W. Fletcher Ausbon,Editor and Manager.
VOL. VI.
OJt OOD, FOR COUNTRY AND FOR TRUTH"
$1.00 a ycarin advance.
PLYMOUTH, N. C, FRIDAY, AUGUST 3, 1894.
NO. 5.
(
, Almostseventy-live per cent, or the
men manning tho British mercantile j
marine are foreigners.'
v A triumph of art over nature was
illustrated recently when a well-kn own
English artist made a painting of soma
old beech trees in a Kent pasture,
which he sold for $1400. Tho owner
of the pasture sold his land and the
trees together for $500, and called it a
'good sale at that.
United States Consul' Penfteld, at
Ciro, says that Egypt is aggressively
comparing in a Bin all way with us, hot
only in Europe, but' at home, in sup
plying' raw cotton, and the consump
tion of Egyrtain cotton by New Eng
land spindlers has grown from noth
ings ten years ago, to more than 60,
000. bales, and valued at $3,000,000.
JTenry Labouohere says in London
'Truth: "The reading public maybe
'divided into three classes : Those who
read and remember ; , they are few.
. Those who read and forget ; they are
many. Those who read little or noth
ing, and they are most. , The original
writer of to-day belongs to the first
class, and, it may be said, he writes
: for the others."
Says the San Franoisoo Chroniole;
The bicycle is growing in favor in the
. .interior and the usual' collisions be
' twe'en the owners of horses and the
steeds that eat no hay ' are of constant
occurrence. The faot, however,
ought not- to create any uneasiness,
rior is any ; legislation needed to
restrain the cyclists. . Before the ex
citement of discussion subsides horses
. will have become . accustomed to
jthem. That is. the experience in the
jvicinity of this and all cities . and
'towns where tho wheel,, is much used.
J : The. Secretary of . the Interior has
given up the experiments which the
Government has been making for som9
years paat to in dice rain "over arid
tracts. Therailroad companies opera
ting in Now Mexico and Arizona will,
however, continue .experiments . along
this line. Getting blood out of a
turnip would not be a difficult opera
tion if th plebian vegetable contained
blood, and so artificial methods might
precipitate moisture in the form of
rain if there were any in the atmos
phere, but there are' places where the
air is as moistureless as a live fish in a
" 'me basket, and neither powder nor
aamite can shake out of it what it
uaes not hold. " ;; '
Captain Moore, of the 'sailing ship
Mary Gibbsj tells a suggestive story of
Yhis last voyage. He was from Boston
to the gold coast of Afrioa, ' and his
cargo oonsisted of New England rum.
Oddly enough, he also took out as pas
sengers two women "missionaries, who
had been sent out to exert a civilizing
and Christianizing influence on'these
benigted people. The - .brigantine
stopped at thirteen ports to unload the
cargo of rum, which was received with
wild enthusiasm by the natives, while
nobody seemed to want .the mission
aries. The latter seemed discouraged,
but xievertheless went stoutly to work
Lb counteract the effects of the rum.
Jefore he could tell what success the
were having the Gibbs sailed for
home. ' " " ' ,
The balance sheet of the Suez danal
just issued cannot fail in the opinion
of the New York Tribune to be most
satisfactory to tli9 English nation,
which, thanks to the foresight of Lord
Beaoonsfield, secured a controlling
voice in the management of the. prop
erty. The aggegate of nearly 8,000,
000 tons of shipping that have passed
through the canal during the . fiscal
year that has just closed exceeds even
the most sanguine estimates of Ferdi
nand de Los3eps, and in view of the
ob tjiai the vast majority of tho vos
A$ pfassinj through the canal were of
"lflfli fli register, ' there being nearly
!0 British ships as compared with
) I'rench, the British directors have
i3 !the riqht and graceful thing in
'moving for and securing -vote mak
i adep&te and generous provision
lis the vifa and family of the now
tnnr!-'tund and completely ruined orig
inatoj of this magnificent enterpri!
Frdiraud da Lessee .;
. IN THE. MORNINQ.
Smiles will play where teardrops are cling-
lnr bitter now t
Breeees cool and gentle will fan the fevered
brow t j
The weary moan of sorrow will eeasa, and
resting BWoot, ' 'i-
Be filled with Klad'nJng sunlight, sprint-
, . ling fflory at the feet 1
The drooping head of roses, benilng now In
lonirald sleeo.
Will wake when dewdrops hasten their lov
ing tryst to keep :
The elonds ot somber eol'rtng, now curtain.
