'FOR OOD. FOR COUNTRY AND FOR TRUTH"
$1. 00 a ycarih advance:
YOL.VI.
PLYMOUTH; N. C; FRIDAY, MARCH 29, 1895.
NO. 38.
Roanoke Publishing Oo.
V
LOVE'S HF.RITACE.
enfl o'er me, blue ns aumrar skies, -.
he nzure splendor c 1 thine eyes.
lAnd smile with lips wLose murmur tell3,
liiko lingering sound of far-off bells
E
'er shining seas, that thou for me
Art skies and sound and summer sea!
'Skies that contain the sun, the moon,
-She stars, the birds, the winds of June; -(And
tones that, swelling far and near,
IBear more than music to mine ear;
And sob, above whoso ohangoloas huo
The sun is bright, the sky is blue!
lArt thou mine star? Sweet love thou'lt mor
IThan all that ever twilight bore.
.. (Art thou my song? . Dear love, from thee
. jThe whole world takes its melody.
fArt thou nay! what can words Impart '
jTo tell one dream of what thou art?
, IThou art my all; I know that love
Bains from the deepening dome above
Jin silver dewdrops, that the earth 1 .
Receives with hushed and solemn mirth;
So thou all seasons linked in one
Art flower, and bird, and breeze, and sunt
William M. Briggs.
A MISSING BUTTON.
CHEERFUL
south room, with
a b-a y window
fall of blossom
ing plants;', a
bright fire glow-
i n g behind ' a
burnished grate,
and a little gilded
(Clock, which had just struck nine at
night all these things met Mrs. Chic
IkerJy's eye as she laid down her booh
end yawned. ' - ; ; "? .'-'-She
was a pi amp 1 and fair-faoed
jyoung matron of 1 some . fom or five
. nd twenty, with bright auburn hair,
soft blue eyes and a complexion whose
'loses stood in need of 'no artificial
. rouge. .' .' ' :
. "Fanny," said Mr. Chickerly, look
.jing up from .his newspaper, Vdidyou
-call on those Carters' to-day?"
- "No ; 1 never thought of it."
- "And they . leave town - to-morrow
' (inorning ; and ':' Carter is ' absurdly
iBensitive to all slights, fancied or real.'
'Fanny, I desired you to make a point
, 'of calling." - i. ' .
"Well, I,did intend to, Frank,"
pouted Mrs. Chickerly, "but one can't
(think of everything." . . . . . .
- "You cannot, it seems.".
"It appears to me that you are
making a mountain out of a mole
Ihill," said Fanny, rather tartly. '
"It may affect my business very
seriously. Carter's house carries great
. influence with it."
; Mrs. Chickerly was 6ilent, patting
!the velvet carpet with : hor foot in a
manner that indicated some annoy
ance. . , . . . , ... .
"I shall have to. leave here very
'early to-morrow morning,-'.' said her
husband, presently.
"To go to Seen ersville, about Aunt
(Elizabeth's will?".
"Yes."
"Oh, I wouldn't, Frank." -
"Why not?" ;
"It's such bitter cold weather to
Itravel in, and Aunt Elizabeth1 is such
'a .whimsical old woman, it's at likely
jot that she'll change her mind about
making a will. when you get there. I
, would wait a little, if I were yon."
Mr. Chickerly smiled. V
I "That would be your . system of
doing things, JFanny, but not mine,"
f "My system, Frank ! What $0 you
mean?" " '. '.'".; '
"I mean that you believe in pitting
things ofl indefinitely, and npt'alvaya
in the wisest -manner, I wish yoa'd
break yourself of that habit, . Fanny.
Believe me, it will some day bring you
to grief."
Mrs. Chickerly contracted hei
pretty eyebrows.
"I don't believe in being' lectured,
' Frank."- ; : .
