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$i.oo a Year, in Advance. " FOR 00D, FOR COUNTRY, AND FOR TRUTH." Single Copy, 5 Cent.
VOL. XIII. PLYMOUTH, N. C, FRIDAY, MAY 9, 1902. ' . NO. 9.
THE DWELLINGS OF PEACE.
Two dwellings, 'peace, are thine.
One is the mountain-height,
Uplifted in the loneliness of light
Beyond the realm of shadows tine,
And far. and clear where advent of the
night .
Means only glorious nearness of the stars,
And dawn, unhindered, breaks above the
bars
That long the lower world in twilight
. keep.
Thou sleepest not, and hast no need of
fleep,
For all thy cares and fears have dropped
had
months
the
nul
McKnight of the Pittsburg office came
up to Erevador, III., to begin what he
meant should be a systematic search
for her. He had his instructions from
old Pierre Eovet, a rich farmer living
near Altoona, the brother of the lost
spinster, and he knew enough about the
family to" hope for their best help.
Louis Eovet, of Erevador, younger
brother or Louise, met the detective
at the little station, and as they drove
out together to the farmhouse which
the old woman' had left to be seen no
more, Louis explained all that he know
of his sister's disappearance.
"Aunt Lou come up from Altoony last
December to spend Christmas with
lis." he began. "You know she was
alius visiting Pierre or -ne or my broth
er Johr, who lives near Omaha. We're
all farmers. "Well, she was took down
with pleurisy in January,, and Easter
come round before she was fit for trav-1
LD Miss Louise Eovet
I I been missing for two
V when the case was put in
hands cf the Pinkertons i
A GUN SHOT FliOM THE WINDOW INTERRUPTED HIM.
cling. Me and Mirandy, that's my
Wife, drove into Erevador paster Kun
lay morning and left Henry, that my
hoy, to homo -with his Aunt Lou. Tney
Was to drives' in town in the evening in
time to say us goodby and catch tho
train for Omaha. Wc was spending
away; x
The night's fatigue, the fever-fret of day,
Are far below thee; and earth's weary
wars,
In vain expense of passion, pass
Before thy sight like visions in a glass,
Or 'like the wrinkles of the storm that
creep
Across the sea and leave no trace
Of trouble on that immemorial face
So brief appear the conflicts, and so slight
The wounds men give, the things for
which they fight.
Henry Van Dyke, in Harper's Magazine.
j the day with Pete Hugginses' family
and ' was for staying over Easter.
Well, about 7 o'clock In the eveniug I
seen Henry, that's my bsy, coming
along in the buggy driving the .roan
mare, and Aunt Lou sitting aside cf
him. 1 was up in the attic room, but
I come done to help Lou out of the
buggy. When I got down they were
gone, and I allowed that Lou was for
buying her railroad ticket first before
saying us good-by.
"But she never come back," resumed
the outspoken farmer, with a sigh.
"Henry showed up at Iluggiases, near
midnight. He"d been skylarkingaround
town. I.ast him where was Aunt Lou,
and he says she got out of the buggy
at Hugginses' gate and, spite of my
explaining that I'd run clown to meet
her, and she wasn't there, he stuck to
it, and no mistake she had got out at
Huggeuses' gate. Of course she might
have done it, but. I'll swan she never
come near the house. She must have
lust walked away. Of course we
thought she must have caught the train
for Omaha, but along comes a letter
about a week after, and John asking,
'Where's Aunt Leu?' We wrote down
to Altoony asking brother Pierre if
Lou was there. No, she never showed
up there. That's all We know. We've
ast everybody in Erevador and nobody
seen her after she left the buggy."
"Did anybody see her leave the bug
gy V" asked McKnight.
"Only Henry. But a-plenty seen her
coming along in the buggy with Henry.
See, it was just coming dusk when they
driv in town fry! everybody along tho
pike knows Henry and the roan mare.
Most of "cm UnoS's Lou and seen her
setting along wif.'i. Henry that even
ing coming to Erevador."
