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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.