Part 9

No wonder the South is prosperous! And an indubitable proof of its prosperity lies in its increase in the assessed valuation of its property. This increase since 1900 amounts to $1,000,000,000 for the fourteen states of the South. This is partly due to raised assessments, partly to increased prices for its products, but mainly to an increase of customary products and to new products. The increase in the wealth of the South, however, has been steady for the last twenty years, and in that time has aggregated more than $2,300,000,000.

What now is the magic spell which has wrought this abundant prosperity, the sesame by the pronouncing of which is opened the secret hiding place of Southern wealth? _Diversification_ is the word—diversification of crops and diversification of manufacturing and diversification of all industries. Cotton, though a puissant monarch, seated upon a throne, from which for reasons of perfect adaptability of soil and climate he can never be deposed, is not the only king who conducts a beneficent sway for the complex needs of an enterprising people.

The forest king rears his august head and stretches out his hands cornucopia-like from the Potomac to the Rio Grande and from the Gulf to the Ohio, inviting capital and effort to his virgin domains, which, if properly protected, will in the future be a source of perpetual and inestimable wealth; and which even now furnish to the South approximately $400,000,000 per annum.

Phosphate is another king whose sway within his narrow domain is as absolute as is that of cotton. The United States furnishes more than half the phosphate rock of the world, and of this the South supplies all but an inconsiderable quantity. This product, of vast consequences to the agriculture of this section, is a comparatively recent discovery. The active development of phosphate mining commenced in South Carolina in 1868; it was greatly stimulated by the discovery of large deposits in Florida in 1888, and has been attaining greater and ever greater proportions since the exploitation of the immense bodies of rich rock in Middle Tennessee.

And of like importance to cotton and phosphate is that modern industrial triumvirate, coal, iron ore and limestone. These essential elements in the production of pig iron are found in close juxtaposition in thousands of localities from Birmingham, Ala., to West Virginia. In the latter named state are twenty thousand square miles of coal; in Tennessee five thousand; in Alabama still more, besides the smaller fields of Virginia, North Carolina, Georgia and Texas.

A few years ago Henry Watterson was criticised as visionary for his assertion that pig iron, which was then selling at Pittsburg at $20 to $25 per ton, could be profitably produced in the South at $10 per ton. Yet it has been sold on the market at Birmingham and other points at $7 per ton. This is rendered possible by the fact that two tons of iron ore, two tons of coal and one ton of limestone can be bought in the ground for an average of twenty cents a ton, or $1.00 for the whole. And the consequence is that Southern iron is offered in the English markets and on the Continent of Europe in competition with the whole world.

Besides the elements of wealth of prime importance, which have heretofore been mentioned, there are many others, the aggregate of which contributes materially to the riches of the South, such as cotton-seed, tobacco, rice, leather, fruits, vegetables, cattle, wool, fine horses and other live stock. But when all is said it is manufacturing which produces most wealth; it is manufacturing which the South most needs, and it is manufacturing which offers in the South a most attractive avenue for investment. Textiles should accompany and follow the production of cotton and wool. Steel should be made from pig iron and machinery from both. Fertilizers should be manufactured in close proximity to the phosphate rock; and furniture and fine finishing in contiguity to the forests.

In all these directions the South has done and is doing much. Twenty-five years ago Judge Kelley of Pennsylvania, “Pig Iron” Kelley, predicted the coming power of the South in industrial pursuits, and said, “The development of the South means the enrichment of the nation.” What though a cotton mill remove from New England to that region of the South which produces the staple; what though a furniture factory from Michigan seek the incomparable forests of the South, or a boot and shoe factory from any other section depart to the localities abounding in hides and tanning bark; their places will be taken by other industries, conducted by other men with new capital.

