... -" " 1 1 - ' " ; i . . I ' . ." " ' ' 1 " 11 1 , , . "" ' " . " L 1 7 ' ." ' " ii. . j ....... ' ... i.i . i : i - . '.. ' 7-
Published by Roanoke PublisliingOo , , ' 1 "for god, for country and for truth W. Fletcher Ausbbn, Editor
VOL, IV. PLYMOUTH, N. FRIDAY, MAY 5, 1893. , V . NO, i7.
BELATED BLOOM. ' ,
Though late Spring like miser kept
Much wealth of bloom, .
And hoarded half her treasures up
In Winter's tomb, '
Yet 'neath the sway
Of queenly May
Earth seems the richer for delay.
Bpring has grown bountiful at last.
v Her penitence was wrought
' In raindrops ringed with fragile gold
The tears that April brought;
, With reformation sweet,
In rernal grace complete,"
6he lays her gifts at Summer's feet.
-William H. Hayne, in Cosmopolitan.
iTHE ENDING OF A FEUD.
"HEBE are you going,
Letitia?" demands
Miss Banbridge, se
verely, gazing at the
trembling - Letitia
over a pair of good
rimmed glasses,' -'
Jost out . or a
little walk, auntie. .
; The . day is so delicious, says ; Le
titia, with her roost engaging smite. She'
is thinking what an awful thing it will
: be if auntie forbids her to go out to-day,
'' of all days, and Jack waiting for her at
, the top of the meadow. - '
i ,"No, once for all, Lettiia, let this
, . bo understood between us," says Miss
iBanbridge; "there is to be no iuter
v 'course between this house and that of the
Court. You'may think I am too old to
(hear things, but there you are wrong. I
have heard a good deal lately - about
young Hardinge who has returned to
the Court after his father's death; heard,
too, with deep regret, Letitia, that you
so far forgot yourself as to dance with
him a fortnight ago at the Mainwarings's
. .little " 'V
, "Hop," suggested Letitia, who la too
frightened by her aunt's allusion to the
young mastei of fhe Court to remember
, Her society manners. , . .
:'; "Hop! IIow 'dare you U3e such a
word?" cried Miss Banbridge. , "Good
heavens I The manners of the present
day. Now, Letitia, hear me. It seems
' 4 you did dance with this objectionable
' young man at the Mainwarings' v ball.
Perhaps you could not help that. . But
knowing, as you do, of the feud that
has lasted for fifty years between their
house and ours, I trust you have too
much respect for mefor your name
to recognize a Hardinge anywhere." ;
. ! "But what has he er" nervously,
; t what have they all done?" asks Le
. titia, her eyes on the marble pavement
of the hall, her heart at the top of the
... meadow. . ; '
Good grcious, if auntie only knew
that she had bee a meeting . Jack every
day for the past fortnight ever since
that long dance, indeed, when when
iwell, he wouldn't dance with anyone
but her. And it is all such nonsense,
too. A rubbishy 'old story about a right
'of way that happened fifty years ago,
and Jack the dearest, dearest fellow I
I' MI. refuse to go into it," says Miss
. iBanbridge, with dignity. . 4It suffices
to say that this young man's grandfather.
. once behaved in the grossest fashion to
your grandfather my," with a sigh,
'sainted father. If you are going out
I trust that if you meet the present own-
' r of the Court, you will not so much as
Acknowledge his' presence." .
I "I shan't bow to him, auntie," says
Letitia, in a very small voice. :
Detestation of herself and her dupltc-
, Sty is still raging in her heart when she
meets Jack Hardlngeia the old trysting
place. She had certainly promished her
aunt not to bow to him. Well, sho
doesn't; she only flings herself into his
arms glad young rms,tbat close fondly
. round her. . . . '
J "Oh, Jack, she's getting worse than
' ever. ,' She was simply raging about you
as I came out. - I really thought she was
' . going to forbid me to. come at all. She
says you're an objectionable young man!"
I "Ob, I say,", said Hardinge. "What
Tiave I done to be called names like 1
, 'that?" r - . ;
' j "Nothing; nothing!" cried Letitia,"
flicging her arms about in despairing
' protest, "except that your grandfather
once punched my grandfather's nose."
