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White Labor In the Bice Fields of Southwest Texas.
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JHlanta, Ga., Week Ending July 22, 1905.
NUMBER TWENTY-ONE
VOLUME XLIII
a wonaeriui Empi
Capable of Feeding Entire Country
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A few weeks ago The Sunny South described Texas’ magnificent Agricultural College. The Subjoined Article will dem
onstrate the wisdom of the state in providing experts for the development of its wonderful resources.
By HILTON CASTLE.
Written for THE SUNNY SOUTH.
T has been said of the great
state of Texas that her
diversity of soil and cli
mate are equal to produc
ing everything necessary
for the welfare of civilized
man. There are within
her borders 265.780 square
miles, including a water
area of 3.490 square miles,
'which figures are signifi
cant of the fact that up
wards of one hundred
.millions of people could
be supported within her territory, more
than are now within title limits of the
United States, and one-fifth of the esti
mator number of civilized people on the
globe.
Prom the northernmost point of the
state to the southernmost, is a distance
of 740 miles. Likewise, the maximum
distance from the easternmost point to
the westernmost, is 825 miles, these fig
ures afforditiigi some idea of the number
of (hours it requires to go from one of
the state's cardinal points to the other.
LEADS IN FARMS.
Of this great area the basic industry,
unmistakably, is agriculture, and as
might be expected, there are more farms
in Texas today than in any other state
of the union, the federal census of 1900
giving her 352.190 farms. It is need
less to sny that this number has been
prodigiously increased since tfliat year,
the concensus of opinion being that no
' ;rt of t>-e ■ " *H’ 7.7ft made such -aI-I.l
strides forward within the last few
years as what is now denoted the Great
Southwest, the portion of the United
States of which Texas forms the major
part.
Texas 'has a water front of 375 miles.
There an within her gulf coast coun
try. which embraces a belt reaching in
land some 50 or 60 miles, twenty-nine
counties, strictly speaking. They stretch
from the Sabine river, which. separates the
state frori Louisiana, to the Rio Grande,
which separates it from Mexico. This
country is nearly all rich prairie land,
and the arger part virgin soil, despite
the fact hat thousands of immigrants
have discovered It within the last few
years. These twenty-nine counties are
more than equal in size to the state of
Georgia. Their soil grades from a light
sandy to a black loant. Along the Rio
Grande It Is a rich alluvial.
Climatically speaking, the section may
be divide! Into three parts— the humid,
semi-arid and arid; which respectively
denote thi- eastern, central and western
parts. Tiie aggregate population of the
Vulf ooa«t /country- Ts approximately
450,000 Se lls to Its 19.167.280 acres. How
much T«ias needs immigration can be
estimated by these figures.
More lean the lion's share of advertise
ment regarding the coast country "nt
the present moment is being given to
the Brownsville region, the extreme
sout!hwe9(»m part, owing to the rail
road development going on here now,
end oth< r particularly interesting fea
tures. C niy a few short years ago and
the Tens steer roamed Litis country.
Herds ei buffalo were to be seen. Mat
agorda ifianlT. Mustang, and St. Jo
seph's J land, off the coast, wore in
habited iv mustang ponies, degenerate
descend! us of the steeds of early
fipanlsTt txplorers. Tho prickly cacti
and featherly mosquito hushes grew in
their own sweet way. In time it be
came a land of gigantic randies, among
tiie most famous of which was the King
ranch of one million ac-res, upon which,
within the last twelve months. "Kings
ville. - ' a town of twelve hundred in
habitants, has sprung up.
WITCHERY OF IRRIGATION.
The tendency is strongly toward break
ing these big ranches up into smaller
holdings, and letting intensive farming
hold sway. This has come about
through the introduction of the “per
suasive witchery of .rrigation," Arte
sian wells to the depth of from 350 to
650 feet are easily secured, there seem
ing to be an unlimited supply of water
underground. Irrigation canals find thc-ir
source in the Rio Grande river. Tile,
average rain fall of the Brownsville
section 7s but twenty-six inches, which
makes irrigation necessary. Further
north it is 46 inches. Brownsville is
some 500 miles further south than San
Diego.
Tlii-s is the region ideal for small
fruits and vegetables, (which can be
shipped to northern markets i'f carload
lots at from three to four weeks earlier
than from, any other section of the
country. temons from the Brownsville
region took first prize at the St. Louis
world's fair, and dates, pinapples, oran
ges, and grapes, can bo made to
yield abundantly. Olives are now being
experimented with. Sugar cane can be
grown to better advantage in this sec
tion than in any other part of the Uni
ted States.
The limner vegetable of southwest
Texas is the odorous onion, which is
superior in size and sweetness to the
Bennuitu onion. iCiiiii the fi . mers
first began to ship their onion product
north, they did so under the name of
"Bemuda onions,” until it became ap
parent to them that theirs was better
and more popular product. The Texas
crop 7s driving the Bermuda crop out
of the market. It can he sold for less,
a.nd in addition has the advantage of
earlier maturity. Over one million dol
lars was brought into southwest Texas
this year through the onion crop. A
farmer, near San Antonio, sold a carload
of onions for $810, the product coming
from one acre of ground. Seldom less
than $225 Is cleared off of an acre of
onions.
