Newspaper Page Text
EDITORIAL PAGE
THE SUNNY SOUTH
JANUARY 12, 1907.
u/ye SUNNY SOUTH
Published Weekly by
Sunny South Publifhing Co
Busine/s Office
THE CONSTITUTION BUILDING
ATLANTA. GEORGIA
'of the child. I he teacher, however, is in contact
with the child when his or her mind is at its most
J receptive stage. Moreover, of what use is the
filling' of a boy’s head or a girl s head with academ
ic learning when they are to be left to go throngn
j lifo with such handicaps of disposition or tempera-
i ment as will make these acquired assets of little
practical benefit:
Hut when von show the child as well as the man.
that distance not otilv lends enchantment, but de
ceptive discouragement as well, and that the dis-
Why He Looked That Way.
(From Haiper’s Weekly.)
A northern man visiting in a southern
town announced that he could tell n
man's political tendencies by looking at
liis i'a.’e. His auditors looked at one an-
Along' the Highway
By FRANK L. STANTON
THE LITTLE NEW YEAR FELLOW.
.filtered a? I lie 2»o*(<>ni<-e .
roud-ela** mail mailer
The Surtry South is the* oldest weekly paper of Literature,
Romance, Fa<fl and Fiction in the South ^7 It is noiv re•
Jlored to the original shape and ivill be published as for*
nicrly every week Founded in IS74 it grew until M‘99,
when, as a m onthly, its form tv as changed as an expert*
ment JZ? It noiv returns to its original formation as a
weekly with renewed vigor and the intention of eclips*
ing its most promising period in the past.
Steepness and Hills
so difficult
a Jail
w row
You have les-
witli which the world
it" which it must, cvent-
; ua!l\. provide subsistence. have taught the
J first salient chapter in the doctrine <>t sell-help—
,‘<inc which conscientious thinkers long' ago recog-
| nized as the sublimcst form of philanthropy in the
Mange of human activitv
■ unit hill which seems steep and
negotiation can be conquered with
P.f grit and determination, you lia\e
| good than exists in fifty textbooks,
isened tile number of failure:
i must contend and for many t
subsistence,
apter in the
1 j other with incredulity,
i "Well. 1 seldom make a mistake.
imoimt, lip sni(1 ln , llraU „ B „ nP „r the
t more j atioiu hint, "are a McKinley man.
"That's liglti,'’ said the man r
You,”
group
to.
"You," pointing
i lcvrland democrat
"Yes. that is so.'
the crowd began t<
lice.
anot ner.
sit
severed ho. And
up and take no
thin
K. IxISER. well-known as a poetical
contributor to current literature, is
the author of a rather unique little
poem in The American Israelite.
Its title is. “The Distant Hills Arc
Always Steep," and it preaches the
lesson, an old one and one which
hits been dinned into our heads in
a great many guises, that the work
of tomorrow, the duty of the future,
the ordeal just around the corner,
alwavs magnifies itself by distance.
The cheerful philosophy of the poet
goes on to show that after the task
has been accomplished, and we have reached the
top of that hill which, seen in far perspective looked!
so steep, we can easily perceive the gentleness of
tile declivities up which we came, and the hardships
of the journey arc minimized into the relatively
small importance liiev actually merit. Some one
has remarked that a quantity of talent, of even
positive genius, is lost to the world for the lack of
a little courage, a little seasonable endeavor.
‘There arc thousands of men and women who real
ize that thev have within themselves undeveloped
potentialities worthy of culture and exploitation.
Thev know that with systematic study, a little
hard work, and enough self-sacrifice, they can coin
these possibilities into assets, thereby largely in
creasing their own importance to themselves, to
those near them and to society at large.
Hut they look with apprehension on the height
of the hill that is to be climbed. 1'hey think of the
hours and days, perhaps months and years, of se-
clusion trom social pleasure, of close application, j c
of unrewarded toil—and they hesitate and hesitate
until the momentum of ambition is lost and the
Here's To This Funeral
-ail along in the
have marked thei
years.