And the South has another source of wealth which has hitherto been unsuspected, one which means additional annual income by the hundreds of millions of dollars; one which represents a new industry in the economy of the world, and a new source of supply for an ever-increasing demand. It is the _production of sugar from the stalk of the common maize or Indian corn_. The inherent interest in such a surprising announcement and the far-reaching effects of the industry primarily upon the fortunes and the commerce of the South and secondarily upon those of the world, warrant, if they do not demand, a brief account of a discovery which means a new departure in several different directions:

Several years ago Prof. F. L. Stewart, the eminent scientist of Murrysville, Pa., discovered that, if the immature ears of corn be removed at nearly the roasting ear period, a physiological change then takes place in the plant. Its life is greatly prolonged and the vigor which was previously expended toward the maturing of the grain is thereafter directed toward the production of sugar, as certainly, as uniformly, and to as great an extent as is the case of the ripening sugar cane. As a consequence from twelve to fifteen per cent of sugar is then contained in the stalk, instead of the five or six per cent which it ordinarily possesses; and the yield is from 140 to 200 pounds of sugar to the ton, while each acre will produce from twelve to seventeen tons of trimmed stalks. And the cost of the production of sugar by the Stewart processes is only one and a half cents per pound, as against two and one-fourth cents from sugar cane and three cents from sugar beets.

And this is not all; the by-products are as valuable as the sugar. These are paper pulp, cellulose, fine charcoal, stock feed and preparations of value in the arts and sciences.

Here is food for thought indeed! How its application to the South enlarges, for it is the South which is destined to be the main beneficiary of this astounding discovery. Sugar cane cannot be grown successfully farther north than thirty degrees of latitude; the sugar beet cannot be grown successfully farther south than forty degrees of latitude. This leaves a broad strip of ten degrees of latitude, mainly in the South, in which sugar from cornstalks can be and will be produced in enormous quantities. The North cannot share in the profits of this industry, because its season is too short for the maturing of the sugar in the juice.

The effect of this industry will be a revolution in the raising of corn in the Southern states.

And what of the future of the South in its dealings with the countries of Central America and of South America? But a few miles of railroad are now needed to unite the two American continents, and but a few miles of canal will cleave them in twain—union and disunion in commercial harmony. Then will the South come into its own in the advantages of foreign commerce which will not be restricted to its trade with the western hemisphere. The Eastern and the Southern nations need everything that we produce. We need nearly everything that they produce, and in the ensuing reciprocity of the new order of things many indirections of the present laws of commerce shall be straightened.

And yet—shall it be said?—there are those who fear that, in the hurrying strife for wealth, the sterling qualities which characterized the old regime may become atrophied, if not entirely lost. Such fears are futile and unfounded. The present generation is not so immersed in its progress that it is unmindful of the patriotism and example of its forbears; it knows that the hope of the nation in former times rested in the South; that its leaders were the bearers of the ark of the covenant and the puissant directors of the policies of an entire country; to them and to their history, biography and traditions do the present leaders turn for inspiration toward the best achievement. And while industrial conditions have changed, the South needs her sons to-day as much as when she summoned them to the forum to maintain her political supremacy and when she called them to the field to maintain her honor. And they will never fail her.

SOCIETY OF THE FOREST. (A STORY FOR CHILDREN.)

By M. W. Connolly.

AT MRS. FROG’S HOUSE.

On the bank of a clear lake that lay near the edge of a great forest lived a family in a house all its own. This family consisted of Mr. Frog and Mrs. Frog and a number of Baby Frogs. They lived very happily. The books say that frogs are tadpoles at first, and the books are right; but this is another family of frogs, as you shall see.

In the rear of their house stretched a marsh in the shallow waters of which grew reeds, rushes, willows and water lilies. Here and there a bulging gnarled and knotty cypress knee raised its head above the water. Here and there rotted an old log, moss-covered and sodden. Here and there lay a block of wood left behind by the hewers, a tuft of grass or a mound of earth.

