
chief Section in which it is found and
from which it is exported, awakens live-
y interest in the mining and dissemina
tion of the rook, in fertilizer, over the
globe.
A LARGE DEMAND.
Rones were the first and earliest form
in which phosphoric acid was applied to
Port Tampa, the Canal and New Steam Elevator. Here Much of the Phosphate Is Shipped to Foreign Ports.
the soil, but If hrinos were the only source
of phosphori-* acid, agriculture would bo
in a distressing condition, since they
could supply only a small part of i no.
demand; the, prices of fertilizers would
be higher: the cotton crop of the south
and the pram crop of the world would
be smaller, and the population «»f Hie
earth iess t since animal life rises and
Lost
falls in greater or smaller volume in
accord nice with the availstble supply “I
plant food in the con. A large propor
tion of the dense population of the old
world is attributed to tne discovery of
mineral phosphates, where in greater or
less quantity they have long been known.
The earliest discovery of phosphate
beds in this country was made in South
Carolina. Though the existence of pnns-
phate of lime in the state of Florida was
known, it was not until the spring of
1837 that the extent and value ot its
deposits, possibly with one exception,
were even suspected.
The establishment of the pebble phos
phate industry on Peace river was fol
lowed a year later by the discovery in
Marion county of an entirely different
class of phosphate, now known as hard
rock phosphate. With Dunnollon as a
center, important mines have heen opened
over a tract more than 200 miles long
and about 6 miles- wide. This tract lies
parallel to the gulf coast, at an average
distance from it of about 20 miles.
The region next attracting attention
lies to the south of the hard rock area,
in the vicinity of Rartow, in Polk coun
ty. In this important field of land peb
ble phosphate prospecting began in tne
latter part of 1890.
There are four different forms of the
Florida phosphates; the land or boulder
phosphate, which occurs in rocky or
stony masses of varying size and form,
and varying from 30 to 40 per cent of
phosphoric acid; the “soft" phosphate, a
white, powdery material, mixed with
more or less kaoline, and containing from
18 t. 30 per rent phosphoric acid; the
!pebble" form, consisting of small, hard,
founded pebbles, which occurs both on
the land and in the beds of the rivers,
the former being designated "lend peb
ble" and the latter "rher pebble."
The Florida rock constitutes a very im-
por’ant source of phosphoric acid, is
hugely esteemed and is used largely
both at home and abroad, the shipments
constituting a. heavy item in the freights
of the railroads, and heavy shipments
being made also to foreign countries.
Europe wants all grades of American
phosphates, and as fast as they can be
placed upon the market they are. prompt
ly taken.
The pebble phosphate from the river
beds is dry-cured in kilns, the same as
lumber. Rock phosphate Is shipped just
as it. comes out of the mine. In some
places the digging straight dpwn is con
tinuous and seemingly endless.
The description of the process of man
ufacture by the state chemist of Georgia
Is here quoted .in part as partioularly
clean and readily comprehended:
‘The foundation of the great modern
Industry of commercial fertilizers is the
manufacture of superphosphate, or, as
it is more generally known in' this coun
try of acid phosphate of lime. The
tiiifi.erinls necessary for ibis manufac
ture are sulphuric a "id and phosphate
nek. The plant, require.l for the man
ufacture of sulphuric acid is a costly
onp. and the process is somewhat com
plicated. Kither brimstone from Sicily or
pyrites, which is a compound of sulphur
and iron, some of which is imported
from Spain and some purchased from
mines in this country, are the raw ma
terials used in the manufacture.
THE MODUS OPERANDI.
“The brimstone or pyrites are burned
ir. specially constructed burners, and the
CONTINUED ON LAST PAGE.
I
By W. H, Boardman
1:
8
T the edge of the evening
Hilly Drew arrived. Al
though it was in the heart
of the Adirondack forest,
miles away from any
known living place ol tin
man beings, although he
came into i amp by the
creek valley where no
trail existed, and although
there was no food in his
small pack basket; never
theless he came to the
camp fire witli a strolling
gait and a casual, unconcerned salute
which might have old from a less ex
port woodsman than John tne fact mat
he had heen very much lost, and was
tired and hungry. John was cooking a
supper of bacon, trout and tea. It was
not an elaborate hill of fare, and his
working kit was a two-quart pail and a
frying pan. but the quantities were enor
mous and the quality the best in the
world. Ev< rything was clean. The sup
per table was the leathery surface ot the
inner side or a sheet of spruce hark.
