THE BATTLE-CRY
By CHARLES NEVILLE BUCK
Author of “The Call of the Cumberlands”
Illustrations by C. D. RHODES
(Copyright by Charlea Neville Buck.)
CHAPTER I.
The leaves of poplar and oak hung
still and limp; no ghost of breeze
found its way down there to stir them
into movement or whisper. Banks of
rhododendron, breaking into a foam of
bloom, gave the seeming of green and
white capped waves arrested and so
lidified by some sudden paralysis of
nature. Sound itself appeared dead,
save for hushed minors that only ac
centuated the stillness of the Cumber
land forest.
Now, as evening sent her warning
with gathering shadows that began to
lurk in the valleys, two mounted fig
ures made no sound either, save when
a hoof splashed on a slippery surface
or saddle-leather creaked under the
patient scrambling of their animals
In front rode a battered mountain
eer astride a rusty, brown mule.
The second figure came some yards
behind, carefully following in the
other's wake on a mule which limped.
Thi3 second mule bore a woman, rid
ing astride. She was a young woman,
and if just now her slender shoulders
also drooped a little, still even in
their droop they hinted at a gallant
grace of carriage.
The girl was very slender and,
though convoyed by the drab mission
ary, “Good Anse" Talbott, riding
astride a lame mount and accoutered
with saddlebags and blanket-roll, her
clothes were not of mountain calico,
but of good fabric, skillfully tailored,
and she carried her head erect.
Indubitably this was a “furriner;”
a woman from the other world of
“down below.” But who was she, and
why had she come? As to that, word
had gone ahead of her and been duly
reported to the one man who knew
things hereabout; who made it a point
to know things, and whose name stood
as a challenge to innovation in the
mountains
When at morning she had started
out from the shack town at the end
of the rails, “Bad Anse" Havey's .in
formers had ridden not far behind her.
Later they had pushed ahead and re
layed their message to their chief.
She had often heard the name of
Bad Anse Havey. The yellow press of
the state, and even of the nation, was
fond of using it. Whenever to the law
less mountains came a fresh uphlazing
of feudal hatred and blood was let, it
was customary to say that the affair
bore the earmarks of Bad Anse’s in
citement. Certain it was that in his
own territory this man was overlord
and dictator.
Like one of the untamable eagles
that circled the windy crests of his
mountains, he had watched with eyes
that could gaze unblinking into the
sun all men who came and went
through the highlands where his aerie
perched. Those whom he hated, un
less they, too. were of the eagle breed,
fierce and resourceful and strong of
talon, could not remain there,
j This slender young woman, astride
a tnule. was coming as the avowed
outrider of a new order. She meant
to make war on the whole fabric of
illiteracy and squalid ignorance which
lay intrenched here. Consequently her
arrival would interest Bad Anse Ha
vey.
Once, when they had stopped by a
wayside mill to let their mules pant at
the water trough, she had caught a
scrap of 'conversation that was not
meant for her ears; a scrap laughingly
tossed from bearded lip to bearded
lip among the hlckory-shirted loiter
ers at the mill door.
“Reckon thet thar’s the fotched-in
woman what aims ter start a school
over on the head of Tribulation,”
drawled one native. “I heard tell of
her t'other day.”
With a somewhat derisive laugh an
other had contributed:
“Mebby she hain't talked thet pro
Jeck over with Bad Anse yit. Hit
mought be a right good idee fer thet
gal ter go on back down below, whar
she b'longs at."
The girl was thinking of all this
now as she rode in the wake of her
silent escort.
In a moment of almost cringing de
spair she wished indeed that she were
“back thar down below whar she
b’longed at."
Then, almost fiercely, drawing back
her aching shoulders, she cast her
eyes about on the darkening scene
and raised her voice in anxious in
quiry: “How much farther do we have
to go?”
The man riding ahead dW not turn
his face, but flung his answer apa
thetically backward over his shoulder:
“We got to keep right on till we comes
ter a dwellin'-house. I'm aimin’ fer
old man (•'letch McKash’s cabin a
lcetle ther rise of a mile frum hyar.
