ir
4tr
I 1 VI
$1.00 a Year, in Advance. FOR GOD, FOR COUNTRY AND FOR TRUTH." SlnjU Copy 9 Ccata,
VOL. y VI. PLYMOUTH, N. C-fFRIDAY, JAArV5.T9067 NO. 41.
WHAT I
'I lire for those who tore me.
Whose hearts are klu and true,
for the heaven that smiles above m
And waits my spirit, too:
Tor all human ties that bind me.
Kor the task by (jocl asslued me.
l or the blight hopes left behind ine.
And the good that 1 can do.
I liv to learn their story,
Who've suffered for my sake,
To emulate their glory.
And follow in their wake:
Hards, patriots, martyrs, sages.
The noble of all ages.
Whose deeds crown history's pa'nV
And Time's great volume make.
I live to hall that season
Ky Rifted minds foretold.
When man shall live by reason
And not alone by gold ;
WHAT MARGARET KNEW.
I never believed in ghosts. I never
believed in anything much except Mar
garet Vane. I didn't even have faith
in my own courage. If I had I might
have made a winning fight for her
against that wild fellow, Tom Brent,
whom she ran away with and married.
I was such a man as she should have
had fcr her husband, while he was such
a man as no woman should have mar
ried. Yet he possessed that peculiar
fascination over good women which
seems to be present in every bad man.
Margaret' Vane was rich and Tom
needed money. So did I, for that mat
ter, and I worked with my pen to get
it. while Tom got his by any means
which nrnmispii nrnflt. I loved Mar
garet and told her so many, many
tin-,.-?. Clia Invarl Tirvi Ttrpnt and I
suppose he told her that he loved her,
s I had done, although that was not
necessary, for when the woman loves
the man he need say little mors than
what must be said before the minister
of the Gospel to establish the woman's
claim upon him.
Brent was handsome, unscrupulous
and a drunkard, but Margaret over
looked the handicaps to happiness and
became his wife. God knows I tried
my utmost to dissuade her, but I was
neither handsome, unscrupulous or a
drunkard, and my prayers availed not.
For a year Margaret was blindly
happy, and Tom was unnaturally good.
Then, as if fearful that she might not
continue her affection for this reformed
creature, he swung back into the old
paths and began his old course by go
ing 011 a prolonged spree. Margaret
suffered much during this defection,
but brightened again when he sobered.
After this he divided his drunks and
had them in less pronounced form, but
with, much greater frequency. He also
began to gamble and to spend money in
the hundreds of ways open to any one
who has it to spend. Margaret, of
course, was his chief source of reve
nue, and she furnished him with what
he asked, foolishly . hoping that her
kindness would win him to her and
hold him fast to better things.
For five years this continued, and at
last Brent became involved in a dis
graceful scandal, in which a man was
shot, a family broken up, and several
thousands were missing. Brent's con
nection was not well defined, but it
was enough to compel his absence, and
he disappeared.
Margaret went down with brain fev
er and for weeks her life was despaired
of, but she rallied in time, and once
more was well. But how changed she
was! We had always been good
friends, and now she turned to me as
the or.e who was nearest.
She was an orphan, and no other
had a better right to her guardianship
than I had, now that her husband had
proved unworthy of the trust she had
repo.sed in him.
Six months after he went away a re
port came through the newspapers that
he had been lost in a hotel fire in a
northern town.
Margaret insisted on my going to in
vestigate. I found that several un
recognizable bodies had been taken
fiom the ruins and buried, and among
the luggage saved was a trunk con
taining effects which conclusively
proved that Brent had a room in the
hotel on the night of the fire, though
lie had registered "under a different
name. I claimed the trunk and took
it back to Margaret with my story.
Her mind appeared to be at rest now,
and she began to improve in health
and spirits. But the cruel blows had
been struck and it was not possible
that she could be the same again.
As time passed and she began to
lean more upon me, I took hope once
more and very gently led her back to
the paths we had trod in other days.
I must be very careful, as I could see,
and I was.
Margaret did not seem to realize at
first that I was her lover still, but af
ter many days she did, and when I
I asked her to marry me she consented.
Knt iovouslv. as one whose heart knew
no other, but as one chastened by sor
row, who felt the need of a comfort
ing presence.
We went abroad on our wedding
journey and were gone six months.
