hg merion,
Demorrali: atc
Bellefonte, Pa., Jan. 18, 1901.
WHEN PAPA’S SICK.
When papa’s sick, my goodness sakes!
Such awful, awful times it makes,
He speaks in G, such lonesome tones,
And gives such ghastly kinds of groans,
And rolls his eyes and holds his head,
...... And makes ma help him into bed,
SAR RSE Sl and Bridget run to heat
La
>
Py RECS
. Hot wilter bags to warm his feet,
See F B And T¥inét get the doctor quick—
We have to jump when papa’s sick.
When papa’s sick ma has to stand
Right side the bed and hold his hand,
While Sis, she has to fan and fan,
For he says he’s a ‘‘dyin’ man,”
And wants the children round him to
Be there when ‘“‘sufferin’ pa gots through!”
He says he wants to say good-by
And kiss us all, and then he'll die;
Then moans and says ‘‘his breathin’s thiek”
It’s awful sad when papa’s sick.
When papa’s sick ma has to stand
Until he hears the doctor say
“You’ve only got a cold, you know,
You'll be alright in a day or so.”
And then—well, say, vou ought to see,
He's different as can be.
And growls and swears from noon to night,
Just ‘cause his dinner ain’t cooked right,
And all he does is fuss and kick—
We're all used up when papa’s sick.
—“L. A. W. Bulletin.
DAVID AND JONATHAN OF THE
HILLS,
‘Ay! They were a queer pair—a very
queer pair. We ca'ed them David an’
Jonathan; no’ that they were very friend-
ly in public—far frae that; they never
could ’gree thegither a meenute. I’ve seen
them fechtin’ like twae dougs about the
sma’est thing, ea’in’ ane anither a’ the
blackyird names ye could think o’. And
syne, when they were feenished; they gaed
awa’ lookin’ quite satisfeed. L
of tt was a leeberal, Wat Demp.
See ad toca’ himsel’ a tory. Jock be-
~Jonged to the Parish kirk, so Wat had to
join the Free; though neither o’ them
darkened the door o’ the house of Ged
very aften. They even gaed the length o’
each using a different kind o’ sheep-dip.
Ay ! they were a strange pair.. But for a’
they couldna ’gree, there never were twae
truer friends, and if onybody else misca’ed
the ane by a word in the ither’s hearing—
weel, he didna dae it again.
‘They were herds away up among the
hills. Jock herded the Crammil and Wat
the Ruchill. They mairit sisters, ‘and for
15 years they lived about a mile apart.
But did ye ever hear how they cam’ to
separate ?”’
I had not, and the shepherd of Laigh-
lands told me the story.
The cause of all fell out one stormy
night in early spring. The shepherd. of
the Crammil had come in from the hill.
He had removed his wet boots and drip-
ping plaid, and bad stretched himself
luxuriously in the great armchair beside a
blazing fire. Outside, the wind howled
and the snow ‘drifted, but the shepherd
was at ease, for he knew that his sheep
were so safely folded in the lee of the hill
that no harm would come nigh them dur-
ing the night. The warmth of the fire
erept through his limbs and comforted
him. The whistling of the wind round
the cottage sang him a lullaby; and ‘as he
drowsed pleasantly his soul was filled with
much content.
- Sleep bad almost mastered him when he
was aroused by the sudden opening of the
door and by the entrance, like an appari-
tion, of a small girl with frightened eyes.
It was his niece,the daughter of the neigh-
boring shepherd of the Ruchill, with the
news that her father had gone out that af-
ternoon at 2 o'clock and bad not yet re-
turned.
The shepherd of Crammil started np,
rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his
fists.
“Eh !—what !”’ he cried.
The little girl repeated her story.
‘‘Never! Twae o’clock, ve say? And
it’s ‘eight noo. ‘Sax ‘ours on the hill!
