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4TlL l'X-':VPr - - . ;
Copyright 189$, by KobsbtBonssb'sBow,
CHAPTER XVI.
EXIT UNCLE SAM.
. ""Truly, the ways of the parent are
peculiar! If you wanted your son
knocked on the head, were there not
enough people in London able and will
ing to execute your commission, but
you must needs send for him to this
place? Come, tell me how it all hap
pened." ; Thus spake the cheery voice of uncle
Sam as he entered our drawing room
the next morning after the events nar
rated in the last chapter. Though still
depressed in spirit (now chiefly be
cause of the horrible suspicion which;
I knew my father entertained), I was'
fairly well in health, and was dressed;
to receive our visitor. My father's mel-j
ane-holy was more apparent than mine,'
"and his serious demeanor contrasted!
strangely with, the buoyant gaiety of'
his brother. !
' "Ernest had an awkward fall on the!
Btone floor of the crypt late on Mon-i
day night or on Tuesday morning, and'
lay there unconscious for some time1
before he was discovered. That is.
all," answered my father, "but he is'
nearly, if not quite, well now."
, "On the floor of the crypt!" echoed'
tsnele Sam, in a tone of surprise. "What
vas he doing 'in the crypt at that ua-;
'archly hour? No, no; I beg your par-!
:dcn. Don't tell me, I don't want to
(know I remember my own little es-'
jcanades when I was about his age.
Beally, the -faculty of blushing in a;
j-oung man will delude even the old'
jand experienced more effectually than5
(the most skilful lying. So, Ernest, you
;young dog, you are no better than
other people, eh? But enough of this.j
How are Knight and Faulkner gettingj
!n with the renovations? I hope they;
are pushing the work vigorously. I
would like to see the place completed
land decent before I return to New
York. I gave them carte blanche to
I& everything necessary to be done,-
asK particularly insisted on despatch."
1 My father looked intensely glum as
he listened to this speech, and some
moments elapsed before he spoke. As
for myself, it was a considerable time
before I could resolve my uncle's
words; and desiring not to commit my-;
"self, I remained silent. '
' "Your judgment or motive is not soj
good as it might be in this case, Sam.;
My boy has discovered perfectly reli-
able evidence that a quarter of a mil-!
liou Venetian sequins were concealed!
by old Roger Trueman in the Abbot'sj
Cell here, and wishing to pleasantly'
surprise me decided to withhold his
information until he had verified it.:
This is why he visited the place on
Monday night, when he found the place
and ten chests as indicated by Roger
Trueman himself; but with this differ
ence, that all the chests had been
opened, and every sequin stolen."
"Stolen!" exclaimed uncle Sam;
"how do you know that? And if co,
how can you tell whether they were
stolen a year or a century ago?"
"Very easily. By merely examining
the cell and the chests, and consider
ing the attendant circumstances, any
one endowed with common sense is
bound to conclude that the robbery1
was committed as recently as four or!
five days ago."
"Positively you astound me. Have
you examined your servants and
Knight and Faulkner's men?"
My father shrugged his shoulders1
and smiled grimly. "There would be'
no use in that," he said grimly.
"I think there would be very great
use in it, and that it ought to have been
done before. Really, jou astound me;
Tell me the whole of the circum-i
stances as briefly and clearly as you
can. At present, I am not at all sat-;
isfied with the matter." ';
"And I still less so. Ernest, tell'
your uncle all you know about it," and
with these words my father rose from
the couch on which we were all three
sitting and walked through the open
window to the veranda.
With a fluttering heart I begun my
task, describing the manner in which
I had found and appropriated Roger
Trueman's Record (which I read to
him in. full, having provided myself
with the volume for that purpose), and
with my subsequent proceedings. My
uncle listened with deep attention, only
occasionally diverting his eyes from
me to look at his brother, who was
restlessly pacing up and down the
veranda. In this way an hour or more
passed, and I had completed my story.
