The Lakeland evening telegram., 1913-08-09
The Story Of a Man Who Was Frozen
Out and Who Came Back
(By Harry Snowden Stabler.,

is new and strange to you and the
natives realize the fact they are apt
to "put one across on you If they
can. Sometimes it is just for fun
and then again it isn't. Either way
a small leaven of skepticism in your
mental makeup will do you no par
ticular harm. Therefore when l
overheard one man remark casually
to another in the lobby of the hotel
at Gainesville, "He makes $4,000
clear on one single acre Of land" l
merely shifted to a little more COM
Portable position in my big arm
chair and fell to dreaming again.
Later on l made laughing men
tion of it to the hotel proprietor and
he said: That's So. No, I've not
seen him, but it's fact all the same.'
Whereupon I went out to see a man
who knows all about Florida and to
my astonishment he said: eyes, l
reckon that's true"
The next morning hoped off the
train at Waldo, in Alachua county,
and asked the station agent where
I could find Mr.. Godbey. "If you
mean T. X. keep right STILL" he re-
piled, glancing up the single village
street, down which was coming the
only vehicle in sight-a small gaso-
line wagon with wheels like those of
a buggy. I went to the end OF the
platform as the little wagon chugged
alongside and watched the owner
toss out five or six small crates Of
some green stuff and step up after
them.
He was a rather small, full-beard-
ed man, about sixty years of age, but
beyond a pair of remarkably clear
eyes there was nothing to distin-
guish him from the average farmer
in his working clothes until he re-
moved an old slouch hat, displaying
a head that might have belonged to
Cuvier himself.
Some of the reasons why I have
been told that Mr.. Godbey was a
crank instantly occurred to me, but
unapproachable he certainly was
not. "Come right along" he said,
cordially "You may have to spend
the day out there with me, for I am
not coming In again until evening"
Beyond the cordiality Of the in
vitation the prospects did not seem
very alluring. Flat pine-woods land
that has first been turpentine1 and
then cut over does not make the
prettiest landscape imaginable, es-
pecially in February. And I won
dered, as W. bumped and twisted
along over grass-grown road that
was merely two narrow ruts partly
filled with water and as black as
your hat, how such land could grow
anything at all.
But I was yet to realize that, even
to the reasonably close observer.
Florida is a land Of the most violent
contrasts. A sudden bend in the
road disclosed what appeared in the
distance to be a vast lot Of snow
drifts, which on nearer approach
took the more definite shape Of small
army tents.
"What are they?" asked, for
there seemed enough Of them to
quarter regir
"Swoet-potato banks"
AS we circled round and drew up
between them and high board
fence, all but three or four Of the
banks proved to be empty, SO that 1t
was easy to see how they were con-
structed: simply inverted V-shaped
skeletons with planks laid in
slanting position against what would
be the ridge pole of a tent. Over
the cracks between each two planks
was placed another to keep out the
rain. The ends of the banks were
"boarded up double"-that is, one
set Of boards was nailed to the skel
eton frame; second set, placed
four or five inches distant, was held
in place by stakes. the space in be-
tween being filled with earth. The
whole tentlike structure he'd been
covered over with an inca or two Of
sandy loan, which the warm winter
sun had bleached as white as linen.
opened one Of these banks by
pulling planks upright. while the
sand ran OF like so much water.
The interior, some eight feet in
length by four feet in width at the
bottom was as dry as bone and
contained probably sixty or eighty
bushels Of sweet potatoes that had
been there for months, to all in
tents and purposes hermetically
sealed. So far as could be seen
every potato was in perfect condi-
ton, not a speck or sign Of decay
upon a single one. There appeared
to be more than half an acre of