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$i.oo a Year, In Advance. FOR GOP, FOR COUNTRY, AND FOR TRUTH." Single Copy, 5 Cents.
VOL. Mil. PLYMOUTH, N. C, FRIDAY, elUNE 27, 1902. NO. 16.
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OTHER," the rocking
chair by the gate
sounded slightly dis
pleased with things, "do
lyou feel promptings to the strenuous
-life?"
"In what form?" The steamer chair
-ion the piazza was evidently Inviting a
cap.
"Um-er say golf; I haven't played
-if or days."
"Golf! A mile across lots to the
-links and three miles around them!
'.'Ask Lois."
"Lois is In one of her now-you-see-me-.
jand-now-you-don't moods. I can't
-find "
The stones on the wall rattled, and
through the swaying rows of sweet
.peas came a breathless voice,
i "The most wonderful find right
lliere Joe says we can drive easily
yjnow, to-day for fear some one breaks
sat "
' "A 1G97 carved chest or a hood-top
'. highboy?" The tone would have damp
ened any but a true enthusiast.
"It's a 'General Pike' pitcher!" There
-;was a pause for every one to take In
(the great news.
. "And we yearn for a General Tike
tpitcher above all earthly Joys?"
"Alas, the ignorance of one's own
fein!" said Lois, coming out of the
-eweet peas. "Listen, Bess. It's one
of the oldest and rarest pieces of na
tive china. I've never even seen one,
and father has hunted years for one.
Think of its being up In this little Ver-
:mont village!"
-"Who told you?" queried Bess.
T'The postmistress. I asked her
about old furniture and china the first
iday I came. I've just been down to
ijthe village. She was visiting up on
-'Pond Meadow Hill' last week and
; saw an old pitcher in one of the houses;
. she can't remember whose, but she
.wrote down the name of the pitcher.
Joe is willing to take us right up there
: now In the jolly-boat."
Driven by Lois's impetuosity, the
. Jaunt and the cousin packed themselves
. and their remonstrances into the Jolly
boat, a wagon of mixed architecture,
fcut unlimited capacity, and counseled
. Joe, owner of the vehicle, to drive to
iPond Meadow Hill.
The sun still stood over Haystack
Mountain, but "the sleep that lies
.among the lonely hills" was already
-creeping down its slope. Mrs. Gerard
- and Bess enjoyed the September beaut;?
in silence. Lois brooded lovingly over
;jthe prize yet to be captured,
i- Lois's father possessed all the requi
sites for happiness but health. Shut
- out from the things of action, he gave
.this life to the things of the mind. A
(Pboyhood passed in an English village
had given him a love for all the
links that hold us to the past. '
He had delved hi old records and
: gathered about him the antiquities of
CEE EOEE A SQUAT, BBOWNISII TITCnEE
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every country. He and his daughter
had spent many days in little outworn
.villages picking up relics,' curious or
valuable.
At first Lois loved the old things
because her. father did, but gradually
the collector's passion burned in her
own breast.
, Thus far perseverance had been
forced to be its own reward. Th'e 16D7
chest was genuine indeed, it crumbled
feebly away under the ministration
of the freight handlers. The hooded
highboy proved to be wearing a head
gear not its own, and its legs at least
one hundred years too juvenile for it.
The "Pittsfield Elm" plate revealed
to the unfriendly daylight cracks seam
ing it from side to side.
Other calamitous disabilities ap
peared mysteriously in all Lois's
treasures. But she was of the stuff
of which martyrs and collectors are
made. Each new expedition was "a
triumph of hope over experience."
Mixed with the pure gold of her an
tiquarian passion was, it must be told,
the dross of wounded pride. It was
hard to be met always at the end of
each hunt by the wise smiles of her
father and his friends, and their "You
see, my dear, a genuine platter would
have " or "You never find a really
old chair with those marks on "
"I do hope it hasn't got a great bite
out of it like the George Third tureen!"
said Lois to herself.
"Here's Pond Meadow," announced
Joe, pointing to open fields which
stretched away from a mountain lake.