I’loselv allied t
those who intend—
auspich ms mission
gain a vast amount
complishmenls of A
ante old channels which mar
jhsettre course for a mimber of
l hi
,-!•
ot timorous folk, are
>me day—to begin on that
of self-development. They
f pleasure in belittling the ac-
or H or C , and sav. to them
selves and sometimes,
“ 1 could do just twice
matter of fact, the ihim
So confident are the\
foolishly, to their friends,
as well, if I tried." As a
; generally ends in a boast,
in their powers, that they
postpone the arduous ami quite indispensable de
rail of preparation from day to day. dally with their
youth, let opportunity after opportunity swim into
the horizon and vanish over its rim—until they
awake finally with a start to realize their wasted
Years and wasted chalices. Nine out of ten times
people of this nature arc also moral and physical
cowards. Terrified bv the
agant game they have plat
has taken American and conti
nental society a good many genera
tions to consent to preach her fu
neral. but all signs indicate that
preparations for the obsequies arc
reaching a climax. \\ c refer to the
permanent burial <>i that ancient
and honorable institution—tin
maid. As far to the rearward in
historv as the memory of man run
neth. the bid maid has been a
familiar figure in the community
life. She has furnished quantities of
material to the humorous periodi-
er peculiarities, her supposed tendency to
gossip, her intermeddling', and her wild chase of
everything that had the outward seeming of trou
sers, have been proverbial. \s a result of these
vears of ridicule and warped legend a sort ot re
proach settled down over the phrase "old maid.”
There is little doubt that many extremely foolish
matches can be traced to a dread on part of young
women of attaining to the despised state of spin*-
sterhood. With this foreboding upon them they
have gone forth and married men who, in more
icflcctive moments, they would not have favored
with a second 1 glance.
The last twenty years have, however wrought a
radical change. They have brought in their train
the age of independence for women. Young and
old. and whether posessed of ordinary brains ot
brains above par. they have discovered that they
uId dispense with man as a supporting agency
and, going forth into the world, earn their own
bread. Looking' round about them, thev have come
to the conclusion that all marriages arc not happy,
that it is distinctly not a reproach to remain single,
and that they stand a much better chance of win
ning the man they really want by first putting
themselves in a position to refuse proposals thev
might have to accept from the sole standpoint of
bvelihood.
It seems that England is equally progressive
with America in this direction. The following ex
tract is from The Queen, published across the
Atlantic:
Ol.l maids are dying out. In a few years’ time llie
typical old maid of our youth will rarely lie seen and 100
years hence she will probably lie dead altogether. The term
‘ ■ old maid"’ is now seldom or never heard; the expression
“bachelor girl” has taken its place and many and happy
are the bachelor girls in Britain today with their indepen
dence, their little homes and their own well-arranged lives.
“You.'' addressing;
Bryan man."
"You’re wrong; there. I'm sick; that's
what makes me look that way.”
Weak Point.
(Fro in The Chicago News.)
The woman awoke and found : he bold
huralar rummaging in the wardrobe.
"I am going; to call the police,’ site
exclaimed, placing her hand on the
alarm button.
■'Blast ttie luck:'' mumbled the in
truder. ''That's what I get for being
careful.”
'a areful!”
“Yes; I i
wardrobe te i
unusually cai
Id | that beautiful
W ell, here’s to
two words themsi
the funeral of the old maid ! The
‘Ives carry cruelty and. often, im-
discovery of the extrav-j measurable injustice. It is conceivable that many
d with fate, what might| women, though in receipt ot numberless offers,
cl.
t ertainly since men
right to pursue a lone
same privi-
it thev take
denied the
■ in charms
through courtesy be called resolution or will-power j prefer remaining single,
fades into the dull apathy of despair and indiffer- serve to themselves the
cnee. The ultimate upshot is a settling down into life, women should yot
■the mediocre position they have always occupied j lege, or ridiculed as lack;
and the development of a creed of pessimism which advantage of it.
la\s the blame <>n "fate" and the "hardships of the: l or the average woman and the average man,
world." for a failure which should be credited to*there can he no doubt that marriage is the natural
■the account of the frail will and infirm purpose of I condition. But when, from reasons too numerous
the individual. j for enumeration, either one elects the single state.
It would be an excellent idea if our schools in- * here is no reason why they should be made the
eluded in the various branches a topic calculated target for ill-considered jokes bordering sometimes
to impress these lessons on children at a time when
their minds are most susceptible to influence. The
making of analytical minds, the manufacturing of
moral courage and will-power, you may say. arc
tasks bevond the range of the school room. You
may also object that as at present arranged, our
public school system tends automatically to the
development of these qualities, and further that
the inculcation of moral lessons of this nature
is incumbent upon the parents and not the teacher
on brutality.
\\ e believe that women are principally to blame
in this direction. Their faculty of picking flaws in
Mich other, of criticising mercilessly one of their
number who happens to reach uncertain vears
without marrying, is probably what endowed the
phrase "old maid.” with all its hated association. ,, , , , ,
. that at one time I thought I loveil her.
