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$1.00 a Year, In Advance. FOR GOD, FOR COUNTRY, AND FOR TRUTH." Single Copy, s Ceot.
, VOL. XIV. PLYMOUTH, N. C, FRIDAY, JANUARY 1, 1904. NO. 41.
y
i
v.
OLD TM
A LAUGH .
She sat on the sliding cushion,
The dear, wee woman of four;
Her feet, in their shiny slippers,
Hung dangling over the iloor,
She meant to be good; she had promised,
And so, with her biff, brown eyes,
She stared at the meeting-house windows
And counted the crawling flies.
She looked far up at the preacher,
But she thought of the honey-bees
Droning away at the blossoms
That whitened the cherry trees.
.She thought of a broken basket,
Where, curled iu a dusky heap.
Three sleek, round puppies, with fiingy
cars
Lay snuggled and fast asleep.
A Bookworm's Loys Story,
4!
C d -
J&QS, AY after day, for some
"it mouths, I bad sat in near
O I B o company of a young girl in
the British" Museum, who,
"Riots' without being beautiful,
was the possessor of infinite charm.
Whether elm worked so energetically
for the mere love of the thing or from
necessity I could not tell. I chose,
. however, to fancy her the help of a
widowed mother who on slender means
tad perhaps still younger lives than
my fellow worker's to give her anxi
eties. Suffice it to say, on this point,
fmy near fellow worker labored with
zest, and often her example inspired
xny own somewhat flagging efforts; I
found myself possessed of an uncon
querable desire to make her acquaint-
aace, yet I could not summon the nec
essary courage to address her.
A cold" but bright day in January
found me on my way to interview a
notable member of Parliament, with
the hope to secure through his aid a
ticket for the House of Commons.
I had proceeded as far as the top of
Charing Cross Road, when-1 bethought
me to take a 'bus. I became an "in
side." There was but one other occu
panta lady.
Presently the conductor's voice
startled us both; the lady turning
about revealed to me the well known
face of "my lady" of the l-cading room.
The conductor's call upon us for
"Pares, please!" together with the sud
denness of mutual recognition, had
rather flustered us. Presently a vivid
Mush spread .over her face, as she
plaintively gave the conductor to un
derstand she had left her purse and
money tit home.
The collector of fares was somewhat
inclined to be coarse and offensive, as
he remarked:
"no, I dossay; that's a tale wot
ain't good enough for me. I've bin
nl that way afore to-day. Wot are
yer goin to do?"
At this juncture I deemed it ad
visable to expostulate, warning him
that it 'was no part of his duty to be
uncivil. Then I begged the lady's per
mission to settle so trifling a matter,
at the same time pointing out to her
that the fact of our being fellow
workers at the British Museum would
at least privilege me in so small a
service.
"That is fortunate," she replied.
"Thank you so much. May I ask your
name?" I gave it "Richard Athel
stane." "Thank you so much, Mr. Alholsiane.
I am Eunice Frith."
After delivering herself of this grac
ious bit of information she departed
on her way. leaving me in a seventh
heaven of delight. For was not the
ice now broken?
At the period of my first interest in
Tfomice Frith I was busily engaged in
efforts to graft in some manner the
American family of Shaddee upon the
parent' stock in England. It was a
.work of great weavisomenoss.
pOn the next occasion of my meeting
with Miss Frith the merest form of
greeting followed. As she handed me
t.he bronze obligation, her renewal of
Ithanks was accompanied by the faint
jost change of color, but her words,
I'You were very kind to help me out
of my dilemma. left no opening for
Extension of an acquaintance so aus-
In
ieiously- begun. Our sittings were
i
within one of each other. We took
,lhem, and thus far there was the end.
She evidently knew full well the ex
istence of the rule of "silence" which
FAVORITE:
IN CHURCH.
Such soft, warm bodies to cuddle,
Such queer little hearts to beat,
Such swift, round tongues to kiss
Such sprawling, cushiony feet;
She could feel in her clasping finger
The touch of the satiny skin,
And a cold, wet nose exploring
The dimples under her chin.
Then a sudden ripple of laughter
Kan over the parted lips
So auiek that she could not catch it
With her rosy finger-tips.
The people whispered, "Bless the child,"
As each one waked from a nap,
But the dear, wee woman hid her face
For shame in her mother's lap.
Sam Walter Foss.
the superintends CL' be time ever
strives so energtically to enforce.
Eunice Frith, whether or no she
divined that I desired a closer ac
quaintance, never bargained for. the
catastrophe, which though it brought
fear and trembling for awhile to her,
won for me tho "open sesame" I had
so longed for.
