A.K EXCELLENT J
-THE-
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"FOR GOD, FOR COUNTRY, AND TOR TRUTH."
SINGLE COPY, 5 CENTS.
VOL. X.
PLYMOUTH, N. C, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 9, 1898.
NO. 12.
J)
A SILENT SOLDIER
How do I kBow the measure of woe
Your patience has bravely spanned,
And the foes you've fought and the crowns
you've wrought
With your profld, determined hand ?
Bead me a story of kings and queens
Ota royal, loyal race,
And the honest share of the glory you wear
Will be easy for me to trace.
How do I know you have struggled so
To conquer the mad despair .
Of nights so black there was never a track,
And scarcely the heart to care ?
Taint me the spirit of youth suppressed
With a harness of galling fit,
And his tears may shine with a grace divine
If they spring from your style of grit.
ift. .At A- A- 'A'A -r J. JV A iAr tAt A WW aflr A A A A WV JV ""
i The Corporal's Story.
"What a splendid place for ghosts!"
exclaimed a visitor at Montauk Point
in the presence of one of, the provost
guards, -while the latter was patrolling
up and down along the top of the ridge
that commands a view of the whole
country from the wood line over"Ama
gansett way" to the tall white light
house on the Point eight miles away.
The gnard, who wore the crossed
f saores ana tne numoer or a troop mat
It made itself famous at San Juan,
looked wistfully across the deep valley
toward tire little cemetery lying on a
knoll near the furthest edge of the
city of tents. The visitor was a
woman, who had just arrived and
climbed the hill to get the view. She
had seen nothing of the war's after
math, had not even noted the ceme
tery, which seemed to the guard to
stand up above everything else, even
above the lighthouse, and was gener
ally the only thing that he did see.
The voman stood waiting for a
reply, bat as none seemed forthcoming
she passed on, humming the air of a
topical song, and seated herself on the
inward slope of the valley. In all the
camp there was not a spot wherein
one could bide, except these three
slopes, and as the provost himself was
well out of the way the guard dis
mounted, tethered his horse and
stood as if still deliberating what to
do. The woman, who had been joined
in the meantime by three friends, mo
tioned him to join tli9 party, and he
obeyed.
"Are there any ghosts here, officer?"
she asked, noting the yellow chevrons,
which denoted the guard's rank as a
corporal.
"Yes'm," said the soldier, standing
at attention. "I've seen lots of 'em
here, too. More than you would
think. You haven't 6een our grave
yard here yet, have you? There it
is, over there. You can see .the
crosses if you'll climb up on this
stone."
The four visitors rose and, mount
ing to the top of one of .the many
bowlders, followed the direction of the
soldier's figure and then resumed
their seats o listen.
"There's where we bury 'em, miss.
There's nigh on to 200 of 'em there.
Every one of 'em was a soldier just
like me, but now there's nothin more
of 'em but just them pieces of wood."
"Did you know any of them?" asked
the eldest of the newcomers sympa
thetically. . Her tone appealed to the guard's
mood, encouraged him to talk, and he
began his tale:
"Yes'm. I know'd 'em. I buried
50 of 'em, an' ten was my bunkies
down in Arizony afore I come out east
here. They wasn't all men what you'd
say went to heavin, but there's one
man there all alone in one corner with
just 'Jones' on the cross, an' if well
he's gone for good now.
"Jones went tinder half a dozen
names, a new one in every regiment
he joined, from Fort Sill to up here in
Vermont. He enlisted when I did
first, and we got out each time when
we had done three years. The first
time he says to me: 'Dave, what are
you goin' to do?'
" 'Go in again," says I, when I get
back from the ole man's.'
" 'So am I,' says he.. 'Let's go in
together!' An' we did; an' when the
war come on we were bunkies, just
like we had been for 20 years, and we
went down there to fight together.
"Jones always was quiet. You
jouldu't get nothin out of him, never.
One time I was drinkin' and Jones he
was sober, for he never would drink
when I was at it, nor any other time
very much for that matter. He was
trying to tell me that I was a fool, an'
I got mad.
r's 'You're a jailbird, Jones,' says I,
oi you wouldn't bo always changin'
your name. I've been bunkiu' with a
lailbird for 15 years, and now I'm
none. . 1 uon z Know no man witn
three names an' one who ain't got no
folks, an' I'm done with you for good.'