1 ’low mebby he mought shelter us
till momin'.”
“And if he doesn't?”
“Ef he doesn't, we've got ter ride
on a spell further."
The girl closed her eyes for a mo
ment and pressed her lip between her
teKfc.
At last a sudden turn in the road
brought to view- a wretched patch of
bare clay, circled by a dilapidated pal
ing fence, within which gloomed a
squalid and unlighted cabin of logs.
At sight of its desolation the girl's
heart sank. A square hovel, window
less and obviously of one room, held
up a wretched lean-to that sagged
drunkenly against its end. The open
door was merely a patch of greater
darkness in Jhe gray picture. Behind
it loomed the mountain like a crouch
ing Colossus.
At first she thought it an abandoned
shack, but as they drew near the stile
a dark object lazily rose, resolving it
self into a small boy of perhaps
eleven. He had been Bitting hunched
up there at gaze with his hands
clasped around his thin knees.
As he came to his feet he revealed
i a thin stature swallowed up in a hick
I orv shirt and an overample pair of
j butternut trousers that had evidently
come down in honorable heritage from
elder brethren. His small face wore
j a sharp, prematurely old expression
I as he stood staring up at the new arrl
i vals and hitching at the single “gal
i lus” which supported the family
breeches.
“Airy one o' ye folks got a chaw o’
terbaccy?” he demanded tersely, then
added in plaintive afternote: "I hain't
had a chaw terday.”
“Sonny," announced the colorless
mountaineer with equal succinctness,
“we want ter be took in. We're be
nighted.”
“Ye mought ax Fletch.” was the
stolid reply, “only he hain’t hyar. Hes
airy one o’ ye folks got a chaw o'
terbaccy."
“I don't chaw, ner drink, tier smoke.”
I answered the horseman quietly, in the
manner of one who teaches by pre
cept. “I'm a preacher of ther Gawspel.
Air ye Fletch's boy?”
“Huh-huh. Hain’t thet woman got
no terbaccy nuther?”
Evidently, whatever other charac
teristics went into this youth's na
ture. he was admirably gifted with te
nacity and singleness of purpose.
! Over Her Stood the Woman Who Had
Been Across the Stile.
| Juanita Holland smiled as she shook
: her head and replied: “I’m a woman,
and I don’t use tobacco.”
“The hell ye don’t!” The boy
paused, then added scornfully. “My
mammy chaws and smokes, too—but
i she don’t straddle no hoss.”
After that administration of rebuke
he deigned once more to recognize
the missionary’s insistent queries,
though he did so with a laconic impa
tience.
“I tell ye Fletch hain’t hyar.” The
boy started disgustedly away, but
paused in passing to jerk his head
toward the house and added: “Ye
mought ax thet woman ef ye’ve a mind
ter.”
The travelers raised their eyes and
| saw a second figure standing with
| hands on hips staring at them from
i the distance. It was the slovenly fig
ure of a woman, clad in a colorless
and shapeless skirt and an equally
shapeless Jacket, which hung unbelted
about her thick waist. As she came
slowly forward the girl began to take
in other details. The woman was
barefooted and walked with a sham
j bling gait which made Juanita think
I of bears pacing their barred inclos
; ures in a zoo. Her face was hard and
unsmiling, and the wrinkles about her
eyes were those of anxious and lean
years, but the eyes themselves were
not unkind. Her lips were tight
clamped on the stem of a clay pipe.
" ’Evenin’, ma’am.” began the moun
taineer. “I'm Good Anse Talbott. I
reckon mebby ye’ve heerd of me. This
lady is Miss Holland from down be
low. I ’lowed Fletch mought let us
tarry hyar till sunup.”
“I reckon he mought ef he war hyar
—though we don’t toiler taking in
strangers." was the dubious reply,
“—but he ain’t hyar."
“Where air he at?”
“Don’t know. Didn’t ye see him
down the road as ye rid along?"