Mr. Frog and Mrs. Frog and all the Baby Frogs visited this marsh every night. They were fond of music and they gave nightly concerts. When the sun slipped down behind the distant pines and tamarisks, and when the stars came out to glisten in the heavens, the entire family left their home and sought the marsh.

Mr. Frog always swam out to a cypress knee that rose a few inches above the water. It was broad and flat and he seemed to like to lie on it.

Mrs. Frog used to sit on a log near by and all the Baby Frogs crowded around her and tried to cuddle up to her. There was not room for all, but the tiniest Baby Frog used to hop up on her back and lie there until it was time to go home.

One of the Baby Frogs never mingled with the rest but hid himself away in a tuft of grass. They said he was “odd.” Why he preferred the grass I cannot say. He was morose and taciturn and probably wanted to be by himself.

On dark nights the concert did not begin early. Mr. and Mrs. Frog and all the Baby Frogs remained quiet and watched Will-o’-the-Wisp flash his lamp about; or they listened to the cry of the witch-dog far out in the marsh.

But my story deals with the moonlight nights, and on moonlight nights the singing began early and lasted until midnight. Some people will tell you that frogs sing all night and they sometimes do; but only sometimes. These same people tell you that frogs croak, but I say they sing and you can understand and enjoy their music quite as much as some of the grand operas.

Mr. Frog usually began. He had a deep bass voice of which he was very proud and when he flung out a rich tremolo, every one else hushed. You could hear him ever so far up the lakeside, and Mr. Peckerwood said he heard him on the other side of the lake.

Mrs. Frog once had a well-trained contralto voice of which she was a trifle proud; but of late years she had so many babies to croon for that she got out of practice and could not sing as she once could. She knew how to sing and she knew she couldn’t sing. And this night she sang worse than usual—she seemed out of sorts.

The “odd” Frog who went away to himself sang whenever he wanted to and in the funniest way. He did not try to make music but just rattled like an alarm clock. They let him alone because he was “odd.”

Another little Frog tried to sing, but he couldn’t. You would have laughed, I am sure, to have heard him try. His voice sounded like a piccolo into which someone was blowing who did not know how to play.

Another Baby Frog had a splendid tenor voice, but he was always trying to sing as his papa sang. The result was that he injured his tenor voice without ever learning to sing bass. People very often harm themselves by trying to do what they cannot do and by leaving undone that which they can do.

The other singer was a Baby Frog with a beautiful soprano voice. And she sang, and sang her very best, whenever she was called on. Her singing was the talk of the whole neighborhood and, at night, when all the Baby Frogs were asleep, Mr. and Mrs. Frog used to talk of putting by something with which to send her abroad and have her voice cultivated. Whether they ever did so or not I cannot say.

The night of which I am telling you, Mr. Frog jumped into the water with a plunk and swam ashore, the rest following him. They returned home and Mrs. Frog soon had all the little Frogs tucked away in bed. Mrs. Frog was restless and nervous, for some reason. She would pick something off the dresser and lay it down again, mechanically. She would move a chair there, and in a moment set it elsewhere. She would fold her hands and sit down only to jump up in a few minutes and go hurriedly to do something quite unimportant.

Meantime Mr. Frog, who had been out, came stumbling in quite angry and demanded to know why the children had not brought in the kindling for the morning’s fire, saying that he should not be left everything to do. He did not notice the pained expression on Mrs. Frog’s face—people fail to see these things, sometimes—and he busied himself in closing up the house and fastening the doors and windows, after Mrs. Frog had shown him the kindling wood in the shadow of the ingle. Mrs. Frog retired, but Mr. Frog lay with his head in the doorway until daylight, and some say that he slept with one eye open. How any one found out I cannot tell, because Mr. Frog’s house was dark as pitch and only Mr. Owl could have seen; and Mr. Owl is too wise to tell anyone if he did. The reason Mr. Frog guarded the door is because Mr. Garter-snake lived in the neighborhood and Mr. Garter-snake is a prowler and likes to feast on Baby Frogs whenever he can find them. Mr. Garter-snake goes home at daylight and never ventures out unless it is going to rain, when he crosses the road in front of people to warn them to seek shelter. At daylight Mr. Frog turned in and slept until high noon. A bright fire was blazing on the hearth and Mrs. Frog was fixing breakfast, and the way she handled the skillets and spiders and sauce-pans, and at the same time urged the little Frogs to get ready for breakfast, was a caution.

