'FOB 00D. FOR C0VJTTH7 AND FOR TItVTlf
$1.00 a year in advance.
PLYMOUTH, N. C, FIIIDAY7 MAY"3l, 1895:
VOL. V.
NO. 45.
0. V. W. Auston,Proprietor.
EI5TAHT THINGS. ' ;
0, white is the sail hi the fur awar,
And dirty the sail at the dock ;
And fsir aro the cliffs across the boy .
And black is the near-by rock. '
Though glitters the snow on the peaks afar,
' At our feet It Is only white.) ' .
And bright Is the gleam of the distant star,
Though a lamp were twice as bright t
The rose that nods beyond our reach . ,
Is redder than rose of ours ; .
Of thought that turns our tongues to speech
Our fellows leave greater dower.
The waters that flow from the hidden springs
Are sweeter than those by our side :
So we at rive through life for the distant
things
, And never are satisfied I
So we strive through life for these distant
thinps v .
, But ever they hold their place ;
Till beats life's drum and death doth come .
And we look in his mocking face. '
And the distant things crowd near and close
And faith ! They are dingy and gray I
For the charm is lost when the line
crossed
'Twixt here and far away.
For the charm is lost when the line
is
Is
crossed ..-....
And we see things as they ara; ,
And know that as clean is the sail at the
dook ' '
As the sail on the sea afar ;
As bright the rays ef the near-by lamp
As Jhe gleam of the distant star. ,
Elwyn I. Hoffman , in Pittsburg Dispatch.
-. . K M I . I . . . AHIIIII fcyi
, BY AXJfA SHIELps. . .
USIE BARCLAY
Bat in her room
stitching busily,
and at the same
t ime building air
castles, the inno
cent air-castles
of a girl of
eighteen, who is
just wakening to
of a heart "to be
She would have
the consciousness
won r and given.
.blushed with ' indignation and wound
ed feeling, had any one told her she
was actually in love, and there would
have been no falsehood in her denial.
Yet, since the; Eev. James Castleton
had come to Bosedale, and taken the
church under his care, life had seemed
brighter to Susie.
I TheKev. James Castleton was a
quiet, rathei' reserved man of thirty
five, not handsome, not especially
gifted with eloquence. But in his soft
gray eyes, in the curves of his gravely
set mouth lay an expression of good-
; ness, of .unostentatious, tru e piety,
that made his simple language more
effective than the most elaborate ora
tory. Old-wamen brought their sor-
lows to Mr. Castleton, and went away
comforted, blessing him for an unaf
fected sympathy that doubled the
teredo about him wherever he called,
'and lopoked- eagerly for his coming
into the Sunday-school. Tho young
people useo, aim anu irubteu mm,
wondering a little sometimes that one
so grave and quiet could so thoroughly
understand the troubles and templi-
tions of youth. - f;,
, He had shown an interest in Su&ie
Barclay for ' many reasons. She was
an orphan and had lost both parents
and & Riier within a fortnight, vic
tims Oi R luauguttuu iovci Kjiuft
Bosedale, four years before. She was
poor, having taken a position ashou'se
hold teacher in a seminary, and been
household drudge as , well, to earn an
education. At the time Mr. Castleton
came to Bosedale, Susie was J teaching
music, was organist at St. Mark's, and
in leisure time at home tamed 4 many:
an odd dollar by embroidery. ,
And it was upon embroidery she was
busy on the week precedingEaster-
Mr. Castleton's first .Easter; in Bose
dale? As organist, Susie was com
pelled to take part in- all the services
ai-St. Mark's, but beside this regular
attendance, she was a devout, sincere
member of the church, and gave her
time, little as she could spare it, to
the work in the missionary , society,,
sewing circles . and festivals of the
year. . : ;"'
, And the work upon which she was
sewing so steadily Susie called, in her
her heart, her -Easter offering. - Mrs.
