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HomeMy WebLinkAboutExeter Advocate, 1901-3-7, Page 213q6, by 1:). Apegive & de, All rights reserve4.3 1 fellowed her glance up at the heavens and out through the open Pont "(noxious!" I answered. "It seems as though I could be con- tent to have it go on forever," she said, with a sigh. "It is all so peaceful and .restful." "I can see how you feel so," I said, sighing a little in turn. "Yet pretty shortly you would tire of it and desire to be back in the stir and bustle of the world." "Ah," she said, with a sad shake of the head, "you forget how little I have to go back to, senor. Rather I begin in a new world. I do not desire it, and in all earnestness prefer this peace and content." "Which I arn glad to hear you say," said I, nay pulse taking the foolish freak to beat faster. "It is my own thought, to own the truth. Like you, I am satisfied to be here, and would be glad never to return to the world. There it must be the old strife and disappointment and the parting of friends!" • "And yet," she said, with a regret- ful lowering of the voice, "it is thus that it will happen. The voyage must end and our pleasant dreaia fade to naught." t "Dona Carmen," said I—the words seemed to come from my lips with a Xv latest gave a bound. leap, as it were, and almost of their own accord—"our dream_ must end like other dreams unless we make it a real- ity. I mean"—for one instant Ilialted end hung frightened over the abyss of nay own presumption—"I mean we may make the chiefest thing in the dream come true, for we can refuse to be separated—God help Me! I think 1 am mad! How dare I say this toyou? And yet it is true. I love you --love yOu with my whole heart and soul. And now it is out, and I think I shall pres- ently be the rniserablest man in the world!" The last atom of my courage left me, and I turned my face from her and stared through the open port. It seemed an age before she an- swered. With a mechanical sort of hearing I followed the low wash of the water along the sides of the ship, the straining' of the timbers and bulk- heads, ad the clicking of the gear in Ihe blocks. ff, At last her chair- moved, and to my amaze I felt the weight of her hand on my arm. I swelled in a great breath —coward it may be I was—and all a -tremble turned to her. She was ing grave and shining eyes on me. "Carlos," she began—oh, the sweet - nese of the Spanish tongue!—"is this indeed how it is with you? Holy Mother forgive me if I ani indiscreet, hut it is thus with me a,lso. 1 shall be the most wretched creature isa the world il I have to part frorn you!" I have east about for words where- with to explain what I felt on hearing this, but to no purpose. I am per- suaded there are no such, either he this or in any other language. Bat,in short, I could have cried out Withgapture and what I could not be restrained from doing was to seize the hand that lay on my arm and between agection and pure adoration bow over it and hold'it to my lips. She drew it away at last, perhaps fearing that some chance passer might see es, but flashed the sweetest smile back as a ransom for it., What I said next I cannot tell, for all was in a whirl vedth me, and I war- rant I was scarce intelligible. There were murmurs to and fro, and at last —I am not clear how—I recovered some measure of my eenses. "Well, 'dearest" seid with a sigh, "I suppose there are practical matter standing now tete settled. By what plan am 1 to make you mine, riow that havewon you? What will avail to re - 'nova the obstacles, including the chief one, which retest »e the opposition of yoar uncle? Not that he shall prevail against my love," I added, sternly. "Nay, not 40 uncles nor the world! So much is settled, please God!" She seemed to be a little frightened at my earnestness, and yet I could see that my desperateness of resolve pleased her. "Why, Carlos m o," she answered, with a charming frown of thought, "I am net clear as to the way. I fear that 1 41 n A, . 'though 1 love you--si;Carios, with all my heart—I would not, save in a thing of extremity, disobey him," "Bat you would not lethim part us?" I cried, trembling with fear and jeal- ous dread. "Motif with right and bettor it can be compassed otherwise," she ansevere.d, gently, "Nae-, clear heart, mitigate your fears, At least I will never con- sent to wed anyone but you, and I am sere that nay -uncle is eo such man as to compel me. That will give us time, and with time who can say what may not be clone. "Angel!" I cried, rapturously, and I was scarce able to keep back from snatching her into my arms. Per- haps the passing by of one of the sail- ors at the moment was the only thing that prevented me. "But Carlos, there is yet another way," she went on. "Say you should boldly seek- my uncle and askhim? You