Jug placid skies, . '
Will roll away, as brightness on the wings
of morning flies I
The heart will eease its aohing and a throb
of ban ness thrill
The lonely place that's longing for a note of
Joy to fill
It's empty, dreary Hfewny, with Its rugged
path of Daln.
Where love wfll send its greeting, when
. ! morning comes again !
'... Atlanta Constitution.
ELEANOR.
WAS working in
the mill that - first
day Miss Meredith
passed through it
a lad of sixteen,
in her father's em
ploy; she, the
wealthiest heiress
in all our State.
Yet she .' stopped
when she came to
Jn
' Vw
that part of the machine I was direct
ing and watched me eagerly. I had
seen tho men turn, one by one, from
their work in respectful admiration ot
her beauty. . . It was little wonder my
fingers grew clumsy under her gaze.
I had a taste for mechanism, a fatal
inheritance, some called it, from my
father, whom we had found dead, one
bright summer morning, bending
over an unfinished model. But, young
as I was, Mr. Crane, our superinten
dent, had confidence in me, therefore
assigned mo the work Miss Meredith
had honored mo by pausing to watch.
Be was by her side now. Rumor said
he was wooing tho young heiress ; but
as regards that, we mill-hands had lit
tle opportunity for judging j only, in
the one brief glance I dared take in
the pure,' lovely face smiling so bright
ly down upon us, I . doubted whether
he or any other man were worthy.
. "Is not this , work very difficult?"
she questioned.; "I should think a
boy could hardly manage it."
"It requires more skill than any
other," Mr. Craue answered. "But I
have great faith in George, although
one false turn woud throw all the ma
chinery out of order. " Then he added
something in a low tone which I oould
not hoar. But before Miss Meredith
left the. mill she again approached me.
' "Come and see me this evening,:
George. I want particularly to speak
with you. "
I bowed assent, doubtless in an
awkward way ; but all the rest of the
long summer day . I moved as iu a
dream. . ' ' -
Eight o'clock found ne promptly
seeking admittance at . the door of
Miss Meredith's beautiful home. . The
footman looked inquiringly at me
when I murmured the name of his'
mistress ; but ait that instant Bhe came
forth from one of the great rooms and
welcomed me kindly. Her graoious
ness, the luxury, everywhere , sur
rounding me, the subtle atmosphere
of fragrance served to intoxicate me
aa I followed her, catohing sight, with
dismay, of my ungainly figure reflect-'
ed in the numberless mirrors. But
when she-paused, we stood alone in a
large room more plainly furnished
than those we had passed through, but
whoso walls from floor to ceiling were
lined with books. . "
"George," she began, and I fancied
a Blight embarrassment in her man
ner, "Mr.' Crane has interested me so
much in you, that I think it a pity
you should not have other advantages
than those you possess. I sent for you
to say that you may have free access
to our library, if you think it will be
of service to you.' ' f,
I could in that moment have ' fallen
at her feet. ' ' The books for which I
had hungered were to be mine at last.
In her white dress, with no color save
the knot of violets in her breast,
matching in hue her eyes, she seemed
to my boyish fancy an angel opening
the gates of heaven that I might enter'
in.
The next year- Uw swiftly by.
window, would find me bonding over
the book 1 had so eagerly opened the
night before, and 1 would throw my
self, dressed, ou my bed to snatch an
hour's sleep, to prepare- me for" the
manual labor of tho day. I grew pale
and thinj but for that I cared nothing,
until one morning, when it came timo
to rise, I. found my body powerless to
oboy my witt, and sank back on. my
pillows into unconsciousness.
For weeks I lay tossing in delirium
and fever. A" memory haunted me
when once more I awakened to the
realities of life, of a tender touch and
a faco enshrined ou my heart. Could
it be Miss Meredith had boon to soe
met ; -
, With garrulous eagerness my nurao
told mo all. How she had come, not
once, but many timer, even In the
midst of her wedding preparations,
how grand the wodding was, how ,
lovely looked tho bride, and how, as
MrB. Crane, she had left for me her
good-by, since they were to cross the
eas and might not be back for many
a year.
"Married and gone 1'
Like a knell the words fell on my
ear as I silently turned my head away,
and tho bitter tears rolled one by one
down my cheok. Ah, how little was
I in her life who had helped fill mine
with such gladness I ' Yet she had not
forgotten me. The houso was in the
care of servants (her father having
joined them), but tho library was left
open to me, with the privilege of
spending there as many hours as I
would.
Ten years passed on. I held Mr.