When we came back I went to live in
Margaret's handsome house, and thgro.
I established a "den" ia which I
LIVE FOR.
When man to man united.
And every wrong thing righted.
The whole world shall be lighted
As Kden was of old.
I live to hold communion
' With all that Is divine.
To feel that there Is union
'Twixt nature's heart and mine,
To profit by affliction.
Real (ruths from fields of fiction.
Grow wiser from conviction
I'liltllllng Hod's design.
I live for those who love me,
for those who know me true.
Kor the heaven that smiles above m
And waits my spirit, too:
For the cause that lacks assistance.
Kor the wrongs that need assistance,
I'or the future In the distance,
' And the s?ood that I can do.
-(.. Linnaeus Hanks, In New York Weekly.
worked often far into the night. Jiu t
off this den I had my sleeping room,
and Margaret had a suite of chambers
across the hall. There were many
times when she wished to be alone,
and I respected her wishes and did not
disturb her.
Our lives moved serenely, with lit
tle joy or sorrow in them, of our own
making, and t was content to be near
Margaret always, and to be her friend
if I could not be quite all she wanted
as a lover.
Vane Hall, as the old house was
called, had Its own ghost story, as
nearly all old houses have, but it was
so vague as to be scarcely worth con
sidering. It never disturbed me in the
slightest, and, thought I was natural
ly timid, I never thought of ghosts
haunting the place, no matter how late
I worked.
One night, however, I was made to
think about the stories I had heard. It
was very late, and I was absorbed in a
tale I was writing, I had heard no
sound to disturb me, but I felt a
draught as if a door were opened. My
window was down from the top, and I
fancied the wind had changed. I
closed it and sat down at my desk
again.
Presently I heard what seemed to be
soft footsteps. They were passing;
down the hall. I thought of burglars
and hesitated about going to ses. 1
turned my light out and sat still. There
was a faint light in the hall. All be
came quiet and I peered out.
There was nothing in sight, and I
slipped down to the further end. Noth
ing there but a door leading to a small
balcony overlooking the garden. Noth
ing had been taken, and there was no
sign of midnight marauders. I tried
the door" and it was locked. I went
back to my den, and a few minutes lat
er I retired.
At breakfast I casually spoke to
Margaret of ghosts. She laughed ner
vously and said they had been seen
in the house and had been heard, but
not for two generations. I asked her
if she was afraid. She said she didn't
know, but that she might be if the
ghost came to her. Otherwise she was
not inclined to give the matter any
thought.
For two or three nights after this.
Margaret and I were at the theatre, and
if the ghost roamed then I was not
there to hear. But it came again dur
ing the following week. This time its
soft tread moved up towards Mar
garet's room. My first thought was of
her, and as soon as I could gather my
strength, but I confess that I was so
frightened that I could not pull my
self together at once, I hurried up the
hall to her door.
I called to her softly, once or twice,
and went in. She was not fully awake,
and she asked what was the matter. I
told her I had heard the ghost again,
and it had come to her door. She
laughed then, and became my com
forter. Margaret, you know, was al
ways stronger than I, and had really
more physical courage than I had.
She sent me back to my room with
the promise that she would lock her
door, and the ghost could not get in. I
went away, and as I did so I heard the
key turn in the lock. Then I searched
the hall and found nothing, as be
fore. The next morning at breakfast Mar
garet teased me so about my ghost that
I was ashamed of myself and resolved
not to speak of it agatn.
Several weeks passed, and at inter
vals I would hear the footsteps of the
mysterious visitor, but. I had become
accustomed to his ghostship and gave
no heed.
Now and again, after I had heard it
moving along the hall towards Mar
garet's room, I would go there just be
fore going to bed to see if her door
was locked. It was always secure, and
I smiled at my fears and went my way.
But as I became careless of the
ghost I began to notice that Margarel
was becoming nervous and was losing
color and spirits. I thoughtlessly char
ted her as she had teased me, but she
showed such unmistakable signs that
it was no trifling matter, that I re
solved to see for myself what this
ghost might be. . I said nothing to her
of my purpose, for I knew it would
not improve matters for her to think
I was disturbed.
The next night I had attended a din
ner at the club and did not get in un
til midnight, or perhaps an hour later,
as one is apt to do after club dinners.