"Thank you," said uncle Sam, and
pressed his hand upon his forehead,
a habit of his when thinking. After
a few moments he started to his feet
and walked to the window I follow
ing him. "Robert," he cried, "come
here; I have something to say to you."
My father re-entered the room.
"Your son has read that Record to
me and explained how he found it, and
what he has done and experienced in
respect of it. I am not convinced that
the sequins have been recently stolen
or that they have been stolen at all,
though I perceive nothing improbable
In either theory. Things quite as
strange happen, every day. But I have,
this to say to you. You have expressed
yourself at leadst twice this morning
fu a &ft&aer I am not dlftpoita to tel 1
vol. xxvn.
WALTER BLQOMFIEJLJ3
erate from any man, even my own
brother. You have plainly insinuated,
here in the presence of your son, that
I pretended not to know the business
which called him to the crypt on Mon
day night, and that because of some
motive I think that was your word
of my own; and further, that I have
better reason to be satisfied with this
matter than you have. If by the latter
you mean that a man who has not
lost a quarter of a million sequins has
better reason for satisfaction than one
who has, I am content the remark
should pass. But Ulft tot. observation
of which I complain admits of no
sophistry. The only motive that could
animate me in feigning ignorance of
your son's business in the crypt would
be to conceal that I was concerned in
some way in the stealing of those se
quins. And besides, I do not like
your manner towards me. All my
successes have been due to a good
memory and the power to read the
thoughts and moods of men, and the in
stincts which have earned me all I
have would scarcely fail me in-dealing
with a man of your mental calibre.
No; you must take my hand and as
sure me of your belief thsrt I have
never done "you or your son the slight
est wrong, and in particular that you
are satisfied I know nothing about the
treasure you have failed to find further
than what you and your son have told
me. Do that, and I am still your
friend and brother, and will aid ' you
with all the means in my power to
solve this mystery. Decline my terms,
and I will do my best to forget your
existence."
Quite calmly but with terrible dis
tinctness did uncle Sam thus challenge
his brother. He had drawn nimself up
to his full height, and his head was set
back a little further than was custom
ary with him, yet one might reason
ably have supposed as he stood wait
ing for a reply that he was engaged
in nothing of particular import. In
deed, the expression of his face was
not unlike that which he bore when
uttering one of his cynical dogmas
of which he had such a plentiful store,
and he actually smiled as he listened
to my father's reply words which
snapped my most cherished hope like
a thread and plunged me to the lowest
depth of despair I had as yet sunk to.
. "Indeed I will do no such thing. Un
asked and from my heart I assure j'ou
that the good will I have ever borne
towards you survives this affair, ser
ious as it is; but I cannot and will not
comply with the terms you dictate,
come what may. Surely you might
have known that anything here was
yours for the asking that I would
have given you anything I had, so long
as I retained a small competency for
my son hereafter."
Uncle Sam remained motionless and
silent for a full minute or more after
my father had finished speaking; then,
drawing a deep breath, and uttering
a hardly audible sigh, he rested his
hands on a table, leaned forward, and
fixing his gaze upon his brother, ad
dressed him with intense earnestness.