Stacey, the richest woman in Bose
dale, often employed Susie's busy fin
, gers.'and it only made the gentle girl
smile scornfully when she heard Bes
sie Stacey praised for the exquisite
embroidery her own active fingers
.wrought.
Mrs. Stacey intended to make ftn
Easter offering, - at ,St. Mark's, of a
new set of church linen,;- a-d she had
iecgaged Susie to hemstitch and em
1 '
broider it, promising her , ten dollars
for work she well knew would cost her
three' times that sum in any city store.
And Susie hid already appropriated
that sum, in her mind. She would
buy a large cross of white flowers,
such as she.had seen in her visits to
the city, and present it to , St, Mark's.
Not one penny of those ; ten dollars
would she use for her own expenses;
and if Bessie Stacey let it be under
stood that she had - embroidered the
linen her mother presented, why,
Susie could give her cross, - and so
balance matterr. !
For, somewhere in the depths of her
heart, so far : down she had never
called it to the surface, Susie knew
that there was rivalry between Bessie
Stacey and herself. She knew that
Mr. Castleton was frequently at Mrs.
Stacey's,' to luncheon, to ""dinner,, to
arrange various church matters in
which Mrs. Stacey suddenly wakened
to an interest she had never felt when
good old Mr. Murray presided in the
pulpit.
And Bessie wore the most becoming
dresses right' under the minister's
eyes, while Susie's molest dresses were
hidden behind the curtains of the
organ-loft '
As she worked in the passion-flowers
encircling her cross, Susie thought of
the order she would send to b.er Aunt
Mary in the city for the cross she
meant to buy. She had steadily put
awa the temptation to bur a nev
spring hat or one new dresp, resolving
to make over her gray poplin nee
more and have her old hat cleaned
and pressed. ', And, really, ona must
be eighteen, with a very limited,
hard-earned wardrobe and a strong
desire to appear attractive in th9 eyes
of one person, to appreciate the sacri
fice Susie was making. Ten dollars,'
with her economical habit?, her skill
in sewincr. woulT go so far to ward
i c r w
girlish adornment!
But it was to be her Easter offering;
and if there lurked a thought of Mr.
Castleton's words of praise or hia grave
eyes looking ; approvingly upon her
tasteful gift, was she so very much
to blame?
She had finished her work before
sunset, and took it home. Mrs. Stacy
was in the sitting room, where Bessie
was opening the parcel containing a
new silk suit for Easter Sunday, and
Susie was called upon to admire the
color, the style, the general effect.
, It is dark for spring, " Bessio Batd,
fretfully.
' "You know very well you cannot
bear light colors," said her mother.
"Tour eyes and hair are all you can
desire; your teeth are good, your fea
tures regular and your figure is simply
perfect ; but your complexion is thick
and sallow, and always will be until
vou stop eating such rich food, x.ow,
here is Susie without one really good
feature in her face, with an insignifi
cant figure, eyes of no color in partic
ular, a sort of bluish-gray, but with a
complexion like miniature painting.
She can wear blue and softly tinted
fabrics, but you cannot"
She might have adde.d that Susie s
hair was the color of corn-silk and one
mass of golden waves and soft ring
lets; that Susie's mouth was like a
baby's in its tender curves and sweet
expression ; that Susie'tt eyes were full
of intelligence : and gentle, "womanly
sweetness; but she forgot to mention
these points, and Susie was crushed,
as she intended her to be, in spite oi
her complexion.
But Mrs. Stacey took out her pocket
book and from it a ten-dollar gold
piece. r: . ,., V;. . . . ,U . V ;
"You can buy a new hat, she said,
in a patronizing way indescribably ir
ritating. .
"No," Susie said, quietly ; "this is
to be my Easter offering."
"Oh ! And speaking of Easter,
would you mind, on your way home,
taking this linen to Mrs. Byrne's to
wash and iron. Tell her I must have
it on Friday at the very latest !"
