3
V
ftoo a Year, In Advance.
FOR GOD, FOR COUNTRY AND FOR TRUTH."
Single Copy 3 Caata,
VOL. X VII.
PLYMOUTH, N C. FRIDAY,, NOVEMBER 23, 1906.
NO. 34.
SOMEWHERE.
There's a whisper in tbe branches of
And a purple hlosaom smiling from
There's t he chatter of a chipmunk, as
While the daisies yonder whisper:
There's a path, a winding ribbon, just the clover fields bovond.
That rocs striding through the meadows to the distant piek'rcl pond;
There's I lie cool, dank, grateful shadows; there's the lazv. droning bee,
And I fancy them, a-saying: "Come out here and" play with mc."
There's ;u orchard where the fragrance of the fieldfs come lilting sweet,
Where I lie sod is velvet tenderness to pavement weary feet;
There are Mings, without restraint, from songsters win'gin,- to the blue,
And each withered throat is singing of its song at me and you!
There's a miaint, old fashioned garden with its peas and hollyhocks,
And its blushing, loving roses, timid punsies, flaming ph!:
A-)d a sweet old fashioned lady, with a blossom in her hair.
W inding in and out among them, watching every one with care.
And th.- dear old fashioned lady, with her crown of wavv snow,
J5eams a smile and hums a love song as she patters to and" fro.
And it's ;h, so sweetthe dreaming! They're so much of life a part,
lor they've somehow found a dwelling here within a rugged heart.
Milwaukee Sentinel.
a
It was. a remarkably cool and
pleasant room. A gentle breeze flut
tered the while muslin curtains and
the roses on their tall bushes nodded
across the window sills at the caller.
The caller smiled back at them and
-drew a Ions breath of the delicately
perfumed air.
He was a yo;tng man who liked
roses and green fields and the charm
of the countryside. And he liked
the restful quiet of the little sitting
room.
lie arose quickly as a lady entered
the room.
"Good morning, madam."
"Good morning." t
She was a slender lady of perhaps
:uxty, a gray haired lady of an old
fashioned type, a lady, of much dig
nity of movement, and yet with a
quick manner that at times suggest
ed the sprightliness of a bird.
She pressed her gold-rimmed
glasses a little closer to her nose and
carefully surveyed the young man.
"I trust you are quite well,
madam?"
' Quite well."
She drew her thin lips together.
"If it's books," she said, "there
Isn't any use of your staying a min
ute longer."
The caller smiled.
."I'm not . a book, agent." he told
her.
"Is it apple corers?"
"I'm not a peddler."
"I bought an apple corer of a
young man who was something of
your build most three years ago. It
broke on the second greening. lie
was a mite stouter, perhaps." She
paused an'd again regarded him at
tentively. "If you are neither a book
agent nor an apple corer," she said,
"you may take a chair."
"Thank you, madam."
He seated himself in the straight
backed chair she pointed out and
then the lady took the rocker, plac
ing, herself where she could study
the young man's face.
"Is this a business call?"
: "Yes. madam."
He had been instructed how to
meet the lady's advances. He was
to remain strictly on the defensive
and let her cross-examine at her
J?isure.
wait, it isn t ngtitnnig rods?"
"No. madam."
"Nor windmills?"
He suddenly smiled, and there was
no doubt his smile added to his
agreeable appearance.
"That's a little nearer the truth,
madam."
She looked at him sharply with
her gray head on one side.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I only mean that I am a lawyer,
madam."
He was glad to see that she caught
the point of the mild witticism at
once. She even laughe. softly.
"A lawyer," she echoed. "Then
I scent trouble."
"I assure you I am quite harmless,
madam."
She smiled a little grimly.
"WpII." fih p.nifl with a clio-ht ac.
"perity, "you have been here now
quite a spell and haven't told me a
word about the business that brought
you here, and really nothing worth
knowing about yourself."
