i :
jj
CHAPTER XVI.
“Man Proposes; God Disposes.”
Johnson did not die; that he lived
'through the terrible strain upon his
vitality showed that he had an iron
constitution, the doctors said; but the
men at the tavern shook their heads
over it, and looked meaningly at each
other. They had their own opinion of
the matter; perhaps they knew more
-than the doctors did; the wise men
r*' might open their eyes in amazement
should they choose to tell their sus
picions. Johnson was kept under the
influence of opiates for three days and
nights; he was not left alone one mo
ment; they fed him on Mrs. Allen’s
beef tea and drinks, and cared for him
as though he were a baby, the men
J said in half whispers—him, with mus
cles like iron and cords lik^an ox.
Lodie daily carried the news, brief
items briefly told in his measured
tones as they gathered in the outer
room of the tavern of an evening, or
called now and then across the
■drenched gardens to each other, or met
.at the wells. And the women over
their tubs, as they washed the clothes
up and down, and soaped and rinsed
and wrung them in clear water, leav
ing them to soak till the storm should
be over, gossiped about “this thet hev
hap’d Johnsing,” and his girl, and the
airs they put on since Lemuel John
son—he who was born in the settle
ment years ago—had come with his
girl and his gold to see that his broth
er should live like other folks, and
was not so “no ’count an’ shefless.”
Dolores, knowing nothing of these
.-gossipings, and caring nothing for
them, had she known, watched her
father untiringly. She never com
plained of being tired; she seldom
■spoke.
Young Green had gone home, but
he came over every day, bringing gen
tile messages and delicacies.
For three days Johnson lay in this
stupor so like death, scarcely stir
ring, not opening his eyes; his face
was thin and drawn, his eyes sunken
.»nd hollow; his hair, a few days be
fore so lightly sprinkled with gray,
had grown suddenly white. He had
aged so that his every-day compan
ions would not know him.
Dolores saw this in silence; her
thoughts were busy, but her lips were
dumb. Young Green’s eyes had grown
wonderfully keen to note the changes
■of the sweet, pale face, and the sha
dows of the dark, wondering eyes.
For he knew that he loved her. It had
come upon him the first night as he
stood behind her in the firelight and
watched the pure face bent above the
book on her knees. It had come al
most like a blow at first, but full of a
sweetness that was full of pain also,
she was so high above him, she had
never a thought of love, she had never
even known what love was as others
ilrnew it in the home life. And there
•was a tenderness in the thought of
how he—he, the first one in the world
to show her what love might be—
would prove to her the depth of its
;cnderness and holiness.
At sunset the third day the rain
■- eased, and the mist dragged itself
:rokenly across the peaks of the
nountains; the hills were loud with
:he cry of the swollen river in the
alley, find the cascades shouted aloud
us they leaped the riven sides of the
. mountains to join the river and eat at
he worn old bridge at the foot of the
roadway.
The rain had ceased at last, and Dr.
ilunwiddie, who sat at the bedside,
.■is eyes intent on the face of the girl,
■o grave and quiet in the light of the
sunset, had raised the tipy window to
let in the cool wind from the west.
The clouds just above the distant
peaks parted in sudden relenting after
lliree days and nights of interminable
raining, and through the rent the set
Dolores slowly raised her head.
^ ting sun flooded the summit with a
radiant glory that was dazzling.
Dolores, as though roused by the
sudden rush of the sunbeams, slowly
raised her head and looked up to the
radiant mountain. Her sad, dark eyes
grew softer and deeper in color, and
her lips set close as in sorrow, slowly
parted in one of her rare smiles. As
she turned her head the comb—an old
fashioned tortoise shell that had been
her mother’s—suddenly slipped from
the heavy coil of her hair which, so
loosened, fell in a mass of beauty,
glinting, lustrous, about her.
The nurse softly opened the door at
that moment, bringing the doctor’s sup
per, and a half baleful glitter appeared
in her eyes as she saw the two so
utterly unconscious of her presence.