)ui customs .lie Ohan^lU^ n<>\\ so t lint ill! oppro-j but I luive found one whom L low more,
hrium, real or imaginary, is lifted from ihe term.I aU(l 1 ll!lVe callei1 upon you. sir, for as-
The dav is indeed, a welcome one.
and rather
tli»’
would]!’ I
you?”
X-no. 1 guess
And slipping
brushes in Ids
winked at the ■
ished.
:dd hrivo ransacked that
niinul-'s ago, bu 1 was
ful for fear of injuring
autumn hat.”
really think it pretty?'
Why. it is gorgeous, ma'am,
than displace a feather in it
risk of being captured. You
ill the police now, would
,-ou can go this time.”
i. couple of silver lmir-
poeket the burglar
uckoo clock and ran
d'ust Wcod.
How is this for a ' Wood Catechism" on
a, vi ry small scale, writes Victor Smith
in The New York Press;
The name for the man in the moon is
Irkin. lie visits the earth and inter
rogates a forester:
“Ah: What are those stately tilings
waving their tops in the greeze'.”'
“Them's trees.”
"Trees? We have none in the moon.
What are they called in the aggre
gate .’
“A forest."
"A forest; thanks. Any other name.
“Yes; woods.”
“You destroy them, I understand.”
•■\Ve make wood of 'em.”
"Wood of tiie woods. And what
else?”
•'Well, as i stands Us timber.”
“And as it falls?”
•"I.-umber. after it's sawed up.”
“And you make of it'.'"
"Furniture, houses. bridges, ears,
ships, carriages, trunks, piers, organs,
fences, barns, foundations, and a million
other articles.”
"What's that in your hand?”
“A newspaper. Any in the moon?”
'Xo. Whr_t's it made of?”
"Wool. Wj use iogs for that pur
pose.”
"Wonders! Wish we had wood. What
is lite carpenter doing on that house?”
"Xailing on plaster boards.”
"What are they made of?”
"Paper pulp.”
"And what i paper pulp?"
"Old newspapers macerated, and by a
patented process converted into building
ma: ei ial.”
"Wonderful. , yulerful! You grow the
great forest; you kiil the timber, you
saw the lumber, you build many things
of the lumber, you make mash of the
logs and convert it into paper, you read
tile paper, you throw the paper away, lL
is gathered up and macerated to bt
made into building material again, etc.
Wood is greet! Grand! But there f,s
nothing like i: in the moon.”
Obtaining- Her Father’s Consent.
“Diplomacy. my hoy. diplomacy,"
laughed tlie young man. in response to a
(luestion from a friend who had received
one of the cards.
"iter lather isn't such a bad old chan
if you know how to handle him. 1 will
admit that getting his consent to our
marriage caused the girl and I no end of
concern, but I went at it in the right
way and won out.
"Her father is a man who likes to
have his own way. which, as a matter
of fact, is bound to lie different from
that of anyone else. Knowing this, 1
called upon him at his office to get his
consent, but l was wise enough not :o
ask it in a direct way.
•‘‘I suppose you know,' I began, as tlie
old man sat on his chair and glared at
me. ‘that I have paid a good deal of at
tention to your daughter. Much to my
regret it has gone much farther titan 1
wish it had. Your daughter lias assured
me that i alone can make her happy,
and T am afraid site speaks the truth.
I I will be candid with you, sir, and say
THE BELLS AND THE BILLS.
1.
; Heard tlie* old year's last farewells
, O'er the vales an' hills;
I (Tall; about the New Year hells—
I They cannot beat the bills!
'They’re coinin’ in on every freight.)
(Thank heaven, the trains are mighty
late! )
IF.
But the lessu,i That they teach today
(Just read it at a glance!)
Is plainly this: That, you must pay
The fiddler, if you dance!
But, rich an’ poor, an’ wise an' great
Are thanking heaven ihe trains are
late!
OLD FASHIONED PHILOSOPHY.
Lay by for the rainy day, and even
if it never comes, you will still have
a halleluia time in the sunshine.
Some folks know all about the stars
of heaven, and yet they can’t find
their way in this world two miles
trom home.
Heaven helps those who help them
selves. hill it’s a wise man who knows
.just when he's helped enough.
Satan can stand all the abuse thni
you heap on him. for he well knows
that, his time is coining.
The reason the covering of Charity
is limited is because every sinner in
the country is after a free blanket.
THE UNFORTUNATE.
I.
Trouble conic ter see me
En howl on ever ban';
De airthquake shake my house down
Imi swallcr all de Ian'!
IJ.
I holler. “.Mister Airthquake.