? "There was a whole troop there
when I says it, and Jones turned
white an' shut his lips, too, but he
never said a word an' went back to the
barracks. If he'd smashed me I'd 'a
thought more of Uiai, then, but when
I waked up at reveille next mornin' it
,was in the guardhouse, an Jones he
.was in there, too, for helpin' a drunken
'soldier, that was me, run the guard
an get in without beiu' nipped. I
' was the colonel's orderly an' got off
1' Li l.i- TAnA. Via rtv f n-n rlava Tf.
dsa't ytake long for things to get)
OF ADVERSITY.
How do I know what the others owe
To the love and the life you've laid
On the cold, hard stone of a duty known
That cuu never be half repaid ? .
Bring me the coffers you've richly filled,
In their treasures green with mold.
And the empty heart that will sometimes
smart
Glows richer than wasted gold.
now do I know ? as the world should know,
With none of its pitying praise
With a sense of guilt for the barriers built
'Cross most of your earnest ways.
Where are the records of those who wait
Till the others are cheered and crowned?
In the grand review of the tried and true
Your name is the bravest found.
George E. Bowen.
around in barracks with nothin' but
parade an' your horse and equipments
to kill the time between drills, an' it
wasn't long afore the fellers began
givin' me a wide range. I had clean
forgot insultin' Jones when I woke up
in the guardhouse an' didn't know it
till one of my old bunkies told me.
Then I went to Jones an' says, 'Jones,
I didn't treat ye right when I called
ye a jailbird, and I wants ye to come
out here afore the fellers an' let me
make it square. '
" 'No,' said he, 'we're both of us
jailbirds now, Dave, an' birds of a
feather flock together. It's all right.'
"Jones paid me back, but not in my
coin by a blamed sight. The night
before the charge on San Juan I was
picket, but Jones wasn't. It was
against orders for anybody but the
pickets to be out, but : along about 2
o'clock in the mornin' I was walkin'
right agin the edge of the bushes
watchin' the lights in the city and
strainin' my ears to hear a sound and
wonderin' what the Spaniards were
doin' and thinkin' about ou the night
before a fight, when Jones came sneak
in' up to me with a stick over his
shoulder making believe he was a
picket, so he could pass the corporal's
challenge if he was caught, an' he
says:
" 'Dave, I want to talk to you.
Something tells me that this is my
last chance. I've been tryin' to get
my nerve up ever since I found you,
but some way I was afraid that you
would cut me like you said you would
the night that you were drunk, an'
you're the only man I've ever wanted
as a friend, for I picked you out to
tell the story to when I saw you down
at Fort Sill.'
"He hadn't gone no further than
that when the corporal came along
an' caught us both. I gave the coun
tersign, an' it was all right, but I
hadn't had time to give it to Jones.an'
he was caught square. It was guard
house for him an' irons for me, an' I
would have got it right there if there
hadn't been two things happen. When
we went up before the captain, Jones
he says:
'Captain, I'm the wrong man
here. I went out to talk to Dave; let
him off an' give it to me.' ,
"The captain didn't have time to
answer when in come a scout report
in' that the enemy was doin' some
thing out there iu the trenches an' we
might be attacked. I never went to
the guardhouse, but Jones did somo
how or other. The corporal says that
after the scare was over Jones reported
armed like he was when he turned out
at the sudden order an' says: 'Cor
poral, I report for punishment.' They
put him in the rear, but I stayed out
on the line expectin' to be called in
any minute an' ironed. Somehow
they forgot me, an' I've never heard
a word of it since. It came light
pretty soon, an' it wasn't long after
the batteries opened up on each other
across the valley before we went into
action. I was in the rear lino when
we went in, but the line didn't last for
more than two minutes. We had to
scrap the best we could, and every
man was doin' his best to keep nearest
the colonel.
"We got right on the edge of the
first ditch when one of them Spaniards
up and jabbed at me with his bayonet.
He hit me full in my stomach, but the
point hit my buckle and knocked me
down backward. I was winded an
tried to get a shot at him, wheu he
emptied his six-shooter into me aud
left me lyin' there with four scorchin'
wounds an' storming like blazes.
"I'd have been willing to die the
next minute if I could have just got a
shot into him, when some feller shot
right over me, an' the Spaniard
dropped. It was Jones goin' at him
full tilt to finish him. He'd a done
it, too, but the Spaniard grabs a pistol
that some other feller had dropped an'
blowed a hole in his head right there
before Jone3 could get at him.
