THE DELUGE
/fcr DAVID GRAHAM PfHIIJRS^iw&ar of “TBFCasZVittr
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CHAPTER XXV.—Continued.
“If you will save me." I continued,
“I will transfer to you, in a block,
all my Coal holdings. They will be
worth double my total liabilities with
in three months—as soon as the re
organization is announced. I leave it
entirely to your sense of justice
whether I shall have my part of them
back when this storm blows over."
“Why didn’t you go to Roebuck?"
he asked without looking up.
"Because it is he that stuck the
knife into me.”
“Why?”
“I don't know. I suspect the Man
asquale properties, which I brought
into the combine, have some value,
which no one but Roebuck, and per
haps I.angdon, knows about—and that
I in some way was dangerous to them
through that fact. They haven’t giv
en me time to look into it.”
A grim smile flitted over the face.
“You’ve been too busy getting mar
ried, eh?”
“Exactly,” said I. ‘It's another case
of unbuckling for the wedding-feast
and getting assassinated as a pen
alty. Do you wish me to explain any
thing on that list—do you want any
details of the combine—of the Coal
stacks there?”
“Not necessary.” he replied. As I
had thought, with that enormous ma
chine of his for drawing in informa
tion, and with that enormous mem
ory of his for details, he probably
knew more about the combine and its
properties than I did.
"You have heard of the lockout?”
I inquired—for I wished him to know
I had no intention of deceiving him
as to the present market value of
those stocks.
“Roebuck has been commanded by
his God,” he said, “to eject the free
American labor from the coal regions
and to substitute importations of
•coolie Huns and Bohemians. Thus,
the wicked American laborers will be
chastened for trying to get higher
wages and cut down a pious man's
dividends; and the downtrodden cool
ies will be brought where they can
enjoy the blessings of liberty and of
the preaching of Roebuck's mission
aries.”
I laughed, though he had not smiled,
but had spoken as if stating color
less facts. “And righteousness and
Roebuck will prevail,” said I.
He frowned slightly, a sardonic grin
breaking the straight, thin, cruel line
ol his lips. He opened his table’s one
shallow drawer, and took out a pad
and a pencil. He wrote a few words
on the lowest part of the top sheet,
folded it, tore off the part he had
scribbled on, returned the pad and
pencil to the drawer, handed the scrap |
of paper to me. "I will do it,” he said.
“Give this to Mr. Farquhar, second
door to the left. Good morning.”
And in that atmosphere of vast affairs
speedily dispatched his consent with
out argument seemed, and was, the
matter-of-course.
I bowed. Though he had not saved
me as a favor to me, but because !
it fitted in with his plans, whatever
they were, my eyes dimmed. “1
shan’t forget this,” said I, my voice
not quite steady.
“I know it,” said he curtly. “I
know you.”
i saw that his mind had already
turned me out. 1 said no more, and
withdrew. When I left the room it
was precisely as it had been when i
entered it—except the bit of paper
torn from the pad. But what a dif-1
ference to me, to the thousands, the
hundreds of thousands directly and
indirectly interested in the Coal com
bine and its strike and its products,
was represented by those few, almost
illegible scrawlings on that scrap of
paper.
Not until I had gone over the situ
ation with Farquhar, and we had
signed and exchanged the necessary
papers, did l begin to relax from the
strain—how great that strain was I
realized a few weeks later, when the
gray appeared thick at my temples
and there was in my crown what was,
for such a shock as mine, a thin spot.
“I am saved!” said I to myself, ven
turing a long breath, as I stood on the
steps of Galloway's establishment, j
where hourly was transacted business !
vitally affecting the welfare of scores
of millions of human beings, with
^ .lames Galloway's personal interest as
the sole guiding principle. "Saved!”
I repeated, and not until then did it
flash before me, “I must have paid a
frightful price. He would never have
consented to interfere with Roebuck
as socn as I asked him to do it, un
less there had been some powerful
motive. If I had had my wits about
me, I could have made far better
terms.” Why hadn't I my wits about
me? “Anita” was my instant answer
to my own question. “Anita again. 1
had a bad attack of family man’s
panic.” And thus it came about that
I went back to my office, feeling as if
I had suffered a severe defeat, in
stead of jubilant over my narrow es
cape.
Joe followed me into my den.