"Pardon me, madam," he said,
"my name is Richard Barclay, and
my home is in New York. I am in
the law office of Renfew, Keene &
Darnley and will be admitted to a
partnership in the firm the first of
January."
"There is nothing very startling
about, that," said the lady. "Perhaps
in time you will get around to the
business that brought you here."
"Yes, madam. You have i niece."
"Oh, it's my niece you want to
see?"
"No, madam, my business is with
you."
"You are the strangest young man
for beating around the bus.i I ever
.K-t. Why don't you say what you
Jnt. and be done with it?"
' "Madam, 1 want your permission
to marry your niece."
There was a little silence during
which tfitvLidy regarded the young
wit af steady saze.
kaeTvY' she urgently said, "that
the heaven rearing pines.
behind the clinging vines;
he leaps from tree to tree."
"Come out; here and play wi
th rac,"
lam
J 9 ?
I was taking great chances when
Clare made that visit in New York
with Louise Humphrey."
The young man wisely waited, but
the lady relapsed into silence.
"I haven't much to offer her," he
said; "at least, at present. .I'm
young and I'm making my way, and
my chances seem good. I can give
Clare a modest home in a nice
neighborhood, a home in which there
will always be room sTor you, clear
madam."
The lady slightly sniffed.
"You are getting ahead a little too
fast young man. I've no thought 6
moving just at present. Does Clare
know about this this delightful ar
rangement?" "Yes, madam."
"It's all settled, then?"
"No, madam. It ell depends on
you."
Again the lady slightly sniffed.
"My niece was in New York just
a month. During that month you
contrived to persuade yourself that
she was the only girl in all the world
you could ever care for. Did you,
or did you not?"
"I did, madam."
"Seems nonsensical, doesn't it?"
"No, madam."
She shook her head at him reprov
ingly. "You look like a fairly sensible
young man. Does my niece recipro
cate this this fanciful attach
ment?" "Yes, madam."
"And she sent you to me?"
"Yes, madam."
"But why come to me if you are
both agreed?"
"Clare owes you too much.madam,
to do anything contrary to your ap
proval." "Hoity-toity! And suppose I re
fuse?" "We can wait, madam."
"That's just what you shoald do.'
Hqw silly this seems. You have met
my niece twenty 'times, we'll say,
and no doubt think her the one per
fect flower of all girlhood. Do I
use the right expression?"
"Yes, madam."
She drew the gray shawl a little
closer.
"Do you appreciate what you are
asking of me?" she suddenly flamed
out. "What do we know about you?"
"Very little, madam. I can only
tell you that I am clean and honest,
and have a good profession."
"That is what you say." Then her
eyes suddenly twinkled behind her
glasses. "I'll admit that I'm a little
prejudiced in jrou favor although
you certainly are not as gcod looking
as Clare would have me believe.
And I like your letters."
"Did Clare show them to you?"
"How else could I have seen
them? They were not nearly as
slushy as might have been expected."
"Thank you."
"That one that told about the
Italian child in the police court was
as good as a book. , I'll admit that
Clare and I both cried over it." She
paused and drew a long breath. "It's
very silly in me, I know, but tever
having had any love affair of my own
it is natural I should feel an extra
interest in Clare's."
She took off her glasses and again
wiped them with much care. He
looked at her curiously.
"I begin to have a suspicion,"
he said.
"Of what?"
"That you knew me all the time."
The lady laughed softly.
"I wasn't particular' startled by
your appearance."
"And you didn't really take me for
a book agent?"
"No.';
"Aunt Lucy, said the young man,
"you certainly are a very clever
woman."
"Aunt Lucy! Hoity-toity! You
are taking a good deal for granted,
Richard Barclay. But there; let's
be frank and straightforward. I
promise you nothing. You will stay
and take dinner with us and then we
three will t?.lk this all over. We are
going to be perfectly independent on
our side, you understand. We may
be poor or at least very far from
rich, but we are proud. We come
by It naturally. That's my father's
picture up there, Jethro Holt. He
was as proud as a lord."