BIG CANTELOUPE TRADE.
Another very important crop to sou*T-
w< st Texas Is the cantaloupe. An idea
of the growth of the trucking business
r.f tills section can be adjudged by the
fcllowing figures. Year before bust for
ty-seven cars of potatoes went out of
Southwest Texas; last year the number
of cars was 246, and this year 1,000.
Southwest Texas has the monopoly of
the potato market all over the United
States for tho mnotli of May. The to
mato is another best crop. A man last
year made $1,140 off of one acre, which
he put on the market early in Decem
ber. Of course there are husbandmei
who are not to be classed among the
successful ones, but failure is rare when
a farmer puts the same amount of en
ergy into his farm work that an ener
getic business man does into his calling.
Illustrative of this assertion, was a fact
related to me recently of two farmers
glowing the same crop (this season) ;>n
adjoining lands. One watched over ms
ct op ns a mother would over her chil-
I'leii, paying every attention to detail.
Tin* other spent ills afternoons, at vari
ous places of amusement. During har
vest season the faithful farmer netted
efi of his crop from $236 to $800 an
acre, while the crop of his next-door
neighbor .proved a dead failure. At
least one of these men thinks south
west Texas a land of glory.
Rlee is a very profitable crop in the
gulf coast country, and one of growing
importance. Texas will soon outstr.p
T.ouisiana in rlee production. Two crops
of rice may be harvested in one year
ip the Brownsville district. The stub
ble crop giving eight sacks, and the
first crop fourteen sacks to the acre.
Dig orchards arc being planted along the
Santa De route near Galveston, where
there are numbers of Italians. A car-
had of Jasmine bulbs was shipped north
over this line the other day.
The writer has met farmers who have
lived in California who prefer the Texas
coast country to that famous land.
The question of labor is agitating
Texas as it Is every other Southern
state. Foreign immigration of the
skilled artisan cla-ss is what the state is
strenuously reaching out for. and what
it will likely get. There are communi
ties of Germans, Italians, Japanese,
westerners. etc.. in the gulf cons,
country, whose neat farms furnish ad
mirable objest lessons. At harvest time
tiie truck gardens and rice lields are
thick with intelligent white labor, whien
to the looker-on suggests a solution to
the labor problem.
Speaking of this great gulf coast coun
try of Texas, the honorable secretary of
agriculture, before a Houston audience,
enthusiastically slid:
“The coast country is immense, that
expresses it in a word, it is simply im
mense. I think it is one of tin- finest
countries in the wet-ici, and the more I
see of it the more J think so. Texas is
a spelndid static—it great empire. It
seems to nic rou can raise anything h--re.
If I were a young man I would pack
m.v grip and come to Texas. But a
most singular devlopment appears here.
You are preparing to handle the prod
ucts of several states back of you. and
yet within an hour's ride you have thou
sands of acres of itho finest land in the
world—land that will raise anything—
unsettled.’’
Secre.tary Wilson believes ttiat Texas
could b“ successful in tea cultur* to the
extent of $8,000,000 annually.
BURBANK ON TEXAS.
But even a higher authority than the
country's secretary of agriculture may
be quoted on the coast country, no less
a personage than California’s wonderful
■wizard, Burbank. Hi**, whoso marvelous
genius has been able to create a while
blackberry, has tills to say:
“I have long ago been persuaded that
fruit will grow to perfection on the
Texas coast country if properly culti
vated. A fruit tune desert’s ea.re as
does a human being. If it needs iron
don’t give it bone dust. The Texas
coast country is identical with Califor
nia. Time will develop this fact, and
some day oranges, dates, lemons pears,
•etc., will flourish tho re.” That day has
already arrived.
To quote the most optimistic of
poets;
“O the blessed south is in 'it
Every shining, golden minute;
She's as happy as a linnet
Every day!
Her green fields ripe for sowin’;
Her streams in music flowin'
An' heaven its smile bestowin'
Every day!”
Raising Tomatoes for Early Northern Markets, in the Texas Coast Country.
His Double Life
By W. L. ALDEN.
Ot'TOR, I want you to
tell me whether 1 am
sane or insane," The man
who spoke Was middle-
aged. and wore a look of
extreme anxiety. Dr.
Brownell, the i-minent spe
cialist in diseases of the
brain and nerves, smiled
at the questioner, and re
plied: "J thi'nii I can as
sure you, without going
any further, that you are
perfectly sane, is
only the sane person who doubts his
sanity.”
“Wait till you hear what I have to
tell you,” exclaimed the patient, "and
then, perhaps, you will change your
opinion. I am generally thought to he
a cool, clea r-hended man, bn; at this
moment 1 strongly suspect tli.it I am
simply a lunatic.
