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\ t;' V r i /• a- ' eoiucifu* Florida’s Gigantic Phosphate Industry Attains ^ ^ ^ International Proportions i if* sTi 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