What work is dis you do?”
lie say: ‘‘Next time 1 hongry.
Please God, I'll swaller you!”
III.
En den 1 don't say mullin'.
Though trouble make me moan,
Kaze wisdom is in lettin’
Of had enough alone!
A PUBLIC BENEFACTOR.
“Seems like that poet can’t write
any more since he had his hair cut.”
“My. my! I feel like giving his
barber $10."
L
Though storms may dim the heavens,
Though worldly wealth I miss,
I ve the little New Year fellow
Who is climbing for a kiss!
And what if Poverty has found me,
If still his arms are necklaced 'round
me?
II.
(The wintry world seems sunny,
As if with roses blest.
The love that’s more than money
My recompense and rest.
It seems that, heaven itself has smiled
On the sweet kisses of a child!
THE WISE BROTHER.
“What does you do when de wolf
howls at yo' door?”
“I waits till he howls hisse'f ter
sleep, en den I hags him, en sells him
ter de menagerie!”
HIS DOUBTFUL AGE.
Asked to tell his age in court, an
old darkey said:
"Well, suli. t'd he ez old ez de grist,
j mill in my settlement, et' it. wuz still
a-grindin', en I’m some years older
than when freedom come in!”
THE OLD BACKSLIDER.
I.
I sorter quit the dancin’—
A-goin' toe-an'-heel,
But—life ain't, long, believers,—
One more Virginy reel!
II.
Old Time is fast in flyin’—
The scythe of him i feel:
Can't spend the time in sighin’—
One more Virginy reel!
AN AUTHOR'S NEW YEAR JOUR
NAL.
I shall not he poorer in this new
year. The fact is. there isn’t enough
of me left for Povertv to work on.
To the four winds with the coal
trust! My rejected manuscripts will
I keep me warm all winter.
I shall not have time io write the
! Great American Novel this year, but
i have no doubt posterity is willing
to wait.
I had sixteen invitations to dine on
I New Year’s day. I did (he best 1
j could, but wasn't equal to the emer-
igeney.
2b6e Great Books
©OUT twenty-five . %
ago Lord Acton wrote, ta
Mary Gladstone in regard
to the value of literary
authority in the cho; 'of
books. She had report-,
to him a conversat i
with Sir John Lubl
in which that fam. $
scientist complained o' «*
lack of guidance in ■»
wilderness of llteraMr
Lord Acton, comment t
upon this grievance, re
marked that Lubbock was a r,.
of astonishing attainments and ,
enviable power of various won*,
who could execute his own scheme a b
drawing up of a list of authorities) ••
ter than, almost better than anybo
else, were it not that he had s
tiling to learn on the gravest sidu .
human knowledge.
Lubbock might perhaps have
considered by Acton as deficient tn
torioal or possibly in theological leav ;v
Miss Gladstone had informed \
that she had suggested him as corn-,
lent to name the books that one ca
j least afford to neglect, and rep e. ;
j ‘How I should like to see my owi I!
of authorities drawn up hv you.”
There was a pope who said that j
hooks would Include every good
i in the world. Literature has douh
since then, and one would have to :au.
a hundred. How interesting it wo-,
he to get that question answered
one’s most intelligent acquaint u e
Wiritnn (Harold Browne), Dune !
i 1 .ightfoot). Church, Stanley. Lidd
Max Muller, Jowett. Lowell, Freemai
Leaky. Morley, Maine. Argyll. Tern
son. Newman, IV. E. G. (Giadstoru
Paget. Sherbrooke, Arnold, Stepnet
Goldwin. Smith, Hutton, Pattis
Jebh. Symonds. and very fen otla
There would be a surprising agreeme; t.
PERSONAL INFLUENCE.
One is generally tempted to give a
preference to writers whose infitc nc«
one lias felt. But that is often ac
dental. It is by accident that. T rea i
Coleridge first that Carlyle never did
me any good. If T had spoken of him
it would not have been from the full
ness of the heart. Excepting FYoude,
l think him the most detestable of hi
torians. The doctrine of heroes, the
( doctrine that will is above law, conies
i next in atrocity to the doctrine that
| the flag covers the goods, that the cause
1 .justifies the agents, which is what
[ Froude lives for. Carlyle’s robust tner.-
j tai independence is not the same thing
! as originality. Germans love hint he
j ause he is an echo of the voices of
j their own classic, age. He lived on the
thought of Germany when it was nor
j at its best, between Herder and Richter.