Crane's old position now.' I had won
it through a discovery I had made of
great value to the owners, and which
(like all else that I was, or might be) I
owed to Miss Meredith. I could not
think of her as Mrs. Crane, not even
when I learned they were coming home
again, with tho little girl, born the
first year of their marriage in Florence,
but without the father who had so
worshiped her whose body lay in a
foreign grave; not even when, 'going
u after her arrival to offer my respect
ful welcomes she camo forward, hold
ing by the hand a little girl, whoso
sunny hair fell to her waist.
My eyes glanoed from the mother
to the child. , Was it in that moment
I transferred my heart's homage? I
know not. I only know that for the
little creature I would williagly havo
laid down my life.
"We are so proud of you, George,
Mrs. Crane said kindly.
But something in my throat choked
my answer. I could only turn, awk
wardly away.
The mill grew and prospered in tho
years which rushes so Bwif tly by. I
would have gone into the world to seek
wider Boope for my ambition but for
a something tugging at my heart
which kept me chained. I , was an .
honored guest now at the old home.
The poor, friendless boy no longer
sought admittance to the library, but
with consummate taot was made to
feel himself a friend. 1 .-
. But how had I repaid the kindness
offered? . How recompensed my debt
of gratitude? I had drifted idly
down tho current of the musio of
birds, 'mid tho fragranoe of flowers,
until suddenly, like the roar of the
avalanche at my very feet, though be
fore unheard, this truth forced itself
upon me ; I loved Eleanor . Crane.
She was as yet but a child on the
boundary-line between girlhood and
womanhood, the age when first I had
raised, my eyes to look upon her
mother's faco. Yet I had loved her
from that first moment she had stood,
a child of eight, clinging to her moth-
er's hand, regarding the stranger with
wondering eyes. '
'Eleanor will marry ere many years,
and leave mo. Oh, George, it X could
but keep her always 1" .
This was the confidence uttered one
day as we sat alone, that . opened my
eyes to the fatal truth. This woman,
to whom I owed all, everything,
should I 'rob of her one treasure?
Some day, perhaps, some man great
and noble might sue and be thought
worthy, but for me I turned away
with a groan I could not repress.
"Are you ill?" asked Mrs. Crane.
"You have grown so white." .
'Yes," I answered. "It is nothing.
I will Boon recover. I I will go homo
I paced up and down my floor ; but
with the morning the battle had been
fought, the victory gained, my reso
lution formed. I would go away. ,; I
knew now what had kept my ambition
dormant for4 so long. There was a
questioning look in Mrs. Crane's eyes,
a half pleading glanoe in Eleanor's,
when I went to make' my hasty good
bye, but I dared not seek to interpret
them, and so went out into, the world.
I was thirty-five when I mastered
the problem which all these yaars had
mastered me. Thirty-five when I knew
my name was famous, and the dicov
ery I had made had made my fortune.
For three years I had devoted to it
every moment of my lonely existence,'
and the end was gained at last. But
what availed it? It could not fill the
emptiness of my life or that ' life's
needs. Some part of my great dis
covery, they wrote me, they wanted
Applied to the mills. Would I spare
them a few days to give it my . per
sonal supervision? , It was a summons
gratitude 'and honor compelled me to
obey, so I told myself, with 'a sudden
glad rush of my blood through every
vein. I should see her ; should learn
if, as yet, any had gained the prize.
She welcomed mo with a new, strange
shyness, but my resolution had mode
me calm to coldness... No, she was yet
heart free, her mother told me. What
had I hoped that at her words a great
weight rose from my heart? . The im
provements had been made. The next
dav I was to return to my work, when
it was proposed we should go in
party through the . mill to witness its
working:. Standing by Eleanor's side.
we involuntarily paused before
one quiet worker who filled my place
when years bofore her mother had so
paused and made the taming point in
my life. All rushed over me with
lightning speed, when as Eleanor bant
closer t examine tho intricate ma-'
ehinery, turning carelessly to me to
ssk some questions, a light something
whirled in the air, a faint soream
burst from my darling's pale lips, the
light drapery she wore fluttered in the
awful wheel, which in another moment
would have caught and crushed her
fragile form. ,.
No time for thought,-no hope of
rescue if an instant's delay. How
it happonod no words could paint ;
but ere another thirty seconds had
gone by, Eleanor stood pale and trem
bling, safe, while my right arm hung
helpless by my side.
"Oh, George, George, I have killed
you 1" I heard her say, in a tone which
even in that moment thrilled mc, but
as I strove to answer, the agony sick
ened me, all grew dark, and in my
strength and manhood I fell forward
at her feet. .