"And I don't very often lectur
y'ou,' my dear ; pray give me credit
for that," " "
"You didn't think you were marry
ing an angel , when you took me, 1
hope?" ' ' ' ' - '
"No, my love. I thought I wai
' marrying a very pretty little girl,
whoso few faults might' easily be cor
rected.". ,
'Faults! Jlavel any great faults,
Frank?" ' -
"Little faults may sometimes entai'
great consequences, Fanny."
"If you scold any more I shall go
out of the room." ;
"You need not, for I am going my
self to pack my valise. By the way,
there's a button off the shirt I want
to wear to-morrow. I , wish you
would come up stairs and sow it on
for me." ' ., ;
"I will, presently."
'Why can't y'ou come now?"
"I just want to finish this book;
there's only one more chapter.".
And Fanny opened her volume so
resolutely that her husband thought
it best not to contest the question.
Bitting all alone in front of the
bright fire, Mrs. Chickerly gradually
grew drowsy, and before she knew it
she had drifted off into the shadowy
regions of dreamland.
She was roused by the clock strik
ing 11. . .
"Dear me! how late it is?" she
thought, with a little start. "I must
go up stairs immediately. There, I
forgot to tell cook about having break
last at 9 to-morrow morning, anct or
course she's abed ' and asleep by this
time. . I'll be up early enough to see
to it myself, that will be just as
well"
And laying this salvo to her eon
science, Mrs. Chiokerly turned off
the gas, and crept drowsily up the
stairs.
Fanny, Fanny, it's past 5, and
cook hasn't come down stairs yet.
Are yon sure you spoke to her last
night?" V -
Mrs. Chickerly rubbed her eyes and
stared sleepily around.
"Oh, Frank, I forgot all about
speaking to her last night," she cried,
with conscience-stricken face. "But
1'Jl run right up she can have the
breakfast ready in a very few min
utes. . v -
She sprang out of bed, thrust her
feet into a pair of silk-lined slippers,
and 'threw a shawl over her shoul
ders. - " ... '
,: Mr. Chickerly bit his lip and
cheoked her.
"No need, Fanny," he said, a little
bitterly ; "I must leave the house in fif
teen minutes or miss the only through
train. It's -of no use epeakjng the
;cook now." 'smt
"I am so sorry, Frank."
Mr. Chickerly did not answer; he
was apparently absorbed in turning
over the various articles in his bureau
drawer, while Fanny sat shivering on
the edge of the bed, cogitating how
"hard it was for her husband to start on
a long journey that bitter morning
! without any brea'kfast.
"I can make a cup of coffee niysell
OTer the furnace fire," she exclaimed",
springing to her feet. But Mr. Chick
erly again interposed.
"Sit down, Fanny, please. I would
rather ypu vould sew this button on
the neck of .my shirt. I have packed
,the others those that are fit to wear.
I bave shirts enough, but not one in
repair.", " , : " ,
Fanny crimsoned as she remembered
how often, in the course of the, last
month or two, she had solemnly prom
ised herself to devote, a day to the
much-needed renovation of the hus
band's shirts. ;. '
She looked round for her thimble.
"I left it down stairs last night.
I'll get it in a minute."
. The housemaid had just kindled : a
fire in the sitting-room grate ; it was '
blazing and crackling cheerfully
among. theTfresh coals, and Fanny
could not resist the - temptation of
pausing a moment to warm her chilled
fingers and watch the greenish-purple
spire, of flame shoot merrily up the
chimney, until she heard her" hus
band's voice calling her imperatively :
"Fanny, Fanny, . what are you
doing?"; '
"Oh, dear,"; thought the wife, as
she ran up the stairs, "I wish Frank
wouldn't be so cross. He's always in
hurry." . '
Little Mrs. Chickerly never stopped
to think the the real reason was
that , she, his wife, was never "in a
hurry." - .. " ' ' ,
' The needle threaded, the thimble
fitted on, an appropriate button was
next to be selected.