! before the age of discipline ani
In this striking
passage Lord Acton
• Ufye Marvelous Growth
l of Gar Seed Industry
By HELEN HARCOURT,
Written for The SUNNY SOUTH.
seems to intimate that in making out
a list of books to be preferred before
all others he at least would include
those whose influences had been most
felt iii his own development. But the
most influential books are not in every
man's experience, the most instructive.
• Here his lordship acknowledges his n.
****** *’*'*’* •'* *'* 9 ••••••■• j ijgation to Coleridge. lie had learn*-
growers, there came a new factor into j f rom tliat philosopher “the lesson of in
the seed industry. Yet, eien so. it has ! telle aial detachment: but he woul "
only been within the last thirty or forty j not have gone to him for instruction
years that seed growing has readied any-] for a decision of any vexed question i
thing like its present proportions. Less i history. In another letter to the same
than half n. century ago the seedsman j correspondent lie says:
who received an average of a hundred | “The description you quote of Coler-
a. day was considered to be doing j ijgp is not more inaccurate than epi-
wonderful business. At the present, ?ram requires. I have .lust drawn up
a list of recommended authors for my
son. as being the company I would like
1 ini to keep, after me; and after some
T.
order."
HE business of furnishing
flower, field anil garden
•seeds is one with which al
most everyone in the Unit
ed ..States comes in direct j time many of the large firms receive
contact, not only the agri-1 over six thousand orders every day dur-
culhtral classes, but also i ingf the bus > r SPaS0n - Firms that twenty
liio dwellers in the cities.
years ago employed one or two clerko.. ... T . . , 3 ^ .
v . now keep over one thousand voting worn- ^.latton 1 Inclined S. I. C. (Coler-
not one in a thousand en and girls busy filling mail orders dur-i ge) in tho nnmber - Hut has to be
among these has any ado- j in the winter and spring months, when j balanced by sounder stuff. I ront this
quate idea of the imtnens- th ® farmers are ready for their! u is P lain that thp influence of Color
Leaves from an Old vScrap Book
By A GEORGIA COLONEL.
( FIND in the old war scrapbook the
following Interesting piece of war
news under the headlines, ‘‘The
greatest Buncoinb Speech of the War”:
“The following order issued by the
yankee general, Hooker, congratulating
what is left of his army after their late
terrible thrashing and flight across the
Rappahannock, will do for the next
book of curiosities of literature, if pos
sible, it beats McClellan's Fourth of
July harangue at Hairison's Landing,
which put the whole world in a broad
grin:
"'Headquarters Army of ;he Potomac.
May 6, 1863 —Geieral Orders. Xo. 49.—
The major geneial commanding tenders
;o this army his congratulations on its
achievements of the last seven days.
If it has not accomplished all that was
expected, the reasons are well known to
tlie army. It is sufficient to say they
were of a character not to be foreseen
or prevented by human sagacity or re
sources. In withdrawing from the south
bank of the Rappahannock before deliv-
errtfu? a -rsnsral battle to o r adversaries,
the army lias given tenewed evidence of
I s confidence in itself, and its fidelity
in the principles it represents.
“ Tn fighting at a disadvantage we
would have been recreant to our trust,
to ourselves, our cause and our coun
try. Profoundly iqyat 'and conscious
of its strengtti. the arntv of the Potoamc
will give or decline battle whenever its
interest or honor may demand. It will
also be the guardian of its own history
and its own honor. By onr celerity and
secrecy of movement, our advance and
passage of the rivers were undisputed,
and on our withdrawal not a rebel re
turned to ’follow. The events of the last
week may swell with pride the hearts
of every officer and soldier of this army.
We have added new laurels to its former
renown. We have made long marches.
( crossed rivers, surprised ill*- enemy In
his entrenchments, and whenever we
have fought we have inflicted heavier
blows titan we have received.
'We have taken from the enemy five
thousand prisoners and fifteen colors,
captured and brought off seven pieces of
artillery, and placed hors de combat
eighteen thousand of his chosen troops.
We have destroyed* his depots filled with
vast amounts of stores, damaged his
communications, captured prisoners with
in the fortifications of Ills capital, and
liiled his country with 'fear and conster
nation. We have no oilier regret than
that caused by the deatli of our com
panions. and in this we are consoled
by 1he conviction that they have fallen
in the holiest cause ever submitted to
the arbitrament of battle. By enm-
| maml of (Bignedi
j '“MAJOR GENERAL HOOKER.