Dr. Dunwiddie suddenly sat erect,
with his usual quiet dignity; the girl
had startled him out of himself; he
had forgotten everything but her.
Her grave face, with its solemn eyes,
touched by the sunset, framed by the
heavy tresses of loosened hair, was
like an exquisite Madonna, and he held
his breath in admiration and mute
wonder. As he noticed Mrs. Allen,
however, he regained his composure,
while Dolores gathered up her hair
slowly, and stooped to pick up her
comb. It had snapped in two.
“You two are excellent nurses,” Mrs.
Allen said, softly, a smile on her lips
as she motioned with her head toward
the bed.
Dr. Dunwiddie turned at once with
a slight exclamation, and Dolores
V
•“Your father will recover.”
arose with the comb in her hand, her
hair falling around her, her eyes dark
as though tears were in them, her
lips shut close. As she turned her
eyes toward the bed she met full in
hers the weak gaze of her father.
Only for a moment, however, for the
eyes closed almost immediately as
though the light hurt them, but in
that moment Dolores once more faced
his soul with hers.
Once more her father opened his
eyes and looked first at the doctor,
then at her. At the doctor’s sugges
tion she spoke to him.
“Father,” she said, slowly, that he
might understand. “Father.”
But the eyes resting on her face had
no gleam of pleasure at seeing her
there; rather it might be said there
was a flash of hatred there as in the
old days. Then they drooped again
and closed, and presently his breath
ing indicated that he slept.
“Miss Johnson,” Dr. Dunwiddie said,
by and by, as he sat by the window
eating the supper Mrs. Allen had
brought him, “I told you the other day
that it was possible your father would
not recover; do you remember?”
She bowed her head in acquiescence
but did not speak.
“My dear Miss Johnson,” the doc
tor’s voice was grave, but there was a
ring in it, a hidden note that struck
her ear as unusual. "My dear Miss
Johnson, I believe I am safe in saying
that your father will sleep through
the night a natural, quiet slumber,
without the aid of opiates, and if he
does he will recover. He will be lame
always; he will not have quite his old
strength, but he will live and be much
his old self again.”
The grave, attentive face at the
head of the bed changed not at all,
though the drawn expression disap
peared from around the mouth, and
the eyes were clear and level in their
gaze.
* “ muuivui, . X-»UllVYiUUIC Wets
uncertain whether or not the girl was
glad of the news. She gave no sign,
and said not a word, but stood grave,
and stately, and womanly, with the
shadows of the night gathering
around her, stealing along the bed,
across the face of the sleeper, and up
and up toward her face.
Suddenly they clutched at her
throat, tightening their hold, like iron
bands, ever contracting, growing
firmer, unyielding; a thousand iron
hands were on her, a thousand elfish
voices, shrill and wild and weird,
filled the corners of the room, the
house; filled the darkness, crowding
it upon her, till it seemed as though
she were suffocating, till it seemed as
though she would die. Loud and weird
and terrible they were to her, filling
her ears, shouting of the evil that had
come through hatred and malice, and
of what would follow upon so evil a
deed. The hands were tightening their
hold, they w'ere struggling one with
another for the mastery; a dozen
hands were torn from her throat only
to be instantly replaced by others
stronger and firmer. She caught at
them, and struggled, she fought
against them, but she dared not cry
for help. This that she was suffering
no one must know; they would know
soon enough—every one.
The voices grew wilder about her;
they shouted In elfish glee; their
words ran in together unmeaningly
except one or two close to her ear,
that whispered, with deadly meaning;
"When your father is well enough
to prove—to prove-”
Then slowly she came out of this
babal of noises; they grew fainter and
fainter, and died away among the
pines; the hands about her throat re:
laxed. She looked around to see It
she were safe; she was dazed, bewil
dered, but her one thought was that
no one must know. Some one spoke
to her, and she looked up steadilfr',
crowding down the dumb terror in
her heart. Dr. Dunwiddle was stand
ing beside her with his hand on her
arm.