"Oh, dear, Frank, I haven't one the
right size!" v
"Sew on what you have then, but
be quick!" . )'
But Fanny was quite certain there
was . "just the right button", some
where in he$vork-basket,aad stopped
to search for it.
"There, I told you sol" she criep,
triumphantly holding it "up on tike
point of her needle. ,
"Well, well, sew it on quick," said
Mr. Chickerly, glancing at his watch
nervoualy. , '
-Auass jusi your worryiDj way;
Frank, as if anybody could sew ft but
ton on well in a hurry. There ! My
needle has oome unthreaded."
"Oh, Fanny, Fanny," sighed her
husband, fairly out of patience at last,'
"why didn't you do it last night, as I
begged of you? I shall miss the train
and what little chance we had of a
place in Aunt Elizabeth's will will bo
sacrificed to your miserable habit of
being always behindhand."
Fanny gave him the shirt and be
gan to whimper a little, but Mr.
Chickerly ; had neither the time nor
the inclination to pause to soothe her
petulant manifestations of grief. He
finished his dressing, caught up his
valiee with a hurriedly-spoken .good
by, and ran down the stairs two steps
at a time into the street.
"There he goes," murmured Fanny,
''and he's gone away cross with me,
and all for nothing but a miserable
button ! I wish there wasn't such a
thing as a button in the world 1" (A
'wish which, we much misdoubt, many
another wife than Mrs. Fanny Chick
erly has echoed, with perhaps better
reason.)
Mrs. Chickerly was sitting down to
her little dinner a la solitaire, with a
daintily browned chicken, a tumbler
of our rant jelly, and a curly bunch of
celery ranged before her, when, to
her surprise, the door opened and in
walked her lord and husband. . ,
"Why, Frank, where on earth did
you come from?", cried the ostonished
;wife. ' v ; -
"From the office," coolly answered
Mr. Chickerly. . '
t ''But I thought you were off' for
Scenersville in such a hurry."
"I found myself just five minutes
too late for the train, after having run
all the way to the depot."
"Oh, that was too bad.''
' Chickerly .smile'd a little as ho be
gan to carve the chicken.
Yes, I was a little annoyed at first
Jt did seem -rath ar , provoking to be
l-Iep4ftTaome by only a button."
"What are you going to do?"
"Why, I shall make a second start
to-morrow."
"I'll see to it that your breakfast is
ready this time, to the second, and all
your wardrobe in trim," said Fanny,
rather relieved at the prospect of a
chance of retrieving her character.
: "You need not, I have engaged a
room at a hotel near the depot. J
can't run any more risks." ,;
He did not speak unkindly, and yet
Fanny;; felt that he was deeply dis
pleased with her. h -. .
"But, Frank"
"We will not discuss the matter any
further", aiy love, if you please. I have
resolved to say nothing more to you
about reforms. I see it is useless,
and it only tends to foster an unpleas
ant state of feeling between us. Shall
I help you to some maccaroni?"
And fairly - silenced, ' Fanny ate her
dinner with what appetite, was left to
her. r ' ; '' -'; (.
Three days afterward Mr. Chickerly
once more made his entrance, just at
dusk, 7 carpet-bag in hand, as Fanny
sat en joying the , ruddy shine of the
coal-fire and the consciousness of hav
ing performed her duty in the mend
ing and general renovation of her hus
band's drawerful of Bhirts-r a job
which she had long been dreading and
postponing. ;
"Well, how is Aunt Elizabeth?"
questioned Fanny, when her husband,
duly welcomed and greeted, had seat
ed himself in the opposite easy-chair.'
"Dead," was the brtef reply.
"Dead ! Oh, Frank ! Of her old
enemy, apoplexy?"
"Yes."
"Was her will made?" -.