The room was ample, limited only by
the trees that glowed in the light of the
evening lire. There was a dainty neat
ness and precision in his way of camp
tile cooking. Before the bacon was
fully done it had been taken from tne
frying pan and transferred to a tin plate
s et near I he coals, so that tne process
..f keeping it hot would Just complete
its cooking by the time the trout were
ready to lie lifted from the same frying
pan. A moment before tills the boiling
water had been poured on the tea and
these three converging lines of supply
met at a point, the point of highest ef
ficiency for gratifying an appetite.
It was the work of a master, and Hil
ly admired it in spite of its delibera
tion. He was well equipped lor criticism
and his admiration was a tribute, all
the more because the enforced wating
for enjoying the hospitality that had
been heartily offered to him was an
agony. It was a wnole day since he
liad eaten his last mouthful and it has
been a. day of work and anxiety as well
as of hunger. He had nearly exhaust
ed his stock of woods' lore in trying
to orient himself and find a way out,
until he tried the last resort..and dogged
ly following a winding creek through
miles of abb r beds and black ash
swamps, sure of only one thing, tnat
water runs down hill and comes to
where people live. His whole Instinct
was to hide his terrible experience, at
least for the present, wniie the mem
ory of it was a bitter mortification.
I.aier, perhaps, it would he a story, hut
now he was ashamed of his carelessness.
The realization of being lost conn >
subfe nlv to the traveler who is winning
Ids way gayly and carelessij through
■in- woods. An expected landmark docs
not appear, or the blazed line is lost, or
the water in a brook is lound to be
running the wrong way. or the northing
is losi. Th**ro is an overwhelming paral
ysis of the thinking powers and a child
ish impulse to sen am, a feeling that
there is not a moment to spare, of suf-
fo -.uion. as if one w r ere under water and
life depended on getting out Immediate
ly. The untrained man hurries. His
pack is suddenly heavy and his rifle Is a
useless toy. Fie is afraid, as lie climbs
over Jog.- through windfalls, swamps and
burnt ground, to turn a yard from wnat
he imagines to he a straight line. .Ner
vous tension is bad for the wind and
he is soon breathless. Then his charac
ter develops. The weak m in longs for
help and calls for it. by shouting or
screaming. The strong man grimly re
solves to help himself, to Stop arid sum
up the situation, with all i he informa
tion he has. oo can gather by close ob
servation. and then go slow and not tar.
The trahn .I woodsman calmly fills his
lhpe and sits down to think about it.
He lias no anxiety about himself^ for
he knows that he can live many days
in the woods with only small discom
forts. His pride may he touched or lie
may he missing an appointment, or caus
ing needless anxiety to others, but he
knows that be is no no present danger
and does not want to lie helped out;
his whole training and habit of mind lead
him to help himself. If he needs to
know a point of compass before he can
determine bis direction, he can wait tor
it—for the stars at night, or foe tne
sun next day. or some other day. Per-
haps he will idly try for it by studying
the mosses on rocks and hardwood trees,
but this is for diversion, not for a re
liance.
Usually he does not need to know his
northing, for he goes by the "lay of tne
land,” and he has ont taken a step in
a strange country without knowing some
thing of the watershed. The smallest
possible amount of casual or general in
formation of where the water goes is
expanded by every rod that he travels.
He never loses faith in the law of gravi
ty. It is beautiful to tramp with a
woodsman in country that i.- new to him.
He drinks in the topography. He is
Iik“ a debutante, exhilarated by new
acquaintances and glowing with inspir
ation from new friends; but. unlike her,
he is not doomed to disappointment. Tne
ridges and valleys stay. They ate tailh-
Tuide him win n
fu! lo the rnd and wi
he is l ist.
The supper rested and soothed Billy.
He remembered me; lli.it through the
long days ■ f wandering he had often
struggled witli hysterical feelings and h-
could easily understand how insanily
comes to a man who is lost, lie wonder
ed if either John "r the pale young
sportsman whom John was guiding sus
pect’d his condition. The truth was that
after John had quietly asked him ■ n“
question. “Come from Horn l.ake?’* and
lie had answered. "Yes." the old woods
man had guessegi out the whole sb ry
tind could have told it with reasonable
accuracy..
The simple camp kit was cleaned an 1
stowed away and the night fire was light
ed. John disappeared in the back end of
the 1 iw bark camp and returned with a
blanket which he dropped in a half care
less. half motherly fashion on the pale
young man's shoulders.