Probably I had taken more wine than
usual. In any event I felt brave
enough to meet any ghost that. walk
ed, and I went, into my den to wait,
for it, if this should be its night to vis
it the haunts of men. .1 waited so long
that I dozed, and, waking with a start,
I heard the well known footsteps. This
time they were going down the hall in
the direction I had pursued them the
first night I had heard them.
Gathering my wits as quickly as I
could, I went into the hall, and in the
light, so dim that only the merest out
lines were visible, I saw a tall figure
in a misty gray wrap of the olden
time. I started after it, but before I
had taken half a dozen steps it stop
ped, turned, and waved me back warn
ingly. As I have said, I am not a brave
man, and I came no nearer. Slowly
the ghost turned again, and in its
stately fashion passed on to the end
of the hall.
Instead of following it, I hurried to
Margaret's room. She was awake- and
very nervous. I told her I had seen
the ghost. She laughed and said I had
been having too much wine, and it
would be better for me to go to bed
and let the ghost pursue the even ten
or of its way. But I was brave now,
seeing that she was safe and inclined
to tease me, and I left her, notwith
standing she pleaded with me not to
go, and went back down the hall.
Only a very short time had elapsed
since I had seen the ghost, and when
I got to the door leading out to the bal
cony I found it was open. I ran to the
front balcony, and in the garden be
low I saw the figure of a man crouched
in the shadow. In the road just be
yond were two policemen. I called to
them to catch the burglar, and as I
dashed back into the hall to go out
the back way I met Margaret at the
door of the balcony.
"Go back to your -fefoml' I ex
claimed. "The ghost is a burglar," and
hurried on downstairs. As I went I
heard several pistol shots. When I
reached the road the two officers were
standing over a man lying on the
ground.
"He's done for," said one, "but he
got two shots at us before he went."
"Who it is?" I asked, horrified at the
tragedy before me, and turning away
so as not to see the dead man.
"Why," replied one of the officers,
proudly, "it's that Tom Brent that
run away. We only heard yesterday
that he was in town, and while we were
spotting him he slipped in here to rob
the house, I suppose. Anyhow, he
won't rob any more."
"I could scarcely walk, but I man
aged somehow to get back into the
house and to Margaret's room. She
was not there, and I staggered out to
the balcony. I found her lying on the
floor unconscious.
The newspapers told only of ' the
burglar caught in the act. They did
not know what I knew what Margaret
knew. Very soon afterward we went
abroad, and there our paths separated
for ever. She died a year later, leav
ing all her properly to me as "an
atonement' according to the wording
of her will. W. J. L. in Illustrated
Bits.
An Improvement on "Lookout."
"He's what they call a 'crow. " said
a well-informed police witness at
Brentford of a certain youth, explain
ing that a "crow" is one who stands
on guai'd whilevhis associates are busy
robbing, to warn them of approach
ing police or other undesirablese. The
word is thieves' slang of considera
ble standing. In 1862, for instance,
The Cornhill Magazine mentioned it
as '"ie technical term for a woman
who kept such a watch for a burglar.
An explanation that at once suggests
itself is that this confederate is ex
pected to "crow" or give some warn
ing noise, but the word may well point
to some study of natural history in
criminal circles. Those familiar
"crows" rooks are accustomed to
post sentinels to signal the coming
of danger. London Chornicle.
Mr. Long's Choice.
Ex-Secretary of the Navy John D.
Long has a conviction that speeches
are as much of a bore to the audience
as they are to the speechmakers. "I
always feel glad when called upon to
make a speech, however," he says,
"for I am in the position of a certain
amateur actor. He was in all the
theatricals going in his small town.
He played all sorts of parts. Some
one asked him one day if he did not
get tired of taking part in every pri
vate theatrical performance.
" 'Yes,' said the young fellow, 'I
don't like to act a bit; but I know if
I'm not on the stage I'll have to sit
in the audience. " Boston Herald.
The Family Joke.
"That young man who took ?3CO,000
from a New York bank insists that he
didn't steal it."
"Maybe he is a blood relation of the
President." Cleveland Plain Dealer.
The London milkman covers his
route on foot, pushing a hand cart
with three wheels, which carries his
cans of milk and his different measures.
HOUSEHOLD
AFFAIRS
CLEANING INDIA RUBBER GOODS
To clean India rub ber goods a piece
of clean household ti'annel shouuld be
rubbed upon a bar of common yellow
soap. When a lather is obtained,
apply the flannel to the rubber and
pass it briskly over the surface. This
will speedily make the article clean.