J "Well, I'm awfully sorry," said Har-
djnge, and they both laugh. -"Would
' it do any good, do you think, if I were
to go down now and apologize for ray
'exceedingly ruda old forbear?"
; ' "I b'.ouUa't udvi 2 you to try it," sr,yj
Letitia.
'Bt w!-.'-tarn we H do t' eat'1 -
They are alttingon the grass, safely
maaen behind a clump of young trees
The sun js shining madly on their heads
the birds are singing on every branch.
it is May delightful May, the lover's
montn ana the hottest May that has
been known for years.
. "I don't know," says Letitia, with
deep despondency.
"It's such beastly folly," says Hardinge
presently, in an impatient tone. "If
were a fool or a poor man or a reprobate
but I am not am I, now?"
: Ki-kl. III ' r
, vu, hoi. nays, ijeuua. Bne crcepi
close to him and encircles his waist with
her arm, or, at ail events, tries bravely
to do so. It doesn't go half way round
but that doesn't matter. She grasps
bit of his coat and holds on to him so
"Do you know what you are, Jack? Tho
dearest old boy on earth."
' "And' you do you know what you
are?" Bays Hardinge, pressing her ngor&
to his lips. '
"No," aays she.
"WeVi: I can't tell you,", says he, "b
cause there is nothing on earth fit t
compare you with,
that's alll"
You are
you, and
; "What a lovdly speech! No wonder
I love you," 6aja Letitia, naively ; "but,"
collapsing into gloom, "what's the good
of it all! Auntie will never let -you
marry me."
"We could marry without her
mission," says he slowly.
per
"No, we couldn't," says Letitia, with
decision. She looks at him : earnestly.
"I wouldn't marry you without her per
mission for anything. We would have
to run away." and that would break her
heart. I am all sh has in the world,
and, though she scolds me a good deal,
I love her. I wouldn't desert het;
Jack."
"You could c)me back again," says
he. ..
"Of course, I know that. But then
she would always feel disappointed in me
and hurt and No, no, I shall never
do that. She trusts me so."
Then I flon't know what's going to
be the end of it," sayi he." ;
"We must only wait," says Letitia,
despondiogly. "Ana now, J act, you
had better go. She is sure to come up
here presently, to see how the men are
getting on with that fence. You know
what an excellent woman of business she
is. If she caught you here "
"There would be wigs on the green,"
says Jack, laughing. "Well, good-by
for awhile. ' I suppose if I come back
this evening I shall find you here?"
"Yes oh, yes! Jack, do take care;
the men will see you." ,
"Not they,' says Jack, kissing" ber
again. "And you what are you going
to do while I am away?" ,
"Think of you,". with a little saucy
glance at him from uuder her long lashes.
"By the bye, have you got a match about
you?" r . !
"What on earth do you want it for?",
says he, giving her some wax lights out
of a little silver box as he speaks. "Go
ing to have a cigarette?" " ' ; i
"Nonsense I I feel as if I wanted to '
set fire to some of those dry little
bunches of grass; fairy tufts we used to
call them long ago. They would burn
beautifully to-day, the sun is so hot."
"Well, don't set fire to youraelf, what
ever you do," says he, thoughtlessly.
Once again they kiss, and this time
really part.
; Letitia stands watchiag him till he is
out of flight, standing on tiptoe as he .
gets over the wall to blow a last kiss to1;
him; Then coming out of the shelter of ,
her trysting-place, she walks ; into,, the .
old meadow, now beaten down save
where the tall, course tufts of grass are
growing, jjigntmg one 01 uer uwwuw
she kneels down and sets fire to the tuft
nearest her. ?- It used to be an amuse
ment of hers in her childhood, and she
is not yet so far removed, from those
days as to have lost all childish fancies.
Sitting down on the side of a tiny hillock'
at a distance she watches the dancing
flames so small, so flickering, so harm
less. ..