"What luck?” asked he. in the tone
of a mother waylaying the doctor as
he issues from the sick-room.
‘“Luck?” said I, gazing blankly at
him.
"You’ve seen the latest quotation,
haven’t you?” In his nervousness his
temper was on a fine edge.
“No,” replied I indifferently. I sat
down at my desk and began to busy
myself. Then I added: “We’re out
cf the Coal combine. I’ve transferred
our holdings. Look after these things,
please.” And I gave him the checks,
^ notes and memoranda of agreement.
» “Galloway!” he exclaimed. And
then his eye fell on the totals of the
stock I had been carrying. “Good
God, Matt!” he gasped. “Ruined!”
And he sat down, and buried his
face and cried like a child—it was
then that I measured the full depth
of the chasm I had escaped. I made
no such exhibition of myself, but when
I tried to relight my cigar my hand
trembled so that the flame scorched
my lips .
“Ruined?” I said to Joe, easily
enough. “Not at all. We’re bacic in
the road, going Smoothly ahead—
only, at a bit less stiff a pace. Think
Joe, of all those poor devils down in
the mining districts. They’re out—
clear out—and thousands of ’em don’t
know where their families will get
bread. And though they haven’t
found it out yet, they've got to leave
the place where they’ve lived all
their lives, and their fathers before
them—have got to go wandering about
in a world that’s as strange to tnem
as the surface of the moon, and as
bare for them as the Sahara desert.”
“That’s so,” said Joe. “It'3 hard
luck.” But I saw he was thinking
only of himself and his narrow escape
from having to give up his big house
and all the rest of it; that, soft
hearted and generous though he was,
i -- ““
of that,” replied I. “But I have
learned not to take snap judgments
too seriously. I never go to a man
unless I have something to say to
him, and I never leave until I have
said it.”
"I perceive, sir,” retorted he, "you
have the thick skin necessary to liv
ing up to that rule.” And the twinkle
in hi* eyes betrayed the man who de
lights to exercise a real or imaginary
talent for caustic wit. Such men are
like nettles—dangerous only to the
timid touch.
“On the contrary,” replied I, easy
in mind now, though I did not anger
him by showing it, “I am most sen
sitive to insults—insults to myself.
But you are not insulting me. You
are insulting a purely imaginary,
hearsay person who is, I venture to
assure you, utterly unlike me, and
who doubtless deserves to be in
sulted.”
His purple had now faded. In a
far different tone he said: “If your
business in any way relates to the
family into which you have married,
I do not wish to hear it. Spare my
patience and your time, sir.”
“It does not,” was my answer. “It
relates to my own family—to my wife
and myself. As you may have heard,
she is no longer a member of the
Ellersley family. And I have come
to you chiefly because I happened to
know your sentiment toward the
Ellersleys."
“I have no sentiment toward them,
sir!" he exclaimed. “They are non
existent, sir — non-existent! Your
wife’s mother ceased to be a Forrester
when she married that scoundrel.
Your wife is still less a Forrester.”
“True,” said I. “She is a Black
lock.”
He winced, and it reminded me of
the night of my marriage and Anita’s
expression when the preacher called
her by her new name. But I held
his gaze, and we looked each at the
other fixedly for, it must have been,
"TURNED HIS BACK OX ME AXD GAZED OUT TOWARD LONG IS
LAND.”
to those poor chaps and their wires
and children he wasn’t giving a
thought.
’’You’ve done a grand two hours'
work," said .Joe.
“Grander than you think," replied
I. “I’ve set the tiger on to tight the
bull.”
"Galloway and Roebuck?”
“Just that,” said I. And I laughed,
started up, sat down again. “No, I’ll
put off the pleasure.” said I. “I'll let
Roebuck find out, when the clawa
catch in that tough old hide of his.”
XXVI.
.A CONSPIRACY AGAINST ANITA..
On about the hottest afternoon of
that summer I had the yacht take me
down the Sound to a point on the Con
necticut shore within sight of Davm
Hill, but seven miles farther from
New York. I landed at the private
pier of Howard Forrester, the only
brother of Anita’s mother. As I
stepped upon the pier I saw a fine
looking old man in the pavilion over
hanging the water. He was dressed
all in white except a sky-blue tie that
harmonized with the color of his eyes.
