i f H Tl
fl if . 1 I id I
$ I . oo a Y . -a ' , i -l Advanc?.
"KR iiOD, FOR COUNTRY AND FOR TRUTH."
Single Copy 5 ttnu.
vl. xvi.
PLYMOUTH, N, C, FRIDAY. MAY 19, i905 .
NO. 9.
1 IF fl
m - if'i ft w fc p u fi .a fi ici m m
TEARS, IDLE TEARS."
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean.
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
r Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
fcSo sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And street as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love.
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
0 Death iu Life, the days that are no more.
Tennyson,
AUNT MARIA'S HE!.
By B. F. Paul.
infl
II
m
HEX my youngest UDcle
came borne and told my
grandfather that lie was
engaged to Miss .Smitner
son, the dear, old man Was
lmraiyzeu with dismay, and all the re
IL-JI
lations and friends who knew Miss
.Smith erson were, paralyzed, too, and
expressed their opinion that my uncle
Lad been thwarted through the mach
inations of old Smilhersou.
This was ten years or so before I
was born. By that time the lady had
quarreled with half her husband's re
lations, and by the time I was eighteen
she had quarreled with the other half,
only excepting myself, to .whom, for
some unaccountable reason, she had
conceived a violent and somewhat em
barrassing affection. As by this lime
my parents were dead and had left
their children very ill-provided for, wo
thought it better from prudential mo
tives to encourage this affection, my
a mi t being one of our few prosperous
relations, and our only wealthy one, as.
in addition to her own fortune, she had
caused my late uncle to make a will
leaving her absolute mistress of all he
possessed; so when he died she was
worth a considerable fortune. Her.
two sons were entirely dependent oa
her caprices, and as she had already
'quarreled violently with the elder,
there was every chance that she might
K leave me a comfortable income. I
9 therefore responded with hypocritical
'warmth to her fond overtures, and al
ways accepted her frequent and press
ing invitations, though I reaped much
weariness and not a little irritation
from her exacting society.
These visits were, however, rendered
endurable by the society of my cousin
Edgar, the younger and favorite son,
of whom I was really very fond, and
Willi whom I sometimes oven fancied
myself in love when wearied with4 the
excessive ardor of Cyril Cavendish, an
impecunious bank clerk, who had fixed
his youthful affections upon. me, and
whose assurances as to my personal
charms were often a great comfort to
me whoa wounded in spirit by the
plain speaking of my brothers.
One day Edgar came to me with a
greatly perturbed expression, and said
he wanted me to help him out of a
difficulty. I uaid I would do my best,
and, after some beating about the
bush, he informed me that ho was
deeply in love with Augusta Denaby.
a rather preliy girl who lived ia the
next parish.
"Augusta Denaby!" I exclaimed.
"Why. you know Aunt Maria detests
her and would cut you off with a
dollar if you ventured to marry her!"
'.That's just the difficulty," respond
ed 'Edgar. '"Just because Mrs. Den-.
iby offended mother a dozen years
ago, she hasn't a good word to say for
any of the family. She has hardly
spoken to any of them. and. I believe,
has never even seen Augusta. I am
sure, if she once got to know her, she
couldn't help liking her, and now that
Mrs. Denaby is dead, there's no reason
the enmity should bo kept up. But.
you see, Kitty, mother has made up
her mind that you and I are to marry
each other, and she is expecting me to
propose to you while you are here."
"But I don't want to marry you." I
returned, with some warmth, Cyril
suddenly becoming precious in my
eiirhr.
,"I know you don't," replied Edgar,
"and I don't want to marry you. so
we are of one mind on that point. Hut.
you see, -Kitty, I shall get no peace
till I ask you; so what I want you to
do is to refuse me, and then I can tell
mother that you wouldn't have me,
and I shall bo reduced to despair and
go off and marry Augusta, and mother
.will throw all the blame upon you.
Then we shall gradually work round.
po that mother will get to know tnd
like Augusta, and all will end happily."
I was tilled with indignation at this
suggestion. Mean, selfish fellow! Why
should I be sacrificed, just to further
his own ends, and bo deprived of the
comfortable provision for the future
upon which I was depending at my
aunt's ilea lb? I resolved upon re
venue. "Very well, said I, coldly,
do what I can for you. But
"I 'will
you 'are
si"-'1 your mother wants us to marry?"
"Its; i , asked rue only this rJom-
'The Princess."
VfiiO o)o(t
ing if I had proposed yet," he replied.
"Very well, then, do so," said I.
"Well, then, Kitty, will you be my
wife?" said Edgar.
"With pleasure!" I responded, with
a sweet smile.
