Part 2

“I must have sobbed out loud, for jus’ then I heard a gentle, sympathetic whinny an’ a cold, inquisitive little muzzle was thrust into my face, as I lay on my back with my heart nearly busted. It was Kathleena, an’ I rubbed my hot face against her cool cheek—for it seemed so human of her to come an’ try to console me, an’ I put my arms around her neck an’ kissed her silky mane an’ imagined it was Kathleen’s hair.

“Oh, I was heart-broke an’ silly.

“Then all at onct a thought came to me, an’ I slipped the bridle an’ saddle on her an’ led her out at the back door, an’ I scratched this on a slip of paper an’ stuck it on the barn do’:

“‘To old man Galloway:

“‘You wouldn’t let me ’lope with yo’ dorter, so I’ve ’loped with yo’ filly, an’ you’ll never see hair nor hide of her till you send me word to come back to this house an’ fetch a preacher.’

(Signed) “‘HILLIARD WATTS.’”

The old man smiled, and Bud slapped his leg gleefully.

“Great—great! Oh, my, but who’d a thought of it?” he grunted.

“They say it ’u’d done you good to have been there the nex’ mornin’ an’ heurd the cussin’ recurd busted—but me an’ the filly was forty miles away. He got out a warrant for me for hoss-stealin’, but the sheriff was fur me, an’ though he hunted high an’ low he never could find me.”

“Well, it went on for a month, an’ I got the old man’s note, sent by the sheriff:

“‘To Hilliard Watts, Wher-Ever Found.

“‘Come on home an’ fetch yo’ preacher. Can’t afford to lose the filly, an’ the gal has been off her feed ever since you left.

“‘JOBE GALLOWAY.’”

“Oh, Bud, I’ll never forgit that homecomin’ when she met me at the gate an’ kissed me an’ laughed a little an’ cried a heap, an’ we walked in the little parlor an’ the preacher made us one.

“Nor of that happy, happy year, when all life seemed a sweet dream now as I look back, an’ even the memory of it keeps me happy. Memory is a land that never changes in a world of changes, an’ that should show us our soul is immortal, for memory is only the reflection of our soul.”

His voice grew more tender, and low: “Toward the last of the year I seed her makin’ little things slyly an’ hidin’ ’em away in the bureau drawer, an’ one night she put away a tiny half-finished little dress with the needle stickin’ in the hem—just as she left it—just as her beautiful hands made the last stitch they ever made on earth....

“Oh, Bud, Bud, out of this blow come the sweetest thought I ever had, an’ I know from that day that this life ain’t all, that we’ll live agin as sho’ as God lives an’ is just—an’ no man can doubt that. No—no—Bud, this life ain’t all, because it’s God’s unvarying law to finish things. That tree there is finished, an’ them birds, they are finished, an’ that flower by the road-side an’ the mountain yonder an’ the world an’ the stars an’ the sun. An’ we’re mo’ than they be, Bud—even the tiniest soul, like Kathleen’s little one that jes’ opened its eyes an’ smiled an’ died, when its mammy died. It had something that the trees an’ birds an’ mountains didn’t have—a soul—an’ don’t you kno’ He’ll finish all such lives up yonder? He’ll pay it back a thousandfold for what He cuts off here.”

Bud wept because the tears were running down the old man’s cheeks. He wanted to say something, but he could not speak. That queer feeling that came over him at times and made him silent had come again.

The Bishop laughed outright as his mind went back again.

“Well,” he went on reminiscently, “I’ll have to finish my tale an’ tell you how I throwed the cold steel into Jud Carpenter when I got back. I saw I had it to do, to work back into my daddy-in-law’s graces an’ save my reputation.

“Now, Jud had lied to me an’ swindled me terribly, when he put off that old no-count hoss on me. Of course, I might have sued him, for a lie is a microbe which naturally develops into a lawyer’s fee. But while it’s a terrible braggart, it’s really cowardly an’ delicate, an’ will die of lock-jaw if you only pick its thumb.

