But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane, An' leave us naught but grief and pain, Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me! An' forward, tho' I canna see, KING COTTON ROBERT MACKENZIE WHEN Europeans first visited the southern parts of North America, they found in abundant growth there a plant destined to such eminence in the future history of the world as no other member of the vegetable family ever attained. It was an unimportant looking plant two or three feet in height, studded with pods somewhat larger than a walnut. In the appropriate season these pods opened, revealing a wealth of soft, white fiber, embedded in which lay the seeds of the plant. This was Cotton. It was not unknown to the Old World. The Romans used cotton fabrics before the Christian era. India did so from a still more remote period, but the extent to which its use had been carried was trivial. Men clothed themselves, as best they might, in linen or woolen cloth, or simply in the skins of the beasts which they slew. The time was now at hand when an ampler provision for their wants was to be disclosed to them. The Socially and politically, cotton has deeply influenced the course of human affairs. The mightiest conqueror sinks into insignificance in the presence of King Cotton. English began to cultivate a little cotton very soon after their settlement in America. But it was a difficult crop for them to handle. The plants grew luxuriantly. When autumn came the opening pods revealed a most satisfactory opulence. The quantity of cotton produced excited the wonder of the planters. But the seeds of the plant adhered tenaciously to the fiber. Before the fiber could be used the seeds had to be removed. This was a slow, and therefore a costly, process. It was as much as a man could do in a day to separate one pound of cotton from the seeds. Cotton could never be abundant or cheap while this was the case. But in course of time things came to pass in England which made it indispensable that cotton should be both abundant and cheap. In 1768, Richard Arkwright invented a machine for spinning cotton, vastly superior to anything hitherto in use. Next year a greater than he-James Watt-announced a greater invention - his steam engine. England was now ready to begin her great work of weaving cotton for the world; but where was the cotton to be found? Three or four years before Watt patented his engine and Arkwright his spinning frame, there was born in a New England farmhouse a boy whose work was needed to complete theirs. His name was Eli Whitney. Eli was a born mechanic. It was a necessity of his nature to invent and construct. As a mere boy he made nails, pins, and walking canes by novel processes, and thus earned money to support himself in college. In 1792 he went to Georgia to visit Mrs. Greene, the widow of that General Greene who so troubled Lord Cornwallis in the closing years of the war. In that primitive society, where few of the comforts of civilized life were yet enjoyed, no visits were so like those of angels as the visits of a skillful mechanic. Eli constructed marvelous amusements for Mrs. Greene's children. He overcame all household difficulties by some ingenious contrivance. Mrs. Greene learned to wonder at him, and to believe that nothing was impossible for him. One day Mrs. Greene entertained a party of her neighbors. The conversation turned upon the sorrows of the planter. That unhappy tenacity with which the seeds of the cotton adhered to the fiber was elaborately bemoaned. With an urgent demand from England for cotton, with boundless lands which grew nothing so well as cotton, it was hard to be so utterly baffled. Mrs. Greene had unlimited faith in her friend Eli. She begged him to invent a machine which should separate the seeds of cotton from the fiber. Eli was of Northern upbringing, and had never even seen cotton in seed. He walked in to Savannah, and there, with some trouble, obtained a quantity of uncleaned cotton. He shut himself in his room, and brooded over the difficulty which he had undertaken to conquer. All that winter Eli labored, devising, hammering, building up, rejecting, beginning afresh. He had no help. He could not even buy tools, but had to make them with his own hands. At length his machine was completed, rude-looking, but visibly effective. Mrs. Greene invited the leading men of the state to her house. She conducted them in triumph to the building in which the machine stood. The owners of unprofitable cotton lands looked on, with a wild flash of hope lighting up their desponding hearts. Possibilities of untold wealth to each of them lay in that clumsy structure. The machine was put in motion. It was evident to all that it could perform the work of hundreds of men. Eli had gained a great victory for mankind. In that rude log hut of Georgia, Cotton was crowned King, and a new era had opened for America and the world. Ten years after Whitney's cotton gin was invented, a huge addition was made to the cotton-growing districts of America. In 1803, Europe enjoyed a short respite from the mad Napoleon wars. France had recently acquired from Spain vast regions bordering on the Gulf of Mexico, and stretching far up the valley of the Mississippi, and westward to the Pacific. It was certain that peace in Europe would not last long. It was equally certain that when war was resumed France could not hold these possessions against the fleets of England. America wished to acquire, and was willing to pay for them. It was better to sell to the Americans, and equip soldiers with the price, than wait till England was ready to conquer. Napoleon sold, and America added Louisiana to her vast possessions. Mark well these two events the invention of a machine for cheaply separating the seeds of the cotton from the fiber, and the purchase of Louisiana from the French. Out of those two events flows the American history of the next half century. Not any other event since the War of Independence, not all other events put together, have done so much to shape and determine the career of the American people. THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW WASHINGTON IRVING Found among the papers of the late Diedrich Knickerbocker IN "A pleasing land of drowsy head it was, Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye; "Castle of Indolence." N the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of the river denominated by the ancient Dutch navigators the Tappan Zee, and where they always prudently shortened sail, and implored the protection of St. Nicholas when they crossed, there lies a small market town or rural port, which by some is called Greensburgh, but which is more generally and properly known by the name of Tarry Town. This name was given, we are told, in former days, by the good housewives of the adjacent IRVING'S GRAVE, SLEEPY HOLLOW country, from the inveterate propensity of their husbands to linger about the village tavern on market days. Be that |