' '8. WILLIAMS. A. A. O.' ”
THE WOMEN OF THE SOUTH.
r take special delight in reproducing j
i from the old war scrapbook the follow- |
I ing tribute to the women of the south, j
[ by Colonel B. H. Jones:
j “The world never before witnessed such
j an exhibition of patriotic devotion and
| entire self-denia! as that displayed by j
the women of lite south. Timid by na-
ture and reared in the lap of ease, lux- i
ury and indulgence, their unflinching |
courage and complete self-abnegation}
not only nerved our arms and fired our}
hearts, but successfully challenged the
sympathy and admiration of the entire
unprejudiced world They cheerfully
yielded their husbands and fathers, their
sons and brothers, and lovers—not with
out tears, it is true, blit certainly with
out murmurs—for the success of a cause
(interwoven with every fiber of their
tender and faithful hearts.
“They denied themselves all the com
forts and conveniences of their homes
for the amelioration of our condition.
ami with an energy that never tired and
a faith that never doubted, they la
bored and prayed and hoped for the
grand consummation of victory. In the
wild bivouac, on the wearisome tramps
and the roar of battle, in tiio crowded
and gloomy precincts of the hospital—
everywhere, at all times, under all cir
cumstances. they were the angel min
isters of hope and faith and charity and
goodness. Their words and smiles en- !
eourag'ed and stimulated the faithful and j
the brave, while every instinct of their ]
pure souls recoiled from the baseness |
and cowardice that culminated in treaen- I
cry and desertion, and the sneer of their
contempt and t'iie hiss of their scorn
haunted, as a frightful phantom, the j
footsteps of tiie skulking traitor.
"To the very last, through victory and |
defeat, through sunshine and storm, they !
were as true to the cause as the needle 1
to its magnet; and when came our ruin,
final and irretrievable, they felt the mis-!
fortune most keenly of all. and theirs j
wi re the bitterest tears of anguish shed I
upon our dire disaster.
"But their last act in the sorrowful
drama was their crowning glory, anil
•planted the greenest laurels iu the
wreaths of their immortality. AVhen we
had sorrowfully furled that banner
which,
" 'Though gory.
Vet shall live in song and story,
Though its folds are in th e dust."
and returned—not. as we had hoped, with
‘victory and independence’ inscribed
’upon its folds, torn and rent by the
storm of battle—but conquered, disarmed,
bleeding, maimed, weary and in rags,
they met us, not with averted faces or,
frowns and reproaches, but amid ttiel
ruins of their once happy homes, with |
poverty and want all around them, they
welcomed us with open arms and witix;
gentle and loving words front lacerated)
and aching hearts, and smiles struggling]
with tears; they greeted us as vail- ]
finished heroes who had deserved success
and bravely strove by the exercise of alt
the beautiful and tender arts of love and
Continued On Fourth Page.
sistance in breaking off an attachment
that 1 have found undesirable.'
•' 'What’s that?’ shouted the old man.
sitting bolt upright on his chair.
*' 'Your assistance, sir. I continued. T
know that you have been opposed to my
marrying your daughter, and I thought
that you would be willing to assist me in
breaking the unfortunate attachment
that your daughter bears for me.’
" 'Never!' roared the old man. 'You
miserable scoundrel! What do you mean
by playing with my daughter’s heart and
then casting it lightly aside. By heavens,
you will marry her, or I wilt know the
reason why! At once, sir, at once!’
“Well, there is no use repeating ail the
old man said, for he kept it up until he
ran out of breath and had succeeded in
frightening me into agreeing to marry!
the girl.
“The old man is all right if you know'
how to handle him. I have served no-j
tire on him that I don't want him to j
make a vulgar display by placing a check
among the wedding presents, and if there
isn't a good fat check there I’ll lose my
guess."
by of iho business. it
is not only that the great
majority of the lurg.st
■ < ed larius are nf choice located in rather
(Hit-ot-riie-wav places, but also that their
owners, for obvious reasons, do not en-
co,jrage. or even welcome visitors. I: is
in" alone that they and thei;- men are Yo
busy to eutm-taiii stranger.-, out that of-
t* n s* • let and important experiments
will, new or improved varieties are beiim
conducted. *
I ae systems in use at present for the
cultivation and distribution of seeds, is
j in striking contrast to those of the early
j days, when the ordinary farmer was the
j -■■‘"ver, and the only medium between
j him and the consumer, was the keeper of
i th ” country store. Seeds were then as
■ necessary a part of his stock as needles,
] and thread and sugar are today. Of
1 course, the larger the purchase of seeds
‘*t * r iie time, the cheaper they were
bought, and so. if ihe storekeeper did not
j sell out during the current season, the
i •’nrplus seeds were carried over to tiie
next, by which time many of them had
! nisi their vi;alit\ The result was* that
'store seeds ' were often failures, and
j brought disaster to poekets and tem-
] tiers.