"But nobody has seen her since?"
No. Sceci- as if'hj wad clean
swallied up, wiped offen the face of the
earth."
Lcuis Eovet introduced the detective
to his wife and sou as soon as they
reached the farmhouse. At supper
they regaled him with all they knew
about Aunt Lou. She owned the half
of the farm upen which they lived, but
she exacted no rent. Louis owned the
other half and was beginning to pros
per. Aunt Lou had loaned him money,
he couldn't remember Jiow much per
haps $S00 she would take no interest
and never mentioned the loan, he said,
the tears in his big brown eyes.
"Why should she?" rasped Mrs.
Eovet, who was small and cross-eyed.
"She has your notes, hain't she?"
, Henry, the boy, said he was sixteen,
"going on seventeen." He had a round,
sullen face, tousled yellow hair and no
trace of tho frank gentleness of his
father, but he was a dull witted cub,
apparently, though he told McKnight
all he seemed to know about Aunt
Lou. After letting her down at Hug
glns' gate ho had gone on to town, driv
ing about for a while, and then putting
his rig up at the livery stable.
McKnight spent a day at the farm
without gaining any headway. Then
he went to town and began to cultivate
the marshal. He quizzed the livery
stable keoper, and found that Henry
Eovet had put up the roan mare about
10 o'clock. The boy had admitted
"driving round for awhile," and 'Mc
Knight began to suspect that some
thing night depend upon where he
drove. He inquired assiduously of the
townsfolk, but nobody could remember
whether or not they had seen Bovet's
boy riding about Erevador on Easter
Eve. He spent hours with tb station
agent trying to get come hint that
might lecd to a positive statement as to
whether eld Miss Eovet had waited
for the Omaha train or whether she
had boarded it, but the station agent
stuck to his positive and reiterated
statement that "Old Aunt Lou nsver
come near the deepo that night. Cer
tain sure she never bought no ticket
to Omaha nor no place else."
McKnight was beginning to think
that the mystery was too much for
him. After all his investigation he
could net fix even a shadow of suspic
ion on anybody but Henry, the boy.
That guess was wholly unjustified, im
probable and, he admitted, incredi
ble. Besides, there was no sign of evi
dence upon which to build even a hypo
thetical case. He thought he saw sighs
of possible devilment, in the face and
manner of the ill-favored wife of
Eovet, Henry's mother, but she had
not been cut of her husband's presence
since the disappearance of tho eld
maid, and therefore could not have
made away with Aunt Lou, no matter
what had been her evil wishes.
The town marshal, who tagged after
McKnight in evident admiration cf the
"city" sleuth, -was full of suspicions
against Henry, the boy. He had caught
hfm once with a wagon wrench, known
to have been stolen from Jones' black
smith shop. The rest of the plunder
had been found buried under a pile of
manure. McKnight considered this
a trivial argument against the lad, and
it increased his contempt for the mar
shal. "And did you ever land tho 'Jones
robber?' " grinned McKnight one even
ing as he and the local officer cat in
the back room of the town saloon.
"Nope,"drawIed the woozy marshal;
"that's one of the town mysteries the
second. The murder of eld man Kiss
ncr was the first. We never ketehed
them fellers. The Jones robbery was !
the second, and now ccmes the Eovet I
or Aiwi iiiri-i irwT llli I'll "Will "llf '
v .tisv. vyiiu iiLvi 1. tiiai. j t'
gone for shore," and the batted guar
dian of the law drank deeply.
"About the Kissner case?" suggested
McKnight, pricking up his cars; "how
about that?"
"An old miser, supposed," said the
marshal, "lived over on the north edge;
disappeared last fall, a year com In';
foiled him n a well, and his house, a
old shack, ransacked, blocd all over
everything; found, the weapon that
killed old Kissner myself a black
smith's hammer."
"Was it one of Joneses?" the Cetec
tive was crowding the slow story-teller.
"By ging, I never thought o' that.