“Wall, now—" drawled the mission
ary, “I hain't skeercely as well ac
quainted hyarabouts as further up
Tribulation. What manner o’ lookin'
man air he?"
“He don’t look like nothin' much,"
replied his wife morosely. “He's jest
an ornery-lookin’ old man.”
“Whither did he sot out ter go when
he left hyar?"
The woman shook her head, then
a grim flash of latent wrath broke in
her eyes.
“I’ll jest let ye hev the truth,
stranger. Some triflin’ fellers done
sa'ntered past hyar with a Jug of
licker, an' thet fool Fletch hes Jest
done follered ’em off. Thet's all thar
is to hit. an’ he hain’t got no license
ter ack thetaway nuther. I reckon
by now he’s a-layin’ drunk some
whars.”
For a moment there was silence,
through which drifted the distant
tinkle of cowbells down the creek.
Beyond the crests lingered only a
lemon afterglow as relict of the dead
day. The brown, colorless man astride
his mule sat stupidly looking down at
the brown, colorless woman across the
stile. The waiting girl heard the
preacher Inquiring which way the
master of the house had gone and
surmising that "mebby he'd better set
out in search of him;’’ the words
seemed to come from a great dis
tance. and her head swam giddily.
Then, overcome with disgust and
weariness, Juanita Holland saw the
afterglow turn slowly to pale gray
and then .to black, shot through with
orange spots. Then she grew sud
denly indifferent to the situation,
swayed in her saddle, and slipped
limply to the ground.
The young woman who had come to
conquer the mountains and carry a
torch of enlightenment to their illit
eracy had fainted from discourage
ment and weariness at the end of the
first day’s march.
The weariness which caused the
fainting spell must have lengthened
its duration, for when Juanita's lashes
flickered upward again and her brain
came gropingly back to consciousness
she was no longer by the stile.
She was lying in the smothering
softness of a feather bed. On her pal
ate and tongue lingered an unfamiliar,
sweetish taste, while through her
veins she felt the coursing of a warm
glow.
Over her stood the woman who had
been across the stile when she fainted,
her attitude anxiously watchful. In
one hand she held a stone jug. and in
the other a gourd dipper. So that
accounted for the taste and the glow,
and as Juanita took in the circum
stance she heard the high, nasal voice,
pitched none the less in a tone of
kindly reassurance.
"Ye'll be spry as a squirrel in a leetle
spell, honey. Don't fret yoreself none.
Ye war jest plumb tuckered out an’
ye swooned. I’ve been a rubbin' your
hands an' a-pourin' a little white
licker down yore throat. Don't worrit
yoreself none. We're pore folks an’
we hain’t got much, but I reckon we
kin make out ter enjoy ye somehow.”
The four walls of the cabin might
have been the rocky confines of a
mountain cavern, so formlessly did
they merge into the impalpable and
sooty murk that hung between them,
obliterating all remoter outline. Only
things in a narrow circle grew visible,
and at the center of this lighted area
was the slender figure of a girl hold
ing up a lard taper, its radius of light
yellow and flickering.
As the mountain girl felt the eyes
of the strange and, to her, wonderful
woman from the great, unknown
world on her, her own dark lashes
fell timidly and the hand that held
the taper trembled, while into her
cheeks crept a carmine self-conscious
ness. Juanita, for her part, sensed in
her veins a new and subtler glow than
that which the moonshine whisky had
quickened. The men and women of
the hills had made her heartsick with
their stolid and animallike coarseness.
Now she saw a slender figure in which
the lines were yet transitory between
the straightness of the child and the
budding curves of womanhood
It was to such children of the hills
as this that Juanita Holland was to
bring the new teachings. But even as
she smiled the child—for she seemed
to be only fifteen or sixteen—surren
dered to her shyness and, thrusting
the taper into her mother’s hand,
shrank out of sight in some shad
owed comer of the place.