Surely—' He caught sight of the fright-
ened little face and checked himself. ‘‘But
there ! dinna be feared. There can be
naething wrang. He’ll just ha’e gane uj
to Jock Shiel’s at the Craig Slap. Rin an
tell your mither no’ to fash hersel’; and ’11
gang and bring him hame.’’ {
Thus he soothed the girl with reassur-
ing words. Then he turned to his wife.
*‘Quick !"’ he cried; ‘‘my baits and my
plaid. There's something far wrang, and
there’s nae time to be lost.”
He slipped on his boots, stuck ‘a bonnet
on his head, and vanished into the night,
wrapping his plaid around him as he went.
“Sax ’ours I’ he muttered to himself as
he strode through the snow, ‘‘and it’s been
dark for fower—and sic a nicht ! Dad ! if
be should be--"’ He shuddered, and the
bare thought lengthened his stride as he
swang onward into the teetly of the storm.
For a moment Jock Scott halted at the
burnside to determine his course. But in
such darkness of night there could be lit-
tle choice; for all the tracks were nearly
equally bad. The only feasible plan was
to strike the Ruchill at its highest point
and search the hill downwards. So he
crossed the burn and struck up the leeside
of the Crammil. In the snow and dark-
ness no mortal could pick his: way, not
even the shepherd who had herded on the
hill for 15 years, and knew every inch of
the ground. ; The blackness of the pit clos-
ed around him. Several times even at the
outset he almost lost his bearings. No
earthly object was visible save the dim
round of shadowy grayness at his feet.
Shut up within his narrow circle of vision
he stumbled upward through the snow,
guided only by the bleating of the sheep
in the folds below. and by the varying
steepness of the hillside. : LHene
Never in all his life bad the shepherd
experienced such a night. Even to this
day the memory of it is fresh in the conn-
tryside, and many are the stories I have
heard; how whole flocks were lost; how
sheep were buried under snow-wreaths,
and a few discovered only by their bleat-
ing; and how more than one shepherd had
lost his life in the work of rescue.
Bat, in spite of all, he staggered on. Up
till now the faint hope had clung to him
that the shepherd of the Ruchill might be
safely housed somewhere; it was just pe
sible he might have gone to the Craig Slap.
But as he crossed the march-dyke between
the Crammil and the Ruchill that hope
was shattered, for suddenly out of the
darkness the form of a sheep loomed dim-
ly before him. !
Jock Scott halted in despair. ‘Dod !"’
he muttered, ‘‘his sheep’s no bielded.”’
There could bé no doubt now that some
act had befallen his friend, for nothing
else would have prevented him from fold-
ing his sheep on such a night. Somewhere
on the hillside he or his body must be ly-
ing. But where? There was no possi-
‘ashamed o’ myself.
no’ he long afore I'm up at the sheep
bility of u systematic 3ehYeh} all landmarks
were hidden under the drift, and in the
black darkness and howling storm even
the shepherd stood bewildered. The sense
of locality had almost left him; moreover
he was stiff with cold, and his whole body
ached; and worse, his hands and feet were
becoming numb. In his weariness and
utter wretchedness he was tempted to give
up the search in despair. But as the
thought of his friend lying on the hillside
in the snow rose to his mind, with a gasp
and a sob he once more set his face to the
storm, gripping his staff firmly to guide
and steady his steps.
The story of the friendship of the two
shepherds is one of the commonest in the
countryside. The tale of that dreadful
night is the property of all; but the details
you will nowhere hear. ‘Indeed, the shep-
herd of the Crammil never could remem-
ber them himself. His recollection of the
search was merely cne of growing numb-
ness and helplessness and ever-present des-
pair. He had lost all hope of rescuing
his friend ; but it was his duty to continue
the search so long as he could stumble on.
And that was enough for him.
Is must have been after about two hours
of weary, hopeless wandering that at last
he tripped over something soft at the foot
of a high rock. In a momenthe was on
his knees and had scraped the snow from
the body. E
By this time feeling had almost entirely
left his body and he was becoming uncon-
scious. The rest of his task he performed
mechanically. He lifted the body in his
arms— whether alive or dead he knew not;
but he vaguely remembered hearing the
man groan as he raised him. How be got
back he never knew. Where he was he
did not try to recollec). He simply stamb-
led blindly forward under his load, pick-
ing his way by instinct. In a shadowy
way he remembered wading through burns
and stumbling ‘through drifts; but the
whole tale of his wandering was confused.