He was neither fat nor lean, and his
smooth skin was protesting ruddily
against the age proclaimed by his
wool-white hair. He rose as I came
toward him, and, while I was still
several yards away, showed unmistak
ably that he knew who I was and that
he was anything but glad to see me.
“Mr. Forrester?" I asked.
He grew purple to the line of his
thick white hair. “It is, Mr. Black
lock,” said he. “I have the honor to
wish you good day, sir.” And with
that he turned his back on me and
gazed out toward Long Island.
“I have come to ask a favor of you,
sir,” said I, as polite to that hostile
back as if I had been addressing a
cordial face. And I waited.
He wheeled round, looked at me
from head to foot. I withstood'the
inspection calmly; when it was ended
I noted that in spite of himself he
was somewhat relaxed from the opin
ion of me he had formed upon what
he had heard and read. But he said:'
“I do not know you, sir, and I do not
wish to know you.”
“You have made me painfully aware
full half a minute. Then he said cour
teously: "What do you wish?”
I went straight to the point. My
color may have been high, but my
voice did not hesitate as I explained:
‘‘I wish to make my wife financially
independent. I wish to settle on her
an income that will enable her to lire
as she has been accustomed. I know
she would not take it from me. So,
I have come 1.0 ask you to pretend
to give it to her—I, of course, giving
it to you to give.”
Again we looked full and fixedly
each at the other. “Come to the
house, Blacklock,” he said at last in
a tone that was the subtlest of com
pliments. And he linked'his arm in
mine. Halfway to the rambling stone
house, severe in its lines, yet fine and
homelike, quaintly resembling its own
er, as a man's house always should,
he paused. “I owe you an apology,”
said he. “After all my experience of
this w'orld of envy and malice, I
should have recognized the man even
In his caricatures of his enemies. And
you brought the best possible cre
dentials—you are well hated. To be
well hated by the human race and by
the creatures mounted on its back is
a distinction, sir. It is the crown of
the true kings of this world."
We seated ourselves on the wide
veranda; he had champagne and wa
ter brought, and cigars; and we pro
ceeded to get acquainted—nothing pro
motes cordiality and sympathy like an
initial misunderstanding. It was a
good hour before this kind-hearted,
hard-soft, typical old-fashioned New
Englander reverted to the subject of
my visit. Said he: “And now young
man, may I venture to ask some ex
tremely personal questions?”
“In the circumstances,” replied I,
‘“you have the right to know every
thing. I did not come to you without
first making sure what manner of
man I was to find.” At this he
blushed, pleased as a girl at her first
beau's first compliment. “And you,
Mr. Forrester, can not be expected to
embark in the little adventure I pro
pose, until you have satisfied your
self.”
"First, the why of your plan.”
“I am in active business," replied
I, “and I shall be still more active.
That means financial uncertainty.”
His suspicion of me started up from
its doze and rubbed its eyes. “Ah!
You wish to insure yourself.”
“Yes,” was my answer, "but not in
the way you hint It takes away a
man's courage just when he needs it
most, to feel that his family is in
volved in his venture.”
“Why do you not make the settle
ment direct?" he asked, partly reas
sured.
“Because I wish her to feel that it
is her own, that I have no right over
it whatever.”
He thought about this. His eyes
were keen as he said, "Is that your
real reason?”
I saw I must be unreserved with
him. “Part of it.” I replied. “Tne
rest is—she would not take. it from
me.”
The old man smiled cynically.
“Have you tried?” he inquired.
“If I had tried and failed, she would
have been on the alert for an indirect
attmpt.”
“Try her, young man,” said he,
laughing “In this day there are few
people anywhere who’d refuse any
sum lrom anybody for anything.
And a woman — and a New
York woman—and a New York fash
ionable woman—and a daughter of
old Ellersly—she’ll take it as a baby
takes the breast.”
"She would not take it,” said I.
My tone, though I strove to keep1
angry protest out of It, because I
needed him, caused him to draw back
instantly. “I beg your pardon, said
he. "I forgot' for the moment that I
was talking to a man young enough j
still to have youth’s delusions about j
women. You’ll learn that they’re hu
man, that it’s from them we men in
herit our weaknesses. However, let’s
assume that she won’t take it. Why
won’t she take your mc-ney? What
is there about it that repels Ellersiy’s
daughter, brought up in the sewers
of fashionable New York—the sewers,
sir!”