"I came to in the hospital with a
fever on top of my wounds, an' in the
next cot was Jones with a hole in his
head an' near breathin' his last. I
got well, and Jones got better, but he
knew that he wouldn't get well an' so
did I. The men said Jones was
draggin' me off when he got hit and
that they found us both. Jones lyin
under me grippin' my sleeve and both,
of us as near dead as any two men
could be. Jones never would say
that he was tryin' to get me away till
the last minute. He never got able to
walk, if the doctor did say his wound
had healed. They brought him up
here, and I came along to take care of
him. He lived till we got in the bay
over there, an then he died, his head
on my knee.
"The last thing he says was: I
never got to tell you the story, Dave.
You needn't think anything of my
dyiu,' for I tried to do it. I was more
than willin' anyway, an' more still for
you. I took a life once when there
wasn't any war. I haven't been able
to sleep since without seein' my ghost,
an' in dark nights when you're on
picket down there, when you go back
to finish the fight, an' you see my
ghost, you'll know I've come to do
picket duty with ye, for you look just
the image of her brother, him I killed;
an' I I loved her, Dave, an' she
died when I did my crime.' "
The trooper arose and looked over
at the graveyard again, but it was
time for retreat, and already he could
see the night guard coming along the
tops of the distant hills back by the
regimental camp. New York Sun,
DOESN'T HURT THE SURCEON-
A Half-Told Trnth With Kegarrt to Minor
Operations With the Knife.
A New York surgeon connected
with one of the post-graduate medical
schools of that city was one day on
the point of lancing a felon for one of
the students, a young southern phy
sician. The patient paled at sight of
the knife. "It won't hurt," observed
the surgeon with a sympathetic smile.
"I sometimes think," he added, "that
it is well for a surgeon to feel the
point of the knife at least once in his
life.
"I saw my first hospital service in
this city with Dr. S.," he went on,
"and no better surgeon was then to
be found in America. He had a large
dispensary clinic and rarely a day
passed that one or more cases of felon
did not appear.
" 'It won't hurt,' was always his
comforting assurance to the patient.
"The old doctor was very irritable
if a patient made any outcry or bother
over the lanciug of a felon. 'Put
your finger down there, 'indicating the
edge of the table, 'and keep still!' he
commanded; and truth to tell, pa
tients, as a rule, made little fuss.
"Time passed on, and in the muta
tions of life Dr. S. had.a felon on his
left forefinger, aud it was a bad one.
He poulticed it aud fussed with it for
about a week, and walked the floor
with pain at night, At last it became
unendurable, and he went to his as
sistant surgeon aud said, nervously:
" 'I say, doctor, will you take a look
at my finger?'
"The assistant surgeon looked and
remarked gravely. 'That ought to
have been lanced before.'
"'Possibly but' said Dr. S., and
then with a long breath: 'Perhaps
you'd better lance it now.'
" 'Certainly,' said the assistant sur
geon. 'Put your finger on the table.'
" 'Dr. S. complied, and with a face
as white as paper watched the knife.'
'Be gentle,' he cautioned; 'that's an
awful sore finger.'
" 'It won't hurt,' remarked the as
sistant surgeon, and the sharp steel
descended.
" 'There was a howl of agony from
Dr. S., aud with his finger in his
other hand, he danced about the room
crying. 'Oh! Oh! Oh!'
" .'Why,' remarked the assistant
surgeon, 'I have heard you tell pa
tients hundreds of times that it didn't
hurt to lance a felon.'
" No doubt, no doubt you have!'
groaned Dr. S. 'But that depends on
which end of the knife a man is at.' "
Y'outh's Companion.
The Filipinos' Food.
The food of the Philippines is chief
ly rice and fish, eaten without knives
and forks or chopsticks with the
fingers. The national dish is tuba,
palm beer, made by cutting off the
points of the great flower stems of the
cocoanut palms, and collecting the
sweet juice which flows from the
wounds. Bamboo cujjs are hung in
the trees to collect the juice, and long
bamboo poles are laid from the crown
of one palm to auother, so that the
tuba gathered may pass from one tree
to another without descending to the
ground. These roadways, frequently
sixty or seventy feet above ground,
look like great S25iders webs and need
the skill of a rouewalker to use them.
The juice rapidly ferments and is col
ored and made bitter with the bark of
the mangrove root. Scientific Ameri
can. Artesian Wells in the Went.