"My curse upon you for an unthink
ing and cowardly wretch! This is the
second great injustice I have suffered
at your hands. May that moment be
my last when I put myself in a po
sition for you to mete out such treat
ment for a third lime!- Twenty years
ago, by grace of a miscalculating, self
seeking hind, you married the girl
whose love I had won who had sol
emnly pledged herself to me. Yes,
you married her knowing that I was
her choice, and that her father com
pelled her to become your wife on ac
count of your broad acres. I com
plained not then to you, but went forth
into the world trusting not vainly to
Nemesis to avenge the wrong I had
sustained. The sweetheart of my boy-
hood was not your wife for long; and
as for your Suffolk acres, what of them
now? They will scarce support the
slave who plows them. Yes, Nemesis
avenged your first injustice to me, and
she -will avenge yur second. I had
outlived almost the memory of tiat
great wrong, and returned to you after
twenty years, rich and influential, pre
pared to benefit you and your son in
any way JL could, and now, forsooth,
in a half-hearted, cowardly manner,
and without any sort of evidence, you
accuse me of having robbed you of a
quarter of a million of sequins! By tha
powers that be, I swear I never saw
a sequin in my life, that I am not even
sure I am correct in thinking, it i
a gold coin worth nine shillings and
fourpence of British money; but hit
supposition being correct, can yea
think I would make myself a thief for
five hundred and sixty thousand dol
lars? I who on many occasions have
profited more in one deal, and made
eight times as much out of the Wabash
pool alone. No, I am not a thief; or if
I was, I should not come to Suffolk
to practice my profession. It is pas
sible you may live to be convinced oJ:
the cruel blunder you have made; but
I care not how that may be, for you
are already dead to me. Good-bye,
Ernest, my boy. I am sorry for ycu.
It is a hard fate to be the son of sueli
:i nitin, hue you are not without hope.
il e ton of a wise man is generally
a mml taiftaet m
PITTSBORQ, CHATHAM COUNTY, N. C. THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER (904. NO -
should be wise, for you are certainly I
the son of a fool." ,
He turned to go, but I clutched his
arm and prevented him, crying out '
despairingly
"O father,- father, what have you
done? Unsay your words, and believe
with me that uncle Sam has done us
much kindness and no wrong."
My .passionate plea received no an
swer. Uncle Sam gently disengaged
himself from my grasp and moved to
wards the door. "If at any time you
should need a friend," he said, address
ing me, "I hope you will think of your
uncle. Stay; I had almost forgotten
to give you this," and taking a letter
from his pocket he tossed it to me;
but I was too dazed to catch it, and it
fell on the carpet. Then, waving his
hand in token of farewell, he hastily
quitted the room and was gone.
I looked at my father. He was sit
ting on a low seat, his elbows resting
on his knees, and his head buried
in his hands. I spoke to him
I forget what it was that I said but he
took no notice of me, when through
the open window I saw uncle Sam
passing out of our gate. As soon as
he was off our premises he stood still
and looked intently at Holdenhurst
Hall for a little while, then turned ab
ruptly and walked at a great rate
down the road which led towards
Bury St. Edmund's.
This spectacle, in itself pathetic, and
symbolizing as it did, the collapse of
my fervent hope, enraged me. Being
weak from loss of blood and other
consequences of my recent accident,
I think my reason must have suc
cumbed beneath my accumulated load
of disappointment find anxieties, for
in a sudden burs& ef artificial strength
I rushed at my father, laid my hands
upon his shoulders, and forced him
into an upright position, while I
screamed out
"It is false! It is false! I will go to
my uncle and beg him to pardon you."
My father started to his feet, and
grasping me by the wrists, held me at
arms' length. "I would to Heaven it
were false," he exclaimed, "but it is
true too true. Shall I show you the
proofs?"
"You cannot," I shouted; "you have
no proofs."
Then for the first and last time In
his life did my father burst out in
anger against me. "Is everybody in
conspiracy tTnadden meihei asked
excitedly. "I tell you, your uncle has
stolen those sequins, and that recent
ly. Still, I would not have: told him
so, or complained to anyone,- if he had
not sought to extort a contrary declar
ation from me. Do you think I would
denounce my own brother on doubtful
or slender evidence? If you can think
so badly of me, where then shall I
turn for sympathy in my trouble?
Must I publish what I would fain
conceal in order to induce you to be
lieve your own father? Look at that,"
and he took from his pocket a large
thin gold coin and placed It in my
hand; "that is one of the sequins you
went into the crypt to fetch one of
the two hundred and fifty thousand
sequins you ought to have found there.
Where the others are I don't know;
but what I do know is that your uncle
found means to convey them away
from here about a week ago. I will
tell you the details, if you want to
know them, when you come to your
senses and remember that I am your
father."