Then Juanita’s eyes occupied them
selves with what fragmentary details
the faint light revealed. The barrel
of a rifle caught the weak flare and
glittered. The uncarpeted floor of
rude puncheon slabs lay a thing of
gaping cracks, and overhead there was
a vague feeling of low rafters, from
which hung strings of ancient and
shriveled peppers and a few crinkled
’’hands" of “natural leaf.”
“Dawn.” commanded the woman,
“take yore foot in your hand an’ light
out ter ther bam an’ see ef ye' kin
find some aigs.”
As Juanita watched the door she
caught a glimpse of a slight figure
that vanished with the same quick
noiselessness with which a beaver
slips into the water.
"I reckon ye kin jest lay thar a
spell," added the woman, “whilst l
goes out an’ sees what victuals 1 kin
skeer up.”
Left alone, the girl from Philadel
phia ran over the events of the day—
events wnich seemed to smother her
under a weight of squalor and fore
boding.
At length from the road came loud
shouts of drunken laughter, broken
by the evident remonstrances of a
companion who sought to enjoin quiet,
and by these tokens the "furrin”
woman knew that the lord of the
squalid manor was returning, and that
he was coming under convoy. She
shrank from a meeting with Fletch
McNash; but if she went out by the
only door she knew she would have
to confront him, so she lay still. >
Fletch was deposited in one of the
split-bottom chairs by the doorstep.
“I jest went over thar ter borry a
hoe,” he proclaimed, "an’ I met up
with some fellers and thar was all
manner of free licker. They had white
licker an’ bottled-in-bond licker, an’
none of hit didn't cost nothin’. Them
fellers jest wouldn't hardly suffer me
ter come away."
“An’ whilst ye war a-soakin' up thet
thar free licker them pertater sets was
a-dryin’ up waitin’ ter be sot out,”
came the stern wifely reminder.
Between the strident voices came
every now and then the softly modu
lated tones of the stranger whose
words Juanita lost. Yet. somehow,
whenever she heard them she felt
soothed, and after each of these ut
terances the woman outside also
spoke in softer tones.
Whoever the stranger was, he car
ried in his voice a reassuring quality,
so that without having seen him the
girl felt that in his presence there was
an element of strength and safeguard
ing.
At last from one of the beds she
heard a scuffling sound, and a moment
later a childish form opened a door at
the back of the cabin and slipped out
into the darkness.
That revealed an avenue of escape.
Juanita had not known that these win
dowless cabins are usually supplied
with two doors, and that the one into
which the wind does not drive the
weather stands open for light on win
try days. Now she, too. rose noise
lessly and went out of the close and
musty room. It was quite dark out
there and she could feel, rather than
! see, the densely foliaged side of the
mountain that loomed upward at the
back.
In her brooding she lost account of
time. At last she heard a voice sing
out from the stile:
“I’m Jim White, an’ Pm a-comin’
in.”
A thick welcome from Fletch Mc
' Nash followed, and then again silence
! settled.
After a while, as she sat there on
the rock, with her chin disconsolately
in her hand and her elbows on her
knees, Juanita became conscious of
footsteps and knew that someone was
coming toward her. Then she caught
the calm voice which had already im
pressed her—the voice of the stranger
i who had brought home the half-help
l less householder.
“I Teckon we’re out of earshot now,
i I reckon we kin hev speech here; but
heed your voice an’ talk low.”
In the face of such a preface the girl
shrank back in fresh panic. She had
no wish to overhear private conversa
tions.
She huddled back against the rock
and cast an anxious glance about her
for a way to escape. Behind lay the
mountain wall with its junglelike
growth, where her feet would sound
an alarm of rustling branches and dis
turbed deadw-ood. But the men were
strolling near her, and to try to reach
the house would require crossing their
path.
Then the second shadow spoke, and
its voice carried beside the nasal
shrillness so common to the hills the
tenseness of suppressed excitement.
‘'Thar’s liable ter be hell teruight.”
The girl thought that the quiet
stranger laughed, though of that she
could not be certain.
‘‘I reckon ye mean concernin' Cal
Douglas?”