could do no more than fail." "But I should do that," I said, de- spondently. "fah, well, nevertheless I will try it; I will urge him. I will plead .rny cause. I will ask but for time to prove my worthiness and a mete place in the world. Content you. So he comes on deck I will have my an- swer this night." She beard me gravely and as one troubled with doubts, but yet of my mind. Indeed, this was but the put- ting into words of her own thought. "Content, then," she replied at last. "Ah," she added, turning her head and starting, "here he comes! Our Blessed Mother and every saint prosper pia!" She was up and moving across the deck- before I had my surprise well mastered. Traly enough, Mr. Elope was comiag toward us, h aging just stepped out of the companion. I confess that the boldness I had shown but a moment before won- derfully diminished now that the mo- ment of action was at hand. Carmen gone and Mr. Hope present was quite another thing from the reverse. Still, I had, of course, no thought of hesitating, and I summoned my reso- lution afresh and made toward him. "A fine night," he observed, not quite heartily, as I thought. I guessed that he was not overpleased at finding Dona Carmen and me together. It was the first time it had fallen out in just this way—that is, that we had dden by ourselves of „an evening. "It could not well be finer," I an- swered. By this time my courage had a bit revived. Ile came up to me, and with an air grave and sober I went on: "With your permission I have some- thing to say to you. Have you'leisure to give me a few minutes of your tim e ?" That was a business sort of propo- sition that at once changed his bear- ing. He answered, with urbanity that he was quite at my service, and led the 'way to the Part of the deck I had just quitted. Making a sign for me to take one of the chairs, he dropped into the other and planted his feet comforta- bly against the gang -port chain. "Proceed, if you please," he said, turning his head a bit so as to regard nndlOnbtedneas and straigh tf or wa r ness had at least slakets him, Ile finally answered, his voice at -least lowered from the first high pitch: `Tut, granting this, what then? At best your plan requires considerable time." "That I admit," I said, releettietly. "It could not well be compassed mailer a. few years." "And meanwhile my niece might lose a desirable match. Come, 1 would not be unreasonable. You seem a likely enough fellow, and all 1 have heard of you COEL1.111eaTc'N you, yet notwith- standing I cannot now concede what you wish. Go on and achieve the things you speak of, if you can, and then we will see what is to he' said. Further than this I Will not promise., indeed, I have gone beyond my first intent in yielding so much.- But it must be en. derstood that there is to be no more love-makine,.. I shall have ray eyes open—which it seems hitherto I have not or have been overpaseed—and all infringement I shall meet by strict measnres. WOW you haVe•my aTISIVQ1', Whieh r have meant should be to the point, as is my custom." He ended with a little more severity than be had begun, yet not harshly, sad seemad to await my answer, good (moth, I could not find much fault, He had not given me the sort of reply I could have wished, to be sure, and I did not go to the length of finding much encouragement in his generalities; yet, on the other hand, he had not flatly refused nae, and he had not treated my spit with con- tempt. I perceived that it stood me in hand to meet him in the pronant and frank fashion he seemed to look for, and hence I nodded in a satisfied way and answered: "I can ask nothing more. I ant aware ths.t the greatness of what 1 seek js beyond my deserts. Let it stand as it is, then. You do not posi- tively refuse me, and I have my own success to work out. I am beholden to you, sir, for your consideration." "Why, you are ,welcome," he an- swered, quite genially. "And, Master Ardick," he went on, as I rose and made to go, "I would 'say that I wish to standyour friend. I have very keen- ly in mind the obligation you have placed me under—you and your com- panions. I trust at no distant day to be able to repay some small share of the debt." "I thank you in turn," I said, re -thee coldly, "but in the present hospitality you repay all that I, at least, can ac. cept. I wish you good -night." ...and with a well-managed bit of lofs iness (albeit my heart was heavy) turned and stalked over to the com- panion. "Master Ardicki" he called after me, to my surprise. "Aye, sir," I responded, wheeling in- stantly, my pulse suddenly quiekened, "Mentioning your companions sug- gests another matter. Do you recall that I once asked you whence they hailed?" "I do," I answered, coneiderably dis- appointed. I had expected sometVig, to another purpose. , "And you said that