I sat down on a couch and burst into
an agony of tears. In a moment my
father was at my side, holding my
hands in his, and earnestly endeavor
ing to comfort me. Presently I grew
calmer and got up that unnatural and
piteous product of adverse circum
stances, a youth without hope.
The kindness of ruy Sther was such
as none but the parent of an only child
can understand. In endeavoring to al
leviate my distress he appeared to
forget his own. "This is a great mis
fortune," he said, "the greatest which
has befallen me since your dear mother
died; but we must try to forget it. I
care nothing for the loss of the money
I would it had been sunk in the ea
or that the Turks had had it but I
"aepiore my brother's conduct, more
especially as he has won your good
will, and I had hoped and believed that
good would come of it."
After a space my father resumed!
"When you feel disposed to hear the
story I will relate all the circum
stances of your uncle's recent" he
paused, as if unable to find the pre-
cise word he wanted "act. or Adams
shall, if he recovers sufficiently to do
so; he was an eye-witness of the the
act. But I have grave fears the old
man will diet and even Dr Thurlow
'admits such an event is not improba
.ble; he is an old man, and these trou
bles are more than he can bear It
pained him . keenly" to show what he
did against my brother, for he was
much attached to Sam as a boy, and
often inquired of him after he had gone
away to America."
"I don't want to know any more
about it now, and perhaps I never
shall," I replied, as I rose from the
couch, picked up my letter, and read
it. It was from Constance Marsh and
ran as follows:
No. , De Vere Gardens,
Kensington; W., April 22, 18.
Dear Mr. Trueman: Many thanks
for your kind letter. Pray accept my
apology for having allowed it to re
main unanswered for two days; but
news of your having met with an ac
cident followed so closely upon your
departure that I have been in doubt
whether to write or not, for letters are
troublesome things to any onewno
is ill. I am so glad to learn from your
lather's telegrams that your accident
was only slight, and shnll be pleased
to pee you back in London again for,
of course, you will return with your
uncle,
'Jo Jfei cootinufiO,
Girls dressed in. gaudy red, black and
white uniforms are selling butter and
cheese in the streets of Berlin for a
new company . ..
The babobao trees Of Senegambia are
believed to be the. oldest living trees
on earth. Some scientists have put the
age of one of these trees at 6000 years.
The oldest love , letter in the world
is in the British Museum. It is a pro
posalof marrVage .foir .the hand of an
Egyptian Princessjpa-fld it was made
3500 years ago.It is in the form of an
inscribed brick.
Leather shoes are -seldom worn in
Algeria by the natives of Arabian
descent. Their footwear consists of
pieces of camel's hide bound around
the feet with thongs, or of sandals
made of braided twine.
"Falsehood, thy name is woman," is
tattooed on the arm of a convict who
has just escaped from the ru'ison in
Graz. The police have advertised a
description of him, of which the above
tattoo mark is the most salient fea
ture. A yard of rain to be precise. C0.32
inches is the recorded downfall of tut
last year in London. It has been an
exceptionally wet year even for thc
British Isles. The record is five iuc-lu-s
above the highest previous total, that
of 1879. . jtmsiMAHtiZk
A motherless pig has been adopted
by a hen belonging t- Mrs. Henry Lan
ders, of Mantua, N. J. The hen had
been sitting on a nest of eggs, but
these she kicked out of the nest when
she took charge of the little pig, which
lies contentedly under the .ven"s wing.
The carcass of an elephaut in the
Ghent Zoological Gardens, whicti -had
to be killed, was bought by a local
pork butcher, who transformed it into
Frankfort sausages. He was able to
manufacture no fewer than
3SO0
pounds of sausages, which sold like bot
cakes.
An English watchmakev has just fin.
ished making a tiny watch in the form
of a shirt stud. Its dial is two-sixteenth
of an inch- in diameter and it
is to be worn with two other studs.
By turning the upper stud the watch
is wound, while b turning the lower
one the hands are adjusted.