“Thet’s hit; when I rid outen Peril
this atternoon ther jury hed done took
ther case, an’ everybody 'lowed they’d
find a verdict afore sundown.”
"I reckon”—the taller of the two
men answered slowly, and into his
softly modulated voice crept some
thing of flinty finality—“1 reckon 1 can
tell ye what that verdict’s goin’ to
be. Cal will come clear.”
“Thet hain’t ther pint,” urged the
messenger excitedly. ‘‘Thet hain't why
I‘ve rid over hyar like a bat outen
hell ter cotch up with ye. 1 was
aimin’ ter fotch word over ter ther
dance, but es 1 come by hyar 1 seen
yore hoss hitched out thar in ther
road, so 1 lit an' come in. 1 reckon
ye knows thet cote an’ thet Jury.
Thet’s yore business, but thet hain’t
all.”
"Well, what's the balance of it?
i aiK out. w nat are ye aimin to ten
me?"
“I met up with a feller In Job
Heath’s blind tiger Jest outside Peril.
He’d drunk a lot of licker an’ he got
ter talking mighty loose-tongued an’
free.”
The girl sickened a little as she felt
that her fears were being realized,
and one hand went involuntarily up
to her breast and stayed there. The
young man with the shrill voice talked
on impetuously.
“Ever sence the trial of Cal Doug
las started good old Milt McBriar
hain’t been actin' like hisself. Him
an’ Breck Havey’s been stoppin’ at
ther same hotel in Peril, an’ yet Milt
hain’t ’peared ter be a bearin' no
grudge whatsoever. When ther Jury
was med up Milt didn't seek ter chal
lenge fellers thet everybody knowed
was friends of Cal’s. Milt didn’t even
seek ter raise no hell when ther Jedge
ruled favorable ter Cal right along.
This feller what I talked ter ’lowed
thet Milt didn’t keer ef Cal came
clar.”
The listening man once more an
swered with a quiet laugh. ‘‘Do ye
’low that that old rattlesnake. Milt Mc
Briar, aims to stand by an' not try
ter hang or penitentiary kin of mine
for killin’ kin of his?” he inquired
almost softly.
"Thet's Just hit." The answer came
quickly and excitedly. “This feller
'lowed thet Old Milt aimed ter show
ther world thet he couldnt git no jes
tice in a cote thet b'longed to Anse
Havey, an’ then he aimed ter 'tend
ter his own jestice fer hisself. He
'lows ter hev hit homemade.”
“How is he goin’ to fix it?” The
question was a bit contemptuous.
“They figger thet when Cal comes
clar he'll ride lickety-split, with a
bunch of Havey boys, over hyar ter
this dance what's a-goin’ forward at
' /// /v//// "vni
He Was Standing, as She Entered, a
Little Back From the Hearth.
ther pint. Some of Milt's fellers aims
ter slip over thar. too. an' while Cal’s
celebratin' they aims ter git him ter- !
night.”
"Do they?” The taller man’s voice
was velvety. “Well, go on. What
else?”
"They aims ter tell the world thet
they let ther law take hit’s co’se fust,
but thet Bad Anse Havey makes a
mockery of ther law.”
For a moment there was silence, j
and the quiet voice commenced, iron- j
ically: “My God, them fellers lay
a heap of deviltry up against Bad
Anse, don’t they?”
After a moment of silence, through
which Juanita Holland was painfully
conscious of the quick beat of her own
heart, she heard again the unexcited j
voice of the tall stranger. Now it was
the capable tones of a general officer
giving commands.
"Did ye give warnin’ in Peril?”
“No—1 couldn't get to speak with j
Cal. He was in cote—and seein’ as j
how they didn't figger on raisin' no \
hell twell they git over liyar—I didn’t |
turn backwards. I come straight
through. 1 lowed this was ther place
ter fix things up.”
“You ride over to the dancin’ party.
Get the older fellers together. Keep
the boys quiet and sober—cold sober.
Watch thet old fool, Bob McGreegor.