In a week's time we were on speak
ing terms, within a month an ac
quaintanceship had ripened marvel
lously. Gradually we came to under
stand each other. We sat side by
side, the dividing chair separated us
no longer.
Then the time came when she as
sented to my invitation to drink tea
with me in the gallery room. Over
thai delicious Souchong we chatted
freely. She spoke to me of her mother
an invalid; of her brother a clerk
in a banking house. "I gathered that
the united earnings of these young
people represented nearly the whole
of tho wherewithal of their otherwise
happy little home.
My work of pedigree creating had
palled sadly upon me for some time,
and I began to think living among' the
bones so to speak of departed no
bodies, far from exhilarating.
Once it happened Eunice's mother
accompanied her to the British Mu
seum. As they were descending the
stairway from the galleries, I was
passing through the hall. Eunice In
troduced me to her mother, and we re
mained in conversation for the best
part of an hour, when Mrs. Frith sud
denly remembered her doctor's instruc
tions not to "try herself too much,"
and pronounced for home. To her
alarm, on our arrival at the vestibule
of the Museum, it was raining smart
ly. Once again luck favored me. My
umbrella, a property which nine days
out of ten I left at home," proved a
ready friend for once. Under its shel
ter Mrs. Frith reached her 'bus in
comparative dryness. I offered it to
her. "Oh, no, Mr. Atheist anc, I won't
deprive you," she said.
But my insistence carried the day,
and suggested that Eunice might find
it useful in the morning. That young
lady, however, declared she "had one
of her own."
Mrs. Frith settled the question by
saying:
"I will take it, Mr. Athelstane, on
condition that you Avill bring Eunice
home this evening, and join us at our
little tea dinner, and then, you see,
you can take possession of your um
brella." To this I consented.
After leaving Eunice and her mother
I returned to the , reading room, in
tjuding to put in an hour or two of
work, but. in this I was frustrated by
the receipt of a telegram, which an
nounced the serious illness of my
father and desired my early attendance
at his side.
Here was a call that brooked no In
attention. I showed the wire to Eunice
and begged her to express to her
mother my regrets, and bidding her
what was intended to be an impressive
"Good-by," left for my home at Wells,
In Norfolk.
Little did I think that two long years
would elapse before I again set eyes
on Eunice Frith.
I was away in Norfolk for some
three mouths, my father's condition
varying to such an extent, owing to
frequent relapses, as left me no alter
native but to stay with him. I was his
second son, my brother Christopher
being two years my senior; our mother
had been dead many years.
My father had been dead some -six
weeks, during which period I had been
busying myself in the administration
of his little estate and winding up my
enforced rest from pedigree hunting
and other such trifles, when the great
change in my life began. The African
mail brought me a letter from my
brother Christopher, or rather from a
friend of his, acting as amanuensis.
Christopher had met with a very seri
ous accident in the mine. Most of his
ribs had been broken, and the doc
tors feared that much internal' lacera
tion had also taken place. Chris was
anxious to see me, fearing a fatal
ending. Would I come at once to
Kimberley? Ho had also enclosed a
draft for $500 to cover traveling ex
penses, and in case the world had not
used me kindly.
To pack up my traps was but short
work, and the old home I left in charge
of a maiden aunt.
After I had booked my passage I had
a few hours to spare. These I spent
in a vain search for Eunice Frith. I
could hear no tidings at the house
where they had lived. The landlady
only knew they had left gone, she
thought, into "unfurnished" rooms.
I did not feel easy on the matter,
but I hoped for the best, ar.d made my
way to a hotel near Waterloo whence
I had to start the next morning on
my first venture beyond the white
cliffs of old England.
The Castle liner on which I had taken
my passage did her voyage well and
rapidly. The succeeding day to that
on which I landed in Cape Town saw
me being transferred, as rapidly as a
South African railway can manage it,
northward. I arrived too late. Poor
Chris had gone to the bourne whence
none return.
- His lawyer met me soon after my
arrival, condoled with me, and eulo
gized poor Chris's many virtues. He
said that my brother had been a most
successful man up to a certain point.
But lately owing to to er scruples,
he had been placed at a disadvan
tage. Still, he remarked:
"Still, Mr. Athelstane, your brother
died pretty warm. His personality.
I should say well, let me see er, well
is quite $350,000."
I explained that my brother had
never confided either to his father or
myself the degrees of success which
he had attained.
"Indeed, sir," I added, "we know
very little about his South African
career. I presume he has a wife and
children?"
"Not so, sir. Your brother lived a
very retired life, rarely joining in any
of the many functions our citizens de
light in. He was a good man, and a
charitable one."
"Charitable?" I questioned. "Then
I presume he has left large sums to
your local institutions and hospitals?"
"No, sir; not a penuy."