The Chequers Inn, at Slapstones,
near Osmotherly, must' be unique
among English inns in one respect. II
boasts of a fire which for more than a
century has never been allowed to gc
out. The place is a quaint little build
ing, to which many visitors resort on
account of its never extinguished fire
and the turf cakes baked upon its
hearth. It has been in the occupation
of one family for more than a hundred
years.
AMERICANS MONEY MANIACS;
So Say Europeans They Like to Se Con
servative on tbe Continent.
It is the theory of Europe that Ainer
ican conservatism draws a money line
beyond which it will not go. When
any man of Europe, according to the
Illustrated Sporting News, has a pro
posal of business too big for the Euro
pean mouth wearing its self-imposed
half-muzzle of conservatism that pro-
Lmoter and his proposal head foi
America.
Mankind does not change; its meth
ods change, the trade has still its Kidds
and Blackbeards. Present commerce
has its pirates and its piracies; only
the buccaneers of now do not launch
ships but stock companies, while Wall
and Broad streets are their Spanish
main. They do not, like Francis
Drake, lay off and on at the isthmus
to stop pirate' ships; they seek their
galleons in the Stock Exchange.
It was common for money-making
has its romances and the adventur
ous uncertainty of the thing, the push
ing into the unknown, which formed
the lure. Have you ever considered
that nine of ten among those who went
with De Soto and Balboa and Coronado
and Cortez and Pizarro, if asked by
some quiet neighbor, would have re
fused him the loan of one hundred
dollars unless secured by five-fold the
value? And yet the last man jack
would peril life and fortune blindly
in a voyage to worlds unknown, for
profits guessed at, against dangers
neither to be counted nor foreseen.
There are men reckoned shrewd in
business whose business can be over
come by ciphers. It is as though they
were wise up to seven figures. Mr.
Harley was of these; he had his boun
daries. His instincts were solvent,
his policies sound, his suspicions full
of life and courage, so that you went
no higher than nine millions. Bur
dened beyond that, his imagination
would break down; and since. his in
stincts, his policies and his suspicions
rested Wholly upon his Imagination,
when the latter fell the others must of
need go with It. There is a depth to
money just as there is to a lake; when
you led Mr. Harley in beyond the nine
million dollar mark he began to drown.
. For South Africa. .
The mine owners of South Africa
are entering into contracts with
Chinese laborers to work in the mines
of that country. Ships are already at
Hong-Kong to convey these laborers to
the field of operations. The contracts
are guaranteed by tbe Britisij author
ities, and m for tbree yean.
Humo
of
i
Repartee.
iiie intrepid De Soto,
When the Indians said what they'd do to
Him and his pack
If they didn't turn back,
Told those savages where they could go to,
Town Topics. ..
. A New Team to Him.
"I notice that the Turner decision
shut the Anarchists out."
"The Anarchists? Never even heard
of the team!" New Orleaaa limes
Democrat. "
Limited.
Heurique "I understand you gratify
your wife's slightest wish.".
. Ottinger "Yes; it is only her more
expensive wishes that I do not grati
fy." Judge.
All Serene.
"Has Jones an assured reputation
as an author?"
"Absolutely. Why, he says he can
now turn out poor work all the rest of
his life." Life
The T.ine f Least Resistance.
Barber (to absent-minded old gentle
man, who has called for a shave)
"Can't shave yer, sir, unless yer 'old
yer head up."
Old Gentleman "Nev'r min', makf
it a hair cut." London Tatler.
A Sprinter.
"Here's an explorer
stewed boa constrictor
claims that
is equal to
calf."
"I'll bet a live boa constrictor
wouldn't be equal to two calves if I
saw it coming." Houston Post.
Self-Conscioas.
Miss Borde "Oh, horrors! here com
Miss Tawker. She's been abroad this
spring."
Miss Sharpe "Yes, any one could tell
that. She's got a broad grin on her
face." Philadelphia Public "Ledger.
Practical Demonstration.