“Mrs. Allen,” he said, quietly, "you
will take my place for a few minutes.
Miss Johnson must breathe some of
this pure, sweet air after the storm.”
He opened the door and stepped
down on the door-stone, with Dolorei
standing listlessly in the doorway,
never showing that he had seen the
flitting expression of—was it triumph?
—on the woman’s face as she passed
into the silent bedroom.
“How pleasant everything is after
the storm,” said Dr. Dunwiddle, with
a smile, as he entered the house a few
minutes later. Adding to himself as
he re-entered the room beyond:
“It was over-fatigue, and shall not
happen again. And I think you will
bear w'atching, as well as some others,
Mrs. Allen.”
CHAPTER XVII.
The Freaks of a Woman.
The sunlight flooded the mountains
and the quiet settlement; the sky was
deeply blue; the pines along the bank
beside Dolores’ window stirred softly
in the low wind that stole down from
the summit laden with spicy odors.
Down in the valley the river ran riot,
shouting its jubilate as it swirled un
der the rotten bridge and whirled in
mad eddies up the coarse grass along
its banks.
Dr. Dunwiddie, standing in the door
of the tavern, inhaling deep draughts
of the odorous, piny air, watched Do
lores with grave, intent eyes until she
turned from the doorway and entered
the quiet house; then he turned away
and no one ever knew of what he was
thinking, or the thoughts that would
come of his friend over in the town
who was leaving this girl in his care
with the utmost confidence—the girl,
he well know, whom Charlie loved.
And should he betray his trust to his
friend? Should he prove a traitor?
Should he let this kindly feeling for
this brave, beautiful, womanly girl
grow into more than merely friendly
feeling, knowing of his friend’s thought
of the girl? Could he be capable of
that? She was, to be sure, a wonder
ful girl, shut in by her surroundings,
but growing mentally thousands of
miles beyond them. She was a woman
a man should be proud to own as a
friend—and more—in spite of' her
strange, unfriendly life in the stolid
little mountain settlement. But—and
there was a graver line of thought, a
sudden deepening of the lines of no
bility around the set mouth under the
black mustache—would the love of
even such a woman atone in any de
gree for the loss of manhood, the stain
of a traitor? Charlie had left in his
hands the care of the girl he loved,
and he would never—he straightened
himself up to his full height in the
low doorway and unconsciously
clenched his hands—he would never
betray his friend. Charlie was worthy
even Dolores Johnson, and he would
never be guilty of even an attempt
to come between him and the woman
he loved, be she though she might, a
woman with the strength and depth
and nobility of character which the
daughter of this mountain blacksmith
possessed.
Then he turned, and the face was as
grave, as apparently unconcerned as
usual, as Cinth^ called him to join the
family at the table.
Jones said among his comrades that
Johnson’s ill luck had brought good
luck to him, for during the years he
had lived there, never before had so
many such men as now' sought his.
lodging.
(To be continued.)
Appearance in Her Favor.
S. P. Langley, the aeronautical
pioneer will never discuss flying ma
chines with newspaper men, but on
other topics he is not so reticent.
He talked the other day about his boy
hood.
“Among the memories of my boy
hood,” he said, “there is one odd
episode that is particularly vivid. It
is a conversation that I overheard one
morning between two women. The
women were talking about babies—
their size, weight, health and so
forth.
“ ‘Why when I was a week ojd,’
said the first woman, T was such a
little baby that they put me in a quart
pot and put the lid on over me.'
“The other woman was amazed
horrified. ‘And did you live?’ shei
asked.
“ ‘They say I did,’ her friend an
swered.
“ ‘Well, well, well,’ exclaimed the
second woman, and she gianced at the
other almost doubtful.”
A Nile Village.
A traveler of the upper Nile thus
describes a typical native village:
‘The houses are built of Nile mud,
oach house accommodating a family
of no matter of what size, the inhab
itants of each village almost all re
lated to each other, comprising some
limes several hundreds of people.