She leans baok against the bank be
hind her and crosses her white arms be
hind her head. What a day it is!
most hearenly, aweet quite a drowsy
day. Most lovely that light smoko is'
climbing slowly uphill and fading away,
among tW young beach trees above.1
And &e flames, like fairies, dancing. X
Perhapx they are fairies who dwell in'
these ol'y, dry tufis. No wonder they'
ate anctag wit'i rags, evldotitly. Their
6trc-:gh; U seiol, JeSorcycJ by tho
trr- t r sva! i;')--wo.n-'i V.U
to the front, at all events She has
been reading about the emancipation of
woman last night, and had laughed over
it. ' After all, she didn't want to be
emancipated; she only wanted Jack to
love her always thing more. Per
haps the other queer women only meant
that, too, only they hadn't found their
Jaiks yet. Pouf I How warm it is I
Gradually her head sinks lack upon
her arms, her eyelids droop over the
soft, clear eyes. -, How delicious it is
here! How cosy! Again the eyes open,'
but very lazily this time. See how the
little, insects run to and fro over her
white . frock, hither and thither, all in
search of the great want food. A pass
ing thought makes her laugh indolently.
She hopes they will not make food of
her. And then the the eyelids close
resolutely; she leans back Sleep has
caught her.
So sound, indeed, fo her slumber, that
she does' not know, that now the little
black insects are rushing over her, not in.
search of food, but of safety safety
front the tiny hot flames that are creep
ing every moment closer to the thin
white frock. Now they have touched her
foot, and have so far penetrated the thin
slipper as to make her unplesantly warm,
but not enough to waken her. She only
turns a little and sighs ; but no w I
Now she springs to her feet with an,
affrighted scream. Smoke! Smoke
everywhere! And what is this creep. ,
ing up the front of her gown? A thread
of fire. It blows upon her face. She
recoils from it, but it follows her. Madly
she lifts her hands and tries to beat it
buck. The men! The men at the
fence! Where are they! Alas, they
have all gone to dinner. Once again a
frantic cry bursts from her lips.
' It is answered. At this moment Har
dinge reaches her, and flinging oS his
coat, he catches ber in It. Folding, it
around her, he holds her as if in a vise.
What brought him back (beyond the
mercy of God) he never knew, except
that those last words of his, "Don't set
fire to yourself, at all ; events," had
seemed to haunt him after he left her.
A foolish fear about the words had
touched his lover's heart, and compelled
him to mount a wall and look back. In
a moment he had seen.
He quenched the flames in a miracu
Jously short time. Letitia is able to
stand up and answer faintly his passion
ate questions aa to her safety, when sud
denly a voice strikes upon them that
renders both dumb.
It is the voice qf Miss Bainbridge.
She has been toiling up the hill. She
looks almost distraught.
"Oh, sir," cries she, catchiaj Letitia
in her arms, "I saw all. I thought I
should have died. ' Oh, my girl my
darling chjld?" (She spends her whole
time in tormenting Letitia, but Letitia
for all that is the apple of her eye.) Ob,
air, how can I thank you? The gratitude
of my life is yours the preserver of my
pretty child." Then the, old lady burst
out crying. Half an hour ago she would
have died rather thad tell Letitia she was
pretty, but sow she lays many offerings
at her feet. Poor feet. They might
have been burned. "If you will add one
more service to the immeasurable one
you have already done me," says she,
softly, "you help me to get my jw-
child back to the house."
"But," begins Hardinge. It seomi
wrong to him, even at this supreme mo
ment, to deceive the old lady to go into
the house under false pretenses. - If she
knew his omrne. .
A little pressure from, the hand of
Letitia decides him. How can ho have
scruples when she is so ill so fright
ened? Silently he passes his ar.n around her,
and with her aunt takes her back to the
house. - They lay her on a sofa. Miss
Banbridge flings a rug over her burnt
dress.-. ,
"She must rest here a little before go
ing upstairs," says aha.
"Miss Banbridge," says the young
man, now turning wicn aeiermmauon
towards her, "I I wish to say"
"Sir, it is what I have to say," says
Miss Banbridge, with emotion. "I have
not half thanked Toil. How can I? If
there is anything I can do any way in
which I can show my gratitude to you
pray, name it. . la the mean time, pray
tell me the namo of the . brave man who
has delivered Jtf niece from the very
jaws ot death." 1 , .