“So I breshed up that old black to split-silk fineness, an’ turned him over to Dr. Sykes, a friend of mine living in the next village. An’ I said to the Doctor, ‘Now remember he is yo’ hoss until Jud Carpenter comes an’ offers you two hundred dollars for him.’

“‘Will he be fool enough to do it?’ he asked, as he looked the old counterfeit over.

“‘Wait and see,’ I said.

“I said nothin’, laid low an’ froze an’ it wa’n’t long befo’ Jud come ’round as I ’lowed he’d do. He expected me to kick an’ howl; but as I took it all so nice he didn’t understand it. Nine times out of ten the best thing to do when the other feller has robbed you is to freeze. The hunter on the plain knows the value of that, an’ that he can freeze an’ make a deer walk right up to him, to find out what he is. Why, a rabbit will do it, if you jump him quick, an’ he gets confused an’ don’t know jes’ what’s up; an’ so Jud come as I thort he’d do. He couldn’t stan’ it no longer, an’ he wanted to rub it in. He brought his crowd to enjoy the fun.

“‘Oh, Mr. Watts,’ he said grinnin’, ‘how do you like a coal black stump-sucker?’

“‘Well,’ I said, indifferent enough—‘I’ve knowed good judges of hosses to make a hones’ mistake now an’ then, an’ sell a hoss to a customer with the heaves thinkin’ he’s a stump-sucker. But it ’u’d turn out to be only the heaves an’ easily cured.’

“‘Is that so?’ said Jud, changing his tone.

“‘Yes,’ I said, ‘an’ I’ve knowed better judges of hosses to sell a nervous hoss for a balker that had been balked only onct by a rattle head. But in keerful hands I’ve seed him git over it,’ I said, indifferent like.

“‘Indeed?’ said Jud.

“‘Yes, Jud,’ said I, ‘I’ve knowed real hones’ hoss traders to make bad breaks of that kind, now and then—honest intentions an’ all that, but bad judgment,’—sez I—‘an’ I’ll cut it short by sayin’ that I’ll just give you two an’ a half if you’ll match that no-count wind-broken black as you thort that you swapped me.’

“‘Do you mean it?’ said Jud, solemn-like.

“‘I’ll make a bond to that effect,’ I said solemnly.

“Jud went off thoughtful. In a week or so he come back. He hung aroun’ a while an’ said:

“‘I was up in the country the other day, an’ do you kno’ I saw a dead match for yo’ black? Only a little slicker an’ better lookin’—same star an’ white hind foot. As nigh like him as one black-eyed pea looks like another.’

“‘Jud,’ I said, ‘I never did see two hosses look exactly alike. You’re honestly mistaken.’

“‘They ain’t a hair’s difference,’ he said. ‘He’s a little slicker than yours—that’s all—better groomed than the one in yo’ barn.’

“‘I reckon he is,’ said I, for I knew very well there wa’n’t none in my barn. ‘That’s strange,’ I went on, ‘but you kno’ what I said.’

“‘Do you still hold to that offer?’ he axed.

“‘I’ll make bond with my daddy-in-law on it,’ I said.

“‘Nuff said,’ an’ Jud was gone. The next day he came back leading the black, slicker an’ hence no-counter than ever, if possible.

“‘Look at him,’ he said, proudly—‘a dead match for yourn. Jes’ han’ me that two an’ a half an’ take him. You now have a team worth a thousan’.’

“I looked the hoss over plum’ surprised like.

“‘Why, Jud,’ I said as softly as I cu’d, for I was nigh to bustin’, an’ I had a lot of friends come to see the sho’, an’ they standin’ ’round stickin’ their old hats in their mouths to keep from explodin’—‘Why, Jud, my dear friend,’ I said, ‘ain’t you kind o’ mistaken about this? I said a match for the black, an’ it peers to me like you’ve gone an’ bought the black hisse’f an’ is tryin’ to put him off on me. No—no—my kind frien’, you’ll not fin’ anything no-count enuff to be his match on this terrestrial ball.’