Don't spread these tidings tiM 1 get ,
there. If Cal comes over there, tell i
him to keep outen sight. Nothin'
won’t break loose before midnight. 1
That's my orders. By God Almighty.
I aim to have peace hereabouts just
now!”
The speaker’s voice broke off and
the two men passed out of sight
around the corner of the house.
CHAPTER II.
The girl rose and made her way
unsteadily to the back door and let
herself in. She threw herself on the
bed and lay there, rapidly thinking it
was obvioue that her absence had not
been commented upon. A few min
utes later she heard the voice of Mrs.
McNash singing out: “You folks kin
all come in an' eat,” and found her
self, outwardly calm, making her way
around to the shed addition which
served Jointly as kitchen and dining
room.
When she entered the place Fletch i
McNash was already seated, and
sagged over his plate with the stupid
Inertia of dulled senses.
Tuanita found herself unaccount
ably eager to see the tall stranger
whose voice had reassured her: who
had appeared first as the Samaritan
bringing home the helpless; then as
me man wnose woras gained prompt
obedience—and finally as the self
declared advocate of peace.
He was standing, as she entered, a
little back from the hearth, with the
detached air of one who drops into thf
background or comes to the fore with
equal readiness. She found that in
appearance as in voice he bore a rough
sort of impressiveness about him. In
tne brighter light stood the messen
ger, a gaunt youth, in whose wilt}
sharp features lurked cunning, cruelty
and endurance. But the other man
who stood a head taller, fell into a
pose of indolent ease which might
wake instantly into power.
It was a face strongly and ruggedly
chiseled, but so dominated by unfal
tering gray eyes that one was apt tc
forget all else and carry away only a
memory of dark hair—and those eyes
Then, as they sat at table and the
girl struggled with her discomfiture
over each unclean detail of the food
she raised her eyes from time to time
always to encounter upon her the
steady, appraising gaze of the dark
stranger.
When they rose from the table the
stranger drew Fletch, now somewhat
sobered by his meal, aside, and the
other men retired to the chairs in the
dooryard. Then the girl from the East
slipped away and took up her solitary
place on top of the stile, where she
sat thinking.
At last she was conscious of a pres
ence besides her own, as of someone
standing silently at her back.
Bather nervously she turned hei
head, and there, with one foot on the
lower step of the stile, stood the
young stranger himself. Once more
their eyes met, and with a little start
she dropped her own.
"I kinder hate to bother ye, ma'am,'
said the even voice, "but I can't hardly
get acrost that stile whilst ye’re settin
on it.”
There was no note of badinage ot
levity in his tone, and his clear, drawn
features under the moonlight were en
tirely serious.
Juanita rose. "1 beg your pardon,’
she said hastily, as she went down the
stile on the far side.
i nax s an rigiit, ma am, repuea
the man easily, still with a serious
dignity as he, too, crossed the road.
While he was untying the knot in
his bridle-rein the girl stood watch
ing him. In the easy indolence of his
movements was the rippling some
thing that suggested the leopard's
frictionless strength.
The very quality that gave this
young stranger his picturesqueness
and stamped him as vital and dynamic
in his manhood sprang from that wild
roughness which he shared with his
eagles and Dawn shared with her
weedlike flowers. And yet it was
somehow as though this man. whose
voice was so calm, whose movements
were so quiet, whose gaze was so un
arrogant, was crying out in a clarion
challenge with every breath: “I am
a man!”
Suddenly she wondered if in him
she might not find an ally. She felt
very lonely. To have counsel with
someone in these hills less stupidly
phlegmatic than Good Anse Talbott
would bring comfort and reassurance
to her heart. She must cope with the
powerful resourcefulness of Bad Anse
Havey, he of the untamed ferocity
and implacable cruelty and shrewd in
telligence. If some native son could
share even a little of her viewpoint
she would find in him a tower ot
strength.
Perhaps he had yielded to the un
spoken appeal of the deep, rangeful
eyes that were always gray, yet never
twice the same gray, and the sweetly
sensitive lips so tantalizingly charm
ing, because they were fashioned for
smiles and were now drooping instead.