The only abiding impression of the night
was one of dull, lasting, all-absorbing
pain, and a sense of the most ineffable joy
when at last the light of Wat's cottage
shone through the darkness, and he tot-
tered into the delightful warmth of the
kitchen with the form of his. friend hang-
ing limp in his arms.
Laying Wat Dempster on the bed, he
seized a flask of brandy offered him and
gulped down mouthfuls of the fiery liquor.
Then he threw off his dripping plaid and
cowered over the fire, digging bis lifeless
fingers into the very flames. Gradually
these restoratives began to take effect, and
the reaction that ever-follows extreme cold
set in. Slowly the numbness left his hande
and feet; and as the warmth spread the
hot blood coursed upwards, till gradually
a delightful glow had overspread bis body.
With the warmth came remembrance of
his friend. Again he seized the flask,forced
some brandy down Wat’s throas, stripped
off his wet clothing and wrapped. him in
warm blankets. Then, with a few words
to the terror-stricken wife, he sped out in-
to the night. i
The nearest farm lionse was:two miles
off, but the shepherd covered the distance
ivr a very short. time. There was nobody
about. ‘He rushed into the stable, sad-
dled a horse, and in another minute was
on his way again. The road was unfenced
and all traces of it obliterated by snow;
but in less than ‘an hour he had’ covered
the nine miles that lay between him and
the nearest doctor; and in another three
hours the hroken limb was set, the doctor
had left the cottage and the shepherd of
the Ruchill was restored to consciousness.
A fortnight had passed. Except in the
rifts and crannies of the hilltops, all traces
of snow had disappeared, and once more
the green pastures and red plowlands lay
to the eyes. The stillness of winger
had gone, and over-head a bright sun shone
warmly on the clear freshness of a spring
day. ;
long the banks of the snow-swollen
stream which seamed the glen with a streak
of foam a stalwart figure moved slowly to-
ward the cottage where lay che shepherd
of the Ruechill. In his look and gait there
was something strange. His figure had
lost ita msual buoyant confidence; his long,
swecping stride had become an indetermi-
nate step which was ever slower as he
advanced; his eye bad (an anxious and
troubled look, and every few paces he
would halt and gaze in profound thought
into the turbid waters.
Jock Scott was ‘on his way to visit the
shepherd of the Ruchill for the first time
since the dread night of the snow storm,
and he had misgivings about his reception.
Never before had these two strange men
met in such circumstances. Neither had
ever before conferred such an obligation on
the other; and now Jock Scott, shepherd
of the Crammil, was torn with fears as to
the possible behavior of his friend.
Slowly and shyly he walked till he
rounded the corner of the hill and came in
sight of the cottage. Then, as 'a sudden
resolution seized him, he'set his face toa
stern, forbidding aspect and strode across
the greensward, stalked into. the cottage
and flung himself into a chair by the bed-
side. 3 ” i Sirs YE
“Weel,”? he demanded, gruffly and de-
fiantly, ‘‘hoo are ye?"
The sick man started in surprise at the |
sudden entrance of Scott; and instinctively
the usual retort rose to his lips. !
“Dod, man, ye gi’e a body a fricht,’’ he
began; but, remembering, checked him-
self. ‘Fine,’ be answered, gently.
The visitor grunted and looked suspi-
ciously towards the bed. At heart no one
could have been more truly sympathetic, |.
but to put his sympathy into words was
what he could not do; and almost before
‘he was aware he had broken into the old
recrimination. i J
“Dodsake ! ye maun, he as blind asa
bat. Man, where in a’ the warld were
your e’en you nicht when ye fell? And ye
‘maan be a very silly body to lie sae long
efter a bit clout ower a rock amang some
saft snaw. Look at me—never in a’ my
life have I lain a day in‘my bed; but there
you've been lying a fortnicht already—and
the lambin’ time coming on, and a’ the
puir sheep that should be sae weel lookit
eiter wanderiag about the hills like craws
in a miss.” i
The first attack, however, failed miser-
ably; the sick man refused to be tempted.