A few houses stood along the grassy
road.
"Let's begin here!" cried Lois, nod
ding at a rambling old farmhouse, shin
ing white and clean in the afternoon
sun. "There's an old man on the
porch."
"MA'D GET RIGHT UP AND POLR
"I quake, Lois," whispered Bess.
"He looks like Jupiter in the Flaxman
Homer."
Evidently even the Olympians are as
naught to your collector, for Lois was
already saying in beguiling tones: m
"Good afternoon, sir! We are very
much interested in old-fashioned furni
ture, and we thought perhaps you had
some we might look at."
."No, ma'am," replied the old man,
with surprising quickness, "I ain't,
but if I had you should have it so
quick you wouldn't know who you be.
Me an' my wife we perfectly hate it.
Just look in thar, if you want to know
what we favor for furniture."
He opened the door into, a low, old
room, with crooked windows and bil
lowy floor.
"Oh!" cried the -isitors in anguish.
Red plush chairs and glided tables
crowded every space; huge chromos
iu gilded frames covered the walls.
"All our taste," rejoiced the owner.
"No old traps for us. But some folks
has other notions. Let 'em have 'cm
and welcome, I say. If you're thet
sort, you'd better go to Miss Polly Ann
Pottis; her folks has been here longer'n
any one. Right to the end of the road
she lives."
The road soon grew to ba no road
at all, only a wide meadow running
to the edge of the hill. Right at the
end of things clung a little, low house,
gray and moss-grown, its bit of a door
yard aflame with autumn flowers,
if
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V
asters, nasturtiums, hollyhocks and
zinnias.
"You dear!" whispered Lois. "How
nice to get it from such a place!"
The kitchen gate and door stood cor
dially open. Tha three peeped in as
Lois knocked.
There must have been all over New
England hundreds of such kitchens in
the days of Adams and Jefferson. Ab
solutely clean, bare of all but neces
sities, and those of the clumsiest fash
ion, it spoke of toil and poverty.
But the little woman who entered
from another door was eloquent of
greater things. Her white hair and
heavy wrinkles were defied by her
straight shoulders and her eyes, in
which burned Immortal youth.
"Good afternoon!" She answered
their greetings in a bright little voice.
"Won't you walk into the fore-room?"
A touch cf pride in her voice made
then look eagerly about; here might
be treasures. It was only the humblest
of sitting rooms, with no carpets on the
unpalnted boards. Yet it represented
Miss Polly's best; therefore her pride
in it.
"A real pleasant day for a ride," zlie
began.
"Yes," answered Lois's aunt. ".We
are having beautiful weather."
Lois, with the tact that wa3 the
wonder of the girls, divined the desire
for information that would not satisfy
itself by questions.
"Wo are spending the summer down
in Searsboro," she said. "We drove
up from there. We heard you had
some old furniture we could look at."
Miss Polly sat straighter. "Just look
around you. Everything's old. I'm
most as old as the rest."
"We heard about a General Pike
pitcher; perhaps you know about it,"
said Mrs. Gerard, who saw no reason
for wasting time in overtures.
Miss Polly vanished to the kitchen.
When she appeared sho bore a squat,
brownish and to the unenlightened
mind ug!y pitcher.
CS OUT A MUG TO CCOL US OFF."
"Oh!" cried Lois. Her eyes began
to glitter with the collector's joy. She
received it into her hands as if it were
a sacred vessel. The most searching
examination proved it flawless, without
crack or nick.
The heart of the young collector
fairly bounded. Here was a relic of
bygone history for which her father
had searched years; here was a trophy
that would prove her something more
than a silly girl, snatching uo anything
because she happened to see it in an
old house.
Then she made Miss Polly a humble,
gracious little speech, asking her to
sell the treasure.
"Sell it!" cried Miss Tolly. "No,
indeed!"
"I will pay $20 for it," urged Lois.
"Twenty dollars!" Miss Polly gasped
a little. "Well, now, there's sights
folks can do with a sum of money
like that. But that there's 'Ma!' "
Her visitors stared. The little woman
blushed red all ever her white old
face.