"It was.- - Apparently she had ex
pected me, on the day she herself ap
pointed; and. on, my non-arrival in
the only train that stops, she sent for
the village lawyer, made her will, and
left all her property to 'the orphan
asylum in. Scenersville, with a few
, bitter words to the effect that the neg
lect of her only living nephew had in
duced her, on the spur of the moment,
to alter her original intention of leav
ing it to him. She died the very
next morning." - ,
- "Ob, Fiank, how much was it?"
"Ten thousand dollars. . You see,
Fanny, how much that missing but--ton
has cost me!" ' ' .
y.'JTanny Chickerly sat like one con
demned, by the utterance of her con
science. Not alone the one missing
button, but the scores nay, hundreds
I of trifling omissions, forget fulnesses,
and postponements which made her
life one endless endeavor to "catch'
up" with the transpiring present,
seemed to 'present themselves before
her mind's eye. What wouli this end
in? Was not the present lesson suf
ficiently momentous to teach her to
train herself in a different school?
She rose," and came to her husband's
side, laying one tremulous hand on
his shoulder. .
There shall be no more missing
buttons, my love," she said earnestly.
New York News. .
The Great Baltimore Tunnel.
The Baltimore and Ohio Bailroad
tunnel has just been completed under
the city of Baltimore., Its length is
about seven miles, there being double
tracks the whole length of the line
and four tracks on the same level for
a small part For 8350 feet the tun
nel lies beneath Howard street, one of
the most important in the city, lined
on either side by buildings six and
eight stories high, and the surfaoe of
which is used by a cable road and by
lines of electrio and horqe cars. How
ard street ia eighty-two feet wide, ex
cept at the northern end of the tun
nel, where it is contracted to seventy
two feet. The top of the tunnel is
from three feet six .inches to forty
feet below the top of the pavement.
The excavations were through hard
rock, f and, gravel and Fuller's earth,
and pookets of quicksand ' and water
were struck, so that every condition
was encountered and overcome.' : .
The width of most of the tunnel is
forty-six feet. The roof is of iron
girder construction, with buckle
plates overlaid with concrete and a
covering of sand. The total thickness
of the roof, including the pavement,
is four feet ten inches. At some sec
tions the roof of the tunnel is just
beneath the cable trench.
What is of particular interest in the
operation of this road is ' the use of
electricity as a motive power. Elec
trio engines weighing ninety-five tons
haul all trains. There is a grade of
.8 in some sections of the tunnel.
These engines will rnn , fifty miles an
hour and are as powerful as . steam
locomotives. The weight is on eight
driving wheels, sixty-two inches in
diameter. - '
They are the largest electrio en
gines ever built. The motors are of
the gearless type, with a current of
2700 amperes under a pressure of 700
voIt3. " .
Electrio looomotives have been sue
cesssul before this. In 1891 the' larg
est one built up to that time weighed
twsnty-one and a half tons, with driv
ing wheels forty-two inches in diame
ter. The progress in four years in
tne construction of these engines has
thus been remarkable.
The tunnel in Baltimore has been
built by the Baltimore and Ohio Bail
road to pass its New York and Wash
ington trains, passenger and freight,
through the city without ferrying
tbem, as has heretofore been neces
sary. Washington Star.
A Crusty Old Philosopher.
1 Robert Louis Stevenson used to tell
this story of hi early days. He was
entering in an absent minded way the
famous second hand book shop of
James Stillie, when he ran into a
fuming old gentleman who was leav
ing the establishment. The latter
ejaculated in an angry tone, "Man,
can you not look where you are
going !" Stevenson apologized for
his awkwardness, and was then con
fronted by Mr. Stillie, who was also
excited. The bookseller exclaimed:
"The cratur has been trying to make
out that an old book I sold him is
spurious ! K He may be able to write,
but he knows nothing about blaok
letter books. He's the most disagree
able customer that ever entered' my
shop!" "Who is he?" asked Steven
son. "Oh, that's the great Mr.
Thomas Carlyle," was the answer.
New York Sun.'
Latest Thing In Watches.