He knew that his sheep were as conscien-
tiously looked after as if he were caring for
them himself. Moreover, he was watch-
ing for an opportunity to express his thanks
in some way. So he made the soft answer
that turneth away wrath. i
“There's nae doubt it was very stippit
o’ me,’* he said, ‘and I'm very much
But I’se warrant it’1l
agan.”’
The other’s worst fears were realized.
He had hoped by his own example to draw
his friend to his old self again. But here
he was returning good for evil; there was
no saying what he might do next.
“What !”” he cried, ‘“wad ye offer? Ye
blackyird, if ye daur to rise onto’ that bed
Concluded on page 8,
I am a plain business man.’
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GEORGE L. POTTER.
The recent promotions among the officials of the Penusylvania Railroad Com-
pany bring prominently to the public attention a young man, a bit of whose history
will prove interesting to many residents in this community. George L. Potter
who bas lately been made wanager- of the Penusylvania lines west of Pittsburg and
whose election as fourth vice president of the great corporation was far nearer ue-
complished than most people know, is another one of the brainy men who have
gone forth into the world to make the name of Bellefonte memorable.
The town that has given to the country United States Senators, Justices of the
Supreme Court, Governors, Congressmen, literatures, and sculptors has done little
to gain eminence for her sons in the throbbing, bustling engineering world but
now one has cone to the fore who has won fame outside the realms of polities and
art, :
George L. Potter is a son of the late Dr. George f.. Potter of this place and was
born here December 28th, 1856. His early life was spent about the town and what
education he received preparatory to entering college was at the Bellefonte Acade-
my. Iu the fall of '73, in company with his only brother James, now the head of
the extensive wholesale hardware firm of Potter & Hoy, be entered The Pennsylva-
pia State Coliege. The career of the Potter boys at that institution could more
properly be called pyrotechnical than brilliant, for at the end of three years they
bad run their course and instead of getting the usual diplomas were ‘‘requested to
resign.’ :
Among the many pranks of the early days which are still told in the College
dormitories none are listened to with greater interest than the ones in which the
present general. manager of the Pennsylvania lines west of Pittsburg figured asa
ring leader. We bave no desire to tell tales out of school but we'll gamble ‘on it
that Mr. Potter can’t prove an alibi to the charge that he once spent an entire Hal-
low-een night in a corn field, for fear of being caught by members of the faculty
who were watching the building to discover who were committing such depreda-
tions as firing yards of sod from the cannon and draping the faculty chickens from
the many gabled roof of the main College building. And we have heard a. tale,
once told, that when the authorities had conzealed one of the cannon in an old
shed, to save it from the vigorous shooting off it had been getting, this Rufus-like
© young Potter led a crowd into the shed and there they loaded the cannon with
brick-bats, sod, tin-cans and everything else that they could procure and fired it.
The charge was so great that it took the whole end out of the building and bad the
shot occurred a moment or so sooner Prof. John Hamilton, then one of the ubiqui-
tous authorities, would probably not have been here to be mixed up with the olio
scandals of the Agricultural Department, for to nse a hit of later day slang he was
‘‘rubberin’ ’’ around the end of the building just before it fell.
After leaving College Mr. Potter entered the railroad shops at Renovo as an ap-
prentice under Supt. Wm. Baldwin of the P. avd E.. That was in 1876. Three
years later he came home on a visit one day and went on ‘to Pittsburg, where he’
called on Mr. Baldwin, ‘who had meanwhile become Supt. of the Ft. Wayne.