"I guess Mr. Hardy, you’ll do better
lo set on this log where the smoke won't
reach you.” The young man moved and
< -tablished himself comfortably, and at
the same time noted that the guest was
happier. He was mellowed by his pipe
and some borrowed tobacco, lie was con
tent. Absolute comfort for bedy and
mind is perhaps not the keenest enjoy
ment. but it is near it. it is worth work
ing for, and it can lie had in the woods.
It i~ not simply a comparative condi
tion, a relief from misery, or a measure
ment of the distance from discomfort.
With a conscience at east, the appetites
gratified, the sense seharmed by the
beauty of the woods, and with an in
spiring consciousness that there are lots
of things to do, the healthy woodsman
can sit on a log and be very happy and
have comfort. He can have it ir. rain or
in sgtnshine, night or day. "Flannel is
flannel, wet or dry." and wpj clothes are
not necessarily uncomfortable, although
they become so after a while.
In driving logs down a river in March,
a crew of thirty men are in and out of
the cold tuater during the day and sleep
In wet woolen clothes many nights with
out devol tiling a ease of rheumatism or
of any other sickness. A healthy tem
perate woodsman do*,.* not become rheu
matic, and surely a common belief that
this diseases comes from pure water is
an error. The sportsman does not get
it from wailing the stream; the temper
ate log drivers and lumbermen never ge.t
it; but the whisky drinker that gets
drunk, and lies out, has rheumatism
and “lays it" to the water.
Comfort needs reasonably good health,
capable of being made perfect health by
i tglit Jiving, earnestness of purpose, and
a capacity for getting tir’d. With hone'
that ache a little, not too rmu-h. a litte*
added knowledge of nature's laws as a
result i f the day's experi- ,ee. the best
fond, tin- best cooking, a -af ■ roe 1 ', a
5 right fire, a balsam bojgh hod. .and i
partner that i« a lover of the woods, a.
reasonable man is content. All the ■ x
quisite refinements .and amusements of
lh“ most highly civilized spot on earth
can do no mure for him.
Hardy had neither seen nor read, as
John's keen eyes had read, the manifest
signs of Billy's late experience. II was
possibly unconscious celebration which
led him to asm
"Billy, did you ever get lost in the
woods?”
"Yes, once,” said Billy cautiously. "It.
w.a.s the fi-st week 1 come In. Uv Horner
had a contract up to Wakely dam and
lie left >* -rd f..,;- t|-e. His wile - "
Hardy rather unnecessarily interrupted
at this point to mention that lie was
acquainted with Cy llarmer.
"No, you don't know Cy. He ain't
round here m w. You know Andy if; >-
mer. his brother in law, and C.v iiasn't.
any use for him. Cy's wife was up ; i
th- dam. too.”
"Hold on a minute. Billy. Rather pe
culiar isn't ir. that these two men had
the same name and were only brothers in
In w ?’ ’
"Seems sn. yes. The bottom fact is
that they begun reg'Iar brothers and
stayed so till they botL knowed the Bas-
eom girls. Sairey was the youngest. She
was likely and smart and they both
wanted her. Maria was sharp faced and
ted headed, but somehow she stayed in
the game all one winter till Andy Mar
iner dfawed Sairey. and Cy, jest to keep
from being laughed at, took u^ with
Maria and tried to look cheerful. He
felt it, though, and. ’lowed that from that
day he wouldn't have Andy for no near
er n a brother in law. and he didn't. Ma
rla was a good worker and she was up
to the dam, doin’ the cookin’, when I
come.
“I got there, say a Wednesday, and
worked the ux team haulin’ in hem
locks for squarin' for the fin,no timbers
till come .Saturday night. Sunday morn-
in’ we fixed up a little and turned the
cattle loose to peck and rest up while
we sot around. There come a sugar snow
in the afternoon and we built a fire hi
the stove ami sot there till Cy went out
to see to the cattle and couldn't find
'em. it was good trackin snow a rid we
both started out. We follered 'em and
iollered 'em till, 'fore we knowed it night
shot dpwh oil 'tis like a jack knife.
"Wo hadn't noticed wh£«*. we were go-
in - ; hadn't iooked at a
tracks, and I'm a-MlR:
s< nth man, ■ hat is a
thing to do in tin se wo
Hacked a ways till we e
. n 1 then we gave it up
cold. 1 we had air
thing hut i lie
5' you. young
eighty koujess
ids. W. ba< k-
ime to a creek.