Mr. Tyra and the captain were from Southaanpton and Mac Ivrach from Glasgow? I am ask- ing. merely to be sure I understood Again arkind of cold fit took nae. This alert naerehant way of his put inc out, and then I had a growing sense of wliat there was at stake. I hung in the wind an inetant, but in that time managed to confirm my resolu- tion offee More. "The business, sir," I began with a sort of desperate bluntnass, "concerns your niece. I presume some depreca- tion of my boldness may be in order. but yet I choose rather to come at once to the heart of the matter. In a word, 11ove her, and slie,has avowed she loves me. It lacks but your con- sent to wed her." I was not durprised that Mr. Hope's feet came down from the chain, and that he stiffened up and looked atme with a clouded countenance. I faced him steadrastly.- "This isa sort of business I vvas not expecting," he said, in a cold and yet well -mastered voice. "May 1 ask if you have considered all that goes with your proposition?" "As what, sir?" said I, apprehend- ing well enough what he meant, yet wishing to draw him out, "I had thought better of your un- derstanding," Inc said, speaking now with the 1-17arsliness he had concealed before. "What should I mean but the proof of your illness for the mateh? In a word, what fortune have you, and -what are your other (ill aliaeations that I should consider you?" "That," I said, neve'r flinching, "I can as yet return but an indifferent an- SWer to. I mean from what r con- ceive is year standpoint. My personal character, I may say, is all you can ask for. „Asfor fortune, I have none, andno better than fair prospects. I mean to follow the sea, at least, for a time, and trust by and by to come to the command of a ship, the which should not be sitc.h a poor attainment. My father was a sailor," I went on, "and rose to be a master and on/fled three parts' of his ship. I trust with so- briety and diligence to do as much." He puffed mit his lips, somewhat, in Mr. Tym's fashion, arid squared about to hie former posture. I thought ruy "You are a little astray "I answered, my silly irritation passing; "only the captain is from Southarapton. Mr. I Tyne though he has of late lived in London—that -is, when nat at sea— was born and reared in some town ip Sussesd" "Is it so?" Inc said, with a little surk. prise. "Then I misapprehended you. That alters the case. I must see Mr. Tyne I will explain to you that the business concerns the letter that °apt, Selliager brought. This letter was from a dear friend of mine,'IlOW dead, and, is of very much importance. It was Written in New York, where mg friend lived, and came to me in the strange and roundabout way you know of. Among other things, I must now get upon the track of a certain family of Sussex. If you are about to go below, Will you not, ask Mr. Tym to step up hither?" - "Certainly," I answered, and with a slight distraction from my own mat- ters rfor the moment, I wished him good night and left the 'de.cle. CHAPTER XXIII. OF THE DETERMINATION OF THE WHOLE MATTER. But once dived down into the, quiet (none of the passengers were in sight), the concern and trouble of the 61d matter returned. Th.e prospect came back, dubious a,nclakeeer I ain, and the pride which had sus aided me so well till now incontinently left, sae. I made forward with heavy feet, and only pulled myself together at the door of the berth, where I took thought that Mr. Tym might notice me. I entered and forand him up and already about to go on deck, and de- livered Mr, Hope's message. He re- plied: "7ery well," and after finding that I Was not for going back, passed out, and I heard him ascend the brass - shod stairs. I might now momentarily see my love, which I was bound to do, and tell her how matters had, gone, and, be- sides—well, 1 hoped for a fleeting em- brace. Most likely it would be onr first and last. 'I slipped out into the -main cabin, accordingly, running my eye about under the dim, grease -smelling lamps, but again finding the place empty, and stole, along to the SeD0ritit'S d001'. At my first light knock' she opened idd She was habitecl as she left the cleelt, even to the mantilla. Her face was pale, and her eyes seemed big and bright, showing the strain of her anxiety. "Ile not absolutely ref used *se," I hastily whispltn,eeald,c7 little of me, yet he has To bo Continued, _ EXTRA EARLY POTATOES. Iillethodm of_ SecuOng Therra–Sprotri. floe en 'frays. Seed One of the most important factors having an influence on the profitable. nese of market garden crops is that of earliness. A difference of two or three days or a week in placing a crop op the market often makes the difference between profit nni loss, and the prices obtained for extra early crops have stimulated cultural experiments with every kind of fruit and vegetables. At