J But all this is changed for the belter
' nowadays. The extension of mail fa
cilities. the establishment of rural free
annual plantings.
David T.andreth, of Philadelphia, now
David Landreth & Sons, furnishes a strik
ing example of this wonderful expansion.
David Landreth. tiie founder of what
lias been for many years one of the larg
est seed houses in tiie world, was a poor
man when he started his seed farm in
1784. with only half a dozen acres of
land in the suburbs of Philadelphia. Long
before I860 this half dozen acres had
grown to more titan six hundred acres,
and at the present time one thousand | historian
acres would not cover the area cultivated
by the famous firm of David Landreth &
Sons. During tiie ten years from I860
to 1870. more seed farms were establish
ed in the United States than in the pre
ceding thirty years. At the close of tiie
civil war, in 1865. there were only tw
thousand acres in the whole country de
voted to seed raising. Twenty years
idge over Acton in the formative period
of his life had not been due to weight
of learning, hut to the power of his ex
ample in respect to intellectual detach
ment.
STUDENTS OF HISTORY.
Carlyle and Acton were both students
of history. Carlyle’s French Revolu
tion. Cromwell and Frederick the Great
gave him a. certain rank—iu some re
pe-ts an exceptional position—among
Acton had more learning
than he could handle. He wrote essays,
critique, erudite essays, not so much
on any particular historical topic* as on
history itself, or the great impersonal
forces that have made the world what
it is. But *<:■ never got further along
with his contemplated magnum opus
than the collection and arrangement o
some more or less important detail,
but his histories were extremely read
able. and they delighted thousands of
later these two thousand acres had ! material. Carlyle worked as hard,
grown to over seven thousand, and three i though he did not know as much as
thousand of these were given up exelc- I Acton, and he got things done. He
sive'y to the growing ol garden or l-.nu- j ir p,y have been guilty of overhasty
lislt peas, and string beans. ! judgments here and there, and ma .
I here are non mote than eight thou-1 j lav p been occasionally misled in regard
sand large seed houses in the United i ,
States, cultivating more than two bun-},
dred thousand acres for seeds alone,
this area, otie-half is used for rai. .
peas, and one-fourth of the remainder. I Qe most cultivated readers in the civ-
twenty-flve thousand acres, fo. string I dized world. lie was not always fo
delivery routes, and of centrally located beans. Our great republic no longet lias lowing the trial oi impersonal force; e
seed warehouses, have combined to bring to look to England or Europe for its ! was painting pictures. battle pieces,
tiie reliable seedsman and the consumer supply or seeds, but on the contrary, has! court scenes and cutup scenes, and,
close togetiier. Fresh seeds, true to a surplus to export. The north and ; above all. heroic figures—portraits of
name, have become the rule since tlie south, east and west, have trodden close- men who made history. Carlyle ms
grower from whom they come direct, can- ly on eacit other’s heels in ihe race for 1 an artist and he was eloquent,
not avoid the responsibility if they prove preeminence in seed growing'. One seed For the rest, he taught men to hat *
to be impure, false to name, or too old i warehouse belonging to a well-known sham, to look for reality under the
to germinate. Thus the farmer and gar- western firm lias seven acres of floor, ^hatns of things, and to fight the bat-
dener are far better protected than in the 1 space, every foot of which is in constant t j e of t - e bravelc to tiie end. And so
early days of the industry. : use, and even crowded with its immense i ^ wa g that he became a living influ
ence in his day and generation, an 1
was beloved by the wise and good.—X.
O. Picayune.
FOR THE OPEN CHAMPIONSHIP.
(From Harper's Weekly.)
An amusing story of amateur sport
These Bunk Directors.
The bank directors, having drawn
their fees, were about to adjourn, says
an exchange.
But it seemed that the cashier in
sisted on seeing them.
What a bore! Still—
And the cashier was admitted.
“Gentlemen,” the man said, gravely
and respectfully, ”1 regret to have :o
Inform you that the bank failed three
days ago for $7,000.COO.”
Annoyed, the directors looked at one
another. Then the oldest, richest direc
tor said to the cashier in accents of
pained reproach:
■Really, my good man, w e fail to see
how this unpleasant matter can be any
concern of ours.”
And. absently abstracting from the
fee-plate tiie remaining gold pieces. he
led the way to the automobiles and
broughams waiting without.
The Chief Drawback.
“Aren’t you afraid the corporation you
are connected with will be convicted and
have to pay a fine?”