Breakfast over and the things cleared up, Mrs. Frog was still restless. Sit still she could not. The Baby Frogs irritated her. She would go out and look about her in front of the door a moment, only to hurry back again for nothing. Her face was pale and her eyes shone unusually. Once she thought if she could scream it would do her great good. She was looking and acting strangely, but Mr. Frog did not notice anything. She announced her intention of going to visit Mrs. Rabbit who lived in the briar patch across the lake. Mr. Frog was a little surprised but made no objection, only observing that he hoped she would be home before sunset as he could do nothing with the Baby Frogs when they got sleepy; and that Mr. Moccasin-snake would be on the lookout for his supper as soon as it was dark.

Mrs. Frog put on her things and powdered her face. She looked at herself in the mirror a moment and then feverishly rushed to the bank and plunged in with a ker-plunk that could be heard a long distance. She kept deep under the water and would first swim this way and then that way; now to the right and then to the left, and she came to the surface a good distance from where she entered the water so that Mr. Moccasin-snake, if he had been on a log in the sun waiting for her, could not locate her. She looked back and saw Mrs. Turtle and Mr. Turtle asleep on a half-floating cottonwood stump, and then she struck out across the lake.

She had not gone far when she began to feel better. Her nervousness and fever left her. She enjoyed a sense of freedom and liberty, and the cool, clear waters were as a health-giving and soothing anodyne to her. The sense of smothering and confinement which she found so oppressive at home had left her, and her spirit expanded and reveled in its new-found independence and she only regretted that Mr. Frog and the Baby Frogs were not with her to enjoy her raptures.

AT MRS. RABBIT’S HOUSE.

Arriving at the opposite bank, which she clambered up in no time, Mrs. Frog was feeling refreshed; she came to a road that fringed the lake, and, crossing this, she came to the briar patch. She went up and down the road, now entering one opening in the briar patch and then another, only to find that they were “blind” and that they led nowhere. One after another she entered these openings and had to come out again. She was about to give up the task and return home and she was soothing her disappointed feelings with the reflection that while she had not found Mrs. Rabbit and returned her call, she had enjoyed the outing immensely and had been benefited by the trip, when she saw a small opening nearly covered by hanging leaves. After some hesitation she entered this and found, to her great joy, that it was an arched pathway, well beaten by travel, which led to the home of Mrs. Rabbit. She followed this until she neared the house and saw Mrs. Rabbit standing in her front yard. Mrs. Frog saluted her cheerily but Mrs. Rabbit pretended that she was frightened and rushed in her house and hid in a heap in the darkest corner. Mrs. Frog followed her in, exclaiming: “La! Mrs. Rabbit, you need not hide. It is only Mrs. Frog that has come to see you and she is not going to hurt you.”

Mrs. Rabbit came out and said: “Why, Mrs. Frog, I am so glad to see you. I have been thinking of you and wondering if you never would come or if you had quite forgotten me. You are looking so well. I really believe, Mrs. Frog, that you are getting younger every day. I am sure you are getting better looking. How is Mr. Frog and the children—the dear things, how I would like to see them—how are they all?”