Lessee. Nope The Jones robbery
come after'ards."
"And yen found the body in a well?"
"Yep. Hie."
Tho Pittsburg detective was at Lo'Ms
Cover's faro early the next day. He
had twD strangers with luni, and his
coming seemed to surprise the farmer
and displease his wife and sou.
"How many wells ard cisterns have
you ti the: place?" askcu McKnight.
The farmer' said he had only one well
"left," that he had filled up the old
one in the cow lot, and that the new
one and the cistern was just alongside
the house i.n the side yard.
McKnight set his men to work drain
ing the cistern with a hand-pump they
had brought out. He expected some
objections from the wife, but she
seemed so pleased to lend a helping
hand that he quit the task and attacked
the well. She bade nenry take turns
and watched them with a furtive twin
kle in her queer eye.
"Perhaps we'd better stop this," said
McKnight, watching the woman, "and
begin on the OLD well."
Her skinny hand flew to her mouth,
her face flushed red as she almost
shrieked: "
"They ain't no old -well, you idjit!"'
"Mirandy!" cautioned old Eovet,
"what ails you? Don't sass him, he's
only 'tending to his "
A gunshot from the window inter
rupted him. He looked up in time to
see Henry, the boy, peering along the
barrels of an old shotgun. McKnight,
peppered with bird shot, jumped for
the house door, the woman tried to
stop him, hut he brushed her aside
like a wasp, and leaped up the back
stairs.
"He never done it," the mother was
screaming, when Henry was dragged
out, kicking and scratching his captor,
"I done it myself leave my baby go!"
But' the handcuffs were on her "baby"
in a trice, and, in ten minutes she was
fast to the seat of the surrey which
bore her and her son to Erevador.
The found Aunt Lou in the well with
103 pounds of smithy junk, old horse
shoes and anvil scraps tied to her body.
Poor old Eovet couldn't believe the
boy had done it all alone, nor under
stand how his old sister was luied
back to the farm after riding all the
way to town to "say us good-by." The
bey explained everything to save his
mother, who persisted in claiming all
guilt. He had shot his aunt as she sat
beside him at a deserted place in the
read to. town, and had not only sat
calmly beside the corpse all the way
to Huggins' house, but had driven back
in the dark to the old well into which
he tossed Jt. At 10 o'clock he was
back at the Erevador stable, and within
a fortnight Farmer Eovet had inno
cently covered up all trace of the crime
by filling the well which hau long-stoed-
unguarded, a menace to Lis cattle.
John II. Kaficry, in the Chicago Record-Herald.
Costly Discipline.
A popular Cleveland doctor tells this
story cf a bright boy, his own, who
had reached the mature age of nine af
ter an early career marked by many
wild and mischievous pranks.
His restless nature has made him
somewhat of a torment to his teacher
at times, and oue afternoon not long
ago she kept him after the others were
dismissed and had a serious talk with
him. Perhaps she was a little afraid
that her admonitions were falling on
stony ground. Anyway, che finally
said:
"I certainly will have to ask your
father to come and see me."
"Don't you do it," said the boy.
The teacher thought she had made
an impression.
"Yes," she repeated, 'T must send for
your father."
"You better not," said the boy.
"Why not?" inquired the teacher.
" 'Cause he charges $2 a visit," said
the scamp. Cleveland Leader.
For Old Times' Sake.
Lord Karnes, a once famous Scottish
iinl-Vii mi Viia wnr srnil hVfl V1 tn Pprth
from the northern circuit, had to spend j
the night at Dmikcld. Next morning
he made for the ferry across the Toy,
I'ur, missing the road, asked a passerby
to show him the way.
"With all my heart," said the stran
ger. "I see your lordship does not
know me. My name's John (low.
Dcn't you remember me? I had the
honor to be tried before your lordship
for sheep stealing."
"Now I recollect you, John," replied
the judge. "And how is ycur wife?
She, too, had the honor to appear be
fore me for receiving the sheep, know
ing them to have been stolen."