That official welcomed young Potter, for he remembered his persistent, intelli-
gent work in the Renovo shops, and offered him a position at Ft. Wayue
which was at once accepted. That event marked the beginning of a remarkable
series of successful undertakings. From the position ‘of assistant master me-
chanic in 1882 he became master mechanic at the Ft. Wayne shops in 1887. In
1893 he was made superintendent of motive power of the Northwest system and in
1899 was made general superintendent of motive power of the lines west of Pitts.
burg. This promotion was the last step taken before his recent honor of being
made general manager. = | iF iss :
In speaking of his executive power the Railroad Gazelie says that ‘‘Mr. Potter
is industrious and energetic to a degree rare even among road men * *
his judicial temper was recognized by his appointment to the chairmauship of the
arbitration committee of ‘the Master Car Builder's Association ~~ * ~~ * he
has displayed judgment and personal force, the qualities that the Pennsylvania di-
rectorate seek in young men and reward.” oe ; ;
Mr, Potter lives at Sewickley now. Though he is one of the busiest men in :
the Pennsylvania company. he finds time for an annual hunt for big game in Michi-
gan and has his only other diversion in his stable of fine horses, He bas heen a
lover of good horse-flesh ever since boyhood and knows the points of a standard
bred animal almost as well as he does the working advantages of a high class
locomotive. t :
He was married to Miss Susan French, of Ft. Wayne, a number of years ago,
and has two interesting children, a boy and a girl. :
EE RH EUT AEs.
Armour’s Epigrams i
A CHAPIER ON THE PRUNE.
‘I have a little religion, but no politics. /ts Complete History From the Orchard to the Table.
The Art and Business of it. How it is Harvested
“‘No general. can fight his battles alone. and Treated, ond How it is Sent Out to Tickle and
He must depend upon his lientenants, and Aid the Digestion of Overfed Man.
his success depends upon his ability to se-
lect the right man in the right place.”
‘‘How much am I worth? Ask my
wife.” Fail
‘Most men talk too'much. Much of my
success has been due to keeping my mouth
ghus.”’ ' :
*‘The young man who wants to marry
happily, should pick out a good mother and
Wavy one of her daughters—any one will
0.7? :
*‘Good men are not cheap.’’
‘There is no such think as luck.”
*‘Capital can do nothing without brains
to direet it.’’
“This is the country of the young.”
‘An American boy counts one long be-
fore his time to vote. .
How few of us ever give any thought to
the processes through which familiar arti-
cles of food pass before they reach our
kitchens. For example, the pruné. We
know that it grows upon a tree, is dried
and comes to the table in a variety of de-
lectable forms. ' *‘The Record’s” '‘corres-
pondent, having had a hint that ‘“‘drying
much, aud being in the greatest prune-pro-
ducing county in the ‘world, visited some
of the famous orchards and fruit exchanges
located near' Ban Jose, California, witha
view to gathering information of interest,
and ‘which is herewith offered as clearly
and concisely as possible. '
ahaa _. A PRUNE ORCHARD,
“TTT ‘ The prune is a variety of the plum, and
——Suberibe for the WATCHMAN. in growth, culture and babit is similar,
IM LD oar
and’ curing!’ as applied to prunes meant | J
One must see a fine prune orchard to un-
derstand what a prune orchard is. Im-
agine 50 or 100 acres set with trees, each
the counterpart of the other, in long rows
extending as far as the eye can reach, and
bearing a wealth of blossoms or fruit.
The sight is one never to be forgotten.
We pass over the growth, cnitureand beau-
ty of the tree as an oft-to 1d tale and pro-
ceed to the actual harvesting of the fruit.
‘UPHE LAZY MAN'S FRUIT.”
Sonie one has called the prune ‘‘the lazy
man’s fruit’”’ en account of the ease with
which it %s gathered. No climbing of
trees, no long unwieldy ladders to Man-
age. The prune must be perfectly ripe be-
fore perfection in flavor and waccharine
matter is attained. When a sufficient
quantity have reached this point the care:
ful orchardist spreads canvas sheets, cut
to fit around its trunk, under the tree ; the
limbs are shaken. the ripened fruit falls to
the ground, that which is immature re-
maining for subsequent harvests. Gener-
ally five shakings are required to gather
the entire season’s crop.