In South Dakota most successful
results are being achieved with arte
sian wells. Their use for supplying
water for irrigation doubles and triples
the yield of the land. A single well
over 1000 feet deep is cited, which
gives sufficient water for nearly two
square miles of land. Other wells are
but 100 feet deep. Even the climate
of a region may be modified by the
surface distribution of such quantities
of water, and the consequent vegetable
growth covering the otherwise almost
barren areas.
Make Good Use of Them.
"Joe may be a slipshod sort of a
fellow, but he has one good point; he
appreciates the worth of his friends."
"Urn yes and he works them for
every cent of it."
A CATTLE QUEEN,
ROMANTIC CAREER OF MRS. NAT
COLLINS ON WESTERN PLAINS.
Picturesque Figure of True Western Type
Married, But Master Husband Is
"Quiet" At 55 as Vigorous as at 20
Time Still Hangs Heavily Upon Her.
The city of Minneapolis has within
its gates, says the Tribune of that
city, a notable guest, no less a per
sonage than-Mrs. Nat Collins, who is
known throughout the Northwest as
"the Cattle Queen of Montana."
"Mrs. Collins presents a picturesque
figure of the rare and perfect Western
type which is fast giving way to an
other order of things. She is tlie
product of the conditions which pre
vailed upon the Western plains many
years ago, and a history of her event
ful life is about as interesting as
coul'd possibly be painted by the great
est living novelist.
Mrs. Collins js en route to Chicago
and she came to Minneapolis with a
trainload of cattle thirty-two car
loads all her own property. She
makes this trip each year, and accom
panies the stock from the point of
shipment in Montana to Minneapolis,
the last feeding point before reaching
Chicago. From there she takes a reg
ular passenger train and travels as be
fits her condition as mistress of a
great fortune. The cattle are directly
in charge of six cowboys fyjni her
ranch," and they are with the stock
from Montana to Chicago.
Mrs. Collins, although a married
woman, is master of the various
ranches in her name in Montana. This
property is located in the vicinity of
Choteau, a little town north of Hele
na and is about sixty-five miles from
Great Falls, which is the nearest
large town. Choteau is about twenty
five miles from her ranches, and is
also thirty-five miles from the nearest
railroad. Thus it can be seen that
the cattle queeu is located remotely
enough almost to rival Eobinson Cru
soe for isolation.
Mrs. Collins has had a romantic
jareer, although not devoid of what
would be considered grievous hard
ships by the average American woman.
She is now about fifty-five years of
age and i3 just as. lively aud vigorous
as any young woman in the twenties.
She is an industrious worker, and is
of that nervous temperament which
must find employment to keep the
mind at rest and the heart satis
fied. She began her Western experi
ence at the age of ten years and has
lived upon the plains ever since. It
is her boast that she went through
Denver when that great city of today
contained but one log cabin and a
few tents. Long before she was
twenty years old she had made ten
trips across the plaius between Omaha
and Denver, acting in the capacity of
cook in the wagon train of which her
brother was wagonrnaster.
Later on the spirit of adventure
which had begun to dominate her dis
position impelled her to 'remove to
the new mining fields of Montana, at
the time of their first opening. She
visited Bannock and many other
poiuts, aud was the first white woman
in Virginia City. She was at Helena
before there was such a place, and it
was at Helena some time later that
she wedded Nat Collins, a well known
and respected miner. The marriage
occurred about thirty years ego, aud
shortly after the ceremony the young
couple quit the mining camps and
went into the northern part of Mon
tana and established themselves in
the stock-raising business, to which
they have clung persistently and with
great success ever since. They have
but one child, a daughter sixteen years
old.
They began ranching with about 450
head of stock. The animals were
turned loose upon the plains and al
lowed to increase and multiply as rap
idly as they would, and today Mrs.
Collins says it would be utterly im
possible for her to give an estimate of
the number of head of cattle upon her
various ranches. No effort is made to
count them. Each year they round
up as mauy as they cave to ship and
the others are unmolested.
The cattle queen has well earned
her reputation. Probably no one in
Montana has larger cattle interests
than she. Her success has been due
to her own interest and exertions, for
her husband is oue of those quiet in
dividuals who prefer to take life with
as little trouble as possible. When
Mrs. Collins began to ship her stock
to the eastern market she found her
self confronted by railway rules and
regulations which expressly stated
that no woman could ride in the ca
booses attached to the stock trains.
She immediately put in a protest, and
as the agent could give her no satis
faction she carried the matter to the
division superintendent. That official
found himself powerless, aud finally
James J. Hill, president of the Great
Northern, was appealed to. Mr. Hill
reluctantly refused her the desired
permission, and by so doing raised a
storm of indignation about his head.