, "But, Kitty, you must refuse me,"
said Edgar, much taken aback.
"I shall do nothing of the sort," said
I, with gentle firmness. "Far be it
from me to go against the wishes of my
dear aunt, to whom I owe so much. I
shall go and tell her at once how hap
py you have made me."
I did, and my aunt embraced me
warmly, almost with tears, and 1 em
braced her with equal fervor, and told
her that I could never do enough to
show my gratitude.
My aunt insisted that we should be
married at once, only allowing t. ne for
the purchase of an elaborate trousseau
with which she into . ied to provide
me.
The unfortunate Ed0ar was nearly
distracted. To break off his engage
ment with me would incense his moth
er even more than his refusal to pro
pose in the first place would have
done. He raged and stormed in pri
vate, declared he would commit suicide
rather than marry me, would reject
me at" the altar, would illtreat me in
the most fearful way after we were
married. But to all these threats I
opposed an unruffled sweetness of de
meanor and lavished a great show of
affection upon him in the presence of
my aunt, to whom ho was unwillingly
obliged to respond.
Our wedding day drew near, and Ed
gar, finding me unmoved by threats,
now had recourse to entreaties, and
even secretly brought Augusta to add
her prayers to hist but to their pitiful
moans I only responded that nothing
would induce me to disappoint my dear
aunt, even if I had to sacrifice my
life's happiness in the cause.
It may readily be supposed that I
had not really the slightest intention
of allowing Edgar to marry me. I in
tended to drive him into rejecting me,
a course which Avould, I knew, deeply
offend my aunt and would probably
oust Edgar altogether from her favor,
in which I then hoped to rise siill
higher by the representation that Ed
gar's cruelty had broken my heart.
However, as the day approached and
Edgar showed no signs of open reboh
lion. I began to be a little alarmed.
What if. after all. 1 had to reject Ed
gar? That would be fatal! My aunt
would never speak to me again.
The morning before the appointed
wedding day Edgar came to me, pale
and fierce.
"Are you determined to keep up this
farce to the end?" lie inquired.
"Farce?" said I, raising my brows.
"I intend to obey my beloved aunt, if
that is .what you mean."
"Then take the consequences." ho
retorted, as he departed angrily and
banged the door.
That evening a note was discovered
in Edgar's room informing his mother
that when she read it all would be
over, that he could not obey her wishes
in marrying me, and, rather'than run
counter to them, he had resolved to de
stroy himself.
The distracted mother was beside
herself with grief. She rushed here
and there, giving contradictory orders:
she ran up and down sdairs as if
searching for some sign of his pres
ence; she dispatched search parties in
the hope (hat he might yet bo discov
ered alive; but nothing could be found,
except his coat ami hat 011 the bank
of a river.
The conclusion come to was that the
unfortunate young man had drowned
himself, though no trace of the body
could be discovered.
"You are my only hope and com
fort!" cried my aunt, weeping on my
neck. "I'ou must never leave me.
darling!"
With some misgivings, 1 promised I
wc!l! not.
Tho next morn in jr. at an early hour,
Mr. Denaby appeared in a state of dis
traction. Augusta, it seemed, unable
to hear the idea of resigning Edward
to any other bride,-had also drowned
herself. Iter cloak and hat had been
discovered on the bujik of the river,
which was being dragged for the body,
but so far without success.
The bereaved parents wept together,
and so touching was their grief that
I cried, too, although I had not the
slightest apprehension that Augusta
and Edgar had really drowned them
selves. However as months passed on and
nothing was heard of either of them,
I began to feel rather anxious and to
wonder what had befallen them.
Meanwhile a common sorrow had
drawn the two unhappy households
together, and, about a year after these
startling events, my aunt astounded
me one morning by the information
that she and Mr. Denaby had resolved
to unite their broken hearts and seek
consolation in wedlock.
Here was a nice prospect for me!
My aunt had already become very
favorably disposed toward her future
stepchildren, and would be certain to
provide handsomely for them in her
will. and. instead of being her sole
heiress, I was suddenly confronted
with seven rivals the number of Au
gusta's brothers and sisters and might
think myself fortunate if I got off with
an eighth part of what I had consid
ered my due.
The marriage took place, and the
Denabys migrated from theh small
house to my aunt's handsome mansion,
in which I now felt myself an inter
loper. I returned to my former home,
where my eldest sister was struggling
to make both ends meet, and where I
was not received with much enthu
siasm. In these circumstances, I accepted
an offer of marriage from a wealthy
gentleman who fell a victim to those
charms which no one but Cyril had
yet been able to perceive.
On the very day that I wrote to my
aunt informing her of my engagement.