"Oh, how could you!" exclaimed the
fair maid who had been kissed un
expectedly. - "It will afford me pleasure to show
you," calmly replied the audaciou
young man. Indianapolis Sentinel.
The Reaion Why.
"Are you going to the seashore this
summer?"
"No; mamma thinks we can spend
more money here in New York." New
York American.
Still Others.
"Ah," said the fair widow, "you have
been in some pretty tight squeezes,
haven't you, Colonel?"
"Yes," answered the old warrior, put
ting his arm around her waist, "and
I'm net the only one." Indianapolis
Sun. t t "
Time Was Too Short.
"So," snobbed Illma Vaselineovitch,
"Ivan Ninespotski died in battle! Do
you say he uttered my name as he
was dying?"
"Part of it," replied the returned
soldier; "part of it." Fort Worth
Record. I -
Not to Bo Fooled.
Mrs. Subbubs "I told Bridget to
string the beans this morning."
Mr. Subbubs "Yes. Well?"
Mrs. Subbubs "Well, she flared up
and told me I couldn't string her; that
we'd eat them loose or not at all."
Philadelphia Press.
Truthful.
"Didn't you say you had all the com
forts of a home?" asked the indignant
guest.
"Well," answered Farmer Corntossel,
"after you folks are gone we do have
'em. That's what we take boarders
for." Washingtonv Star.
Too Changeable.
"Here, young "man," said the old
lady," with fire in her eye, "I've brung
back this thermometer ye sold me."
"What's the matter with it?" de
manded the clerk.
"It ain't reliable. One time ye look
at it it says one thing, and the next
time it says another thing." Phila
delphia Ledger.
Upa and Downs.
Lady (who is on a visit to her native
town) "How is Mrs. Grabb? I haven't
seen her in a long time."
Hostess "She is having her usual
ups and downs."
Lady Visitor "And what may they
te, I pray?"
Hostess "Oh, running up bills and
running down her neighbors." Town
a nd Country.
A Philosopher.
Kloseman "7 etter be economical
while you're on your vacation."
Spenders "Not much. It's too
hard."
Kloseman- ' It is, eh? Well, if you
don't live economically then you'll
have to afterward."
Spi-nd'-rs "Yes, iut it Isn't so hard
to be economical when you bare to,"-?
PhUaaelpfcia Public &0f8r ... .. ' .
sit
Hickory Nut Macaroons.
One pound of powdered sugar, one
pound of chopped hickory 'nuts,-the
whites of five unbeaten eggs, half a
cup of flour, one teaspoonful of bak
ing powder. Drop on buttered paper
And dry in the oven. " These are dell'
clous. , '
us
Cream Rarebit. ,
Melt a tablespoonful of butter, to
which add one-half pound of cheese
cut fine, one-saltspoonful of salt, and
one-fourth as much pepper. When the
whole has become creamy, add. graft
ually one cup of cream and the beaten
yolks of two eggs. Serve on- toast or
light crackers.
I .iijt-..i
-
Plain Layer Cake. :
Cream a cup of butter, with two of
powdered sugar and when light beat
in the yolks of four eggs, a small cup
of water and three cups of prepared
flour or enough to make a good bat
ter. Lastly fold in the stiffened whites
of three eggs, reserving the extra
whites for the filling. Bake in
greased layer tins in a steady oven.
Egg-Plan t.
Peel and slice " egg-plant and leave
It in cold water for an hourv At the
end of that time take it out, wipe it
dry, lay it on a flat dish and pour over
it five tablespoonfuls of olive oil and
two of vinegar. Leave it in this for
fifteen minutes. Remove the egg-plant,
sprinkle with salt and pepper, and
broil it on a gridiron before a ciear fire
or in the broiler of a gas stove. f Cook
five minutes on one side, turn and cook
on the other side. .