' It was growing dark, and Susie re
membered that so far from being "on
her way home." Mrs; Byrne lived at
the other end of Bosedale, but she
was to shy too refuse, and rolled the
linen up again. . '
Mrs. Byrne was a hard-woTking
woman with seven children, whose
husband,' after subjecting her to all
the miseries of a drunkard's wife, had
released her by pitching head-first off
the bridge below Bosedale, into the
river. "Womanlike, she grieved fox
him, as if he had made her life a bed
of roses, and turned to her wash-tubs
for a living, patiently and industri
ously. A very sunbeam of a woman
she was, in spite of her troubles, and
Sueie was amazed to find her sitting on
the d doorsteps sobbing like a child
She rose to receive Mrs. Stacey s
mesas ze. and promised to d the
work, and then, in answer to Susie's
gen tie, ."You are in trouble, I am
afraid," her grief broke out in words.
"I've no tight to complain, miss,"
she said, ""for the Lord 'a been very
good to us since poor Tim was
drownded, but indeed it's 'a chance
lost I'm fretting for."
"A chance lost?" said Susie, her
voice still full of gentle sympathy.
"It's Norai miss. She's been deli
cate,' miss, lver since she was born,
and the air here is bad for . her in
tirely. Tho docther saye her lungs is
wake, and it's a bad cough she's got,
and we're too near the say here in
Bosedale. And me sitter, who lives at
B , she's wrote she'll take Nora for
her own, an' give her schooling and
not let her work till she's stronger,
She's not much of her own, hasn't
sister Mary ; but she's no childer since
she put four in the church-yard, and
she'll be good to Nora, an' the child
iust dying here by inches, for she will
help me, an' sloppin' in the washing's
bad for her. She coughs that bad at
night, miss, and the doctor says the
air in B would be the makin' of her."
"But, surely, you will send her,"
said Susie.-
"There it is, miss I Mary, she can't
sind money out an' out, and it costs
six dollars to go to B . I was up
to Mrs. Stacey's, to ax the loan of it,
and work it out a little at a time on the
washin' ; but she told me she could not
spare it. An she rich! l'mthinkin,
miss, perhaps she'd be servin' the Lord
as well as savin a girl's life, you may
say, instead of buyin' all this embroid
ered linen to show off at St. Mark's."
: The words struck Susie like a stab.
Was it to serve the Lord or for her
own vanity Bhe wanted to give the
white cross to St. Mark's? Saving a
human life ! The thought almost took
her breath.
"You can send Nora if you have ten
dollars?" she asked.
"Yes, miss; but it might as well be
a hundred. I can't get it
"Yes, for I will give it to you; and
you can" ask the Lord to bless my
Easter offering. "
And before the astonished woman
could reply, the shining gold piece lay
in her hand and Susie was speeding
homeward. "
"The Lord be good to her ! The
eaints bless her bed !" cried Mrs. Byrne.
An' she t'achins for her own broad
andbutter an trudging about in at
weathers to earn a dollar!"
"Yon seem surprised at something,
3Irs. Byrne," said a quiet, Seep voice
at her ,clbow,T and she looked up to set
Mr. Castleton standing beside her.
came over to see ii you could come up
to the parsonage and help Mrs. Willis
tormorfow. She has some extra work
on hand.!" :
I'll come, and bethank
An 1 am surprised just
And out came the whole
ful to you,
dazed like."
story from the grateful woman's lips,
ending with :
"And it's workin' she is as hard as
meself in her own way, while Mrs.
Stacey, that's rollin' in money couldn't
spare jest the loan of it, for it's not
begging I'd be 1"
Easter services were'over, and Mrs.
Stacey had invited Mr. Castleton to
dinner. , She had told no direct lie,
but certainly had given the impre'seion
that the lovely embroidery upon the
new linen was the work of Bessie's fin
gers. As they drove home, she asked
Mr. Castleton sweetly.
"Don't think me impertinent, but
which of the offerings was Miss Bar
clay's?" "None that I know of !"