Set to dry in a cool breeze.
TO REMOVE INKSTAINS.
Chloride of lime and water will re
move inkstains from silver if well
rubbed on the stains and then washed
off at once, the silver being polished
as ordinarially. The solution for the
purpose is four ounces of chloride of
lime to one aud a half pints of water.
This may be bottled and kept ready
for use. '
USES OF KEROSENE.
Instead of using water to wash paint
ed walls take a basin of kerosene and
the walls will look as if just painted.
Kerosene is also good around the sink
to keep it clean and to be a menace
to the omnipresent Croton bug. Try
kerosene on your sewing machine if
it clogs nt all. Kerosene by its lubri
cating qualities prepares the machine
for its special oil.
TOMATO PASTE.
Tomato paste is a good thing to have
in the house, and may be made when
tomatoes are plenty. Half a peck of
tomatoes, a carrot and an onion may
be sliced together, and to them is add
ed a good sized bunch of celery cut in
pieces, 'leaves as well as stalks. Boll
all very slowly until they are a soft
paste that can be put through a veg
etable press. Return this pulp to the
fire with a tablespoonful of salt, a tea
spoonful of pepper, and. cook slowly
once more until a little, spread to cool
Iu a saucer, thickens to a jelly.
Spread it out in pie plates in layers
about half an inch thick and let it
dry in the sun or in a cool oven.
When it is dry it must be packed in
boxes or wide mouthed jars. To use,
cook together a tablespoonful each' of
butter, and flour until they bubble,
pour on half a pint of water, put In
a piece of paste about three inches
square, and stir until the sauce is
thick and smooth. Harper's Bazar,
RECIPES
Lemon Jelly and Nut Salad Make a
stiff lemon jelly the day before it is
to be served. When ready to use cut
in dice, add sliced orange and English
walnut meats minced, moisten with
French dressing and serve in orange
cups or on lettuce leaves with a tea
spoonful of thick mayonnaise on top
of each service. -
Canning Corn If the corn is young
and juicy it will require no water, but
if, on the other hand, it is old and dry,
you should add just enough water to
make it moist. It should be slowly
heated on the back of the stove and
stirred often. Be sure it is heated to
boiling point before putting in cans.
Fill cans full aud screw on tops imme
diately. Walnut and Celery Salad Buy the
best English walnuts and crack care
fully so that the nut meats will come
out in perfect halves. From a bunch
of celery select the tender white stalks
and cut in small pieces. Line a salad
bowl with crisp lettuce leaves, mix
the nuts and celery together, toss light
ly with French dressing, then place on
the leaves and cover with mayonnaise.
Chicken and Nut Salad Stew until
tender a lump, one-year-old chicken,
having the broth in which it is cooked
well seasoned with salt, pepper and &
little celery salt. Let the chicken cool
in the broth over night; when ready
to use take the breast of the chicken
and cut in small pieces, adding an
equal quantity of tender celery and a
half cup English walnut meats or but
ternuts, cut in small pieces; mix well,
adding a little more pepper and salt.
If needed, and a squeeze of lemon juice
and moisten with a little of the broth
In which the chicken was cooked. Add
hiayonnai.se. to taste and toss ligntly;
arrange on tin lettuce leaves nud
crown each portion with mayonnaise.
Cotton From Fine Wood,
Recent experiments have been made
In Bavaria in regard to preparing arti
ficial cotton from pine wood, and it is
said that the new process allows it to
be made cheaply enough, so that the
artificial cotton may compete with the
natural product. The wood, which is
first cut into small splinters, is reduced
to fibers by steam and acids, then it is
washed, bleached and passed through
a crusher. The cellulose is formed into
jtine threads by a spinning machine.
These threads are said to make a very
good fabric when woven, and can easi
ly bo dyed. It is expected, that they
will be manufactured on a large scale
and corse into competition with Iui
ported cotton, -
.J
Y -
SOUTHERN FARM fOTES.
j ft. fp p.
1 -- - - . ....
1 TOPICS OF INTEREST TO THE PLANTER. STOCKMAN AN 0 TRUCK GROWER,
What the Tonne Farmer May Do.
There are many opportunities for ed
ucated agriculturists In the South.