"Then to whom does his money re
vert? Surely he did not die intestate?"
"Not a man in the world less likely
to do so. No, sir, you are a happy
man. By will here it is, sir, in black
and white 'all that 1 die possessed
of I leave to my brother, Richard
Athelstane, to be by him used and dis
posed of as may appear best to his
own good and charitable disposition. "
I was not inordinately puffed up by
this sudden acquisition of wealth. One
thing flashed first upon my mind, and
that was that I should be for ever
done with my old occupations. No
more grinding and paragraphs. No
more pulling about the dead and gone
ancestors of mighty present-day pork
butchers.
No more of ill-vontilated reading
rooms, whether under red tap or other
wise. I should live in Utopia. To do
this, I deemed it wise and best to
return to England. In due course, I
arrive in London, and at once went
back to the scene of my old strug
gles, the British Museum. It seemed
as if I could not keep away. "Why
did I go there?" you ask. To look
for Eunice, or, maybe, got some news
of her. But no, I could learning noth
ing; and it came into my mind that I
had seen'the last of Eunice Frith.
I had been one evening at King's
Cross station to inquire after a pack
age I had transmitted. I mr.de a short
cut back in the directiou of Russell
Square, when my attention was drawn
to a knot of children on the pavement.
At first I could see nothing, but as I
drew near I noticed one or two articles
of furniture, with a box: or two corded
over.
"One of those hateful cases of dis
traint some poor, lone, aged widow,"
I thought to myself. Even as I looked,
a poor, worn woman, yet neat aud tidy
withal, looked up, her face by its
pained expression, telling a tale of
woe. Where had I seen that face be
fore?' I had not gone on my way
many steps before my recollection
cleared. I hastened back to the forlorn
creature, and pushing my way to her
side asked in an undertone:
"Are you not Mrs. Frith Eunice's
mother?"
"Yes, oh, yes! But you who are
you?"
Before I could make reply, another
figure appeared on the scene. Eunice
Irerself but, . great heavens! how
changed that face had become. In its
thinness and wranness even 'the moth
er's sank into nothingness, as in heart
tones she gasped:
"Oh. mother, mother! Have they
turned you out like this? I came as
soon as I knew the state of affairs."
Then she caught sight of me, knew
me at once, as I could see, and drew
shyly back.
I held out my hand to her, saying:
"You know nn, Miss Frith. You
are in trouble. Your mother cannot re
main here, you must come with me."
In the twinkling of an eye I had
put Mrs. Frith and her daughter inside
of a growler, and jumping on the box
told cabby to drive to King's Cross sta
tion. In one of the wailing rooms I heard
the painful story my friends had to
tell. Eunice's brother had lapsed from
the direct course. In their endeavors
to rescue him their small capital of
hardly earned savings had melted like
snow before the sun.
A neAV home was soon found for
them. Money can do that. I begged
them to let me be their banker until
such time as Eunice's health was com
pletely restored." Their common sense
was equal to the occasion, and they
showed it by accepting my offer. A
month's perfect rest in town, another
at the seaside, soon mended the health
of these broken ones, more than ever
dear to me. My old home in Norfolk
forms a peaceful haven of rest for
Mrs. Frith. At present Eunice is with
her. If I am lucky, there will be a
bridal ceremony in the village church
before I return to town. New York
News.
HONEYMOON HOTELS.
How TCrldes and liiidegrooftus Are Looked
After In Europe.
The latest feature is the equipment
of the first class hotel is the provision
of special honeymoon suites, says the
London Express.
Many of the best hotels in London
now have these sets of rooms special
ly furnished to suit the tastes of young
brides and bridegrooms.
The rooms are superbly decorated
and adorned with delecate wall cover
ings and rich brocades. The floors
are laid with faint colored carpets,
and the furniture is mostly of dainty
Sheraton, Chippendale, or Louis peri
ods. Antique shapes in chairs, sofas and
secretaires are used, and art collectors,
esthetic peoplet and others who are
fastidious about their surroundings in
variably choose these suites.
The color scheme of the whole set of
rooms is often of one shade, and it
is a curious fact that rose color is the
favorite.
The recent vogue for striped wall
papers has subsided a good deal, and
the newest idea is to hang the rooms
with a tlateolored paper of delicate
tint, at the top of which a deep and
elaborately moulded frieze of white
plaster forms the main wall decora
tion. On this are hung old French prints,
Watteau copies, or, in some, Sauber
originals, all framed with gilt mould
ings, while old-fashioned ormolu giran
doles of the Louis periods hold the
electric lights, shaded to harmonize
with the other color effects.
Ceilings are treated. in a wonderful
manner, the background representing
sky. with masses of white clouds,
while trails of roses are frequently
painted in as a border.
