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i« www*ejg White Labor In the Bice Fields of Southwest Texas. the flowers collection fOaOXCESSaSS GS3SE3 soncs«aKKHja^quK^.juu»JUUK^^ M 'K^B‘>rBarapnry>TrrTrK5»xg^oaug3oqp-'Tnrp ; *KtffTVT7iac 50c PER YEAR—SINGLE COPY 5c. JHlanta, Ga., Week Ending July 22, 1905. NUMBER TWENTY-ONE VOLUME XLIII a wonaeriui Empi Capable of Feeding Entire Country g&ij 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.)