“The children,” replied Mrs. Frog, “are just as dear and sweet as they can live; and growing? You never saw the like! Why, they are perfect Jonah’s gourds, one would think, to see how they grow. And they are just as bad! Not mean, you know, but just mischievous and into everything. They run me wild, at times. But with all the trouble they give us, what would life be without them? Dear me! This would be a sad place without children. I needn’t ask how you are,” continued Mrs. Frog, “because your looks speak for themselves and tell the story of your good health and happiness. How are the dear children and Mr. Rabbit? I suppose he is like my old man, grumbledy and fussy, but just as good as he can be. I hope he will come in before I leave because I want to see him.”

There was an undertone of sadness in the forced mirth of Mrs. Rabbit’s voice as she replied: “The children are all well. Now and then one of them gets sick but it is only for a little while and it amounts to nothing. Mr. Rabbit has gone to mill with a turn of corn so that I may have flour to make bread for Sunday dinner. We usually have a good deal of company on Sunday.”

Mrs. Rabbit said this with the faintest suggestion of vanity, and then continued: “I am sure you must be famished after your long trip across the lake. Dear me, how I wish I could swim.” (Mrs. Rabbit was only too sincere in this.)

“Spread this mullein leaf over your dress to protect it. What a pretty dress you have and it is so becoming to you. I always did like green. Your appetite must provide the relish for what I have to set before you, as I have only scraps to offer and it would keep you too long waiting to cook something fresh. Somebody once said something in praise of a dinner of herbs; but for my part, I would prefer something else.”

Mrs. Frog spread the mullein leaf over her lap and fell to with much energy, but her thoughts were on her dress, of which she was very proud. “I am glad you like my dress,” she said. “I like it very much. I got it at a bargain, too, because I bought the goods by the quantity and made dresses of the same material for all children and had quite a lot left for mending. Children are so hard on clothes. This dress like all the rest does not fit me. I suppose I must have an awful figure”—Mrs. Frog said this, but did not mean a word of it; she was really proud of her fine figure—“and the dressmakers never fit me. It is all right around the neck but, you see, it is much too tight and binding across the bust and it is not full enough about the hips; while the waist is baggy—it is so loose, and,—dear me! if I wore corsets it would look like a meal sack on a hoe handle, on me.”

Mrs. Rabbit could not see the defects mentioned and concluded they were imaginary. People frequently differ in opinion.

The conversation turned to general topics and Mrs. Frog asked: “What is the news over this way?”

Said Mrs. Rabbit: “We never hear anything in this out-of-the-way place. It is so quiet. The overflow has caused some suffering and one of Mr. Fox’s sons, who had been stealing a farmer’s chickens in the clearing, was killed the other night and his skin is going to be worn by the farmer’s daughter next winter to keep her neck and shoulders warm. Mr. Bear’s brother, who had been killing and eating the farmer’s calves in the canebrake, was caught in a trap and shot dead. His skin is stretched on the door of the farmer’s barn and his body is hung up in the smokehouse near by. Mr. Woodpecker brought this news to us and warned us to be on our guard because there are so many hungry animals abroad. I am afraid to let the children out of my sight.”

“Well, well!” exclaimed Mrs. Frog. “That is too bad! But you know,” continued Mrs. Frog, glancing furtively at her reflection in the mirror and comparing her appearance with the appearance of Mrs. Rabbit, the result of which seemed to please her, “you know the way of the transgressor is hard. But really I must go as it is getting late.”

Mrs. Frog jumped up and made ready to take her departure, taking at the same time a mental inventory of everything in the house.

Mrs. Rabbit begged her to stay longer, assured her it was quite early and that she had plenty of time to reach home, and reproached her for hurrying off. Mrs. Rabbit accompanied Mrs. Frog to the end of the path through the briar patch and out into the opening on the bank of the lake.

“You must come and see me again, soon,” said Mrs. Rabbit. “Come early and spend the day and bring the children and I will keep mine home from school and we will have a nice time.”

“I am coming right soon. You cannot keep me away because I enjoy these visits hugely. I am sorry I did not see Mr. Rabbit and the dear children. Now, I will not take no. You must come to see me soon; you must.” Mrs. Frog was very emphatic.