I received a letter from her, written
in great excitement, and incoherently
announcing that "Edgar was not in
heaven, as she had hoped." but in Can
ada, where he and his wife, Augusta,
were happily settled and doing ex
tremely well. Having heard of tho
marriage of their respective parents,
they had taken courage to write and
inform them that they, too, were mar
ried, and not dead, as was supposed:
they hoped they ;.hould be forgiven
and still hold a place in the affections
of their friends."
& e
Thus all ended well. Edgar has al
ready attained great eminence in his
adopted country; Cyril and I are both.,
happily married to somebody else
and my aunt is so kept iu order by her
second husband, who has proved to be
a person of much decision of character,
that she has already begged her eldest
son's pardon for having discarded him.
and has made an equitable will, divid
ing her fortune in the most proper and
satisfactory manner.
I am glad to say that I am not for
gotten. New York Weekly.
Timid Swains.
"Can you post me 0:1 stamp flirta
tion the significance of stamps placed
in various positions on envelopes?"
queried a sentimental youth at one
of the postofiice windows. "Yes," said
the stamp clerk grufliy, "a stamp
placed anywhere but in the upper right
hand corner of the addressed side of
the envelope means trouble a lot of
trouble for postolfice people whose
duty it is to cancel Ihe stamps. And
a slump piac-fd anywhere on the wrong
side of tiu envelope, as is often done
by foolish ir.dividr.a!.s who imagine
they are flirting, means delay the let
ter being held up under tho impression
that it if. unstamped until some one
discovers tho stamp on the reverse
side. That's the extent of my knowl
edge on the subject of stamp flirta
tion." As the abashed youth hurried
away the clerk winked at a listener
and added: "I never could understand
why these mushy' individuals don't
write their tender sentiments in the
letters instead of making trouble for
mail handlers by sticking stamps in
all sorts of ridiculous positions." Phil
adelphia I'ecord.
The "Americac Accent.
An American correspondent protests
against the phrases "American accent"
and "nasal twang." which were used
in many reports of the Torrey-Alexan-dor
mission at Liverpool. For "the
impre-sion is a general one that all
Americans talk through their ras?s.
The idea is quite as erroneous as if
one should assert that all English
people talk Co.-kney." The protest is
justifiable. There is no such thing a
the "American accent," except in a
few words, such as "advertisement."
whrrein America is superior as to pro
nunciation and practice.
Nr does the American-born man
"talk through his nose." The real dif
ference that we all notice is a differ
ence in the general pitch of voice. The
American voice is pitched in a slightly
higher key than the English; and here
you may find the reason why the Am
erican assi-iiilaies French so easily.
Put roughly, the c;:s; is this: the
Frenchman taiks from his palate, the
American from the top of his jhroat.
the English:!. an v.i-va his chest and
the Senna 11 from his diaphragm. Lon
don Chronicle.
Wheat Bea!s.lof Vermont, built the
first railroad known in the Vnited
States tho wooden track affair lout
miles long at the Quiucy granite quar
ries in Massachusetts.
MISFIT SPECTACLES.
We wondered why the spectacles that help
grandpa to read
Would make things, when I put them on,
look very queer indeed.
Good reason why his spectacles for me
will never do,
For, don't you see, my eyes are brown,
while grandpapa's are blue!
St. Nicholas.
THE MYSTERIOUS PLAYER.
"Molly," mamma called, softly,
"don't, dear! Baby's just beginning
to get sleepy."
The sharp little patter of trills and
scales on the piano kept on, undimin
ished. "Molly, stop playing at once!" ma
ma's voice had the ring of command in
it, but the patter of notes still con
tinued. She did not dare to move, for
baby's eyes were narrowing drowsily
to little blue slits, and they must not
fiy open again. When at last the noise
stopped, they were shut, and baby bad
landed on Noddle's Island after a long
trip on a "choppy" sea.
Molly tiptoed into the room.
"Molly," mamma said, gravely, "didn't
you hear me tell you to slop drumming
on the piano?"
"Why, I never, mamma!" whispered
Molly, surprised. "I haven't been iu
the music-room a tall!"
"Then it must have been Faith, but
it didn't sound like her. She really
plays little tunes."
"Faithie's out i . the hammock,
mamma."
"Why!" mamma said. And the boys
are gone. Who could Hark!"
The patter of notes again, running
up and down the keyboard. Molly's
eyes grew big with astonishment.
It was a queer little tuneless jig,
with rests and "andantes" and "for
tissimos" playing. tag through it. and
A flats and B sharps stepping on each
other's heels.