Queen Pudding:. ' ' ; '
One pint of nice, fine bread crumbs,
one quart of milk, one cup sugar, yolks
of eggs, beaten, the grated rind of a
lemon, a piece of butter the size of an
egg. Bake until done. Whip the white
of the eggs stiff, beat in. a teaspoonful
of sugar, which has been strained, the
juice of a lemon. Spread over the
pudding a layer. of jelly. Pour the
whites of the eggs over this, replace
in the oven. Bake lightly. 'To be
eaten cold with cream, if preferred. -
Vanilla Souffles.
Heat one cupful of milk, rub two
level teaspoonfuls of cornstarch and
four level teaspoonfuls of flour In . a
little cold milk; pour into this the
scalding milk and - stir until it thick
ens; add beaten ;yolks of four- eggs
ftd a pinch of salt; remove from the
fire; beat the whites of the eggs stiff
and stir them carefully , into the hot
mixture; fill souffle cups , two-thirds
full; stand in a pan of hot water and
bake in a quick oven fifteen minutes.
Serve with a vanilla sauce.
Hints for- the;
nOUSEKEEPERi1
An easy way to keep enamel sauce-.
pans, pie dishes, tc, clean: Take a
small piece of ' emery cloth, damp It,
and rub all soiled ; parts; rinse well
first in soapy, then clean, water, when
they will be found quite spotless and
quite new. f
To clean slimv SDoneres mix togeth
er one tablespoonful of salt' and one
tablespoonful of common ' soda, with
enough boiling water to cover the
sponge. Place the sponge in the mix
ture and allow it to stand twenty -four
hours. Afterward wash the sponge
in warm water until quite clean
To test the purity of water take some
of the suspected water in a clean,
glass-stoppered bottle; add a - little
pure sugar; expose, having well stop-.
pered the bottle, to the light, in a warm
room. Should the water, even after a
week's exposure, become turbid, it is
dangerously impure for drinking; if
it remains clear, it is safe. ; r
Keep a string bag. ; It will be found
most useful in the kitchen. It should
be hung up in some special place, and
all pieces of string . that come tied
round parcels should be . put in it.
String is constantly required, and it
is far better to know exactly where to
find a piece than to bs obliged to
hunt about and waste time in search
ing for this necessity. s .
Table silver, such as knives, forks
and spoon3, can be made to retain its
new, unscratched look indefinitely by
being provided with little chamois
cases, in which they can be slipped
after being properly washed. These
cases are easily mr.de. , They take a
little time and trouble at first, but last
for years,' and their use becomes a hab
it. Canton or outing flannel may be
substituted for the chamois, if pre
ferred. '. -'; - ; 1 '' ! '
Make at least one raffia pillow just
to see what comfortable : rests they
are for piazza or summer cottage. Get
several colors (the reliable colors) and
weave . the pillow : in ; blocks of ; color
just as you ; used ; to , weaTe'j colored
papers when you were a , kindergart
ner, and ;leaye fringe at the edges "or
turn the ends of the raffia In,, making
it plain. Stuff the pillow with curled
hair and you will have a nic cool
pillow, sua a pwtto&t. '
RATES OF -ADVERTISING
One qntrev one insertion ,..,,, $1.00
One square, two insertions ' ' 1.60
One square, one month1 'i 2.50
, For Larger Advertise
ments Liberal Con
v tracts wil 1 be made.
i-t -A-,! h City Friends. ;,hj.
r Qj ,IONG f those, Interested in
J .Vjj road 'improvement,1 the
lAi farmrs!Sfs course-stand
first, j .The. character and
- SCOW t condition of. the roads are
of vital Interest to them every day in
theVear." The farmers; itutil recently,
have-been compelled to .'struggle, with
the road problem without much help
or, encouragement , from ; any ' other
class; Now;. however, some strong ele
ments of the city population are, rally
ing to their, support. Among these
may be named the manufacturers of
road building .machinery; the- makers
and users of bicycles and autompblles,
and the moneyed men of the cities who
have money invested in the country.