The prunes are tlien picked from the
| ground, the supple bodies and nimble fin-
gers of children being largely employed in
this work, placed in tire baskets and
plunged into a cattldron of boilingsolution
of caustic soda or concentrated lye. The
solution ¢ontains three or four pounds of
lye to each 100 gallons of water. This
! operation is for the purpose of breaking
and rendering tender the porous tough,
hard skin with which nature has provided
the prune, thus making the process of
evaporation more rapid and complete.
Taken from the lye they are thoroughly
rinsed in clear cold water and then spread
in single layers on slatted trays four feet
in width by eight feet’ in length and re-
moved to the drying ground. The bloom
from the expanse of these trays of drying
prunes bunt emphasizes the purple of the
California autumn, The process of drying
{ may be accomplished in 10 days or a fort-
night : if the atmosphere is unusually
favorable in even less time: Rain is un-
known in this climate during the drying
season, and fogs rarely or never come’
GRADING AND PROCESSING.
As the prunes are gradnally and properly
dried they are stored in boxes or bins, and
when all the crop is thus stored the grow-
ers’ work may be done, for they are then
conveyed to the ‘‘processing’’ establish-
ment, and this is probably the most inter-
esting operation in the preparation of the
prune. As the prunes reach thie ‘‘grader
and processer’’ they are .dull in color, un-
even in size and uninviting in appearance,
being totally lacking in the dark, glossy
texture with which we arefamiliar. There
are about twenty-five of these establish.
ments in this country, and by great favor
your correspondent was permitted to in-
spect all the details of grading processing
and packing in the largest of these, the
Sauta Clara Connty Frait Exchange’ every
step being minutely explained by its cour-
teous manager. This is a co-eperative in-
stitution, consisting of over 600 orchard-
ists, every one of whom we are tcld, is sat-
isfied that this is the cheapest and most
satisfactory plan by which to get hisdried
fruit into market.
A QUEER MACHINE.
The prunes are bauled alongside a plat-
form and box ‘after’ box dumped “intoa
hopper. from which they are carried to an
apper floor by a sort of treadmill ariange-
ment, from which they fall on to the
‘‘grader.’”’ This grader appears to the lay-
man like a cross between a fanning mill, a
Hoe printing press and a threshing ma
chine. It consists of a tombination of im-
mense sieves and trays “about forty feet
long. The sieves have graduated meshes,
the smallest being at the end which first
receives the praves.: These sieves are agi-
tated by machinery, the smallest prunes
fall through the smallest meshes, the larger
passing on, each finding its fitting mesh
and falling into'its proper receptacle ‘until
the end is reached, and the remaining
fruit, that of the - highest grade, falls from
the sieve into a barrow reserved especially
for it. Thus we get 50's to 60’s, 60's to
70’s and so on. the number designating
the namber of prunes in a pound, the
smallest wairke able ‘ones being labeled
100’s.
A TRADE SECRET. : :
The graded prunes are then treated to a
bath of hot water to remove from them all
impurities, passed on to’ perforated trays
to drain, ani thence by machinery into
the ‘‘processing’’ mixture, This: mixture
is a trade senet, «nd kept so for obvious
reasons, hu: we were assured that it con-
tained nothing sxeept ingredients in com-
mon use in meparing delicacies for the
table. The finit ~ometimes; comes from
the first prosessing reddish or uneven in
color and somewhat lacking in the glossi-
ness so desirable in the perfect prune.
These are saljecied to another dipping in
some othe: piepwration, also. a secret, hut
containing noshing detrimental to health,
and are then piled in bins to the depth of
two feet 0: oie, and allowed to remain
for a few days or weeks, as the conditions
require. nis will sometimes remove ob:
jectionabj« edness, and make them of un-
iform colo. After this final dipping they
go into the yu tkers’ hands and are ‘placed
in boxes of differing sizes, bags and casks;
the latter for expoit.