A chbking sob somewhere near me
was the sound I heard, as opening my
eyes, I found I had been borne baok
to Mrs. Crane's house, and caught a
glimpse of a girl's retreating figure.-
(Mrs. Crane was sitting by my bedside,
while my right arm was already ban
daged. When I was stronger they told
me truth. It must be amputated. I
mode no murmur. So would I have
laid down my life. But now never
must I speak my love. No gratitude
must influence Eleanor's, at pity's
call. But, oh, how barren stretohed
my life before me, as, the operation
over, I lay one morning alone in my
room, knowing how strong had been
;the unacknowledged hope, now crushed
forever. Even ambition must dis
without that right arm's help. Yet.it
was best so.
f "Are you awake?" a soft voice ques
tioned. And I raised my eyes to find
Eleanor had stolen to my bedside.
"Awake, and would not call us? Be-,
bellious boy I ' Will you ever learn to
obey?" Then oh, did my eyes be
tray my hungry love which could not
speak? one little white hand camo
creeping into mine. A great sob roso
in my darling's throat as, in a choking
voice, she whispered: "George, why.
will you be so sad? You wilt never
go away from us again, never. I will
be your right hand, dear. George,y
this in low, solemn tones, "I would
rather you had let me die than again
to leave us. - Tell me, do you hate me,
that oven now you turn away from nei
What have I done? What hav i 2
done?". . '
As yet my misery had wrung fn)m'
me no tears; but now they blot fiom
my vision the sweet look of eharao'oa
effort I conquered myself and ttw hope
it is torture to crush.
,: "Hush, dear?" I said at last. "Do
not be so pitif uL I could not stay,
Eleanor. You must not ask it 1"
. -'Not with me ?" she questioned. ..
'And looking into her azure eyes I
read hex secret even as she had read
mine.' ',
"It is not pity, darling? You are
sure, sure? I could not quite beal
that,- though I would be strong foi
anything else. And if I stay, Eleanor,
you will be my "
I pause, but lower and lower sinks
the bright, sunny head, until it -rests
upon my heart. In my helpless weak
ness I am not strong enough to refuse
the precious . gift she yields as a free
will offering, and so I win my wife.
The Ledger. v " :
Why Ince nse Was Used.
" The sense of smell, which at the
dawn of civilization was a deolining
one, and since then has tended to be
come less and (ess of value, would
appear to have little chance of gaining
an important position in any branch
of human culture. And yet it came
about that one characteristio of the
exciting cause of odors brought them
into prominence in the service of re
ligion, and this prominenoe has con
tinued in that connection up to the
present day. Far baok in the history
of our race, at any rate long before the
dawn of history, the apparently "im
material and, so to speak, ghostly
nature of the exciting cause of the
sensations of smell, . led, it would
seem, step by step, to the uia of iu
cense in the service of the gods. ; ' ,
When it began to be felt that the
ancestral or other, spirit that had to
be appeased was hardly of a nature to
consume the material food or drink
offered, to it to appease its wrath or to.
gain its favor, an easy step of reason
ing suggested that this food or liquid
would be more acceptable in the form
of smoke or vapor. . The gods had
become of too spiritual a nature
actually to eat .the food, but they
would still require . some form of
nourishment, and what could be more
suitable to them than iho fumes of
burned flesb i This is the, conception
that is prominent, or, at all events,
survives,. in the descriptions of sacri
fices in the "Iliad," where the thick
clouds from the burning thighs of the
slaughtered oxen, and from the fat in
which they were wrapped, asoend to
Olympus and cheer the- assembled
gods. It was but a step; from this to
the burning of fragrant woods and
rosin to provide i. less gross gratifica
tion.' Moreover, by the consumption
in their honor of these precious
spioos and fragratit gums, obtained at ,
so; much cost and trouble, another
motive of sacrifice was satisfied.
The Egyptians in the preparation
of their mummies had need of a vast
store of spioes and aromatics. This
need, no doubt, was the origin of
their trade with Southern Arabia the
land of Punt a trade which attained
to great importance lender the
eighteenth and nineteenth dynasties.
That, in searoh of aromatics, there
was also a more northern trade route
which must in early days have brought
them into contact with the Hebrews,
we shall see later on. - The Egyptians
in this respect were far in advance of
the Greeks of Homer. They burned
their incense in a censer, using it in a
similar way to the Buddhists and
Christians ot later days. Nineteenth
Century.
A Curious Superstition. .
That superstition is npt quite ex
tinct in Lancashire is proved by a case
heard at the Chorley Police Court yes
terday, says the Manchester (England)
Guardian, where a young man named
Thomas Barnes was bound over in
$500 for twelve months for having as
saulted, under extraordinaay circum
stances, Miss Frances Mitchell, O
whom he had been paying attention.