“By this time you c’u’d have raked Jud’s eyes off his face with a soap-gourd.

“‘What? W-h-a-t? He—why—I bought him of Dr. Sykes.’

“‘Why, that’s funny,’ I said, ‘but it comes in handy all round. If you’d told me that the other day I might have told you,’ I said—‘yes, I might have, but I doubt it—that I’d loaned him to Dr. Sykes an’ told him whenever you offered him two hundred cash for him to let him go. Jes’ keep him,’ sez I, ‘till you find his mate, an’ I’ll take an oath to buy ’em.’”

Bud slapped his leg an’ yelled with delight.

“Whew,” said the Bishop—“not so loud. We’re at the church.

“But remember, Bud, it’s good policy allers to freeze. When you’re in doubt—freeze!”

Early Apples—A Southern Opportunity

By R. A. WILKES, CULLEOKA, TENN.

[Note: Mr. Wilkes has made a life study of this subject and speaks from a practical standpoint, at the request of the editor of Trotwood’s. He has, of course, confined his paper to the hill lands of the Middle South; but in the publicity which will be given by this publication, it is to be hoped other sections of the South will take advantage of this wonderful opportunity where their conditions are favorable.—Ed.]

Nature never gave to any people a fairer heritage than to the farmers of Middle Tennessee. With a rich soil, a mild climate and an abundant rainfall, it is in truth a garden spot. Adapted to the growth of nearly every product necessary for man’s sustenance, covered with forests, underlaid with minerals and phosphates, midway between the cold blasts of the North and the excessive heat of the South, with cold, pure water pouring from under every hill, and not a taint of malaria in the atmosphere, it is the ideal farmer’s home. With all its advantages and opportunities there should be the highest degree of success and prosperity, and the owner of a Middle Tennessee farm should be the happiest and most contented man that lives. That such is not the case in recent years, however, is a lamentable fact.

Distinctly an agricultural people, prosperity depends upon the success of the farmers, and that they are not prospering as they should is an undeniable fact. The reason for this can be found in the fact that Tennessee farmers have failed to realize the results of the marvelous expansion and upheaval of the industrial conditions that have come as the result of building railways and the invention of labor-saving machinery. There was a time when the owners of these rich hills and valleys could successfully meet all competitors in the markets then accessible, and growing all their own supplies, the sale of their surplus products kept the balance always in their favor. But with the building of railways that opened up vast acres of rich territory, and the invention of machinery that multiplied many fold the products of labor, new centers of production were made accessible, and where Tennesseans once had the markets all to themselves, new competitors came in, and with this new competition came the beginning of the end of their supremacy in growing many standard products. Failing to realize the new state of affairs, and unwilling to acknowledge defeat in lines they had so long excelled in, they continued their efforts to compete with these new forces in the same lines of production, and in the unequal contest sacrificed much of their rich soil rather than be driven from their beaten paths into lines to which they were strangers. They failed to look facts squarely in the face and to recognize their true condition, and continued to struggle against an ever-increasing balance that in the end could only bring disaster. Take a plain business view of the situation and consider the chances an average Middle Tennessee farmer has in growing grain crops upon his rolling land and steep hillsides, rich though they be, when he must meet in competitive markets grain grown in that great area known as the West, with its broad, level fields and virgin soil, where the labor of one man controlling perfect working machinery so far surpasses the same labor upon his restricted, rough area. Labor is always the greatest cost of production, and the physical character of a large part of Middle Tennessee will always prevent that economical use of machinery that is available to the Western farmer in growing grain and other farm products in the handling of which machinery is effective. No people can permanently prosper who must meet in competitive markets the cheaper grown products of more favored sections, for while they may have a degree of prosperity in periods of high prices like the present, yet, when the low price periods come, as come they will, they bring loss and often ruin to the weak competitor, for it is Nature’s law that only the fittest shall survive. What then is to be the future of Middle Tennessee farming? This question is hard to answer, not for a lack of answer to the question, nor for a lack of products that can be grown with success, but rather because there are so many ways to meet it, and so many products to select from, and such a variety of soils to select for, that it is more a question of adaptability and location, and the fitness and taste of the individual than a want of ways to meet the issue. There are many owners of large, level farms that may still compete in growing all ordinary farm products, and there are many who grow certain lines of live stock and have special markets for their surplus, and others whose soil and location make profitable different lines; and to these classes changes in their mode of farming may not be desirable.