Their streets are littered with filth,
animals of every kind obstruct one's
hath, dogs growl and snarl at the ap
pearance and intrusion of a stranger;
women rush about, hiding their faces
in their yashmaks lest a white man
ihould behold their features. Flies
in swarms settle on the children and
lay their eggs on their eyelicfe, un
washed, because they believe It* to be
soutrary to their religion to wash or
remove the flies from their eyes.”
FARMERS AND TARIFF
LANDS AND THEIR PRODUCTS EN
HANCED IN VALUE.
Higher Prices for What the Farmer
Hat to Sell Have Accompanied the
Prosperity Brought About by the
Restoration of the Protection Pol
icy.
It Is some years now since the free
trader has abandoned his wailings
over the abandoned farms of New
England and elsewhere. Under the
most beneficent Influences of the Ding
ley law, farm lands all over the en
tire country have been increasing in
value, and, according to inquiries re
cently made by the American Agri
culturist, the prices of farms through
out New England and the East have
advanced from 15 to 20 per cent over
the values of five years ago. In al
most every state where Investigations
were made throughout New England,
New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania
and Maryland, the reports show an
upward average tendency of about
20 per cent, and in single in
stances far more. In no case
were any decline in values
found, and although in a few cases
the reports showed no particular
change in value, yet in most cases
there were evidences of a gain In the
price of good average farms of 5,
10, 15 and 20 per cent, and in a few
instancas running considerably high
er. In Delaware the upward tendency
has almost reached the nature of a
boom.
It has always been one of the princi
pal tenets of the protectionist that
the value of farm lands and farm
products are enhanced according to
their proximity to a manufacturing
center. The closeness to a manufac
turing town is, of course, of no value
unless the inhabitants of that com
the working classes, and there is
plenty of money to loan at 5 per cent
on satisfactory security.
Thus It Is that protection helps the
financial situation, at the same time
that it defends our industries and en
ables out great mass of citizens,
whether at work on the farm or in the
factory, to become Independent and
well-to-do. It must ever be one of the
greatest reasons given in favor of a
continuation of our protective policy
thai the benefits It bestows are wide
spread and universal. There Is not a
building up in one state or one section
of the country; there Is no benefit to
bQ bestowed upon any one branch of
industry; ail share and share alike,
and each helps the other In 9ne
great interdependent endless chain' of
communication. Jo it Is that when
we have work tor all, then the mouths
are filled and the bodies are clothed,
and the houses are built, and the luxu
ries are consumed, taxing every prod
ductive Institution in the country; tax
ing our transportation facilities to
their utmost, and keeping busy our
avenues of distribution and calling
into employment our great body of
clerical laborers, all in turn, contrib
uting by their consuming power and
purchasing ability to the common
weal of all. Sureiy such a policy, such
a condition should be let alone as
long as prosperity and employment
continue to be at the highest level
ever known, not only in this, but an?
other country.
Labor’s Prosperity.
Statistics Just published, which
show the great increase in wages that
has come during the year 1902 in the
state of. Massachusetts, are of general
Interest because there is no reason to
regard the condition of wage-earners
in that State as exceptional, It is
beyond doubt an example of a condi
tion that prevails throughout the
counti y.
The wage-earners of Massachusetts
EVERY TOOTH A SOUND ONE.
■
munity are earning good and continual
wages. This has been the condition
now for several years under our pres
ent protective tariff, and in conse
quence farmers have gotten better
prices for their products, and their
lands have enhanced in value propor
tionately.