It turned off
Sunday clothes
ir; and no blankets and nothin’ to eat.
if ,v,ur.-e. I had matches, and we whit
tled some kindlin' off'n a river pine
\ on.
long'
pot som<
■ dry stuff
top
et he
;■ and
a fire al
ongside a s
pruof
• log
until
op was w
el] a-goin'.
and i
let n
ie tell
young po
ntleman. m
»ver do (I
iat as
s you live. Then
we
la v
• I o w n
;side and
went j • si* 1
‘*1>.
Wht
•n one
pot. hot
and tile o
flier
side
cold.
half wal
<•* up and
roll
o\ »*
v and
1 up f'Vi’l
t. When
botli
siTP
■s got
we'd naturally in
uur
sleej
.1 roll
nearer
the log.
A (ir
•♦•<1 ."pniro
s snappy.
Better find a
m.i
pie if
We
woke
t daylight
. stiff arid
Cold
an.
I cold
and hungry. Our Sunday clothes had
a thousand holes burnt in ’em. They
leaked like gill nets. I said so to
Cy, and that made him think of fish,
an’, f.f course, he had a hook and line
in his picket, an" he went to the creek
und ketched a mess of trout.
"Now, Cy was always peculiar about
trout. He couldn’t eat ’em no way ex
cept fried. i trie! to argue him into
saying biled would do, 'cause, of course*
1 had no grease ti fry 'em in: but
lie wouldn't hev it; said he spieened
against anything but fried. So I just
gave up to him and fried 'em—in water.
I told him I'd done it just to humor
him. and he seemed satisfied, but he
Towed afterward to Maria that, as he
h oked back, they seemed to taste for
all the world as if they'd been biled.”
The young man laughed appreciatively,
while John, without a word of comment,
arose, and putting his foot against the
front of the green birch fire, deftly
pushed the burning stick closer to
each other. The blaze sprang out and
lighted the amphitheater of balsams.
There was a long silence, finally broke
by Hardy.
“When you get ready, Billy, you can
tell us how far you had wandered from
camp, how you got back, and what be
came of the oxen ”
•‘About 80 rod," said Billy, “and thu
Oxen was back."
"Circled," said John.
"1 have heard of that." said Hardy,
"that is, I have heard that no man
naturally travels In the woods off Lhe
trail in a straight line; that It Is haid
to keep from curving to the right or
the left."
“It is hard." said John. "When the
sun is shinin' anybody can waik straight,
for y u steer b;- your shadow. On i
cloudy day. or In the dark, if you haven't
forget your compass, as you generally
have, you can look at that one in
while and hold a pretty go.-d line, h .1
you need to learn to trust your compass,
and not fight it.
"A good while ago 1 went out in the
afternoon t > put not six dogs for a pariy
on Upper Plains. I wanted to wait until
the next meritin', but they wanted the
biggest buck in the woods the first day.
I had four young (logs on chain and two
old ones free. The d gs dragged me
wherever they wanted t<>. when tnej- hap
pened to pull together, and at other
times they girdled trees and tore t be
witch hopples with the chains. I left
the last dog go on a fresh track and then
started for the river. 1 didn't know
much about that c untry then, but, of
course, I hadn’t forgot that water runs
down Dill, and I knew the lay of the
land and that all the main ridges run
northeast. So 1 kp' a-quarterin' on
’em. workin' down-hill, a-thinkin' ! was
gain' plumb north. Fact was. I'd been
1>> kin' for tracks and rassiin' with the
dogs, and they'd led me over the river
divide without my knowin' it, and if ! 1
kep' a-goin' I'd a' found the Mohawk,
the way the Injuns used to. I'd been
keerless. and keerlessness is the worst
fault a man can have, except lyin'
about what he's done.
"After walkin’ a while I got suspicious
and looked at my compass and found
that the needle pointed exactly the
wrong way. Course, [ didn’t think that
was queer, because I had four heavy
chain dogs wrapped to my belt; so I kep'
on the bearin’ that I knew- was due
north, for, of course. I'd strike the river
that way. It was beginnin' dark and
I was gettin’ tire when I looked at
the c'mpass again. The chains were
holdin’ the wrong end to just as be
fore, so I lit my pipe and stopped to
think about it. Pretty soon I got a
little sense and took off my chains and
put the compass on a stump 4 rods off,
tind it pointed wrong way just the same.
So I give up fightin’ and went wrong
way and come in all right.
"If you only want to travel straight,
that’s easy, when you learn f*.
your eye more or less on peculiar trees
far ahead and hold your line. When
you have to turn out for windfalls or
swamps, allow for it and get back on
your line.”
"But. John, why is it that a man nat
CONTINUED ON I.AST PAGE