“She does not love me,” I answered.
“I have hurt you,” he said quickly,
in great distress at having compelled
me to expose my secret wound.
“The wound does not ache the
worse,” said I, “for my showing it—
to you.” And that was the truth. I
looked over toward Dawn Hill whose
towers could just be seen. “We liv6
there.” I pointed. “She is—like a
guest in my house.”
When I glanced at him again, his
face betrayed a feeling of which 1
doubt if any one had thought him ca
pable in many a year. “I see that you
love her,” he said, gently as a mother
"Yes,” I replied. And presently I
went on: “The idea of any one I
love being dependent on me in a
sordid way is most distasteful to me
And since she does not love me, does J
not even like me, it is doubly neces-,
sary that she be independent.”
“I confess I do not quite follow you,”
said he.
‘“How can she accept anything from
me? If she should finally be com
pelled by necessity to do it, what hope
could I have of her sver feeling to
ward me as a wife should feel to
ward her husband?”
At this explanation of mine his eyes
sparkled with anger—and I could nol
but suspect that he had at one time
in his life been faced with a problem
like mine, and had settled it the oth
er -way. My suspicion was not weak*
ened when he went on to say:
“Boyish motives again! They show
you do not know women. Don’t ba
deceived by their delicate exterior, by
their pretenses of super-refinement
They affect to be what passion u»
ludes us into thinking them. But
they’re clay, sir, just clay, and far
less sensitive than we men. Don’l
you see, young man, that by making
her independent you’re throwing away
your best chance of winning her‘;
Women are like dogs—like dogs, sir!
They lick the hand that feeds ’em—
lick it, and like it.”
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
OOOOQceaooQaQQaQBaoaaoMM
i Country of the Cow Puncher
—
Life in a Little Town in the Untamed
Land Out West.
_
On all sides of the little town lay
the glorious sweep of untamed coun
try. To find another railroad to the
northward was to ride 150 miles to
the Canadian Pacific, to find a rail
road to the southwest meant as long
a ride to the Northern Pacific, says
Outing. On the ridge of the town a
freighters’ outfit was making ready
to pull out four days to a camp near
the Little Rockies. Ten horses led the
string of laden wagons, behind which
trailed the covered chuck-wagon,
equipped for sleeping and cooking, for
there were no hotels on this route.
The boss and his two helpers were
wrestling with a broncho which, until
this ill-fated day, had never felt a
harness across his back. He was need
ed as an ofT-wheeler, and he had to
go. He fought like a hero possessed
of seven devils, and three men tolled
for an hour to get him into the traces
and to keep clear from his infernally
active heels.
At length his nine comrades jumped
into their collars and the rebel simply
had to go with them. He lay down
and was dragged on his ear until hit
addled wits perceived there was noth
ing in this sort of mutiny. He rose
and slid stiff-legged untilv outnum
bered, outvoted and outgeneraled, he
surged into the collar like a thunder
bolt and thereafter tried to pull the
whole load in the vain hope of tearing
something out by the roots.
The long string of horses and wag
ons wound out into the open country
and in a little while dipped across a
grassy undulation and was gone. A
Bwirl of dust marked its progress foi
several miles, this plodding caravan
with its tanned and bearded men, un
lettered and slow of speech, used to
living out under the sky, seeing few
of their kind. It was thus the pio
neers crossed the plains a half cen
tury ago.
Home of Precious 8tonee.
The island of Ceylon Is the most
remarkable gem depository In the
world.
WHITE FROZEN PLUM PUDDING.
If This Dessert Delicacy Is New, Try
It at Once.
This pudding made of one cupful ol
sugar and one cupful of water, cooked
until it threads, then poured slowly
over the whites of three eggs and
beaten thoroughly and is cold add one
pint of whipped cream, one teaspoon
ful of vanilla, and one-half cupful each
of seeded raisins, currants, English
walnuts, and almonds, and candied
cherries. The currants and raisins
should be plumped in boiling water.
Pour this mixture at once into a mold,
cover with paraffin paper, put on the
cover, seal with lard around the edge
to prevent salt water from creeping
in, pack in ice and rock salt, and leave
it three or four hours to ripen; then
remove from the mold, place it on a
cut glass round dish and garnish with
holly. If a round bomb mold is used
t will look quite like a snowball, es
pecially if the fruit is kept well to
ward the center.