“I reckon." he said, “you find it right
different, don't you?”
She nodded.
"But it’s very beautiful,” she added
as she swept her hand about in a ges
ture of admiration.
It was he who nodded at that, very
gravely, and almost reverently, though
at the next moment his laugh was
short and almost ironical.
“1 reckon God never fashioned any
thing better—nor worse,” he told her
"When you’ve breathed it an' seen it
an’ lived it. no other place is fit to
dwell in. an’ yet sometimes I 'low that
God didn't mean it to be the habita
tion of men an’ women. It’s cut out
for eagles an’ hawks an’ wild things
It belongs to the winds an' storms an
bear an' Tieer. It puts fire into veins
meant for blood, an’ the only crop it
raises much is hell.”
“You—you’ve been out in the other
world—down below?" she questioned
“Yes; but 1 couldn’t stay down there
1 couldn’t breathe, hardly. 1 sick
ened—an’ I came back.”
She turned to him impulsively.
“1 don't know who you are.” she
began hurriedly, “but I know that you
brought this man home when he was
not in a condition to come alone. I
know that you sent a man ahead of
you to keep peace at the dance. I
know you have a heart, and it means
something—means a great deal—tc
feel that someone in these hills feels
about it as I feel.”
She stopped suddenly, realizing that
she w'as allowing too much appeal to
creep into her voice: that she had
come to fight, not to sue for favor.
•‘I—1 thought maybe you would
help me,” she finished, a little falter
inglv. "Would you mind telling me
your name?"
He had unhitched his horse and
stood with the reins hanging from one
hand.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Keeping Cheese.
To keep cheese from molding in a
wet season spread the cut surface
thinly with butter
HOW GREAT INDUSTRY BEGAN
Chemist May Be Said to Have Stum
bled Over a Discovery of Im
mense Importance.
A" experimenting chemist, endeav
oring te T-'Tduce artificial quinine, us
iss v haw? known as aniline, not only
•btai"*-! oQioiing matter called mauve,
out Ic'.d the foundation for the coal-tar
-dor industry, which has developed
»■?>•*• fodav almost every color and
ehade of color is derived from ani
line Aniline had been obtained previ
ously from the Indigo plant "anil."
The discovery of mauve created a
large demand for the artificial aniline
base, and gave unexpected value to
benzine. It yielded aniline by being
treated with nitric acid and with the
borings of cast iron powdered into
dust. Having done its work in the
aniline still, the dust was used by the
gas maker to cleanse his coal gas from
sulphur, and then it passed to the
manfacturing chemist, who burned the
sulphur out of it and produced a sul
phuric acid—a cycle of operations
whose beginning and end was the uti
lization of waste. This method of pro
ducing color was responsible for the
desolate madder fields of France and
Holland and for the loss to the Hindus
of their long-cherished indigo cultiva
tion. Anthracene, one of the heavier
oils of coal tar, caused the fall of the
madder-growing Industry. The madder
produced violets, reds, blacks, purple
and dark browns. Anthracene was
sold very cheaply for lubricating pur
poses until certain chemists heated it
with zinc filings and produced alizarin,
and then the secret of the madder
plant was discovered. In this war
chemistry displaced agriculture, one
pound of alizarin having the coloring
power of ninety pounds of madder,
and the lubricating oil sold at a trifle
as waste became a valuable coloring
matter.
Exploring Our Friends.
One day 1 found an exquisite clump
of sweet violets hiding in the very
heart of a bed of nettles! And 1 think
this discovery gave me more pleasure
than those I found in the protective
company of the harmless ivy! That
is what Froude tells us he found in
Thomas Carlyle. That is what we
should find in one another, if only we
had eager, patient, and love-washed
eyes. Human life is not all nettles;
to affirm it is the perverted Judgment
of the cynic; they who have a pas
sion for God will find the Godlike
everywhere; they will find the violets
of moral loveliness even in the midst
of the noisome waste. And when
■ m. - *
they have found them their fellow
searchers shall hear an exultant shout
and they shall come together, and In
the gracious discovery there shall be
a common "rejoicing in the truth."—
J. H. Jowett. D. D., In the Christian
Herald.