"Hardinge," says he, shortly. '
"What!" Mias Banbridge ha fallen
Vack in her chair, staring" at him with
il l ev( 3.
tteadlly, if sorrowrully. He pauses'.
After all," says he, "I can't help my
name." , .
V There is a pause; Letitia draw3 her
breath sharply. "That is true," says
Miss Banbridfie, at last, in a severe un
dertone. "I can't help having had a grand
father, either," says Hardinge, taking
anotheistep. '
"No; I suppose not," most reluctantly.
"Most fellows have grandfathers!"
"I cannot contradict you, sir." .
"Miss Banbridge,". says Hardinge.
going closer to her, and gazing at her
with all his heart in his eyes, "you asked
me just now if there was any way in"
which you could show your gratitude to
me about about this thing. I want
no gratitude. I would have gladly died
to save your niece a pang. But but
you have given, me the opportunity to
tell you that I want her! I love her.
She love3 me. Give her to me."
"Letitia I" says Miss Banbridge in a
strange voice.
"Oh, yes! It is true," says Letitia,
bursting into tears. 1 "I do love him. . -1 -loved
him that night at the Mainwarings
and I have loved him better and bet
ter every day since.' Here her sobs in
creasing, "he used to come to see me in
the meadows, where where I was nearly
burned I" ,
Whether this allusion to the late catas
trophe, that might have ended in a
tragedy, stills Miss Banbridge's wrath, or
whether her old heart has been softened
by Hardinge's plain acknowledgment of
his love for her niece, no one can tell.
She turns to Hardinge, with a pale face,
but not wholly unkindly air.
"I must have time to think," says she.
She hesitates and then says; "This is
very painful to me, Mr. Hardinge." It
seems certainly painful to her to pro
nounce his name the name bo long
tabooed in ber household. "I must have
time time." She grows silent. The
hearts ol the lovers sink. Suddenly she
looks up again.
"Perhaps you will do me the honor to
dine with me to-morrow, night?" aays
she. ner tone is icy, but the two listen
ing to her feel their cause ia won. To
ask Mr. Hardinge to dine to accept
hospitality at her hands! Oh, surely the
old feud is at an end.
A little sound escapes from Letitia.
"You are cold," says Miss Banbridge
anxiously, who had thought the sound a.
shiver. "i:
"A little," says Letitia, who, indeed,'
is shivering from her late fear of what
her aunt might say. .
"I shall fetch another rug," cried the
old lady, running out of the room.
"An opportunity once lost is never to
be regained," says the aocient copy
books. Hardinge and Letitia make np
their minds not to lose theirs. His arms
are round her in an instant, her cheek is
pressed against his.
"It is all right. She will give in. I
feel as if I loved her," says Hardinge.
"Oh! Jack," says Letitia; "wasc't it
a good thing I was nearly burned to
death?" .
"Oh! bush, darling hush. Letty! I
can't bear to think of this day."
"Well, I can," says she,, laughing
feebly. "I shall think of it always. It
has given us to each other forever. "
Philadelphia Timej.
Human Ant Eaters.
Although we are not aware that the
white ant (which, by the way, is not an
ant at all, having kinship with the May
fly) is habitually eaten by - any people,'
there are tribes of men who do eat true
ants. The Brazilian forestmen, for ex
ample, imitate ; the ant-bear. Lying
down by an ant hill, they ' poke a stick
Into it, and place . the free end in the
mouth. The ants run up the stick, and
when, his mouth is full of them the for
estman sots to work to chew and swallow.
As for insects generally and the like,
many are eaten. The Australians and
other half -starved desert wanderers greed
ily devout certain beetles and the grubs J
out of rotten wood. Yankee Blade.
The Ozar's "Smellisi Csmmittee."
The workmen who go iu advance Qf
the Russian Czar: whenever he travels
form a squad of six mechanics. Two
are married men, born in the Czar's ser
vice, and absolutely devoted to their
sovereign. Their business is to examine
the wails, flooring, chimneys, locks and
furniture of the apartments which the
Czar is to occupy. . The chimneys, in
particular, engage their attention, for
every flue leading to a room ia which
the Czar is to slecn or to eat has to be
raff-J aul barred at top or tottc ir
F1UYED TO DEATH.