Serve with a sauce made of bananas
as follows: Boil one cupful of granu
lated sugar with two of water until it
threads, pour this into the well-beaten
yolks of two eggs, add the mashed
pulp of six ripe bananas and enough
lemon juice to give flavor. This sauce
may be used hot and passed after the
pulp pudding has been cut and served,
or it may be served cold, but is bet
ter hot.
Tiny balls of delicate white cake
covered with icing, then rolled in
cocoanut, is an addition to the esthet
ic side of this feast.
SOME HINTS ABOUT EGGS.
Popular Time for Cooking—How Their
Freshness May Be Judged.
The fresher eggs are the longer
*ime they require for boiling. In tim
.ng the boiling remember that they
should be put into water already boil
ing in the same pan or skillet.
To boil them very hard in order to
'dice them or prepare them for a
mayonnaise they should cook for ten
minutes. For eating the soft-boiled
egg is supposed to be the most di
gestible, and this is boiled for from
%hree to five minutes.
One of the best ways to judge the
freshness of eggs is to place them in
a pan of cold water. Those that sink
koonest are the freshest. Stale or
addled eggs always float on the sur
face. Upon breaking an egg if the
white and yolk are not clearly de
fined and separated, no matter how
carefully the shell has been broken,
the egg is not good and should be dis
carded, for eggs the least bit off color
will spoil good cooking.
HINTS FOR HOUSEWIFE.
To prevent a gas stove oven from
rusting, as they do if care is not
taken, rub the entire inside with a
flannel cloth saturated with sweet oil.
A teaspoonful of nitrate of soda add
ed to three quarts of water and poured
upon the roots of a Boston fern will
stimulate it to renewed life. Apply
several times at intervals of about
three weeks, but care should be taken
not to touch the fronds.
A clothes hanger may be econom
ically made by using a barrel hoop.
Cut from a hoop a piece of the de
sired - length, and. after inserting a
screw eye in the middle of the hang
er, tie a string in it for a loop to hang
it up by. Such a hanger is easy to
make and answers the purpose very
well.
To clean leather upholstery wash
the leather with warm water to which
is added a little good vinegar. Use
an absolutely clean sponge. Wipe
dry with soft, clean cloths. To re
store the polish, prepare the whites -of
two or three eggs with a teaspoonful
of turpentine to each egg. This
should be whisked briskly, then
rubbed into the dry leather with a
piece of clean flannel and dried off
with a piece of clean linen cloth.
Turkey Olives.
WThen there are some small pieces
of cold roast turkey or chicken try
serving them in this way: Trim the
meat into neat slices, spread each slice
with a little of the stuffing, adding, ii
necessary, a little extra seasoning.
Roll each one up, fasten with a wood
en toothpick or a small skewer, and
fry to a good brown in butter; add one
or two tablespoons of cream or milk
and let simmer five minutes; serve
on small squares of hot buttered toast
Cheese Pie.
The cheese for this dish may be
either the cream cheese put up in tin
foil or plain cottage cheese. Press it
through a sieve and to a large cupful
add one tablespoon of powdered sugar
a level tablespoon of butter, melted,
the beaten yolks of two eggs, the
juice and grated rind of half a lemon
then the beaten whites of eggs; if the
mixture seems too soft add a heaping
teaspoon of flour. Salt to taste, and
bake in one pastry crust.
Wine Cake.
Rub into a light cream two cupfuls
of sugar and a cupful and half of but
ter; add three eggs, one at a time,
beating five minutes between each;
sift together two cupfuls of flour and
a teaspoonful of baking powder and
add to the butter and sugar mixture
together with one gill of wine; mix
into a medium firm batter, turn into a
square, shallow pan and bake about 40
minutes in a moderate oven; frost
after taking from oven.
About Repotting Plants.
Plants growing in pots in which the
soil has not been changed for a year
should be repotted as soon as they be
gin to show signs of growth. You
cannot grow a good plant in wornout
soil, even if you do give liberal supplies
of liquid fertilizer. A good soil is to
plants what bread and butter is to
man. But remember to let It become
established before giving it very rich
food to digest.