The Eastern farmer cannot, of
course, compete with the Western ag
riculturist in the great crops, but
when the factory hands of the New
England and Middle States are fully
employed there is always a demand
for farm produce which eomes under
the head of "truck farming,” fully
equal to the productive ability of the
entire farming community of these
Eastern states. In fact, the only dif
ficulty which the New England farm
er has experienced during the past
two or three years has been the same
as that of the Western agriculturist—
namely, inability to get sufficient help
to enable him to produce and harvest
his products. Says the American
Agriculturist of July 25:
“Slowly but surely the values of
farm lands in the "Eastern and New
England states are improving. The
evidences arrayed in the American
Agriculturist’s special investigation
should make an impress for the better
ment cf the farmer’s financial stand
ing. Granted that the splendid agri
cultural lands of the West are most
attractive propositions, yet there is
no reason why the progressive farmer
of the Middle and Eastern states
should not be accorded due considera
tion from banks and business inter
ests generally, when loans are sought
for the further improvement of the
farms. The testimony of our corre
spondents on the higher trend of
values should inspire greater confi
dence than ever before in the merits
of Eastern farming, where we have
the best cash markets in the world at
our doors. Land in some of our East
ern and New England states is now
reUiivaly among the best business
propositions in the country.”
We fully agree with the above, that
the Eastern farmer is entitled to
every consideration at the hands of
the banks. Twenty years ago he was
lending his money to build up the
agricultural lands of the West. A few
years of protection has enabled the
Western agriculturist to either pay off
his mortgage entirely, or reduce it
most materially, and now the farmers
of the West have money to loan, and
their banks are bulging not only with
the necessary currency needed in the
moving crops, but to loan on good
security, to even the East if it should
be wanted. But our New England
banks, too, and those of the Middle
States are bulging with the savings of
received in 1902 from their employers
the sum of $193,552,175, which was
nearly sixteen millions more than
their rota' wages in the previous year.
The average earnings of the individ
ual workers in all industries was
$459.98, which was $10.29 more than
in the previous year. In six of the
nine leading Industries of the State
moro was done, either through the
employment of more hands or through
the putting in or more time, in 1902
and in 1901.
The fertilizing manufacturing in
dustry shows the largest per cent, in
crease in the total amount of wages
paid out—81.84. The shoe industry
is next with an increase of 28-12 pef
cent. Employes of the malt distiller
ies command the highest wages, av
eraging $862 a year. Workers on
models, lasts and patterns in the shoe
industry are next with average yearly
earnings cf $740.42.
Such figures as these prove that
there is little justification for the cry
that has been raised frequently by
agitators, that the wage-earners were
not getting their share of the general
prosperity.—Albany Evening Journal.
The Reason for Tariff Wars.
Protection is held responsible for
tariff wars, but the action of France in
imposing discriminating duties on
American meats because the manufac
turers of that country wish to force
upon us wares which we do not want,
shows where the responsibility lies.
Tariff wars are entirely chargeable to
the desire to push upon other people
what can not be consumed at home.
Protection only aims at self sufficing
ness. When that idea is strictly ad
hered to no one has a right to take
offense. It Is as illogical for a nation
to find fault with another nation be
cause it refuses to buy goods from it
as it would be for a Kearny street shop
keeper to call people who refused to
buy from him hard names.—San Fran
cisco Chronicle.
Guilty!
The Springfield Republican thinks
the “high tariff is now on trial, as
never before, as the great causative
and saving factor in the business pros
perity of the nation.”
The verdict will be “Guilty.” The
high tariff is, without question or ex
tenuating circumstances, “thecausative
and saving factor in the business
prosperity of the nation.”
Weakest Point.
Free trade’s weakest point is that It
would cheapen things for the rich at
the expense of the wage earner.—Val
ley Mills <Tex.) Protectionist.
water oranx By Hogs.
Prof. W. A. Henry says: “We find
little recorded on this subject, possi
bly because the matter Is not con
sidered of Importance by many. In
a feeding trial by the writer at the
Wisconsin station a group of ten pigs
divided Into two lots of flve each,
one lot getting barley meal and the
other corn meal, was fed for a period
of eight weeks, with the results given g
below.