the Kanses station seed tubers of four different varieties of medium sized potatoes were placed in shallow be:ace, with the seed ends up, in February. (The seed ends are those which are crowded with eyes.) They were pack- ed in sand, leaving the upper fourth of the tubers exposed, and the boxes TRAYS AND RACK FOR SPROUTING. were placed in a room with rather sub- dued ligbt, having a temperature of 50 degrees to 60 degrees F. Vigorous sprouts soon pushed from the exposed eyes. The whole potatoes were plant- ed in furrows in March in the same po- sition they occupied in the boxes. The same varieties of potatoes taken from ' a storage cellar were planted in paral- lel rows. Tiled sand sprouted potatoes took the lead from the start in vigor and strength of top and produced po- tatoes the lst of June, a week earlier than the storage cellar potatoes. At the final digging they, showed better potatoes and gave a 16 per cent larger total yield. - In. another experiment , part of the potatoes was treated the same as in the first test except that the sand was kept moistened, and the other part was placed in open boxes and kept in a light room having a temperature of 50 degrees F. The tubers placed in sand developed strong sprout, and nearly all rooted. When planted in the field, they outstripped both the tubers sprout- ed in open boxes and the storage cellar tubers hi vigor of growth. The tubers started in the orien boxes gave earlier yields than were obtained from the storage cellar tubers, but not as early as the tubers sprouted in moist sand. The tubers sprouted in moist sand pro- ; duced table potatoes from seven to ten days earlier than the storage cellar seed. At the Rhode Island station medium sized whole potatoes sprouted on racks in a fairly warm and light room gave a 27 per cent better yield at the first dig- ging than potatoes kept in a cold cellar until planting time, and this was in- creased to 40 per cent at the final dig- ging. The percentage of large tubers was also greater at each digging with the sprouted tubers. At the Rhode Island station the rack used held nine trays. Each tray was 334 feet long and 11/e ,feet wide and would hold about one bushel of pota- toes when spread out in a single layer fon sprouting. The bottoms of the trays were,made of pieces of lath plac- ed about one inch apart. Nine trays were placed in a rack over each -other, -leaving about nine inches of space be- tween each tray. This method of ar- rangement has the advantage of secuid ing a very uniform distribution of light, heat and air for all the trays. It great- ly facilitates the handling of the pota- toes and lessens the danger of break - Ing off the sprouts when transferring to the field for planting. Another Method of securing early pre tatoeg in Rhode Island on a corcimen; cial scale is that of sprouting tubers in a cold frame and planting out as soon. As danger of frost is passed. The tu- bers are cut ,into pieces not entailer than an English walnut, after rejecting the two or three eyes nearest the stem end which have been found to start late. The eyes are placed side by side in the bed, skin side upward, and cov- ered about four Inches deep with fine, rich ,earth. Their growth ,can be con- trolled by proper regulation of the cold frame sash. At planting time the tu- bers, which should be just breaking the surface of the soil, are carefully lifted with manure foeks, separated by hand and placed in well fertilized rows and entirely covered with, soil, or, it A NEW CENTURY FARMER, Points of the Venulne Agriculturist of the Future. the twentieth century farmer! Wlio is he? How does lie differ from his predecessor, the farmer of the old, old ulneteenth century? Sometimes men stand still, are Content to let the crowd surge past thena, satisfied if they aim - ply hold their own. This ie not the, new century fernier. The true, up to date farmer who enters upou the first year of the greatest era which has e -ver dawned on America will be progressive, No 'standing idly by for liim. The crowd may sweep onward, but he will be in its very front ranks. The new century farmer will be a studious man, The cry that education iSnot for the farmer will fall on deaf ears so far as he is concerned. He will read the best papers and books he can find bearing on his business; but not content with that, he will work hard to get all the knowledge he can of all oth- er subjects. He will answer the man who decries education for the farmer by saying: "Nothing is too good for the farmer. If it is a good thing for any ode to possess an education, it is for the farmer." The new century farmer will be fair with his wife and his children. While the 'husband has commanded good places in the social and political world, his wife has been almost an unknown quantity. The farmer's