There is a chance in almost every
town or city for the d-velopment of the
dairy industry. The cow is one of the
most profitable machines on the farm.
Milk can be sold for twenty-five to
thirty-five cents per gallon; butter
from twenty to thirty-five cents per
pound. A cow yielding 5000 pounds
per annum; would produce 588 gallons
of milk, which at thirty cents per gal
lon would be $176. A cow can be kept
for from $35 to $50. If this proposi
tion were made to a man by a "get rich
quick" concern he would lose no time
In making the investment.
Then there is a chance to produce
the seeds of corn and wheat in great
quantity through the adaption of the
simple principles of selection and plant
breeding. Thousands of dollars an
nually go out of the State for the pur
chase of seeds of these cereals at
prices ranging from $1.50 to $2.00 per
bushel, whereas, corn ordinarily
brings 40 cents and wheat 75 cents.
Why not produce more grass and
clover seed? Why not produce seed
of the vetch which does well here as
a winter cover crop, and of the soy.
bean, etc.?
These are but three or four of the
many money making Industries that
are open to the progressive agricul
turist of the South to-day. There
never was a time when there was a
better chance to make money from
the- intelligent application of business
principles to the production of dairy
and beef products, to the growing of
horses and mules, to the development
of the poultry industry, which Is still
in its infancy, and to the breeding of
seed of high quality for use by South
ern farmers. Who will be the first
to see these good things and to reap
the rich harvest which awaits the in
dustrious farmers?
As to the future of the farm there
can be no question. Look at the con
dition which has grown up in Europe
because of the ancient systems of
land tenure which prevented the aver
age citizen from owning a piece of
ground, making every tenant a peas
ant of some landlord. In America un
til the present tims many men have
been interested in manufacturing
plants, building railroads, steel fur
naces, iron furnaces, etc. A period
of leisure will come, a time when the
output of factories will offset con
sumption. Then there will be mil
lions to invest in something; will it
not be natural for these men to turn
to the country and to invest in lands?
Will the time not come when there
will be many landed estates in Amer
ica? Will the farmer who tills the soil
who is the most important factor in
the welfare of the country give up his
land? Surely not, and yet the sign of
the times would seem to indicate it,
for the wild desire on the part of
many seems to be to go to the city
and to dispossess themselves of the
land. Will it not be better for them
to keep close to it and to maintain
their independence through living on
it, rather than to suffer the pangs and
indignities that have come to the peas
antry of Europe? The cost of living,
as already mentioned, is increasing in
America; the demand for all farm
products is A-ery great. There never
was a time when the intelligent farm
er could earn a larger revenue. There
never was a time when land could be
bought for less in many sections of
the South than to-day, and there
rPr was a time when a man had a
uetter chance to make wealth from the
soil. Young men, possess yourselves
of the land and the inalienable rights
of citizenship.
Lima Burnt Tobacco an Fertilizer.
R. C, Danville, Va., writes: Please
advise me if lime should be applied
on the land before I fallow in the peas
or if it can be put in as well with the
plow? I would also like to know the
manurial value of burnt tobacco. It is
not so badly burnt but is wet.
Answer: Lime should never be
plowed under, as it sinks rapidly into
the soil under the most favorable con
ditions.' Plow under your pea vines
and get the land ready for seeding and
then scatter the lime over the surface
by means of a manure spreader. To
keep it from running out too rapidly
you can put some straw or other rough
material in the bottom of the' spreader.
Then harrow it lightly. It is best as a
rule to apply lime in the fall, but of
course it is also Well to have a crop
follow it as it may derive as much ben
efit from it as possible and fix the plant
food in the soil which the lime may
free and prevent its being leached out
by the violent winter rains. You might
put a light seeding of oats or barley
or wheat on the land this fall and seed
to grass In the spring and cut whatever
ceral you sow for hay In the early
dough stage so it will not draw all the
water out of the soil and leave it dry
end at harvest time. Many stands of
grass are destroyed because the rlp-
....