"Don't that sound foolish?" she cried.
"I guess I ought to explain. I always
call that pitcher Ma. You see, ma used
it ever sineo- I can remember. Ma's
been dead ten year."
"But surely you have ether relics of
your mother. My niece is very anx
ious to own this especial pitcher. It
has historical value." Mrs. Gerard
spoke decidedly, feeling that as this
poor woman needed the money, senti
ment should not be allowed to inter
fere with her own good.
"Yes, I do want it very much," again
urged Lois. Could it be possible she
was to be balked of this find? "I have
hunted everywhere for one, and so
haye others. If you do not think the
price enough, I will give you more."
"That is a large sum," said Mrs.
Gerard.
"I guess I know it. I guess I'd like
to have it, too," said Miss Polly.
"There's just one thing I've said I'd do
these last twenty year if ever I found
the money. I've vowed and declared
I'd get a carpet for this fore-room floor.
Ma and me, we made a rag one long
about twelve no, near twenty year
ago; but it got wore out an I took it
up, for give me anythin', says I but
holes. I do want that carpet the worst
way. It's a trial when folks come to
see me from Searsboro or Pleasant Val
ley to have to take 'em right in onto
bare boards."
Lois looked steadily at the worn old
face. She divined something behind
the hestitatlon to sell, and she wanted
to find out what it was.
"You feel differently about this pitch
er than about anything else that was
your mother's?" she asked gently.
"That's it. Everything here was
ma's, but " She looked at Lois, and
then, as if to her alone, went on in a
soft, shy voice, that gradually lost all
shyness in depth of feeling.
"Ma an' me was about everything
to one another. I was the oldest-
there was six of us and I planned
with her comeways about raising 'em,
pa being busy a good deal. Then by
and by pa he went, and my sister
Cynthy the other girl both in one
year. The boys they died, too, terrible
quick after that we ain't long-lived,
only just ma and me.
"Ma and me, we just had to be all in
all to each other, it was so lonesome.
I went out sewing by the day, 'way
over to Pleasant Valley sometimes
But there wasn't any weather or any
distance could keep me away a night
from. ma. By and by she took sick, and
I stayed here all the time.
"Ma an' me took sights of comfort
together, even if we were lonesome.
What we liked best was to talk about
old times, when it seemed as if this
house was just full of children, and
noise and goln's on. Pa was a great
hand for a joke, and so was ma, and
gcod-disposltioned! I don't know as
I ever heard a sour word from her,
for, all she was so tried. And It wasn't
such work living then, neither. Pa,
he was pretty prosperous with his
farm, and the boys, they was likely
fellows. I guess there wa'n't a happier
family in this country than we was.
"I'm comin' to the pitcher. The
thing that seemed to bring it all back
clearest was that pitcher. Ma, she
didn't believe in tea or coffee for young
ones, so we had milk breakfast, din
ner an' supper. I can see ma just as
plain, waiting for pa to get through
the blessin' so she could begin pourin'
out our mugs'of milk.
"She always used that pitcher. It
stood right in the north butt'ry win
dow, where it's always cool, and she
kept it full of milk. If any of us chil
dren come in hot and thirsty, ma'd get
right up and pour us out a mug to cool
us off. Somehow that pitcher just
seemed to mean ma, so full of some
thing good, and ready to give to us.
"Ma suffered terrible the last year.
I can't tell you about that, eveu now.
For days after she was gone, I couldn't
look at anythin' she'd used; it brought
her back to me, all worn an' thin an'
sufferin'.
"One day, a week from the burial,
I went into the butt'ry for the first
time Cousin Ezra Drew's folks had
been stayin' here doin' for me and I
saw that pitcher on the shelf. And
maybe' you won't believe it, I seemed to
see ma standin' by it. Not poor and
sick, but rosy and smilin', like long
ago. Nothin' would do me but I must
have that pitcher on the table that
night at ma's old place. There she
was, like she always was, happy and
ready to begin to hel: us.