butter and eheeSe have sold well, and little thought has been given to the fact that It has been the farmer's wife who made that butter and cheese and who _really enabled him to sell It for the highest market price. That sort of thing is swiftly passing away. The farther's wife is coming to take her true place in the world. And the boys and girls are no longer considered as nonentities, but have the rights and privileges accorded them 'of being a part of the great farm world. The twentieth centurY farmer will be just as fair with his stock as he will with his hired man. He will acknowl- edge the -fact that his cows, horses and sheep- are his capital. He cannot deal carelessly with it and expect to suc- ceed any more than the merchant can squander his sarplus of dollars and cents and expect to win. His barns will be warm, comfortable and stored with all that will enable his stock to do their best for him. The farmer of the new century will have all the tools necessary to do his work promptly and in the best possible manner. He will see that the loss of a few days from the season as it pass- es by May mean success or failure. He will be 'on tinae everywhere. The new century farmer will house his tools properly—no n3ore leaving plows, harrows, wagons and costly ma- chinery in the fenpe corners all winter. Every farm implement will be under cover. He will recognize in rust and weather his roost inveterate enemies when not duly deferred to. Hewill keep his farm buildings all carefully painted, every board and shingle will be in place, his fences will be in repair, his stock will be pasturing upon his own fields, not robbing his neighbors. Our new farmer will keep an account ; so that he can at any time tell just IlOW he stands in the world. At the end of the year,- if there bas been any , loss, be will know just what caused t. And he will profit thereby. Perhaps in I no respect will the Dew century farmer , show his advancement more plainly than just here. Then, too, he will not , run a debt at the store. Filially, the new century farmer will be a better citizen than any who have preceded him. He will dress better and appear better in society than did his old century forefathers. And these are the points by which a writer in Farm and 'Fireside would Identify the farmer of the twentieth century. A Satisfactory Sap Boiler. The device for boiline,* maple sug- ar consists of coils of one euch pipe, bent or cut and connected With L's to set top of the arch under the sap pan, as shown. Dotted lines TRAY PARTIALLY FILLED WITII POTATOES. danger of frost is past, they are placee with the apex of the sprout just at the surface of the sod. About 216 square feet of cold frame is required to sprout sufficient potatoes to plant an acre in 30 to 32 inch rows, 12 inches apart. The position of the boxes is changed from time to time, so that the sprouts will be of equal length and strength at the' planting season. A typical sprout averages about one-half an tech In length. Alediuna sized tubers selected from the best of the crop and allowed to lie in the field in the fall until they become greenisb are used.—C. B. Smitli, Experiment Station Work. ECONOMICAL DEVICE FOR SAP ROILING. AA AA show where It may be bent, B union to connect with feeder,' C throttle to regulate feecl, D delivery pipe, cap be turned down, as shown by dotted lines, to allow the pan fo be drawn off. I find this device a great saving of fuel. The sap running the whole length of pipe comes out boiling, hot, froth- ing and sputtering like a scolding WO :man, but do not be alarmed at the noise it makes, for it will do no harm if you keep sufficient sap running in so lt will not all evaporate in the pipe and consequently burn, Try it and you will be more than pleased. says a COV- resPoudent in Rural New Yorker. Agricultural Brevities. The Rhode Island station has for two ar three years past given a very at- tractive course of special instruction in poultry culture, It extends over six weeks in ;January. and Feialmary and seems to be of particular interest to wide Awake and ambitious young poul- try men and women, for the latter are numbered among tbe students. The Rural New Yorker is a "boxer." NVe make 'no secret of onr plan to put an the gloves and make a hard tight for the box as an apple package, The barrel Is satisfactory for a good slum of the trade, but the pent box well packed with high grade Apples will find favor with thousands of city peo- ple. atse iieereAiA Ile Got, A Russian geutleman tells a tunny, story of his neat encounter with the, ihaglish language. The day after his arrival in London, he made a call on a friend in Par1. lane, and on leaving the premises ifee Scribed in his notebook what he sup-, posed to be tbe correct address. The next day, desiring to go to the same place