In a few days he was fairly smothered
with letters from prominent ranch
men and cattlemeut of Montana de
manding that he accord tie custamary
privileges of the road to llrs. Collins.
In a few days threats begau comiug
in, the writers declaring that if ha
did not accede to Mrs. Collins' re
quest they, the principal cattlemen oi
the West, would refuse to ship an
other hoof over his road. Mrs. Col
lins got her pass aud has had one each
year since, and is today the only wom
an so favored.
One would suppose that, with the
management of several ranches upon
her shoulders Mrs. Collins would find
plenty to keep her busy, but such ia
not the case. She declares that there
is any quantity of time which she
finds it almost impossible to dispose
of, and she finds vent for her surplus
energy in various ways. Repeatedly
she visited the new mining region
near St. Mary's Lake, Mon. , and
while there invested in several fine
copper claims and located a town site
on the banks of the lake.
MRS. CONDON, MITTEN CAPITALIST.
The Big industry a New England Woman
Started on 840.
At South Penobscot, Me., lives the
mitten capitalist of the United States.
Mrs. A.C. Condon is the name of this
wealthy womau and she distributes
every year from 12,000 to 15,000 dozen
pairs of mittens. She is a living illus
tration that it pays to knit mittens, a
modern, up-to-date proof of the fact
that our grandmothers knew what
they were doing. Mrs. Condon's story
shows what a brave, plucky New Eng
land woman can do when she sets her
mind to it. Mrs. Condon ha3 written
this statement of her mitten industry
from its beginning up fcto the present
time.
"I began business in 1864 with a
capital of 40 in a little room about
15 by 12 feet in size. I first made
over worn-out felt hats thrown away
by the men, cleaned, shaped and turned
them and then made them over into
hats for women and girls. Then, as I
lived in the country where there was
no industry, but very many willing
hands, I resolved to procure, if pos
sible, some work for those idle hands
to do.
"I went to Boston and saw some
yarn manufacturers and from them
got twenty-five pounds of yarn , on
credit, this yarn to be made into init
tens. The manufacturers furnished
the yarn, and I put it out at the homes
of the people near where I lived. I
had difficulty in starting the work and
was obliged to return part of the yarn
to the manufacturers at the end of the
year because I found it impossible tc
have it all knit into mittens.
"This was not very encouraging for
a year's work, but I persevered and
at the beginning of the second year
one family insisted on having some
yarn to knit into mittens. So I tried
it over again and after it once got well
started I could not supply the demand
for yarn. Tons of yarn were sent to
me and my business grew until I paid
the steamboat company the largest
freight bills of any one who did busi
ness on the Boston aud Bangor route.
From 10,000 to 15,000 dozen mittens
were manufactured yearly, and besides
making mittens we made ladies' and
misses' hoods and caps, toques, etc.
"I had 1500 names on my books of
people who were at work for me, and
many more that were really working,
as on my books there would be only
one name from each house, although
perhaps two, three or four members
of the household were knitting, often
times as many as there were members
in the family. In the loug winter
evenings men and boys wound the
yam and in some cases even the men
knit.
"After 1873 the knitting of mittens
by hand gradually decreased and ma
chines came in to take the place of the
knitting. In 1882 I began to buy ma
chines and kept adding to my stock,
until now I have eighty-two machines.
We make from 12, 000 to 15, 000 dozens
in one year on the machines. One of
my girls has made 104 pairs of mit
tens in one day, small single mittens,
and eighty-live pairs of boys' double
lined mittens. Nearly all the machines
are run at the homes of the knitters,
for in that way they make more
money.
"Girls on an average make about
four dozen of cheap mittens or two
dozen of lined mittens in a day. We
make a great many fine fancy-backed
mittens of all sizes and of these the
girls make from one to two dozen a
day. The pi ice of knitting used to
be 25 cents a pair. Then it dropped
to six and it is about that now."
When SIOOO Looked Big.
Divide anything up into pairs and
you magnify it. A certain wise man
took this way to give his wife au idea
of money. Her purchases were enor
mous. It happened one day that her
eye fell upon a magnificent ring and
she coveted it. It cost 81000, but
what was $1000 to her in comparison
to the ring? Of course her husband
consented to the purchase. What else
could a dutiful, affectionate husband
do? But he tried this method of edu
cating his wife concerning the great
price of the ring. He instructed his
banker to send the $1000 in small
pieces pennies, dimes, quarters. In
came the money, bagful after bagful.:
She never had such an idea of $1000
before. When the money vtas piled
before her it alarmed her; the price
of the ring went up a hundredfold,
aud was considered at once an extrav
agance wh'ch she of her own , pptioa
abandoned.