To Remove Putty.
To remove old putty from a window
after the glass has been taken out.
pass a hot soldering iron or poker over
it. This softens It and it is easily re
moved.
ROAD*
BUILDING
WORKING FOR BETTER ROADS
Ways In Which Department of Agri
culture Offers Advice and Assist
ance—Free Lectures Given.
Communities interested in the im
provement of roads are recommend
ed by the department of agriculture to
apply fo/ a lecturer on the subject.
Lecturers will be sent at the govern
ment expense wherever there is rea
son to believe that audiences will ba
large enough to make the expenditure
of time and money worth while.
Whenever possible it is, of course, de
sirable for a number of communities
in the same vicinity to make arrange
ments for lectures at the same time,
since in this way the traveling ex
penses for each stop made by the lec
turer are materially reduced.
The number of lecturers at the dis
posal of the department is limited, and
it is not always possible, therefore, to
comply with every request. When a
Vitrified Brick Pavements for Country
Roads—Filling the Joints.
lecturer cannot be sent, however, the
department will loan a set of suitable
lantern slides to any responsible lo
cal association or individual who will
pay the express charges. The only
requirement is that the slides be
made of active and practical use in
the community and that they be re
turned in good condition in 90 days.
In addition, a brief outline of a lec
ture to accompany the slides will be
forwarded on request.
In addition to this educational work
the department is always ready to re
spond to requests for practical assist
ance which may take the form of spe
cial advice and inspection, superin
tendence of county roads, road sur
veys, experimental road work. bridge
work, or the development of a model
system of highways for a county. To
obtain such assistance local authori
ties should secure a blank form from
the office of public roads on which to
make applications. Requests from
corporate villages or cities cannot be
met, however.
Fridge work is one branch of road
building in which the department may
be of particular service to local au
thoritieB. Typical designs have been
prepared and copies of these can be
furnished on request. A few minor
alterations would probably make s«ch
a design suitable for special condi
tions, or an engineer may be assigned
to inspect the site and offer sugges
tions. In some cases designs by bridge
companies have been reviewed by the
department for the benefit of local of
ficials.
Possibly the most important way.
however, in which the department as
sists individual communities in the
betterment of their roads is in laying
out a model system of highways for a
county which is about to expend a
large sum of money on roads. In such
cases the department assigns an en
gineer to make a thorough study of
the district. He ascertains where
the best road materials are, what
roads are the most important, and,
therefore, to be improved first, and
provides for the location of each road
so as to secure the best possible drain
age and grade.
New Road Surfacing.
It is reported that an experiment is
being made with a material whiqb
heretofore has been a waste product ol
glass factories, for road-making. This
is a thick, sirupy liquid that hardens
when exposed to the atmosphere,
forming a substance that somewhat
resembles glass. A quantity of this
material is mixed with crushed stoae
and used to surface a stretch of high
way in Illinois, forming a surface that
is as smooth as concrete. How this
surface will stand up under weather
and wear will be watched with inter
est
Road Dragging.
Good roads save money, because:
They cheapen transportation to the
markets; they reduce the drain upon
capital invested in horses; they pre
vent waste of time, and “time is
money;” they add to the Joy of living,
and Joy adds to the effectiveness of
life; good roads may be had by drag
ging; use the drag.
Sell Your Products.
Sell your wool when the price is
fairly good. Holding wool, or any oth
er crop, very long is risky buisness.
Swing Stanchion la Best.
In regard to cost, convenience and
cleanliness, a good swing stanchion is
the best form of tie-up for the dairy
cow.
Best of Greens.
Swiss chard is one of the best
greens. The leaves may be cut when
six or eight inches high.
Keep Up High Standard.
Close culling la the only means of
keeping the flocT ^ to a high stand