"Was there one offering of ten dol
lars in the collection?"
"No a five-dollar bill was the lar
gest." . 1 ,
"Such hypocrisy !" sneered Bessie.
"It was not necessary, for Miss Barclay
t ,a11 vnn. mamma, she was comg to
cive ten dollars for an Easter offering,
but she need not have told a falsehood
about it !" ,
- "Nor did she," said Mr. Castleton.
"Her Easter offering was ten dollars.'
But he made no further cxplana
tion ; nor did Susie, when summer
time brought her a letter, asking her
to share his life and labors, know
that Mrsu Byrne had told him the
story of her charity. New York Led
ger, . , ,. '.. ,
An Exhibition ol Nerve.
"I think one of the most remarka
ble exhibitions of nerve on the part of
a burglar was shown by one who was
captured in Philadelphia not very long
ago," said J. H. Ivers, at the Lmdell,
laBt evening. ' "The fellow was what
is known as a 'porch climber, and one
evening, about 8 o'clock, he gained
access to the sleeping apartments of
house in one of the best portions of
the city. While engaged in ransack
ing the room he heard some one com
ing up the stairs, and, not haying time
to escape, he sought safety- under the
bed. . ' - ' .
"The door opened and the lady, of
the house entered, and after busying
herself about the room for a few min
ute?, picked up a book and commenced
to read. The bed under which the
fellow was concealed was a very : low
one. and his "cramped position was
anything but comfortable. He did not
dare to move for fear of . betraying
himself, but kept hoping she would
leave the room for some reason or
other and give him a chance to escape.
She stayed on, however, and about 10
o'clock was joined by her husband.
After a few minutes' conversation they
retired to the very bed under which
the burglar lay concealed.
"In trying to shift his position a
Jittle the fellow under the bed made a
slight noise, which immediately
alarmed the woman. Calling her hus
band, she said :
'Tom, there is some one under the
bed.'
"'Nonsense,' he ssid;. 'you are
dreaming.'
" 'I tell you I heard some one,' she
replied. .
" 'It is onlv the dog.' he said.
'Here, I will prove it to you. '
"And with that he threw his arm
over the edge of the bed, and, snap
ping his fingers, called as he would to
a dog.
"The fellow under the bed took in
the situation in an instant, and, real
izing that he must act promptly, actu
ally reached out his head to where the
hand hung and licked the fingers with
his tonorue. as a dog might do. The
act was performed so naturally that
the man in bed was completely de
ceived, and after sayirg to his wife, 'I
told you so,' and telling her to go to
sleep, he turned over and was soon lost
to slumber. After waiting until con
vinced they were sound asleep the
burglar crawled out from under
the bed and, taking everything of value
he could find in the room, made his
cecaue." St. Louis Globe-Democrat.
Economy of a Milk Diet.
Aside from the physiological con
siderations the economy of a milk diet
is not the least among its advantages,
as compared with beef. In the for
mer there is no bone, as in meat, nor
waste in trimmings, and, though the
amount of bone in meat varies it is
rarely less than eight per cent. in
the neck and brisket of beef, for in
stance, it is about ten per cent., while
in tho shins and legs it amounts to
one-third or even one-half the total
weight. Again, milk requires no-
cooking, hence is always ready for
consumption at a moments notice
and without being subjected to waste
and shrinkage. The ordinary , per
centage of loss in boiling beef is twen
ty per cent, ; m baking, twenty-nine
per cent., and the roasting process in
volves fully thirty-one per cent. ; true,
this less arises partly from the evapo
ration of water, as well as the melting
down and escape of fat, , and the
destructive action of heat whatever
loss, however, is thus occasioned, has
Uo counterpart in milk. Boston Cul
tivator. '.' ". .' :
The '-Laughing Plant" of Arabia. . "
The "laughing plant" produces
black, bean-like seed, small dosea of
which, when dried and powdered in
toxicate like laughiDg gas. The per
son indulging in the drug dances,
Klimit.R and laticrhs like a madman for
about an hour, when he becomes ex
hausted and falls into a death-like
feleep which often lasts several hours
and leaves the victim in an awful state
of nervous collapse. St, Louis JJo-
, public. - -J -
CHEESEMAKING.