enlng crop of grain exhausts the 'soil
so completely 01 Doin moisture u
plant food that the grass does not hav
a fair chance. It would oe rather late
to sow grass this fall at the time men
tioned, though in a favorable season
It might do all right. It Is better In
my judgment to wait now until next
spring. ' t
No doubt you refer to the burned
leaves of the tobacco plant. "A ton of
tobacco contains about 200 pounds of
ash, something like fifty pounds of
nitrogen, and thirteen to fourteen
pounds of phosphoric acid, and eighty
one pounds of potash. The burning
of the leaves would result in the de
struction of practically all the nitro
gen, but the phosphoric acid and pot
ash will be intact except where
injured by leaching with water thrown
on the ashes, during the fire. Thl
probably would not amount to much,
however, if the tobacco was well mois
tened, as it doubtless was. Tobacct
ashes would thus supply you. with a.
cheap source of potash if you caa buy
them right, and a small amount of
phosphoric acid, but you would ob
tain practically no nitrogen from their
use. If you can get them reasonably.
it should pay you to haul them and
scatter them on the land for the sake
of the potash you would' get. You
should not use more than twenty-five
to fifty b'tshels of lime per acre and
liui incuci iuau uviu uilcv iv , -
years. Fifty bushels is not a "heavy
application, and should give you good '
results. Twenty -five bushels, . applied
in two applications, with .two y ears
Intervening, will probably prove ' riiore
effective than a single application off
fifty bushels. Professor Soule;'-
Hw and When to Seed AXTaifm.
R. A. W., Parnassus. writeS?,AWhen
is the best time of the year to sow al--
iaiiar win auaira grow m. sun reu
clay? ' . . . .. "
Answer: Aiiaira snouiu. oe buwb
tiAilr ac crtvrt Q C; S C ftAQCima -t-Tk (mt ttlA I
n ; rrti . t
be broken to a depth of .about eight
inches, provided of course that" you '
have broken it at least six incnes- De-
fnrA Tr xvnnrl Tint he welL .to .take a.
soil that has been worked shallow for ,
a number of years and break it 'up '
rtoenlTr nil nt mice. Then It would be'
v ' j , --
11 - ..tsll I, Inn1 1 0 1 4- 4a n. liedWIK. -
uh ill kii .situ I lit ittiitj. il -it- la a. xma. a r
rpri so ir nr n sannv nature sudsoii-;
ing it is not necessary. Apply sixteen.
not MTit nnin nhnsnhfltp flr Tne rate-
JV 1 .
with fifty to 100 pounds of muriate.
of potash. If the land it; deficient in
vegetable matter, make an' application'
of about seventy-nve pounas 01 nitrate .
of soda to the alfalfa after It has come
up and a similar application next .
spring. You might also top-dress the'"
alfalfa with a good coating of well rot
ted farmyard manure. Alfalfa is a del
icate plant when first seeded. Fait -seeding
is an advantage because IV.
gives it a chance to establish itself -before
the weeds choke It out as they,-;
often do from spring sowing. Alfalfa
should bo frequently clipped if it turns
yellow and not allowed to go into the
winter with too much top or it might-
smotner out. sow at iea-t uMCiiij
pounds of good, clean seed and it is
often advisable to inoculate. This may
be accomplished through the use of at-'
tificial culture or through the use of
soil from an oil field. At least
pounds of soil should be mixed with
the seed to be sown on each acre of."
land. Alfalfa may be put in the grain
drills or sown broadcast and cover with'
a harrow. You cannot prepare the
land too carefully and he'avy fertiliza-;
tion is necessary on most of your soils.'
Alfalfa is a vigorous feeding plant and
must be well supplied with the various
forms of plant food or it will not give
satisfactory results. It may seem
rather a serious undertaking to obtain
a stand of it, but if yci succeed with,
it you will find it one oi'the most val
uable crops you have ever grown on
your farm and you will be weH re
paid for the labor, effort and money ex
pended in securing it. It makes excel
lent' hay and can be cut tw,o to four
times vear under favorable condi
tions. . . ."
Alfalfa as a rule does not do well. on.
very stili heavy red clay land as it la
so tenacious that the roots cannot eas
ily establish themselves in the soil, and
its power to establish itself in the
soil being based on the vigorous de- '
velopment of its roots; it frequently
withers away and dies In the course
of two or three years in such land.
However, if these lands were well sub
soiled and underdrained, it would, no
doubt frequently grow with,success in
the future where it has failed in the
past. '
Perplexity of Isaac. -.t.
Newton had just discovered why the
apple fell.
"But," we persisted, "can you teff us
what makes a person's face fall in &
novel?"
Herewith science had to confess it
self beaten by ; literature. , ,