again, he called a eaboaan, and pointed to the address, that he had, written down. The cabrann looked' him over, laughed, cracked the whip,. and drove away witheut him. This experience, being repeated with, two or three other cabmen, the Rus- sian turned indignantly to the police, witb no better results. One officer would laugh, another would tap hike bead and make a motto, imitating the revolution of a wheel. ' Finally the poor foreigner gave it up, and, with a great deal of difficulty, recalling the landmarks which he had observed the day before, found his Way to his friend's house. Once there, and in company with one who could under- stand him, he delivered himself of a hot condemnation of the cabmen and tile police of London for their imperti- nence and discourtesy. His friend asked for a look at the, mirth provoking 'address, and the mystery was solved. This was the entry:, "Ring the bell." Tbe Russian bad with great care copied, character for character, the legend of the gatepost, supposing that it indicated the house and street.-- Pearson's. Mustn't "Own," Their Engines, \ The railroad engineer who "owns" his engine is not in favor with his su- periors. Complaints about trivial mat; ters are likely to be made against him,' and soon he finds himself without a berth. The phrase "owning an engine's does not mean that the engineer has acquired title to his iron horse. The expression is used of a man who has been with a certain engine se long that he becomes a part of it. He knows its every peculiarity, he feels its every,' protest against a heavy load, and he nurses it and coddles it as if it were his child. He dislikes to run the en- gine at ton speed for fear something will happen to it, and in consequence his train is frequently behind time. He takes a grade at half the rate he should,1 and he runs cautiously down hill.' In a word, he "owns" his engine. Of course this is all very nice and idyllic, and it is the kind of thing a person likes togread about in stories of the railroad. But plain, practical rail- road men look at it differently. They argue that the best engineer is the man who never fails to run his train accord - lug to bis running time, the man who Is never behind and seldom ahead. So It comes about that the engineer who makes a master of that which should' be his servant wonders who has Et grudge against him. But it isn't a grudge; it's business. The Cost of tt Duke. A correspondent of London M. A. le, tells a story of the Duchess of Mont- rose, whose beanty is no less renowned than her philanthropy. The scene was a bazaar where the duchess was selling photographs. One old Scotchwomani was very anxious to secure a photo- graph of the duchess, but the price ask- ed was 5 shillings. The old woman hesitated. She wanted the photograph, but she could not well afford so much. "You Call have my husband," said " the duchess, with an amused glance al the duke standing near, "for 2s. 00." The would be purchaser looked at the duke and then at his photograph con- temptuously. "Half a crown!" she blurted out. "1 wouldna give a silver saxpence for him. But," she added insinuatingly, "I am right willing to give hauf a croon for your bonnie ser." The duchess was unable to resist this, and herself added the other hall crown to the bazaar coffers, or, as an- other version of the story goes the de spised duke.proffered the balance. The Lost Repeater. When roensieur--the ,first nionsienk at the court of Louis XIV--discoverei at his levee that his watch had beet stolen, presumably by 'one of bis valets he finished dressing hastily and, ad dressing them all, said: 'Gentlemen the .watch strikes. Let us separate al quickly as we cau." What a tact an finish were here! The spirit of monsieur was admire lily caught by the French gentlemai of the time, WhO, attacked by robber: at 5' o'clock irk the afternoon, simpl3 observed, "Sirs, you have opened ver3 early toclay."—Corn Caution.. "That confounded life insurance cote , pany refused my application for 'a pol icy," said Hunker. "Why, ldshould think you were a fint risk," replied Spatts. "What mad( them refuse your epplication?" "Well, they found out 'in some wee that I am in the habit of eating mueb rooms that I gather tnyeelf."" emtly a Slight Dltrerence. "1 hear your son is achieving gres success In his stage career." "Yea," replied the architect. "I should have thought he wouli have entered your profession." "Well, it amounts to tbe same thing We both make mono-) by drawing goo( /iousee." Careful inquiries made irk Polynesia; islands, In New Guinea and west Afti ea Indicate that typhoid fever does no occur in those regions, but seems to b( V byproduct of civilization. A twentieth of Scotland's area Is te est iand, seven-tentlas Is mountain heath, and lake and only one -quarte cultivated land.