But the majority of Middle Tennessee farmers have only small farms, all more or less rolling, and many of them too rough and steep for the economical use of machinery, and for these some change in their system is an absolute necessity.

There should be grown upon every farm two distinct lines of products—the one for home consumption, for these can always be utilized for much more than their market value, and Tennessee farmers as a rule pursue the right course in regard to their own supplies; but it is in the products that are grown for market that the mistake has been made, and they must change this line, and grow those that give greater returns per acre, and a greater value for the labor, and quit growing those lines that bring them in direct competition with labor that is supplemented by the use of machinery.

While much of the virgin soil has been washed from the rich hills of this Middle Tennessee country in the endeavor to meet competition and to regain lost supremacy, yet its natural advantages are so great and the soil is so richly stored with the elements of plant food that it recuperates rapidly, and when under a new system, with intensive farming, and a proper rotation and selection of crops that suit its varied soil, and in the sale of which her farmers can stand upon the top round of the ladder, and look down upon, instead of up to, their competitors, as they do now, then will this grand commonwealth flourish as it never did, and its farmers will reap a harvest of prosperity unsurpassed by that of any farmers upon earth.

Among the many products that can be grown with the greatest assurance of success, I know of none with results more certain and sure to give rich returns for the labor bestowed, nor more exempt from hurtful competition, than that of growing the early varieties of apples upon the hills and uplands of this great basin. Ninety-five per cent of all the apples grown are winter varieties, and with the utmost care in handling, and the best facilities that cold storage can give for keeping them, there is a period of several months in the early summer when the markets are bare of apples, except a remnant of stale cold storage stock; and it is at this scarce period when prices are highest, competition least and demand greatest, that our early apples are at their best, and supply an urgent demand for the fruit acids so necessary at this season to the people of cold climates, to eliminate the effects of living many months upon rich, heating foods. Fruit acids are Nature’s remedy for many ills, and they are indispensable where the winters are long and cold; and in no fruit are these acids so rich and so well adapted to the needs of man as in the apple; and no apple is ready for use at so opportune a time as these Tennessee grown early kinds. They are ready for use at a season when all fruits are scarce, and the market is an open one, from which Tennesseans can reap a rich harvest if they will take advantage of the opportunity presented. Only a few years since fruits were a luxury of the rich, and were not considered articles of food; but as their value became known under the modern rational ideas of living, they have quickly become necessities; and where obtainable, are staple foods upon the tables of every class and condition of man. Among fruits the apple stands pre-eminent for its many uses and great healthfulness; and he is a poor provider indeed who does not supply his family with this, the most healthful and palatable dish that can go upon his table in some of its many prepared forms. The supply of apples has not increased in the same ratio that consumption has, for it takes time to grow orchards, and older orchards die; but the demand is an ever increasing one. These early apples sell much higher than the winter varieties, and the territory that can grow them is so limited that low prices need not be feared. They cost much less to grow, for they mature before the drouths and storms of summer come, and are less subject to damage by insects and fungus disease. Middle Tennessee is the heart of the territory that can grow choice apples that mature in that bare season, the months of June and July, and should, and I believe will, be the center of this industry in the years to come. Farther South the apple does not grow with any success, and north of us they do not mature in time to compete, and there is only a small zone east and west of us that can grow them, and we have at least two months with practically no competition, and an unlimited demand. With the rapid and constantly improving facilities for moving this class of freight these apples can be put into any of the cities in perfect condition, shipped in ordinary cars without the heavy ice changes that most fruits must bear. With the limited area available for their production, and the small amount now grown, it will take years to furnish an adequate supply; and the greatest danger will be the scarcity and not an overproduction, for with greater supplies the buyers will come and the markets will be at our doors.