' The latest thing in watches is a re
peater which' pronounces the hours
and quarters, and bo obviates the
trouble of counting necessitated by
the present .system. M. Silvan, a
Swiss watchmaker, is credited with
haviog successfully adapted Edison's
phonograph so as to produce this in
genious remit. New York Foit, .
IN THE BIG H0TEIJ3.
THE CRKAT NUMBKR OP EM
PLOYES FOUND IX TIIE3I.
An Army of Twenty-five Thousand
Fernons Required In the New
York Caravansaries Alone
Housekeepers' Duties.
ID you e ver think of that vast
army of mortals whose labor,
in so many different capaci
ties, koeps the machinery of
our big hotels in operation? - v
There are to-day 136 large transient
"hotels in New York City., New York
besides has over 200 so-called family
hotels with facilities for taking care
of nearly 75,000 persons. It takes
numerous servants to look after so
great a multitude.and there are more
of them in the large transient hotels
here than there are soldiers and
strikers in Brooklyn.
The hotel directory only gives the
principal hotels. There are besides
these hundreds of places, in each of
which from forty to fifty servants and
waiters are employed that have to - be
added to the list. It is safe to say
that the great-army of employes in
the New York hotels is 25,000 strong.
Over 10,000 of these work in the large
transient hotels, which employ, from
.100 to 450 persons each at salaries
ranging from $3 a month up, with
board, and in many cases lodging in
cluded. Among the female employes . of a
hotel are some women of rare natural
intelligence, executive ability and
knowledge of human nature, .' an
their services are considered worth as
much as $1500 a year and meals and
rooms free. These are the house
keepers. .
Most large hotels have also furni
ture repairers whose duty it is to see
that casters are kept upon chairs,
dressing-cases and bedsteads, and to
take badly broken Articles of the kind
to the "hospital" in the basement or
elsewhere. The chambermaids are
divided into watches, short and long,
or regular and dog-watohes, as on an
old-fashioned sailing ship. In the
larger houses their work is so arranged
that it is not very laborious. ,
In the linen room the housekeeper
has tinder her seamstresses whose duty
it is to keep the linen and bed cloth
ing in order. Then there are the
window-cleaners, the scrub-women,
the curtain menders and hangers and
a score of others which, summed up,
would take a small directory to de
scribe them and their various duties.
Then down stairs is the laundry,
which is also under the charge of the
housekeeper. Here, are more men
under her command. The chief, or
boss, as he is called, has one or two
assistants, three machine operators
and forty laundresses who are mang
lers and handwashers, as no flannels or
delicate fabrics are allowed to go
through the machines.
The handling of the food takes an
other auxiliary force, which is under
the supervision of , that very import
ant personage, the steward. It has
been said , that this individual can
break the most prosperous hotel in the
country, and many a genial boniface
will tell you that the saying is a true
one. Next to . the proprietor, he is
monarch of all . he. surveys, and' his
domain is vast, for he controls nearly
a dozen different departments. He
has on his personal staff one lieuten
ant, a bookkeeper, two receiving
clerks, one checking clerk, from three
to five storekeepers, who on order
only deal out the . stores, and a time
keeper. It is not generally known to the lay
man that the kitchen, and consequent
ly the chef are under the immediate
control of the . steward. The two de
cide at night as to the menu for the
next day, but in case of a difference
of opinion, what the steward says
goes. The chef has under him at
least half a dozen lieutenants, each of
whom is generally an artist in his own
particular line of cooking. Then, be
sides these, there are scullery boys,
pot washers and scourers, who are
generally termed omnibuses, as they
can generally turn their hand to sev-'
era! kinds of work. In the best hotels
there are very few women under the
direction of the chef. "Nearly all the
work is done by men and the so-called
"boys" may be fifty years old. Be
sides these there are the' pastry cooks,
who are quite independent follows,
andtho ico-cream makers, etc., whos-s
P
creations can be seen every year at
both the French and the German
Cooks' balls, and which excite so much
admiration.