"As you know, I was a successful
solicitor, until I retired from business
four years ago—about the tine when I
made your acquaintance. While I was
supposed to he a man without a parti
cle of romance in my composition. I had
one weakness, which I now suspect * ->
have marked the germ of lunacy. I had
a curious longing to lead two lives nt
once. The stories which came to my
knowledge from time to time of men
who lived one life under one name, and
at the same ttme another life under an
other name, fascinated me. Could I be
at one and the same time George Rus
sell, of Bayswater, the well known and
respected solicitor, and John Smith, of
Bloomsbury, the popular music hall
singer. I felt that my ideal of existence
would he realized. I knew perfectly
well that this was little better than
childish nonsense, but the idea was con
stantly recurring to me, and I used to
dream of its realization, as children
dream of the joys of being cast on un
inhabited islands and living over again
the experience of Robison Crusoe.
"When I finally retired from my pro
fession, I determined to make an at
tempt to become a story writer. I fan
cied that I had sufficient imagination,
and believed that, witli persistent el-
fort, I could learn the art of story tel
ling. To my surprise, my first story
was accepted, and the editor who .ac
cepted it wrote me a letter full of en
couragement. That decided the future
of me. and I saw my way, not only to
making a modest reputation as an au
thor, but of leading the dual life which
had so long allured me.
"As an unmarried man, living in cham
bers, I might have pursued my story
writing at home, without fear or dis
turbance or of discovery, for I was anx
ious that it should not be known among
my friends that I, George Russell, was
the story writer who signed himself
'John Ackerman.’ 1 was resolved that I
would separate 'George Russell as wide
ly as possible from ‘John Ackerman.’
One morning I disguised myself elab
orately with spectacles, a full beard and
a wig. and, slipping out of my door un
seen. I made my way into the next
street, where I took a cab and drove
to Chelsea. There I soon found a room
that suited my purpose. It was plainlv
furnished, and was nt the hack of the
house, in a quiet street. I promptly took
it for a year, paid three months’ rent
in advance, and stipulated that I should
he free to enter or leave the house at
any hour without inquiry. I rather th.'nk
that the woman who let the room fan
cied that T was engaged in some il
legal pursuit, but she evidently cared
little about her lodgers, provided they
paid their rent and avoided ^ making a
disturbance in the house.
"To this room I removed my writing
materials, and in it I set myse.lf at work
to become a popular story writer. I
think I may say that I succeeded. At
any rate, there was soon a demand for
my work, and I soon became well
known, even if I was not hailed with
enthusiasm. I worked hard, for I liked
the work, and it had been my habit to
work hard all my life. I never went
to my Chelsea room except In my dis
guise, and I never returned to my own
chambers without first divesting myself
of my beard and spectacles. This I
coul easily do In some unfrequented
street, or In the gardens of the embank
ment. I was never, so far as I know.
detected in the act of changing my ap
pearance in the st ret. and I took a
childish pleasure in the act. When I
passed an acquaintance, while wearing
my disguise, and saw that he did not
recognize me, I was delighted. This,
you will say. was childish. I wish that
were tiie worst that could in' said of it.
It may have been the first symptoms if
insanity. But of that you can judge
better when you have heard ail that I
to tell.
"In the meantime, remember that I
was horn into the world an idealist, a
dreamer, a sentimentalist, and that, cir
cumstances having made me a shrewd,
prossaic solicitor, the romantic side of
my nature had faded out of sight. But
when I abandoned my profession and
wa.s a free man, the romance again as
serted its hold on me. and with the
more avidity because, for so many years,
it had been sternly suppressed. 1 was
like a foolish young man, who has been
strictly brought up. and. suddenly find
ing himself his own master and free in
do as he pleases, plunges into all sorts
of folly. I was plunging into the only
kind of dissipation that had any attrac
tion for me. I was living a dual life,
and enjoying it intensely. Whether that
was insanity, or merely silliness. I must
leave you to judge.
"T had been a successful author for
nearly two years when I fell on a bit
of orange peel and broke my leg. Be
fore It wa«f fully mended I contracted
pneumonia, and came very near dying.
Then I was sent away to the seaside for
a couple of months, and from first to
last I did not touch pen to paper for
nearly half a year. In the meantime
my mind was active, and t was con
stantly thinking out the plots of new
stories, and inventing scenes and inci
dents to be used later on.
"One day I was astonished to find in
a new magazine a story signed with my
pen-name, and written in exact imita
tion of what I was pleased to call my
style. I was sure T had never written
the story. It was one of many stories
on which my mind had dwelt while I
lay in bod with a broken leg, and its
appearance In print was a mystery to
me. However, I finally decided that I
mui&t have written the story and for
gotten all about it. It annoyed me to
think that my memory could thus play
me false; but I could find no other ex
planation of the fact that the story was
actually in print.
"A little later the same thing occurred
again. This im« I was absolutely sure
that the story purporting to have been
written by me was the work of some
one else, for [ could swear that the plot
and the incidents had come to me only
a few weeks before the story appeared,
and that I had never, during that time,
touched a pen- I at once dictated a let
ter to 'the editor—for I was still forbid
den to write—informing him that some
one had imposed upon him a forgery
signed with my name. I signed the let
ter 'John Ackerman.' for the editor knew
(Continued on Last Page.)