The young man looked up quickly.
"What did you call his name?"
"Jethro Holt."
The young man's eyes sparkled.
"Jethro Holt, of Petunia, Mo.
Born there in 1815; died in 18(13."
"Why, yes. He was my father."
The young man drew a narrow
book from his pocket and rapidly
leafed it over. ,
"Jethro Holt left three children, a
boy and two girls, Arthur, Lucy and
Emily."
"Yes. I am Lucy ilellin Holt
commonly called Aunt Lucy Meilin.
At least that's what Clare has called
me ever since she could talk. Emily
was Clare's mother. She died when
Clare was a baby, and Clare's father
died the year later."
The young man stared hard at her.
"Can you prove this relationship?"
"Why, yes, of course. I have the
old family Bible and many letters
and my father's picture and the deed
of the old home."
He drew a quick breath.
"This i.3 wonderful," he said.
"Tell me about your brother."
"He was older than I nine years
older. He was a wayward boy and
greatly worried my father. When
he was eighteen he ran away from
homo and shipped on a whaler. The
ship was lost in the Pacific and all
the crew were reported drowned."
"Your brother escaped," said the
young man. "He was picked up by
a Russian sealer and landed at a
Siberian port. He found his way to
Australia and roughed it as a theen
herder. There, through some mad
fancy, he changed his name. He was
no longer Arthur Holt, he was Henry
Harlan. He became a trader and
prospered; he prospered greatly. Fin
ally he made his residence in New
York. He lived there twenty years.
He died' there seven months ago."
The lady, a strangs look in her
eyes, stirred suddenly.
"And that man was my brother?"
"Yes."
She sighed. "My poor brother."
The young man leaned forward.
"Oh," he said, "we have searched
for you in so many places! The head
of our firm was your brother's at
torney and one of the executors of
the estate. The matter of finding
the heirs was placed in my hands. I
have traveled many miles cn false
clews; I have advertised in many sec
tions and now, to stumble on you
like this!"
"Then we are heirs to his prop
erty?" said the lady.
"He died without a will. You and
Clare are the only living kin."
"Does that mean we are rich?"
"Very, very rich.",
They were both silent for a mo
ment or two. Then thj lady sighed.
"That comes a little late for me,"
she softly said, "but it will be beau
tiful for Clare."
A troubled look crossed the young
man's face.
"Clare," he murmureu. "This
changes everything."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you see? Clare is now a
great heiress. A new world opens be
fore her. She can choose where she
will."
"True," said the lady.
"It puts me in a painful, a false
position. Why, even you might be
lieve that I knew her relationship to
Henry Harlan before I asked her to
be my wife."
"True," said the lady again.
"Such a suspicion is shameful," he
went on. "The one manly thing for
me to do is to release Clare from her
promise."
The lady arose and went to the
window. It was plain that she was
agitated by his startling news.
Presently she beckoned to him.
"Here," she said. "Do you see
that young woman coming up the
roadway? That is the great heiress.
And she's something much better
than that. She's a sweet and lovable
girl whose womanly heart can't be
spoiled by any amount of money. I
know her better than any other liv
ing person, Richard Barclay, and I
tell you you have nothing to fear."
She turned and looked at him and
laid a slender hand on his shoulder.
"Besides " she began.
"Yes, dear lady."
She softly laughed.
"It veally looks as if we ought to
have a lawyer in the family." W.
R. Rose, in Cleveland Plain Dealer.
National Fire Losses.
There is no feature of the national
life of America upon which patriotic
Americans can dwell with less pride
than upon the record of our waste by
fire. For the first half of this year
the fire loss of the country aggre
gated $367,635,000, a sum greater
by nearly $100,000,000 than the en
tire customs revenue of the United
States Government. Of course this
enormous aggregate includes an ab
normal item the losses from the
San Francisco conflagration but
when the experts who formulated the
estimates can say no more of the
losses (other than those credited to
San Francisco) than that they are
"normal," the exhibit is a melan
choly one. Philadelphia Ledger.