There, are also three or four shell
fish men. who prepare lobsters, crabe.
oysters and clams f or . the $able, And
who are experts in this rather diincuit
art. - - -v: ... . - 1
T--1.-1- -1 .1 ..
gardeners to attend to the lawn t
terrace abont the hotel,- and alsc to
the standing baskets and potted
plants and ferns. - Ha has under his
control the sidewalk sweepers, whose
duty is to keep the 'walks about the
hotel free from rubbish. ; ' -
In large houses the whole dining
room force is under the supervision of
the head waiter, or "captain," as he
is called by his subordinates, and he,
in turn, has . a number of assistants,
who are called . ushers, and who seat
the guests when they enter the dining'
room. , There are seldom less than
thirty or forty waiters in the grand
saloon, and several omnibuses to re
move dishes and perform any work
they are told to do.
The retinues of employes in the of
fice of one of these extensive abodes is
increasing ' in number . every year.
There is the manager, the comptroller
of finances, two or three bookkeepers, :
a cashier and an army of clerks, whose
business is to be suave and never get
ruffled. They are divided into three
long day watches and two short night
watches, which means from midnight
until 3 a. m., and from that hour un
til either 7 or 8 o'clock. They hav
under them about forty bell boys and
messengers and halt a dozen por
ters or trunk carriers, who in turn are
under the control ' of a head porter.
This last individual is quite abig fel
low about a large hotel. He grows to
know all ' the important personages
who frequent the place. He hob-nobs
with politicians and expects a bow ol
recognition from the President of the
United StateR if he has ever met tha
latter before.' . J - . ' ;
Then there are the carriage ca tiers',
the door porters, and even the cab and
, " l. it. A - A I. . -
nacxmen au unaer me control vi uum
behind the desk. At the Waldorf ths
bell boys; are merely ' messengers.
Telegrams, message y letters, callers'
oards, eta, are sent to each room by
a perfect pneumatic ' tube system, .
which it takes about a dozen men to
operate, including the engineer of the
air-compressor 'in " the sub-basement,''
and the hall man on each floor, whose
duty is to see that each thing of the
kind, gets to its proper destination.-
New York News. 1 ' '
. ;.. V.-C.
P.lpe Apples as an Article of Food.
Those who have experimented upon
and investigated the subject of apple
eating are of the opinion that the old
idea that apples were . the favorite
fruit of the gods are reckoning on a
plausible theory. , It was said that the
freshness of youth was ever possessed
by those who made this their princi
pal diet. Certain it is that as a medi
cine for brain-workers ' there are but
few foods so valuable. Apples con
tain a large amount of phosphorus,
and directly ; nourish the brain and
spinal cord. They contain, in addition
to phosphorus, albumen, sugar, gum,
chlorphyll, malio acid, gallio acid,
lime, vegetable fiber, and a large pro
portion of water. They are said to be
a sure cure for gout and many rheu
matic disorders, and' to exercise a
beneficent influence on the liver and
stomach. Ripe apples and gluten
bread as a regular diet would do more
to restore health than half of the
popular drugs in the market. They
agree admirably with most people,
and make the most delicious luncheons
with bread and milk; . Physicians eay
that apples, plums and pears,although
themselves acid, unite with .the juices
of the stomach and produce alkaline
carbonates, thereby counteracting in
stead of producing acidity. -riew lorfc
Ledger.
Still Useful.;
: Once'upona time a Bicyole accosted
a Horse. ' . 'v -
"Get off the earth !" said the I' , -cycle;
"I am going to Capplan yc
entirely."
The Horse smiled. , "
"Nay, nay,", it rejoined, gently;
"they can't make canned c. '-l-bc r
out of you." Puck.
The Aleutian
by tha V
'Lfnr.
" "i ?-ere r
WOT'