Mixed Fruit Sherbet.
Mix one glass of raspberry or straw
berry jam with a *cup of hot water, and
strain through a cloth; add a small
Cup of sugar, the juice of two lemons
and four oranges, the liquid from a
can of pineapple, and a wine glass of
sherry. Strain all these, add a quart
of cool water, and partly freeze; be
fore finishing the freezing add a few
candied cherries cut in quarters.
YOUR OBLIGATIONS
SOME OF THE THINGS YOU OWE
YOUR OWN TOWN.
YOU SHOULD BUY AT HOME
The Country Town Can Be Made
the Very Best Place to
Live in the United
States.
(Copyright, by Alfred C. Clark.)
A preacher who was a crank on
doctrine wearied his congregation by
constantly harping on baptism. A
brother that longed for a rest handed
him a text he thought ^afe, “The way
of the transgressor is hard."
“Friends,” said the preacher, “there
are three things suggested by this
scripture: First, the transgressor.
Second, his conversion. Third, his
baptism. We will pass over the first
two and come at once to the third."
Many reasons why people should
( trade at home rather than send their
money away have been given, but sup
pose we pass them all by and come at
once to the one vital reason:
It is the right thing to do.
For after all the fundamental ques
tion in every transaction is whether
it is right or wrong. Not will I save
money, but is it just? Not is it more
convenient, but is it fair? Not
whether is it good business, but
whether it is good morals?
For you and I know, and all the
world is coming to know, that not
one dollar is ever saved or made by
unfair means that does not curse the
possessor. And a man .may be as dis
honest in saving money as in getting
it.
It is right to spend our money with
the home town and wrong to send it
away because we are under obliga
tions to the home town, but not to
the mail order house.
Financial Obligations.
In the first place the country is un
der financial obligations to the town.
Of course the town is also indebted
to the country, but the town cannot
help but pay its debt, its very exist
ence does that. Hence we are merely
discussing the country side of the ob
ligation.
The town is the center of your com
munity. From it radiates your rural
mail service; in it center your tele
phone systems. On the streets of the
town you meet your neighbors Satur
day afternoons and exchange news
and experience. You go to it for a day
of recreation when the snow comes,
the fair, or on holidays.
There during the winter lecture
course you hear great orators and ex
cellent musicians. The political rallies,
the church conference or association
are held there.
By and by in the pretty little vil
lage church, whose spire you can see
from your farm, you son will preach
the gospel. In the brick building two
doors from the corner, a fanner boy
will open a law office, and in the little
frame two blocks away another son
of the soil, just back from college, will
begin the practice of medicine.
There is the high school to which
you send your children, and there
after awhile your daughter will teach.
And some day when you find the
farm work too heavy for your age, and
want to get near the children, you will
build on that grassy corner lot twc
doors from the Methodist church and
move to town.
Yes, the town is a mighty good
thing to have, a pleasant thing; and
the more you put into it the more you
get out of it. For it grows according
to the trade it gets and the more it
grows the more it can buy and the
higher will go your land.
A good town, you know, where there
is plenty of work for carpenters and
bricklayers, and masons and smiths,
work for everybody at good wages, is
worth ten times as much to the sur
rounding country as the little sun
burned village where the carpenter
and the “storekeeper” play marbles in
the streets.
The Moral Obligation.
But the last and strongest reason
why it is right that the country peo
ple spend their money at home is the
moral obligation.
The town is yours, yours to ruin or
prosper. The same sense of obliga
tion should prompt you to support it,
as prompted our old Teutonic ances
tors in the forests of Germany to
stand elbow to elbow in protection of
their village. The same spirit of loyal
ty should inspire you as fired the
Highland Scot to spend his blood for
the welfare of his clan.
The country town with all its faults
Don’t Let the Catalog House Batter Down the Wall of Civil and Industrial
Solidity That Makes for the Safety of Your Community Interests.
Find 200 acres of good land almost
anywhere that is 20 miles from town
and you can buy it for $25 an acre.
The same land within ten miles will
bring $35, within five miles its value
is $60. within two miles $85 an acre.
Thus that town has increased the
land within a radius of ten miles an
average of $35 dollars an acre. As
that is about the age of country towns
generally, you may figure that a town,
as long as it is fairly prosperous, in- !
creases the land around it an average
of one dollar an acre every year.