ARTICHOKES, WHITE SAUCE.
Wash them well, peel and shape
them to a uniform size. Throw them
into boiling salted water, and let
them boil fifteen to twenty minutes;
drain them at once thoroughly. Put
them on a dish and serve with the
following sauce poured over them:
Mix over the fire one and one-half
ounces of butter with a tablespoonful
of flour, add one-half pint of boiling
water, white pepper and salt to taste;
stir till the sauce thickens, then take
the saucepan off the fire and stir in
the j-olks of two eggs beaten up with
the juice of a lemon, and strain. -New
York Witness.
CUCUMBER JELLY.
This is deifcious with cold meat,
fish or salads: Pare some cucumbers
and sieve enough of the pulp to fill
two breakfast cups, and stir into this
salt and pepper to taste, and the
juice of a lemon; dissolve from one
half ounce to three-quarters of an
ounce of gelatine in half a breakfast
cup of hot water; stir this thorough
ly into the pulp (which should be
kept in a cool place), then pour this
mixture into the mold, and turn out
when cold. The cucumber pulp
never goes onto the fire, but only the
gelatine. A drop or two of vegetable
green coloring would probably be an
addition. Indiana Farmer.
MAKING NUT CRISP.
Chop your nut meats, and for each
cupful of these have one cupful of
granulated sugar; put the chopped
nuts where you can reach them from
the stove where you cook the sugar,
and have a buttered pan at hand.
Put the sugar in the skillet, and put
nothing with it save a spoon for stir
ring; stir and watch closely until it i3
melted in a pale yellow liquid, then
instantly pour in the nuts and take
off the stove, pouring at once into
the buttered pan. Try a little at
first, as the whole process must be
very rapid. This makes a delicious
confection, if prepared right. A
hodge-podge of nuts and fruit is nice
in this candy. S. M., in The Com
moner. " CONUNDRUM PIE.
Find as many riddles which you
can answer with an object as you
have guests. Many can be taken
from the lists given for the picture
galleries game. Write the conun
drums upon tiny slips of paper and
put them in English walnut shells
tied together with baby ribbon. Have
a long ribbon reaching from the nut
at each place to the centre of the
pie, which is covered, child party
fashion, with tissue paper. The
guests are asked to read their riddles
when they first sit down and after
the r.:eal is finisher!, each pulls out
his answer from the pie. For in
stance, "When is a lady's arm not. a
lady's arm?" pulls out a little white
bear, or any other small bear from
th ; pie, which is left as a souvenir,
and from which the real answer to
the riddle has still to be worded:
"When it is a little bare." "Where
Is happiness always to be found?" is
answered by a tiny dictionary.
"What is it that is always ready for
action?" is answered by a pair of
scissors.
Soak ink stains in sour milk. If
a dark stain remains, rinse in a weak
solution of chloride of lime.
Stick a few cloves into the meat
for making stock. It will impart an
agreeable flavor to it.
A woman who enjoys cooking sas's
she finds that thickened soups re
quire nearly double the seasoning
used for thin, clear soups.
When creaming butter for sugar
for. a cake, beat with a fork in
stead of a spoon. The work will
thereby be hastened.
In putting away knives and o'..'ner
steel instruments, oil them slightly,
and wrap them in tissue paper. Thi3
will prevent their rusting.
If when making apple sauce you
find you are without a lemon for
flavoring, use in place, if convenient,
the grated peel of a very tart orange
and the apple sauce will be found
delicious.
Rag carpet rugs are having a re
naissance in homes where old-fash
ioned furniture is used. The colors
are woven into a harmony much
more pjleasmg than the crudities of
old-sty'') vag carpet.
fill flOUSE
wf Hold w
Um 1 IINT5
T
SOUTHERN
iD -
. TOPICS OF INTEREST TO THE PLANTER, STOCKMAN AND TRUCK aiGHEt.