It appeared that Barnes had recently
consulted some Gyptda? touching hh
ill health, and, acting on their advice,
he had pricked the young lady with a
needle several times to draw" blood,
and hV-d struck her on the face. Hi
was acking under the belief that he was
pining)away,and that there was buried
sbout her house something which
attracted him and caused, hira to bd
uneasy in his mind, and that the onlj'
tl:;! fvil yrxi to r.,r.vf
The Passing of the 0k Xtnm. '
Cattle ,' Inspector Whilmarsh f a
ished his rounds, ahd reports notona
team of oxen owned in , town. Las
year there was just, one, which wai
sold for beef on' the d ay after hw
call was made. This, the last team,
was' owned-by Jarius 'F. Burt. This
vanishing of the heavy ox team marks
an era in our progress just as surely,
if not as noticeably as the coming o
steam after the stage 'coaches and ca
nals, or the entrance of the electric
car to supplemented in some respects'
displace the steam locomotivo and the
horse team.- Years ago the farmer
was not to be found who did 'not own
an ox team and oftentimes more tla
one. The land was heavier than now,
much of it was new sod, and the roui.i
were far harder to travel than even at
this date when we : are apt to think
them anything but good. Bat with'
the coming of better roads, tho more
complete breaking of the fields, tho
invention of powerful machinery and
cheap explosives for. removing stumps,
and rocks, ond, more especially, tho'
horses, iho patient
ox has, like the Indian, gone out of
our civilization gradually but surely.
but, unlike the Indian, ho has not
gone West. To the littlo folks to-day
the massive jrokes, smooth .and eia,
tening with ' the labor of strainr.3
shoulders, are ; a curiosity Tho.
tongued cart is almost as obsolete as
the ox himself, and the long whip has
gone with the" 'haw" and "hee" and
"gee" and other strange terms of
now almost dead language. As in eo
many other respects, classic referenco
to "Ox-eyed Juno" will havo to be ex
plained before long, with reference t
the cow as the modern prototype, and
undoubtedly the revisers will have it
"Cow-ued Juno" in the edition of a
decade henbk . - ' I
So we progrlV from crude jomsclti
and the tugging of tine wa to the power
of swift- horses, " tireless steam,- and
now we stand on the threshold of the
universal electricity, lhfttha3 beeu
back of all these forerunners, nd i?r
now fast supplanting them. Thero
may be a pair or so ot oxen again
owned in town, butlike the getting out
of the old tin lantern, it will be but m
flickering revival of a past already
dead.-Easthampton (Mass.) Newa.-
Decliueofthe Lightning Red. . '
, "What has become of all the light
ning rods?" asked a friend of rain
this morning. , ?'Have you noticed
that of late years you can scarcely find
a house in a day's journey that is
fitted np with these : old-time - protec
tions against thunder bolts ? Why a
few year ago every prosperous farmer
would, as soon have thought of leaving
his stock without water as to neglect
protecting his house and barns with
lightning rods. Agents coined money
traveling around the country ' ia
wagons and putting up these contriv
ances to ward off danger. But their
day was Boon run. t Mora disasters
were created than averted by the use.
of thea so-called protectors. ' The
insulation would become loosened and
when the electric fluid began rannin
down the rods instead of being ground
ed, as was intended, it found an in
viting chance .' to dodge off into, the
building which" tne rods were sup
posed to protect. My old father had
the lightning rod business down fine.
He never could be, persuaded to put
one on a house or barn. He used to
declare that he'd rather have one good
tree in nis iooryara as a yroteuuiuu
against lighVain? than to have hi
house covered . vli'v IT hti g rod."
the Lighthouse U03.
A dog owned by Caplain OrcntV
keeper of the Wood Island light, h-. ;
become famous this week. It is cu
the light and the keeper returns it by
ringing the belL The other d;iy a ts.
whistled three times. The captain di 1
not hear it, but the dog did. li s ra
to the door and tried to attract ths
captain's attention by howling, rail
ing to do this he ran away a '.id ll-.-'i
came a second time withnul- !';.: jsi
suit. Then he decided to ait- I t
the matter himself, so hs e " I V
rope, which hangs co.tvl.L-, I . .
hi.s tt-eth and began to rir, ; t. .. 1
Lewiston (Me.) Journal.
Austrian lar prr :.!:
- rr tt tie s, . '
and lie ijwn." -
' Lie down ! Through the long niglit
way to ram
blood frc
2.3 y darling's face.
iclimss tho su:?, r
:.; in at my