HOW THIS FOOD PRODUCT IS I
, MADE ABROAD, .
Processes by Which the Foreign Ar
ticle Gets the Quality Gourmet'
Relish so Much Koqueiorl
Cheese Ripened in Caves.
"T N England the Cheddar, the Che
I shire and the celebrated Stilton
JL cheese, says the New York World,
( .1 - t ' Trtl. ' r v rt
are rnuue uj pruu-oooa wm wo
comparatively well known. In a great
measure their quality depends upon
tho care with which they, are aged.
Among European cheeses, which with
in a couple of decades in this country
have superseded those of England in
popularity, there is a certain mystery
in the processes by which they are
manufactured. In the soft cheeses
the product of the New Jersey farm
may really be said to fairly compete
with those of Europe. But these imi
tationshave their restrictions. For
instance, these-worthy imitators of a
delicacy so popular have either vaimy
or not at all attempted to reproduce
the famous Boquefort.
This cheese is probably one of the
oldest known. It is certainly one of
the oldest mentioned in any written
book. ' Pliny mentions it in one of his
work, and Babelais when he wrote
the phrase that has since become bo
commonplace, "that the moon is made
of green cheese," is more likely to
have had in mind the green-streaked
Boquefort than the green sage cheese
of England of the time of Shakespeare.
The making of Boquefort cheese is
something of a romance. The village
from which it takes its name is situ-
uted in a deep, narrow gorge, with
high, precipitous walls of limestone
rock. This cheese is made from the
milk of the black goat, which has a
fertile pasturage of ten ' or twelve
leagues in the valley below.
This milk is heated almost to boiling
and set aside. In the morning it ii
skimmed, heated to ninety-eight de
grees and mingled with the morning's
milk for coagulation. When the curd
has been divided with a clean wooden
paddlo and the whev drawn off it is
well kneeded by the hand of the
pretty mountain maidens and pressed
in layers into moulds with perforated
bottoms. Usually a thin layer oi
mouldy bread is placed between the
lavers of curd, the object being to
hasten the ripening by supplying the
green mould peculiar to this cheese.
ThiB bread is always made the week
before Christmas, of equal parts of
summer and winter barley, with con
siderable sour dough and a little vine
gar. The moulcnness which this pro
duces is not sufficiently apparent for
the taste of the high-classed connois
eieur, unless the cheese is kept for
three months and its action hastened
bv warmth. When it strikes the
peasant that it is mouldy enough the
cheese , is ground, sifted, moistened
with water' and kept from contact with
the air.
In the caves and fissures in the walls
of the town, and in vaults rudely con
structed in these fissures, the ripen
ing of tho Boquefort cheese is carried
on by the cold currents of air which
whistle through them all the year
round. Those vaults which have cur
rents flowing from south to north are
believed to yield the best cheese.
The proprietor of these caves keeps
the cheeses sometimes for several
years. ' The cheeses when brought in
are classified according to their merit
Salt is sprinkled over, them, and they
are piled one on another for two or
three davs. Then they are taken
down, tho accumulated salt carefully
rubbed in and then they are piled up
again and left for a week. They are
6craped and pared, pricked through
and through with needles driven by
machinery m order to accelerate the
gathering of the green mould in the
interior, and after this are left m
piles again for fifteen days; till they
become dry and firm in texture and
their interiors beriu to be covered
with mould. .
Another foreign cheese which is a
favorite here is the small, - round
Dutch cheese known as the Edam. It
is called after a small and flourishing
town of that name, located not far
from Amsterdam, v It looks very
much like a small red cannon ball, and
there is a story that when, during the
i siege of one o tho cities of Holland
the real cannon balls gave out, these''
cheeses were used to supply the guns.