For these apartments the carpets are
all specially woven to harmonize, and
the wall papers in many cases are
expressly designed and copyrighted by
the hotels.
The china tea services in use are cZ
the most exquisite patterns, mostly
copied from a Sevres or Dresden
model, and the silver is also fit for a
queen.
At a certain West End caravansary
a splendid electric car, with light up
holsterings. is available for the mill
ionaire bridegroom, who wants to do
hi3 honeymoon in a regal way, and it
is astonishing how great the demand
has been this season for this special
car, .
IN RETROSPECT.
One was a stately damsel on literature in
tent; Two was a sprightly maiden of a rather
domestic bent;
Three had a pensive yearning for Ibsen
things and "sich;"
Four had her charm by proxy (papa w&a
very rich):
Five was a college giidie captained her
baseball nine
Six weighed a hundred and f ty (the on
whom he asked to dine);
Seven could wraltz divinely, looked like ft
poster girl;
Eight had a fetching dimple and an over-
the-shoulder curl ;
Nine had a nose patrician, but an irritat
ing walk;
Ten balked at conversation, but could
make a piano talk
Eleven" was sympathetic, laughed at hit
oldest jokes;
Twelve was refined and pretty, hut he
couldn't "stand for her folks;"
Thirteen unlucky lady had never a
charm; 'tis said.
But out of a "baker's dozen"' she was the
one he wed.
Anna Marble, in the New York Times.
Stella "How does Jack make love?"
Bella "Well, I should define it aa
unskilled labor." Life.
"The fact is, my husband doesn't
seem to know his own mind." "Oh,
that's a very small matter." Cleve
land Plain Dealer.
He once was . lakin"' money,
Much more thai, he could use; :
Detectives caught him at it,
And now he tj making shoes.
Philadelphia Press. 1
"Ferdy's rich uncle must be dead;
lie's cracking jokes at libitum." "Yes;
an I must have left him lots of money;!
everybody is laughing at them."-'
Puck. - i
"A French savant says that borrow
ing is a disease," remarked Mifklns.
"Yes," rejoined Bifkins, "and he might:
have added that lending is insanity.'
Chicago Daily News. 1
"One o' de sad things T)Out dis life,)
said Uncle Eben, "is dat it's so muc&i
easier to depend on de enmity ob yok
enemies dan on the friendship ob yok
friends." Leslie's Weekly.
"What's this?" screamed the tank
drama actor. "My pay is ?l short
"Eight baths at fifty cents," bland
ly replied the manager; "six nights and
two matinees." Newark News.
Skids "Did your friend, Chesterias
McRanter, the tragedian, enjoy his va
cation?" Scads "I can't say as t
whether he enjoyed it or not. but the
public did." Baltimore American. j
Said the widow, i pretty young Mrs.:;
"Sir, I really don't know what a krs.' U a
Then the bold man in haste !
Put his arms 'round her waist
And exclaimed: "My dear madam, tars."
New Yorker. '
"Oh, I've got a winner something
absolutely new!" cried the playwright.!
"What's that?" "A fat villain that
smokes a pipe instead of the custom-';
ary cigarette kind." Chicago Evenins
Tost. i
"Do you think our forefathers set,
up an enduring republic?" "I should1
say they did. And it's enduring tij
whole lot more than they ever thought
it would have to, I'll bet." Chicago
Record-Herald.
"Yes," said Miss Howclls, after her,
solo, "I intend to go abroad to finish
my musical education." "Huh!" snort-j
d Miss Gowells, "why not finish tt
right now, and save the expense?''
Philadelphia Tress. J.
Funniman "He's undergoing a spe-(
cie3 of voice training, I believe, to fit
him for his political work." Jenkins
"Voice training?" Funniman "Yes. j
He's training his 'voice of conscience
to keep still." Philadelphia Ledger. M
Henley "So you liked my brother"
singing at the vaudeville show last
evening? And yet some people say h&
can't sing at all!" Bentley "He cant.!
That's what makes it so interestingr
When he tries to." Boston Transcript
Dashaway "A few short hours ago
I was sitting with a girl, telling her
she was the only one in all the world
I ever loved, and so forth, and so
forth." Clevcrton "Ami she believed,
you, didn't she?" -How could ske'
help it? Why, I believed it myself.",
Life.
Sydney' Hallway System. i
The most complete street railway;
system in the Southern Hemisphere is.
said to bo located at Sydney, Ncvr,,
South Wales. While the system ha
not been completely electrified, there,
being a few reminders of the past ii
the shape of cable and steam trams,!
the conversion of these modern elec
tric systems is being carried on rapia-j.