P. FOOL AND A WOMAN.
She never cared for him
Until there came a day
When he fell in love with her
And acted in such a way
As to fill his astonished friend
With feelings of dismay.
Men used honor him
For the good sense that he had,
But he fell in love with her
And carried on like mad,
And people saw, amazed,
AndL said it was too bad.
Then she that had never cared
And bad turned to other men
Would deign to smile sometimes,
For, being a woman, when
She had made a fool of the man
She rather liked him then.
Cleveland Leader
HUMOROUS.
Many people want to get in th
swim tor divers reasons.
School Teacher Johnny, whati?
the capital of the United States!
Johnny Money, mum.
Ethel Do you meet many peopl
while wheeling? Tom Oh, yes; 1
run across a friend occasionally.
Claribel They say he is worth hall
How I should like to be his widow.
First Proud Parent I am a daddy,
and it is a peach. Second Proud Par
ent I am a daddy, too, but it is t
pair!
The Soldier What wero your ad
miral's last words? The Sailor He
didn't have any. His - wife was oi
board.
Manager I can't use this play. Iff
too long for the stage. Amateui
Dramatist Why not make the stage
larger?
"Did you enjoy -the cathedrals
abroad, Miss Shutter?" "No; th
horrid things were too big for rnj
camera."
"Wonders will never cease. I jusf
jaw a stone walk." "Pooh! That's
nothing. I have often teen a briclf
building."
Lady Visitor What a pretty baby.
How old is he? Mamie (aged five)
I ain't quite sure, mum. We've hac
him about a year.
"You shall be rich and famous,1
said the fortune teller. "Alas!" cried
the sitter. "Then I am undone. Fot
.my dream was to devote my life tf
art."
Teacher Now, boys, listen. Leath
er comes from the cow, aud wool it
made into cloth and into coats. Now,
what is your coat made of yours,
Tommy? Tommy (hesitatinsrl Our
of father's.
"William," said the teacher, "cas
you tell me anything about the shap
of the earth?" Only what my fath-.
er found out in the newspaper."
"What is that?" "He says it's in x
mighty bad shape just at present."
"I don't know that I need any wort
done about the house. . What can yon
do, my good fellow?" "Sir, in mj
day I've been a carpenter, a bavboi
and a school teacher. I can shingb'
your house, your hair or your boy."
"Doctor," said a fashionable bellej
"what do you think of tight lacing?
The doctor solemnly replied: "Madam,
all I can say is that the more a worn
an's waist is shaped like an hourglasi
the sooner will her sands of life rui
out."
Mosher What are you doing witl
all those bits of card in your pocket!
Wiswell They are tickets at differen;
theatres. It says on each, "Retain
this portion." It's an awful bore t
be obliged to carry so much pasta
board about; but, then, what's a fel
low to do?
Quaint Costumes of Holland.
Many people will have seen the
charming portrait which has been
taken of Wilhelmina in the national
dress bf the Friesland women. T
realize how wise was the decision oi
the regent mother to encourage hei
daughter in her fondness for th
handsome peasant dress, one must
uuderstaud what an important place
in the lives and affections of the Dutel
people of the preseut day their na
tional dress holds. In all parts of
the country the old styles of peasanl
dresses are 6till to be seen. On the
brows of the women of Zeeland won
derful headdresses of silver and golf'
are worn by the Friesland women.
There are no more conservative
people in the matter of dress and fan
ily customs than the Dutch, and theii
little queen has become doubly deal
to them through her devotion to-th
quaint national dress and her love foi
Ilia. LI J UiXltSt Ul I Li O iiuio uuuui vu vuj
toms.
Shooting a IJesevtlng Soldier.
Very rarely, indeed, does a British
soldier allow fear to overcome hi
sense of duty: but some old veterans
will occasionally admit that he has
known perhaps one such instancejanc
in reply to the question: "How is i
we never read of such eases?" he wiE
answer: "One dead man is a small
loss to a regiment. Besides, one man
running off may canae another to fol
low him, and a panic.maj thus set in,
Before any one has time to thini
about it or issue an order, depend
upon it. one of his comrades, for thi
honor of the regiment, puts a bullel
through him."