HOW HAWAIIANS All IS PUN
ISHED BY THEIK ENEMIES.
The Kahunaa, or Witch Doctors ot
Islands and Their Curious
4 Methods Some Queer
Superstitions.
Y " A UT few who have read how the
j Hawaiian Queen has lost her
throne have ever visited the
Sandwich Islands and seen for
themselves the life of a native Hawaiian
as he lives it, or knows how greatly his
superstitions govern all his actions, not
withstanding the fact that he has been
In the hands of the missionary for the
last fifty years. : :
' The natives are all superstitious, from
the late Queen Liliuokalani to the
humblest of her recent subjects. King
Ealakaua was in some things as super
stitious as the most ignorant native in s
Central Africa, in spite of his travels and
the efforts of the missionaries to wean
him from his beliefs. It is the general
opinion of the natives that he was
prayed to death" by a "Kahuna"
while on his last visit to this city, and
no Kanakas but will say that they knew,
when the large red fish appeared in the
harbor, that their King was ho more iu
the land of the living. . ' s'
This belief that within three days of
the death of someone connected with
the royal family a school of bright scarlet
fish comes into the harbor at Honolulu
and stays until the death takes place is
one of the strongest of the Kanakas'
many superstitions, and that in tho last
thirty years, at least, has been strongly
corroborated. The deaths of Lunalilo,
Likeolike, Queen Emma, Ruth, the
"champion fat woman of the islands,".
Kalakau and John Dominls, the late
husband of the "late" Queen, have all
been heralded a day or two before their
deaths by the coming of a school of
"Kai Uluulu," as the red fish are called:
In the case of John Dominis, the last
person connected with the royal family
to die, he was not supposed to be dan
gerously ill, and invitations for a State
ball to be held at the jalace were out.
On the day before the ball was to be
given a large school of the red fish were
to seen by several native fishermen at
the entrance to the harbor and word, of
their appearance was at once taken to
the Queen. , The invitations were with
drawn immediately and notices to that
effect given to all the newspapers, al
though the prince consort was apparently
no worse than he had been for weeks.
That night he died. Could any one con
vince the average native that his death,
like that of so many of the royal family
before him, had not been foretold? ,'
But the superstition that the Kanaka
holds dearest is that concerning the power
of the Kahuna or native witch doctor.
This power is almost limitless. If a na
tive in any way offends a Kahuua he is
ia deadly fear that he will be condemned
to die, and he immediately hunts up a
higher in rank than the one whom he
has offended and asks to have the curse
offset and neutralized.
The rank of the Kahuna is settled by
his age. The older ono is, or claims to
be, which, aa the Kanakas very seldom
keep any record of births, usually amounts
to the same thing, the more power he
has over his fellow man. This Kabu
oaism is now forbidden by the laws that
Americans have made in the islands, and
if a witch doctor is caught in his prao
tice he is given a long terra" on the
"Reef," as the Honolulu jail is called.
But if a native should complain to the
police that he was being persecuted by
Kahuna, he would have every one of the
witch doctors against him, and he would
not live a year.
. , Their methods are peculiar. Less than
a year ago a native man had owned for
for jears a small piece of property on ,
the seashore near Honolulu. Living next
to him was a Kahuna of great age and
consequently high rank. These two had ;
always litad peacefully until last sum
mer, when the Kahuna bought some
young pigs There had, never been any
fence between the two places ' ad the
young- porkers raised havoc with the
native's garden. So.to stop this trouble,
he built ' a fence between his yard and
his neighbor's, v The Kahuna was away
at the time, and when h , returned he
was so enraged that he told the native
he must either take it down cr ha would
"pray him to death. This praying to
death ia a pleasing little way the Ka
hunRij fcsve of going to their victims'
l-oue '3 sr. 1 for a whole night at a time
"1 -r? r .ilv prr-vir., tos C20 "l
the end of that time his old superstitions
got the better of his new teachings, and
he went to the Kahuna; telling him hi
was willing to tear down the bone of
contention if he would remove hi3 curso
from him The revengeful Kahuna re.