Another favorite, which is found in
every French restaurant in this city.
but is not nearly so well known affifc
deserves to be in. American restau
rants, is the Gruy ere. This takes its
name from Switzerland, where it is
supposed to have originated, but a
matter of fact it is now made largely
in Germany, in France and in !New
.1 arnflv What. J is o.Alled the real
Grnyere is mostly maae in uttie nuts
eometimes called chalets high up m
the Alps at tho time of the year wheu
the pastures on the mountain sides are
oprPBuihlp. and these little huts inhab
itable.
The milk is put into a great kettle
ami swung ever a genilu fire, whexa
it obtains a temperature of seventy-
novei rtecrrees. men tne rennes is
added; when the coagulation has ad
. D ,
vanced far enough the curd is cut ia-
to verv fine pieces. Then it is rubbed
and sifted through the fingers into ihe
kettle again, and submitted to a tem
perature of ninety degrees. , It is thcu
strained from the whey and collected
in a cloth. Salt is rubbed in carefully
from time to time on the outside.
One of the stories told of the com
moner Swiss cheeses of this kind i
that of a tourist not well suppliecE
with cash, who was walking through
the Alps. He called at an inn and de
manded a cheese sandwich and a glass
Wlml lin nVitftined in le
w J iuua. , , - ;
spouse to his order was two slices ol-
buttered bread and a class of milk.
Tn rl,Cra is the cheese? ho Baid
to tho waiter.
"Well. I don't know," replied the
Kwk. fihrnirffing his shoulders, "but,
vou see. sir. our cheese was remarn-
" 2 CO - , ,
ably fine this year and full of large
linlAe. .invliana v.lil OTCtt OUb of tllO
holes.
Satisfied fne Paying Teller.
A well dressed man went into a Main
Bircet bank and walked up to the win
dow presided ovr by the paying teller,
savs a writer in the Buffalo Express.
He handed a check to that individual
and said: "I have a check for
which I wish you would ce
The paying teller looked at the
.Tiofc and then at the man. "xou
will hare to be identified," he paid.
The well dressed man was prepared
for this. "I don't know a soul m
Buffalo," he said, "but I have a lot of
letters Addressed to myself." He
pulled out a package of letters and
shoved them through the window.
The paying teller examined the ad
dresses, looked at the check again,
"That is not sufficient. You
will have to be personally identi
fied.
"But there isn't a man, woman or
child in Buffalo who knows me from '
frrolley car," persisted the well dressed
man. 1 "Here, here is, my key ring.
Look at tho name on that tag.
Tho paying teller saw that tho name
on the check and the name on the tag
were the same. "I am sorry," he.
hnt. rvnr mips are verv strict. 1
can't pay this check on such an iden
tification. Excuse me, but you may
have stolen both letters and key chain
and chsck.'
The well dressed man was worried.
Tru flrol to have that money," ho
sdd, "to get out of town with, and I
have to get out of town this after
noon." Then he desperately tore open
hi vst and showed his initials on his
shirt. "There," he said, "do you
think I stole the shirt, too.'
"May have," answered .the payiDg
teller, laconically.
The well dressed man was very angry.
TTa walked around the bank for a
while and then was struck by a sud
den thought. He took off his coat
and vest and rolled up his left shirt
sleeve and the sleeve of hiB undershirt.
Then he stuck his bared arm through
the window and shouted : "There, you
dod-gasted chump I Do you 6ee those
initials tattooed there in blue ink? Do
you think I stole them, too ?"
The paying teller paid the money
ithout another. word.
Tia f!hiArn Record I'c.cctlOUSl?' ob
serves that stock-raising'-ox'-V' farming
will be permitted only in tha remoter
corners of the Greater New York. Tho
metropolitan garden-truck and chim-
fishing industries will not, however,
ba interfered with.
Ireland, according to John Motley,
has passed the quietest winter
forHhirty years,