“The tine doesn't worry nte,” answered
Mr. Dustin Stax; “what hurts profits is
the money spent in lawyer's fees.”
THE FRST SALE | stock of seeds. The flower seeds Indus-
The first recorded sale of seeds in Amor- try has its center in California and es-
ica was made in Newport, R. I. i„ the pecially as to nasturtiums and sweet
year 1763, by Na thaniel Bird, a book- j P eas - The rise of the latter trade is mat-
seller, who had the enterprise to import ] vellous. Just twenty-one yeats ago a
a small quantity of onion seeds from Eng- I certain seed grower concluded to try
land. His example was contagious. I sweet peas. He planted a quarter ot an
though in a rather leisurely way. Two acre, comprising a dozen varieties. He ^
years later a New York firm advertised now has more than two hundred acre -' ; comes from Rockville. Mil., where each
ilax and hemp seeds for sale. But it was I planted in sweet peas, and by selection , vear there j s held a series of races “for
not until 1776 that the first importation and hybridizing, has increased ins dozen ^ •
of flower seeds was made, this also in varieties to one hundred ami ttventj- : ■ . , .
,, .. , __ The sun was blazing down on a fleet
New York. Boston was slow to take up five. ! .
the dawning industry, but when it <11.1 j THE HUMBLE TOHATO. j of hot, excited horses and men. all watt-
move, it speedily became the center, and j Then there is the picturesque story of j ing for a tall raw-boned beast to yield
( titc pioneer seed market of the union, j t j ie tomato. Like the sweet peas, it had to th e importunities of the starter and
j In that wide-awake city there were soon j a sma j| beginning, and a large and rapid get into line.
half a dozen dealers who made seed
their exclusive business, while several
others added them to their general stock.
Previous to the year 1800. all the seeds
used in the young republic were imported
from England. Soon afterwards, how
ever, the growing of seeds as u specialty | masse;
began to attract the attention of
tain leading agriculturists. It was Phil
adelphia that first gained recognition as , , ,
the center of tiie infant seed industry in I small, hardly larger than cherries, ana an' I ain't got no door!
the United States, and even to this day j were generally regarded with suspicion,
some of the largest and most famous
seed growers in the world are to be found
within a ride of an hour or two of the
growth, and the end is not yet. Looking! The patience of the starter was near.y
cin this handsome vegetable from its j exhausted. "Bring up that horse!” ha
present standpoint, it is difficult toj shouted. “Bring him up! You'll get into
credit the fact that it was not until 1836 | trou bi e pretty soon if you don't!’
that it began to win its ''A among tic The rider of the refractory beast, a
masses. Only so late as I860 there neie . ,
“£1 only six varieties, and these were aim.-it j Youthf-i Irishman, yelled back: 1
identical with each other, and all of them I help it. litis here s been a cab-horse,
small. The original tomatoes were .very | and he won't start till the door shuts.
city limits. From 1800 to 1825 the new
industry grew steadily, and around Bal
timore, Charleston and other southern
cities, large seed farms were established.
That eccentric sect, called the Shakers,
also embarked extensively in seed grow
ing, the men peddling the seeds all over
The writer recalls a story told by her |
grandmother of a neighbor s little boy. A|
few of the "love apple*' plants had been |
planted in the house yard by an uncle
The shades
EXCELSIOR.
(From Life.)
of night were falling fast.
and they hoy was told that the pretty but the Alpine villagers could still vnak*
red berries were poison, and in truth, | ovl t the strange device which the youth
they were so regarded by man) in those | bore, amid snow and ice.
earlv tomato days. But tiie temptation! . ....
. „„ . ... ... „ . . i J lie maiden, however. misunderstood
was too strong. 1 lie child did not be-1
lievo that the beautiful red berries would ! b ’ m completely, surmising that he was
the ountry. They traveled in wagons.} hurt hint, for he had seen the chickens| introducing a new breakfast food.
and were never afraid to return to the eating them, and they did not die or even
same localities .vear after year, for they j ook s i k. So lie ate some of the “love
were honest folk, and their seeds soon apples," as they were then called. His
became known as "the seeds that grow, j terrified mother caught him in the act.
But when the railroads began to weave an{ i a doctor was sent for posthaste, and
their network all over the land, and to meanwhile the poor little fellow was
open up new areas of fertile country for j _ _ . _
the use of enterprising farmers and fruit I Continued OH Page Seven.
“Is excelsior really any better than
sawdust?” she asked, wishing to strike
t»p a conversation with the handsome
stranger.
And site never could understand why
tie swept haughtily on, with his eye
flashing like a falchion.