Then it stopped short. Mamma held
out her hand' to .Molly, and they stole
to the music-room door together. No
one there. Peter Burr lay curled on
the sofa In a doze, no'; looking at all
as if he had just seen a ghost. So the
queer little mystery stayed undiscov
ered until, a day or two after, Molly
suddenly stepped right into the middle
of it. She was hurrying through the
hall when she hearl the piano "going"
again iu the funny way.
"Oh. my!" she thought. "There 'tis
playing on itself again why-ee!"
For she had stopped at the door, and
there was Peter Purr playing a tune ali
to himself! Peter Purr! Who ever
would have thought? Molly stood and
watched him do it. He leaped from
the piano-stool to the keyboard, and
whisked lightly back and forth, -in
great delight at his own music. His
soft, padded toes struck tho notes
gently and made funny trills and
quavers. Over and over again the
tune played under his feet, and then
it came to a sudden end. Peter Purr
leaped down to the lloor, and before
Molly could unscrew the little round
"()!" of astonishment her lip?; made,
ho was fast asleep on the sofa. Annie
Hamilton Donuell, in Youth's Com
panion. A C1CAU-BOX BOAT.
The first thing to be done is to se
cure a good, strong cigar box and to
A
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THE SHADOW .SHOW..
..X.. -j:'.?., .
"Cor.ie, children," says mania, "you surely
r,iu.-t know
'Tis time you were ready to w.no to
hhoW."
Then we scamper up stairs a.- fan as caw
be.
For we kuew ju.-.t what inair.a mer.n., you
Oar bed is the ranil sir. ml. the tiencU
1 -lit' i'OiVl!.-:,
And the aetoiv all coni-2 from faraway
t -.Wins.
Th? lamp turned up nnli! it is bright,
And iraV.ui takv paper and crumples it
tiht,
FIr-t twisting it thU way, then beiiu.n
it that.
Pulling it out or pressing it Hat,
Till the shadows it taakts unou the white
ua.il
rip away its lid. Cut two pieces of
pasteboard,, each the width of the box
by one-third of its length, and tack
these across the front and back of the
opening. This makes a fore and after
deck. With a hatchet chop from an
umbrella rib two masts a foot long,
pushing one through the fore and one
through the after deck, and pounding
both firmly into the bottom of the
cigar box. Take what remain-, of the
umbrella rib, say three inches; lay
half of it along the middle of the fore
deck, allowing the other half to pro
ject; secure it to the pasteboard with
sealing wax, and the bowsprit is in
position.
Now the cigar box commences to re
semble a ship and it is time to begin
the propeller. For this purpose, cut
from the cover two strips of wood an
inch broad, and tack these to the sides
of the box just at the bottom, so that
live inches stick out at each side of
the back of the box. The position of
the strips to the box is the position of
shafts to a wagon, except that they
are behind instead of in front. They
must be tacked very strongly. When
this is done, run a stout rubber band
from the end of one shaft to the end
of the other. Cut out of what is left
of the cigar-box top a paddle four
X CI3AR BOX BOAT AND PADDLE,
inches long and an inch and a half
wide, and the motive power of the
boat is ready. You have only to push
the paddle between the two sides of
the rubber baud, midway between the
shafts, and turn it round from left to
right until the rubber is twisted tight.
When you let go of the paddle it will
turn rapidly until the elastic is un
twisted, and if the boat is in the wa
ter the turning will send it ahead.
The stronger this apparatus and the
tighter the rubber is twisted the far
ther the boat will go.
What remains to be done is only to
make the box water tight and to in
crease its likeness to a ship. The first
task can be accomplished by calking
the cracks inside the box and the holes
made by tho masts with putty or gum.
If neither is handy, light a candle and
let the tallow drip into the proper
places. Run a striug from the main
mast t the foremast, and from the
foremast to the bowsprit for rigging,
and glue a tiny Hag to the top of each.
Cut portholes along the side of thq
boat, or paint thorn there with ink.
A spool can be made to look like a
donkey engine, a tiny box will serve
as a cabin, and Ihe vessel is ready to
be floated. If the work is done neatly
the craft will be as trim and as ser
viceable as an iron toy that would
cost from ?3 to $10 in any of the shops.
New York Evening Maif.
t -mBu Charlotte Shields.
mm
V-
P1
Are funniest figures. Lolli short nnd laH.
Jieic comes an old to!dicr, so -brave anj
so true;
And then the oil woman that lived ia a
shoe!
A Chinaman next with a pack on hi.
h.tck.
And shot -with points as sharp as a
! nek,
Ar.il there is a witch very plain. .-you s.e,
She siirelv is i'.."trr the (.'iiiniuniui's tea.