These people are ' entering Unto the
work for road improvement with even
more enthusiasm and zeal than the
farmers. ' t" ' '''
Just now the' farmers who' want
better roads are brought face to face
with a most important question. Will
he accept the assistance of these city
allies? Will he welcome the aid of
the machinery man, the capitalist, the
bicyclist and the automobilist? Or
will he treat them as schemers who
are trying to meddle with ' his af
fairs? ; . i i ...
The answer to these questions ought
to depend on what these city friends
of good roads are proposing to 'do. If
they propose to have the country roads
improved in order to. increase their
business, and enhance their pleasures,
wholly at the expense of the farmer,
then he should spurn the . proffered
alliance. If, on the contrary, they are
proposing, through State and National
taxation, to lift a large part : of the
burden off the farmer and place it
on the taxpayers of tbe cities', he ought
to bid them welcome, and extend the
gladhand.' ; I
This is a live question for the, farmer
to consider.; and answer.,' Already the
opponents of State and National aid
are at work trying "to sow seeds of
suspicion In the minds of the farmers,
and they will do their best to prevent
any co-operation between the country
aud city friends of good roads
As- a matte-Tof f act, State and Na
tional aid offer, the only hope of gen
eral, road improvement, and such aid
can never be secured if the city people
array themselves'-.' against it. Unless
the farmers are wholly blind to their
own interests, they will welcome aid
from any ' and every source, and will
make every effort to secure the pow
erful aid of k the State and Federal
Governments.
I'.V'i; ....
..'--' I
it. .
.. . i. Depends on the Farmers.
The candid and unprejudiced opinion
of a public man on a'question'concern
ing which he is well 'qualified to speak
is nearly always of interest. Such
an opinion concerning the prospect for
National Highway legislation was re
cently r ecured from a gentleman who
Is a close observer of men and events,
and who has spent many .years at the
National Capital. He said:
I 'have watched the growth of the
so-called "good roads movement" with
much interest,, and especially since
Colonel Brownlow introduced into Con
gress his bill providing that the Gov
ernment should pay half the expense
of improving the roads. As, regards
the prospect of such a measure ever
becoming a law, I will say that it all
depends on the farmers. If the agri
cultural classes go to work in earnest
for Government aid, they will get it;
if they do not, Congress will never en
act such a law. In Government af
fairs, as in most other affairs, I have
noticed that the people who go after
things are the people who get them.
The farmers as a class receive com
paratively little, serious consideration
from Congress simply because they,
don't demand it." Every Congress now
appropriates more than a billion dol-
lars,.-but how much of this is, spent in.
the rural districts? Almost, nothing.
Millions are spent for public buildings
in cities; millions for improvement of
rivers and harbors; millions for the,
army and navy; millions for. the Gov
ernment at Washington, etc. Occa
sionally a few thousand dollars go for
something that directly benefits the
farmers, but that is all. Of course
there isn't as much chance to give the
farmers direct benefits from the spend
ing of public money. ' But national aid
to road improvement furnishes an
ideal opportunity. It would even up
things to some extent. It would cer
tainly be a big thing for the rural dis
tricts. The t money spent would of
course make good times; but the main
benefit would come from the improve
ment of the roads. It would increase
the "value of faim lands; it would en
able the. farmers to. market their crops
to better advantage; it would make
farm life better worth living. In fact
it would be a great permanent bene
fit;.. , .. vi- -!M ? i
If any other class of our population
had such an opportunity to enjoy the
fostering care and aid of the Govern
ment, how they would work for it.
They would give their Senators and
Representatives no rest. But the far
mers as a class move inore deliberate
ly. .They r take; tune . to look into the
whys and wherefores, and to consider
all objections. So far. as I am able
to learn, the farmers are taking up this
question seriously and in .Jtime will
make their influence most poweriuny
felt.' I think 'Congress wil" be ready
to enact a national law wheriever-there
is a 'geuei-ai demand for it from tbt
tivnm of All $ecUocj, - ; ' . .