We could not but be impressed by the
remarkabl= cleanliness gbserved in hand-
ling the’ p nines Every manipulation is
done by mz shinery, the fruit: from first to
last: hardly: being touched. by human
hands. : v .
The refu-¢ prunes, those too small to be
salable, ay= “ometimes thrown away, but
when sufii:iently juicy are distilled into
brandy. ‘ihe liquor thus obtaived is said
to be remia:jable for its. smoothness and
wonderful! Hongnet. Perhaps this smooth-
ness and aroita is @ key to’ the expression,
“full of primes lie nid wa di i
In this one establishment, at this late
season, the bulk of the erop ‘having gone
forward, we saw 6,500,000 pounds of dried
prunes, betileewhont 1,000,000 of apricots
and peaches, all or nearly ‘all graded !‘pro-
cessed’’ aud uvoxed, bagged or casked ready
for shipments to astern points or foreign
shores. Tie Nauta Clara County Fruit
Exchange «line sends to Philadelphia one
hundred anil 'ioity ‘carloads ‘every year,
each carloa:! being valued at twelve or fif- |!
teen hundred dollars, a startling aggregate
for one simple item of food.
A LITTLE STORY.
In response to the ‘query as to the
chances of success in prone growing in |
California, ow host told usa little story :
“fifteen years age 1 was a practicing law-
er in a flomishing Eastern city,’’ said he.
“I bad a !vxarions home, a good wife and
two fine hoys, one of whom was in college.
I realized that 1 bad fifty years behind, iin-
stead of befvie me. One would think I
should have heen content, but'T got the
California and prune industry fever, one
night at bed time made up my mind to
take my little family and my household
belongings and seek fortune in the Golden
‘West. 1 sent 1eceipted bills: to all my
clients indet:«d to me, and reached here
; a —.. Lh. SEES ———————————— »
practically without capital. But I bought
sixty acres of prane land near San Jose,
and with my hoys went to work. I have
lived generously, have spent a
where I wanted to, have made the tour of
Europe, besides two or three trips to
Atlantic coast, and bave averaged an an.
pual addition to my bank &2¢unt of at
feast $2500. We have Betu industrious,
but have denied Garselves no comfort nor
reasonable luxary, and have realized the
joy of living. On the other hand, one of
my neighbors in the East, also a profes-
sional man, but who had been reared a
rarmer as I had been three vears before,
come to California and settled in this coun-
try. He had the start of me in the fact
that he was better endowed physically,
and had bad the advantage of lower prices
in buying his land. He had sixty acres of
orchard and two sons, as I had. He and
his sons worked hard, were frugal, tem-
perate, aud apparently possessed all of the
attributes necessary to success. But he
wanted to get rich too fast. He bought
another 60 acres before the first was paid
for. He strove to his utmost, but was un-
able to pay for either, and is now getting a
bare living as secretary of some concern.
The chances of success in prune growing
about equal the chances of success in any
other calling.”’
COMPETITION.
Another thoroughly qualified authority
told us in answer to our inquiry as to the
average yearly profit to be gained per acre
from a prune orchard in full bearing that
in the old days a man might safely count
on fifty dollars. But now we must send
our fruit to foreign markets, compete with
foreign growers and accept in consequence
lower prices. The profits are correspond-
ingly decreased. The prune grower finds
it difficult to hire ail his work done, both
within doors and without,live in luxurions
idleness, as he had fallen into the habit of
doing, and make the prune orchard pay for
it all, and immediately sends forth a howl
as to the decay of the industry.
But we will suppose a thrifty, indus-
trions man, with a thrifty, industrious
wife, has a few acres of good prune land,
which he sets with young trees. In five
years they will begin to bear; in six he
may expect quite a harvest; in seven his
trees will be laden with fruit if they have
been ‘properly cared for,and from that time
on, probably to the end of his life, his an-
nual income is assured, for there are no off
years in this valley. Neither does there
appear to be any limit to the producing
years of the prune tree. The oldest trees
here are about 35 years old, and seem to
be more prolific than in their youth. The
consensus of the competent is that there is
no apparent reason why the prune, like
-the olive, should not go on and on for cen-
turies bearing their leaves, blossoms and
fruit.