fueed to intermit his prayers unlesj'tho
native would give him a deed to hi
property,' and the poor man was 'so
frightened and was so- sure that he
would die inside of six months that h?
actually did put his farm iuto the coj
of the ancient Hawaiins, asking that
their enemy , be killed. This has thw ;
effect of so scaring the Kanaka that al
most invariably he will actually die
from fright. . '
; This native, however, .had. probiXly
been told by some white missionary that
the Kahuna's power was not so great a
his people bad for years believed, for he
refused to remove the fence. . Too
Kahuna straightway began his incanta
tions, but the fence-builder held out for
a week, with no show of weakeflincr. At;
trlbution box and tho farm was all, ha
had in the world.
Another curious case was that of a na
tive sailor named Kanae, who, getting -tired
of seeing nothing on his sea tri
but his own islands, ' shipped on a
whaler that was in port and told his wife
nothing about it. " On tho day that he
was to sail his wife found out that he
was going and was very angry. Sho
went to the dock just 'as the ship was -
casting oS her ropos. . She asked her
husband to come back, . but he refused,
and could not if he would.
, When the woman returned to her
home she told some of her friends what
ner nusDana naa aone ana saia sue was
going to have him "prayed to death.1
Of all this, of course, the husband had
no knowledge. - ; ' : ;
' When the "whaler was about thirty
days out Kanae complained of being
sick, and said that he could feel that
1 11 - .t ' It TT- . 4L
some was "prajiag mm. . no was tug
only Kanaka on board and was laughed
' at, of course. But he stuck to his theory'
and proved it by dying." . ; ' '
It was said in a recent article- on the 1
Hawaiian revolution that it was supposed
that the Queen was acting under the ad
vir.n nt nnn nf her Kahunas when she
attempted to give a new Constitution to
her people. This may or may not be so,
but if it is true it will not seem strange "
to people who had lived for any length
of time in the islands . and knew any
thing of the natives' beliefs. The Queen
is known to be as superstitious as any
of her race, and if she was ordered to
do a thing : by one of these ' 'doctors'
she would probably take no chances ot
being prayed to death, ard ' of havrng
her demise foretold by a "Kala Uluulu."
Baa Francisco Examiner.
- -
t III L
w Docks, Eiderdown, and Cushions. ""
In a recent parlor' talk, by a young
woruau who has spent considerable time
in the ": Scandinavian , Peninsula the
speaker gave some interesting bits of in
formation about the- eider duak, from
which the eiderdown of commerce i3
goti These ducks are, it seems, uuder
royal protection, and the down may not
be taken from the birds themselves. But
the merchants outwit the ducks, and,
incidentally, their royal protector, by
robbing the nests. The' mother, iu fit
ting up the habitation for er coming
family Imes.it throughout with the soft
est down, which she plucks from her
own breast. And when she haa care
fully eovered every bit of the cozy home
the ruthless trader steals it away from
her. Then she is robbed indeed, for she
has plucked her breast bare.
The male bird here comes to the rescue
and spares a picking from his softest
plumage. This, too, is torn away bj in
satiate man, but the male duck, who
knows a thing or two, can never be
coaxed to duplicate the lining which he
has once furnished.- He picks up hu
family and migrates South.
. v ia thoQA t.hrif.ft stolon Taildir3,7l
XB ""www . . i
which make up" tho eider down export,
and we cushion-loving women may ausa
and reflect as wo loll against their soft
ness of the patient and repeated disap
pointment which their procuring hai
cost some other females thougU oaly
' ducks. New York Times. 1 . ,
. Two great Corsican families, tho rtr-'.t
powerful in the islaud, the Gaviiiii pn-l
the Casabincaa, have ' just boon toc::i
siled after a political hostility . I t - i j
than thirty years. DuriD - VJ.s t-!.',:;3
rcriod the politics of thj nlau-J v( r; 1
about the heads of I'.csUoi . 1.
Tl- ten b-i
' ! ' - - ,