"I don't believe in any spirits or
manifestations from the other world,
don't yon think that; but as I'm a pro
fessin' Christian, whenever I put that
pitcher in the butt'ry or on the table,
and sit and think about them that's
gene, I can bring ma back as she was
Avhcn pa and the 'children was here.
An' I don't foci so lonesome or lost,
because I know I can have ma again
any minute 'nest the same as always."
Tears rolled down the little woman's
face, but her voice was glad. The oth
ers were perfectly still. In Lois's mind
quick thoughts were leaping. She re
membered stories like tnis where the
heart had taken for itself some one
symbol of those "loved long since.
and lost a while."
The homely little vision had nothing
grotesque for the girl, but was irradi
ated with the love that made it possi
ble. What was the small sense of
prosperity and elegance that would
come to this lonely old woman from)
"a fore-room carpet" compared withi
the abiding happiness that was hers
now in the nearness of her motherZ
How very slight a thing it seemed now
too, that the girl's father's vast collec
tion should lack this particular curl
osity!
As for her own hurt pride, now
near receiving balm, Lois's breath did
go hard for an instant. It was such ft
prize she had found; and even the
most learned of her father's collector
friends had never yet achieved it!
She put the pitcher back into it's own
er's hands. "Do not sell it to me. Miss
Polly," she said, very softly, "or to
any one. None of your friends care
about the carpet at all; they like you
just as well without it. But to have
a sense of your mother's presence i
the most beautiful possession ou
earth." .
"Lois," said her aunt, as they drove
away, "I think it was really wrong in
you to encourage that poor old creature
in her delusions against her own Inter
ests." Lois smiled. "I didn't want the
pitcher, truly, auntie, not after you
see well I think while she talked I
saw 'ma' a little, too." Youth's Com
panion. - "
She Got the Potatoes.
The man who forgets the obligation
in the way of shopping imposed upoa
him by the women of his family when
he leaves the house is not rare enough
to excite curiosity, but the woman with
sufficient wit and tact to checkmate
this loss of memory is. One such lives
in Pennsylvania. The Philadelphia!
Record says that she had labored for;
several days to impress upon her hus
band the necessity of sending heme a'
bag of potatoes. i
At last, when all her persuasions and!
injunctions had failed, she surprised:
him one morning by handing him a
sealed letter, and asking him with'
great seriousness not to open it until
he had reached his place of business.
All the way down town he thought of
the strange request, and he no sooner
entered his office than he tore open
the letter. This is what he read:
"Dear John: For some time past
I have thought long and earnestly on
what I have to say to you, and I have
decided that this ;s the best method!
to communicate it. I have hesitated
several times about writing to you
in this way, but I find that I cannot
conceal my thoughts longer. I must
and will tell you all."
Here John's hair began to rise, but
he heroically turned over the page and
read on: ,"The potatoes have been out
for a week. Please send home a bag.
I thought by this method you would
not be likely to forget." ;
The potatoes went up to the hous')
that morning. 4
' No Music in His Soul. t
Mr. Finley, of South Carolina, makes
no concealment of the fact that he has
no ear for music, but ho turned thi3
lack of tuneful information into a joke
a few days ago when a friend invited
him to attend a concert. For the sake
of old times Mr. Finley consented to
sit through a varied program, which
naturally afforded him little amuse
ment, i
"Don't you know that piece?" in-i
quired his friend, when he seemed in
cifXerent to inspiring strains.
"What is it?" replied the South Caro
linian. ,
"Why, that's 'America."
"North or South?" he rejoined.-
Washington Tost.
An Old Custom in Damascus.
There is an ancient custom under?
which the olive groves around Da
mascus are guarded by official watch
men to prevent the trees being stripped
by thieves, But on a certain date th:
governor, cr some magistrate, issues
a proclamation, warning all owners
of clive trees that they must pick
their fruit, for after a certain date it
becomes public property. If a farmec
has his crop only half gathered when
that date arrives the public will gather
it for him. Chicago Reccrd-IIerald.
Venice is increasing very rapidly in
population. It had 17,000 more peot)la
last year than it had' in 1S01. . . r i