VALUE OF PRUNE LAND,
Without doubt California is the State
and Santa Clara the county in which the
prune grower may get righ, meanwhile en-
joying all that is best in life, if he has the
elements within bim that go to insure
prosperity. The lands most suitable for
prune growing can be had from one hun-
dred to two hundred and fifty dollars an
acre. Further from the centre of trade as
good iand can be had for less than half as
much; but the cost of marketing is greater,
aud profits are ‘correspondingly decreased.
Two ‘hundred million pounds of dried
prunes were produced in the United States
in the year of 1899, of which 110,000,000
pounds were grown in California, and from
75,000,000 to 80,000,000 pounds in Santa
Clara county, or:-over: a pound for every
man, women and child in the United
States. This year the output for the en-
tire State will reach the grand total of
150,000,000 pounds, of ‘which 100,000,000
pounds were produced in this valley.
PRUNE EXPORTS AND IMPORTS.
“The exports are climbing up, too. We
sent abroad in 1899 ahout 34,000,000
pounds, of which California eontributed
28,000,000 pounds.
There are comparatively very few prunes
imported in these ‘days. Last year the
total was less than 1,000,000 pounds, and
these were presumably for the delectation
of a certain class of our population, who
prefer foreign labels even though nothing
is gained in quality, for the finest prunes
in the world are grown in our own coun-
try. ;
CO-OPERATIVE SYSTEM.
Probably the most fatal detriment in the
farmers’ profits throughout our country is
individual sompetition. All thisis done
away with in this county hy a most per-
fect system of co-operation, the grower re-
taining his share of the profits until the
fruit is in virtually the hands'of the con-
sumer. To illastrate, we will take the
stockholders of the Santa Clara County
Fruoit Exchange, who, as before stated,
comprise some 600 orchardists. They take
their fruit to the exchange, where it is pre-
pared for market. In turn several fruit
exchanges are combined in sustaining the
office and compensating the sales agent,
who is an experienced man in’ the market.
He receives and fills the orders of the dif-
ferent dealers throughout, the country, so
that with the exception, of the compar-
atively trifling expenses mentioned the en-
tire profit of his crop’ remains to the
producer. X
The basis of market prices is controlled
for not only this county, but for the other
counties of the'State,. by an organization
of the orchardists known as ‘the California
Cured Fruit Association. All this system
combined may . be really one of those un-
holy Trusts of which we hear so much, but
we believe it to be a Trust that is right
and redounds to ‘the just compensation of
the farmer who produces the product and
to the disgruntlement of the ‘‘middleman.”
VARIETIES.
The varieties of prunes most extensively
grown in this valley are the Petite or
‘French prune and the Imperial Vitaneuse.
Both are wonderfully productive, the clus-
tering fruit so fully eoveiing the branches
as to almost entirely conceal the leaves.
So heavy is the weight of fruit that the
branches must always be supported by
props, these props being as much of a ne-
cessity to the prune grower as bop poles are
to the hop grower.
Burbank, the famous hybridizer, is
hybridizing the prune and has produced
some wonderful varieties, but as yet they
play but little part commercially. In time
to come great things are expected from
these experiments.
THOUSANDS SENT INTO EXILE.~—Every
year a number of poor sufferers whose
lungs are sore and racked with coughs are
urged to go to another climate. But this
is costly and not always sure. Don’t be
an exile when Dr. King’s New Discovery
for Consumption will eure you at home.
It’s the most infallible medicine for Coughs,
‘Colds and all lung and throat diseases.
The first dose brings relief. Astounding
cures result from persistent use. Trial
bottles free at Green’s. Price 50cts. and
$1.00. Every bottle gonaranteed.
dollar +