Care of the Harness.
Southern farmers are very careless
about their harness. The Harness
G.-.sette gives some good rules for the
care of harness, which it would be a
good plan to cut out and preserve for
future reference.
If properly cared for there is many
years' use in a well made harness. If
neglected, the best made harness will
last but a short time.
Moie';v.: ? n tne great enemy of
leather, and the first aim should be to
remove it. It is not an uncommon
thing to find harness wet with rain or
moisture from the horse, hung up to
dry with the traces tied into knots,
the reins rolled up, the pads and bri
Iles hung upon pins, without a 'mo
ment's time having been spent on
them to remove mud or moisture.
In a little time the leather dries,
the strapping becomes set to a great
sr or less extent, taking the shape
given it when wet, so that when sub
sequently straightened out the stitch
ing is damaged.
Unless harness leather is kept soft
and pliable it soon loses its strength.
To keep it in good condition care
must be had to have it well filled
with grease. Mud is "a persistent en
emy to leather. It sucks the grease
from the leather while drying. In
cases where the mud is of a clayey
nature, its action is to harden the
leather. Then it cannot be restored
to its original condition. The worst
enemy to harness is the sweat from
the anima!. It penetrates leather,
stitching, and to and around the iron.
Owing to its salty nature, it rusts or
rots all it comes in contact with.
With such enemies to contend
against it becomes necessary to adopt
measures to counteract their had in
fluences. The first step to be taken is
to remove all foreign matter from
the surface. This may be done by the
use of tepid water and good soap,
using no more water than is really
necessary to remove the foreign mat
ter. After the washing, dry the straps
with a chamois, and rub them well
with a greased rag. If the leather
das been thoroughly, wet the straps
should be unbuckled, and then well
washed. Where possible remove the
mountings, and, after cleaning them,
warm the bolt ends before screwing
them into nuts. The heat will dry
out whatever moisture that may have
got in around the nuts.
When hanging harness remember
that light and .air drive away mois
ture, preserve the leather from mould
and the metal parts from rust.
The Useless Weed.
The following is an editorial from
the Savannah News:
It seems to us that the adjective is
superfluous. When .a w.eedibecomes
useful it ceases to be a weed.
Weeds perhaps are far from being
the least of the soil influences that
the farmer has to contend with. It
has been said that any plant out of
place is a weed, and again, a weed is
any useless plant.
There are weeds and weeds. There
are useful weeds and there are use
less weeds. There are weeds that
possess high medicinal virtue and yet
are very pernicious to the farmer.
There are weeds that are quick to
spring up on land opened up for cul
tivation. The very nicest cultivation
of the land thereafter does not suc
ceed in annihilating them. The best
that the farmer can do is to keep
them in check during the growth of
the valuable crop. Their presence
renders cultivation essential if there
were no other reason for it.
Weeds infest pastures and mead
ows, and they diminish both the yield
of hay and of pasture. Wrhile the
damage they cause is not calculable,
it is well known to be considerable.
Much of the best pasture land in the
South is rendered almost worthless
by some of the most pernicious
weeds, known to man as the dock,
the cocklebur, the "Jimson" weed,
the spring amaranth, the bull thistle,
the two dog fennels, the thistles, and
besides these a score of others, more
or less bad and difficult of destruc
tion. Such as the mullens, the rag
weeds, running brier, altogether fully
two score of evil plants that divide
the food and moisture that the valu
albe grass and clover should alone
possess.
The richer the soil the more it is
infested with these useless weeds,
and that can only be partially de
stroyed by the persistent labor of
years with the mower and the grub
bing hoe.
Altogether there are thousands of
acres of the very best land in the
South that are yielding almost no re
turns at all, And thai might he made
the most profitable soil on the farn
tne most prontaoia son on tne jarm,
once the weeds were fairly put ia
check for a season or two. Two mow-
lags a year given just at the right!
tlm and kept up for several years
XT
FARM fOTES.