Not. considering staple articles like
cattle, hogs and grain which can be.
shipped and sold anyway, the town as
a local market is worth at least $75
a year to the ordinary farmer.
For example: This year the peach
markets were so glutted no ordinary
fruit would pay the express. Around
the little town in which the writer
lives most farmers have a few peach
trees. The 4,000 inhabitants bought
nearly every bushel in the vicinity at
from 40 cents to a dollar a bushel. ;
More than $4,000 was paid for peaches j
within three weeks.
That was clear gain which must be
set over to the credit of the town.
Plums, cherries, early vegetables,
scores of little odds and ends, perish
able stuff that the farmer could not or
would not ship he turns into cash at
the home town.
So if a man owns 200 acres within
reach of town, he will receive $275 a
year direct cash value from that
town, none of which he would receive
from the mail order house.
To be sure, the town does not do
nate him that amount, the town was
not built for the purpose of philan- i
thropy, yet he receives an actual cash
benefit because the town is there; and
he is under actual financial obliga
tions to return that benefit by spend
ing his money at home.
It is not an obligation that the law
would recognize, but it is one that ap
peals to those independent, clean
hearted men of high honor who feel
that perfect honesty demands that
when benefits are received from
stranger or brother, friend or foe,
benefits should be returned.
It is sometimes argued that the
town has forfeited its right to the
farmer's patronage by selling too high.
But a careful investigation will not
bear out that contention. Your town
is unusually prosperous if you can
count more than four merchants who
have cleared $10,000 in the past ten
years. That is a thousand dollars a
year for time and interest on capital.
You can count five or six others who
have failed during that time, lost
everything. The January invoice will
not show a net gain of $500 per
business man. That means the or
dinary merchant and his capital are
not clearing $50 a month. This does
not Indicate an unreasonable profit on
goods sold.
Social Obligations.
It is right for the country to spend
its money with the home town because
of the social obligations between
them.
is the best governed, most enlight
ened, most moral, and happiest spot
in American civilization. It is a good
safe place. Not too swift, nor yet toe
slow. In touch with the current of
progress, but not racing with greed
The place from which come nearly all
the great business men. lawyers,
scholars, preachers, physicians. The
place where men are neighborly and
helpful.
This town, my farmer friend,
yours. But the city belongs to the
mail order houses and the devil. With
its corrupt government, its overflow
of population, and its vice, the great
city is the menace of our morals and
our liberties.
The city like the dragon swallows
the vast .throngs of country boys and
girls that flock into it, and by and by
when health, and virtue and hope are
gone, spews them out to die in want,
or wander as derelicts over the face
of the earth.
And don t you see, my friend, that
when you take the money from the
country town, you destroy the chance
of success there, and the boys and
girls will follow where you have sent
the money?
This town of yours was founded on
faith, on the faith in the customs of
men for hundreds of years to trade at
the nearest town. These merchants
and carpenters, masons and editors
are your neighbors. They have grown
up amongst you or amongst others
like you.
They have put their all in a little
business, money, time and hope.
Around the corner there is a little cot
tage, and the wife and the baby—it
may be your grandbaby—wait; and
there is a smile of happiness when
“business is good,” but the troubled
look comes when business is poor.
They are struggling to live, and pay
for the little home, and by and by ed
ucate the children. They are your
neighbors and friends, not your ene
mies. They work hard—you scarcely
realize how hard—and are not living
high. They have pinned their faith
to the town—your town.
Their success or failure is in your
hands. For your trade they will give
you good returns, and all will prosper
together. If you withdraw your trade,
failure must follow. Some poor strag
gler must go down facing bankruptcy.
The light must go out of some wom
an’s eye, and hardship be laid up for
the child.
Even if you could save a little by
sending your patronage to the city, do
you not think it the fair thing, the just
thing, the right thing, to trade at the
little home town with those you know,
those whose prosperity and happiness
are in your hands?
For it is written, “Thou shalt love
thy neighbor a3 thyself.”
WILLIAM H. HAMBY.
The Most Appropriate.
Bridget—Should I say ‘Dinner is
ready” or “Dinner is served?”
Mistress—Well, if it’s like yester
day, I think you had better say, “Din
ner Is spoiled.”