With more growers and greater supplies will come organization. Associations will be formed, and instead of haphazard individual shipments, the crop will be handled in a systematic way, and be distributed to meet the needs of the different markets. The railroads will be ready helpers along these lines, for they realize the importance to their own interests of fostering enterprises of this kind. The L. & N. R. R. is now doing a great work in encouraging the increased growth of this class of products and give assurance of their ready co-operation at all times. This industry has passed the experimental stage, and it is an assured fact that these early apples will become a standard production of Middle Tennessee. It has been demonstrated by practical tests that the hills of Tennessee are especially adapted to this class of fruits, and the great success that has followed the efforts of the few who had the foresight to anticipate the coming results, and the nerve to back their views is a sure indication of what the future will develop along this line.

The pioneer in this line of business was Mr. W. L. Wilkes, of Spring Hill, Tennessee, and the success that he achieved has been followed by the planting of many large orchards around him that will soon be yielding a harvest to their owners. He is too modest to say much of the profits, but the facts are so patent that his neighbors are following his example and a revolution is taking place in the farming of that section. He claims that there is better profit in growing these apples now than when he began, for the business was then a venture, and the fruit was unknown upon the market, but now growing them is an assured fact, and there is a demand for all that can be supplied. The question of varieties, too, has been settled by experience, while then it was a matter of test.

Fruit well grown and handled has ever been the most profitable of all crops; and certainly a better opportunity was never offered to any people than this one offers to the farmers of Tennessee and other Southern States. Knowing what has already been done and the success already achieved, it offers an opportunity to the man who has a taste for fruit growing and has the energy and capacity to properly care for an orchard, and the patience to wait for its fruiting, an assurance of success greater than that of almost any other business. And when his orchard has passed its fruitful age, and ceased to be profitable, it leaves the soil as rich as that of a virgin forest, as an inheritance for his children.

It must not be inferred that good results will be had in growing apples, or any kinds of fruit without up-to-date methods of culture; for fruits do not take kindly to careless and slovenly ways. There are many details necessary to success, and explicit directions cannot be given in an article of this kind that will be a sufficient guide to those who have no practical knowledge of fruit growing. There are some general rules, however, that apply in all cases, and that cannot be too strongly emphasized. No one should go into commercial fruit growing without first considering well their surroundings as to soil, location, shipping facilities and other matters of that kind, and more especially to their own fitness for the business. A man must have an adaptability to, and a taste for, any business to make a success of it, for each individual has, more or less, an adaptation for some calling; and many of the failures in life are the result of the individual’s failing to get into the right channel.

The right person with the proper surroundings, having settled the question of planting in the affirmative, there will come many matters of detail that will require the exercise of common sense and judgment, and for the practice of which no specific rules can be given. I do not know any better way to help beginners than to tell them some of the things they should not do, and thereby prevent their making some costly mistakes.

The most important question to be decided by a commercial planter is that of varieties, for they must be of the kinds to suit the market demands, must be regular bearers and barrel-fillers, and must ripen in succession. Don’t plant many varieties, for they must be shipped in carloads, and each variety should be ample for that purpose. Don’t plant novelties, the kinds that have all the good points and that never fail to bear, regardless of frosts and freezes, and are so often palmed off at fancy prices by smooth-talking salesmen who always have the perfect kinds; for when your “perfect kinds” begin to show up their crops of crabs and seedlings your smooth agent will be far away practicing his games upon other suckers. The perfect apple is yet a vision of the future, and need not be expected until the perfect man comes.