O - ciEzzzi: 1
would " accomplish this in a reason
able time. And it would be work
that would well pay for itself. Good
pastures are one of the great hopes
of the future South.
Poultry on the Farm.
There is much truth in what a cor
respondent of Successful Farming
says about the keeping or poultry on
a farm. Our readers do not raise
wheat nor large crops of corn, but
many of them no doubt are doing, as
the Northern farmers are said to be
doing, that is, spending their time and
strength on crop? which will not be
so profitable as well sept poultry.
Let every farmer carefully esti
mate the cost of things he produces
in the form of labor. He need not
put down the sum he expends out of
his pocket but simply endeavor to
place a value upon the labor he, him
self, bestows on every department of
the farm and for each crop. If he is
a business man, that is, if he knows
what he is doing by keeping account
of his operations, as every man who
is in business does, or should do, he
will have no difficulty in classifying
the receipts and expenses, and es
pecially the cost of labor. Next let
him estimate the space or number ot
acres of land he has given every one
of his crops, and as well as the plow
ing, harrowing, seeding, cultivating,
harvesting, hauling and shipping, and
charge interest on the capital in
vested. After he has done this let
him take up poultry, place a value
upon the meat and eggs, the C03t of
the labor and food bestowed, the
labor particularly, then compare the
result from the poultry with those
from the large stock and regular
crops.
He will find that if he had kept
more hens and given them only one
fourth of the care and labor bestowed
on other sources of revenue in the
farm, he would have had a Targe bal
ance in his favor.
By looking over the statistics he
will find that poultry produces more
than sheep, that our enormous wheat
crop is not much greater in value an
nually than the products of the fowls.
With the market always ready and
with cash returns every month in the
year for poultry and eggs, the farmer
uses the most profitable source of In
come as a "side business" .and ex
pends his energies over large areas,
being fortunate if he can clear as
much as $10 or $20 an acre a year,
while right under his eyes his fowls
on a few rods or acres, give him a
quick return both summer and winter
which he does not recognize as be
longing to farming but which source
of revenue he could utilize to the
best advantage if he would give, douI
try his attention as a business.
Put Machinery Away. .
W7e must build more shelter room,
and get in the habit of putting the
machinery away carefully." Glean
ing, greasing it, and when necessary
nutting on a' coat of paint. We see
hundreds of disc plows,'1 two-horse
plows, mowers, reapers ami "binders
left out of doors the whole winter, or
from one season to another'. Such
carelessness is inexcusable. ' It re
sults more from lack of thrifty habits
than from lack of shelter. We must
improve along this line. Farm ma
chinery is one of the most potent fac
tors in our business now, and we
must learn to care for it as a matter
of thrift and economy in preserving
it, and render it all the more effective
when we go to operate it. Many good
hours' work are lost by not having
our machinery in first -class condi
tion when it is needed. We know
this hy experience as well as observa
tion. fton'ts For Apple Packers.
Harold Hume, of the North Caro
lina station, gives these don'ts for
apple packers: Don't mix windfalls
with hand-picked apple3. Don't pack
bruised, badly worm-eaten or parti?
decayed fruit. Consign it to the
cull-heap; it will pay better; it will
do more for the reputation of the re
gion there than it will in the market.
Don't put up a snide package. Don't
put all the good apples in the ends
of the barrels and poor fruit in th
centres. The buyer is not fooled; oi
at least not more than once, by this
practice. Don't put jour name on
inferior packages. Don't handle ap
ples as though they were made of
stones, lr.3i.sad, handle them as eggs.
Get Your Nitrogen Free.
Nitrogen is the most expensive
commercial fertilising ingredient on
tae market. And yet tha whole at
mosphere is just surcharged with it
j ue oai uiu m uv .u
j -r.d for this pry.oscj there is nothing
j else equal to f.ho. cow psa. Sow peaa
The only thing Jto do is t extract it,
and gat yournitro3?n fj-e ot cost.
Winnsboro News and H?valJ.
1