“The flve fed on barley averaged
208 pounds at beginning of test, ate
2,832 pounds of grain, gained 601
pounds in weight, consumed 9,056 }
pounds of water, and required 471
pounds of grain for 100 pounds of "
gain. For every 100 pounds of food
eaten they drank 320 pounds of water. -
"The flve fed on corn meal aver
aged 209 pounds in weight at begin
ning of test, ate 3,100 pounds of grain, i
gained 713 pounds In weight, drank
6,620 pounds of water and used 435
pounds of food In making 100 pounds
of gain. For every 100 pounds of
feed eaten they drank 2? 3 pounds of
water, or 107 pounds less than those
fed on barley.
‘ The weight of water reported in
cludes that required for soaking the
meal and also that drank from a
second trough.
"It will bo seen that the pigs fed
corn meal consumed about two
pounds of water, and the barley-fed
over three pounds, for each pound ol
meal eaten. The pigs getting corn
meal consumed over 900 pounds ol
water, and the barley-fed pigs 1,500
pounds, for each 100 pounds of gain
In live weight. Pigs fed corn meal
appear to require less water than
when on other feeds.” 1
Points on Guinea Fowls.
Guinea fowls have dark colored
flesh, but It Is very palatable.
In-breeding results in rendering the
birds tender and reduces their size.
The young of birds given their free- b
dom are hardy and will follow their
mother as soon almost as they are
out of the shell; at least they are
good trampers after they are a day
old. The young live on bugs and
seeds discovered for them by the
mothers.
In the earl^ laying season the birds
will lay their eggs anywhere, and
several will deposit their eggs In the
same locality. When about to sit they j
seek separation and lay a dozen or
more eggs in a hidden nest, where
they Incubate them.
The guineas differ from common
fowls in that the males are as anxious
about the brood as is the hen, and
helps take care of them during the
• day time, forsaking them at night.
Guinea hens and their broods for
age in a body, the old males helping
to keep up the laggards of the line.
>.\t night each mother collects her own
brood.
The young at a very early age learn
to roost In the trees, even before they
can reach the branches by flying.
They half fly and half run up the
trunk of the tree.
Guinea eggs are very fertile and
a large percentage of the birds hatch
ed live If they are permitted to run
wild with their mother.
Like the turkey, the guinea pre
fers the open tree top to the secure
poultry house.
Treatment for Heaves.
In accordance with the request ol
a reader of the Farmers’ Review we
quote the advice for treatment of
heaves from two writers:
Prof. D. McIntosh: Feed so as not
to overload the stomach; allow a lit
tle hay to be eaten first, then give
water and then oats. Never feed more
'than twelve to fourteen pounds of
hay per day and fifteen pounds of
oats. Boiled flaxseed mixed with a
little bran at night will keep the bow
iels regular, besides being very nutri
tious. Sulphate of iron, four ounces;
‘nitrate of potassium, four ounces; nux
•vomica, two ounces; divided Into
twenty-four doses, and one given .ev
ery night In bran mash, is very use
ful. After this quantity has been
given, skip two or three weeks and
repeat. One ounce of Fowler’s solu
tion of arsenic given every night in
small bran mash, when the animal la
at work in the spring, is very good
and often enables an animal to do a
good day’s work, which It could hot do
except for the arsenic. This can
be continued for a month to six weeks
without any danger to the animal.
.Then stop for a few weeks or as long
as the animal can do without it, and
when the breathing becomes difficult
resume again and so on. I have treat
ed horses In this way and they would
do their work with ease for years.
• • •
Jonathan Periam: Treatment with
a view to permanent cure Is gener
ally not successful. However the ail
ment may be greatly ameliorated by
a strict attention to the diet, which
should be the reverse of that which
has hitherto been given. Give nutri
tive food of small bulk and best qual
ity, such as finely-cut wild hay mixed
with ground oats and com, bran and
a small quantity of ground oil-cake
or flaxseed meal, and slightly mois
tened. In summer give green or suc
culent food instead of hay, and in
winter daily allowances of sliced
carrots and other roots. Such horses
should never be fed or watered Im
mediately before use, and they should
be used only for slow and easy work.
—Farmers’ Review.
A ton ot sugar beets yields UO
pounds of refined sugar.