And well, 1 declare! iht re' Tabby, the
cat,
Looking as if the were seeing a r:U.
"And the bird." mama eiiys, "with its
wings outspread.
I-s fly in;,' honia to ils t.rc to bed;
'Tw ii.m ir.r )mtir to be in their nest.
And 'tis time for thiiuieii to lie down aaJ !
1-isU" l
i.r-jwi; -- - -' - :
SLOWER NOTES. . '
Don't put all your flower bulbs ia .
pots or beds, but tuck clusters of them
here and there amid the shrubbery,
says the Woman's Magazine.
Crocus may be twice its own depth
beneath the soil and if left undisturbed
will sow its own seed and multiply.''
Lilies of the valley, narcissus, cro
cus, snowdrops and scyllias are amofij
the things that should be planted in
the fall to come up early in the spring.'
Be sure to obtain new plants each
full of the Chinese primrose, as these
plants do not bloom so well in the
house the second year.
In selecting bulbs, if done person
ally, choose the heavy solid ones in
preference to the large, flabby or soft
the former often hold two or three
spikes.
Keep the asters, the dahlias, the
cosmos, chrysanthemums, and all the
late bloomers that will keep the garden
bright until freezing weather, well
fertilized, watered and well cultivated.
Hyacinths need deep planting, fully
eight inches from the top of bulb to
surface of soil. This insures healthy,
stocky plants that are able to hold tip
a heavy truss of bloom without stak
ing. GRAFTING. '
Crafting is generally done at the be
ginning of the season's growth, about
the time we call "starting of the sap,"
though it may be successfully done
later. There are so many kinds of
grafting and so many different ways of
doing it that our brief space does not
justify entering into details. Any
means of bringing the part to be at
tached in such connection with that
which is to become the sustaining part,
as to permit a ready flow of the--sap
from the one into the other and keep
It there, and so as to prevent air and
weather effects from disturbing. graft
ing. The method most employed by
non-professionals is known as cleft
grafting. Cut the stock at right angles
and pare smooth, being careful not to
injure the bark at or below the cut.
Split to depth of two inches, and in
sert a wedge to hold the split open.
Carefully insert one or two scions,
made into a wedge at the lower end.
so that the line between the wood and
bark of the stock exactly fits the cor
responding line of the scion. To be
sure of securing this result the scion
may be inserted at a slight angle, so
that these lines are sure to cross. Re
move the opening wedge and the work
is done. Xow carefully wax the en
tire end of the stock, covering every
part of the wound, and fitting it close
ly around the scions, so as to, exclude
both air and water. Make" :-7vax, by
weight, resin four parts, beeswax two
parts, tallow one part; melt and thor
oughly mix, and pour into cold water.'
Grease the hands and work as candy.
IX THE OLID ORCHARD.
Trofessor V. I Herrick. of the Mich
igan Agricultural College, gives the
following advice concerning eld orch
ards: "Get into the orchard With the prun
ing saw. For this work you need men
of experience. Too many so-called
tree primers are tree butchers. Their
zeal is much greater than their knowl
edge. The only absolute rule in prun
ing that can be laid down is to cut out,
all dead wood. Branches that are bad
ly injured, diseased, crossed or that
from weak crotches should be removed,
after which some small limbs may be
cut out, and if the tree top is very
thick there should be a judicious thin
ning of large branches. Let the prun
ing extend through two or three sea
tons rather than one.
"Nearly all old orchards are iu sod.
This must be broken up absolutely
must if success is to be attained. Start
its cultivation and keep it going. 11 ow
in a good dressing of suitle manure,
or plow and then harrow in a good
dressing of fertilizers rich in potash
and phosphoric acid. Iu the words of
the parable of the barren fig tree, 'dig
about it and dung it.'
"With a short handle hoe or some
kind of a box scraper remove the old
rough bark which shelter innumerable
insects and fungi and then spray thor
oughly, while the trees are in dormant
condition, with copper sulphate at the
rate of one pound to twenty-tive gal
lons of water.
"Make up your mind to feed, prune,
spray, sow cover crops and cultivate
the orchard for the remainder cf its
life. If the orchard fails to apprqei-''
ate the treatment outlined above, lt
it down and plant anew. 'Why Jjin.
bercth it the ground? Do nojxpect
too much nor look for quick Returns. .
'As tho twig is bent. 4-!!e.. triors in
clined,' and a season or -two of good
care cannot make up lor a lifetime
of neglect. Pn not follow years of
outrageous treatment- with unreason
able expectations.''
Dr. William G. Anderson, instructor
of the gymnasium at Yale, will make
au inspection of the leading school and
college gymnasiums of the north and
diddle West-
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