"Ah, we were very lucky to got off
for want of evidence, but I am still
in the butchering business."
"Then," quoth Lord Karnes, as he
camo in sight of the ferry, "we nay
Lave the honor of meeting again."
Kissint; in Japan.
No kissing ever occurs in Japan ex
cept between husband and wife, not
even betwocn a mother and child.
THE GIGGLING CIRL,
If you tell her she's modest or tell Ler
the's vain,
She'll giggle.
She hecrfs net the fact that it cives you &
pain.
That giggle.
Though you may address her in serious
key,
Make speech that presents no occasion for
glee,
Or even for smiling, her answer will be 4
A giggle. If
She runs to the door when her Chawley
J-oy rings
And giggles. .
While helping him take off his cold winter
things
. She giggles.
When seated for sparking, within the
bright rays
Of dollar per gas or the grate's cherry
blaze
She answers the sugary things that he says
Writh giggles.
In church if she catches a girly chum's
eye, - .
She giggles.
There's no provocation, she doesn't know
why,
Just gigles.
She'll arch her eyebrows like bact cf th
cat v
That stands eff the dog in the reir of the
flat
And give her eyelashes a humorous tat
And giggle. !
If called to the bier of a dead, silent
friend, v
She'd giggle.
If Gabriel's trump should bring time to as.
end, '
. She'd giggle.
If up the great judgment bar she were led
To list to her fate with the quick and the
dead
She'd think it was funny and shake her
fool head .
And giggle
Denver Post j
Maude "When you refused him my
hand, papa, did- he get down on his
knees?" rater "No. I didn't notice
just where he lit!" Chicago News.
Fame is a bubble , N
M That's pricked while it's growing, q
And comes to the fellow .',;
Who does the most blowing.
Philadelphia Record.
Scrimp "You don't seem to bother
much about the future." Lightart
"No, that never worries me until it be
comes the present." Philadelphia
Tress.
Gertie "My muvver says your muv
ver is a funny old thing." Tootsie
"H'm! Guess my muvver said that
about your muvver first!" Boston
Transcript.
Vanbibber "Vv'ho got the annual
booby prize in the Automobile Club?".
Vanpelt "Slowgo; ho ran over enly
fourteen people during 1001." Ohia
State Journal. '
"Yes," said Mrs. Sliptung, "it's true.
Aunt Ann insisted that her remains
should be cremated, and we're going
to have it done, if we can find a cream
cry."' Chicago Trioune.
"Have you made any progress with
ycur new novel?" asked kis friend.
"Oh, yes," said the hustling young au
thor; "I've selected a name and a press
agent." Brooklyn Life. ,
"Phwin dooz th' nixt thrain lave??'
asked O'Hoolihan of Lacey as they en
tered the "railway station together.
"Faith." replied Lacey, glancing at the
deck, "it's left'." Ohio State Journal.
The jester said, "I shall rejoice,
Although ray life's in folly spent, -
Tor sonic "say I'oolUh things by choice
And eome through nature's accident
Washington Star.
Jasper "Mrs. Eccksby seeing to have
married happily-" Jumtuppe "Yes,
but that U because she is so clever.
She has 1 nad? hor home so club-like
that her husband never leaves it."
Judge.
"The groundhog caw his shadow,"
remarked the Observant Eoarder. "I
think he must have seen the ther
mometer, too," added tho Cross-Eyed
Boarder. Pittsburg .Chronicle Tele
graph. Little Ekie "Mamma says you are
a self-made man, Uncle George. Are
you?" Uncle George "Yes, my dear."
Little Elsie "You must have mada
yourself i 1 the dark, Cidu't you?"
Chicago News.
"That boy," remarked eld Cerberus,
ciryly, after the youthful hope and
pride had been led cS to the spanking;
department, "has tiie bump of litiga
tion very strorgiy developed; In is al
ready vigorously engaged in coutest
ng the rarental will." Tit-Ells.