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FOlt GOP, FOR COUNTRY, AiND f OR TRUTH."
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VOL. XIII.
PLYMOUTH, N. C, FRIDAY, AUGUST 1, 1902.
NO. 21.
1 4 (fir f ifir W
I I' ,J IE 1 IT 111 'U 1 10 f li --1 lid I It 1 lav I rr If I V .li
t :
ROBERT
MG
Ah Annandale Romance.
y HE Black Bull was not an or
dinary inn rather a survival
of the wayside house of rest.
A wood of pines stretched
from the rear down to the river, and
the cheerful white front of th? house
stood out from the gloomy background,
beck on teg welcome like a human
friend.
On each side the porch were benches
where the farmers sat cn market
days exchanging the gossip of the
countryside. Indoors the best kitchen
was the gathering place.
On a certain March morning a fire
ot pine log3 blazed in the grate, and
the side window was thrown open to
let the breeze from the pine wood
stray in. Contrary to precedent, the
hostess of the Black Bull was a spin
ster. While her father lived she had
set askle all offers of marriage, and
stood staunchly between the old man
and his besetting sin of conviviality
till she laid him, honored and lament
ed, in the kirkyard on the hill.
One suitor had remained persistent,
Robert Jardine, of The Willows. His
farm was on the Dumfriesshire hill,
and he looked down on the Black Bull
from its gable windows. But he did
not content himself with that. lie was
a frequent visitor, and Esther Morri
son's face took a tinge of pink, and
she gave a hasty touch to her smooth
hair as she heard his voice in the
porch. She was a prim, precise young
woman with fixed ideas, and Robert
Jardine was easy-going and genial; so,
by law of contrasts, they were made
for one another. He was a man of few
words, and it was enough for him to
stand with his back to the fire, strok
ing his brown beard, and watching Es
ther. No one would have taken him
for a wooer, and yet, in his slow fash
ion, he was bearing down steadily on
the port of matrimony.
"It's real . heartsome up yonder the
now," he said. "The sole-thorn's a' in
bloom in the lane, an' the birdies are
singin' and the lambs skippin' in the
meadow it's real heartsome at The
.Willows."
It was not the first time Esther had
heard the charms of The Willows,
varied only by the season.
"I wouldn't wonder," she assented.
"The country's aye nice in the spring
time. Is it a good season for the
Jambs, Robert?"
"Well, I ha'e seen better. There's a
good few o' them dousy enough like,
I'm no' so rich the year as I thought
to be. Ye see, I was reekonin' on get
tin' the house new papered an' painted
this spring, but," with a wistful glance
At her, "I'm waitin'."
Esther smiled.
"John Robinson was askin me if
you'd a mind to sell the Black Bull.
He'd give ye a good price for't." He
did not look at her again, for he knew
by heart the obstinate upcast of her
chin when he mooted this topic.
"An' what for would I sell the Black
Bull, Robert Jardine? Folk shouldna
le m haste to make changes. They'll
be the longer 0' ruein' them."
lie sighed.
-."Well, I must be movin' home,
though there's nobody carin' much
what road I go. I'm missin' the old
mother more every day."
The words touched her. She held
out her hand, and it was lost in his.
"Some day, Robert, maybe there will
be one to watch for your haine comin."
His face flushed, and he laid his
hands on her shoulder, but she drew
back.
"Ofi, I'm no sayin' who it will be,"
he added.
"There's but one woman in the world
for me, an' well ye ken that, Esther,"
he said sternly, and strode away.
The little town among the hills was
an uneventful spot, and sensations
were rare and precious. One of these
was the yearly visit of Signor Jacob!
with his circus and menagerie. It was
the market day, and crowds stood
gaping at the gay procession. In start
ling contrast with the ladies in velvet
and spangles was a monster ape in a
cage bringing up the rear. His crafty,
old bewrinkled face looked out from
between the bars, and he put forth
a stealthy hand to seize an inquisitive
old farmer's spectacles or. snatch a
swain's gay necktie. Suddenly, no one
could tell how or why, a hubbub arose
JARDINE'S
59
shrieks and jostling and scrimmage.
The fastenings of the ape's cage had
given way, and, with a wild dash for
freedom, he bounded, jabbering and
chattering, over the heads of the ter
rified crowd. Signor Jacobi smoked
his pipe that afternoon in the porch of
the Black Bull. The performance was
postponed, while his troupe scattered
in quest of the missing member.
"He has the cunning of fifty foxes,
has old Jargo," he said. "He has
doubled on me more than once; but he
turns up when he gets hungry. He's
a crafty old boy."
"You'll come with me to the show,
Esther?" asked Jardine, who loved a
variety entertainment.
"No, no, Robert, I cannot leave the
house. I promised the maids to let
them go; besides, I have my accounts
to make up. I must be bankin' my
money." .
"You are gettin' to be a rich woman,
Esther. I wish The Willows was doin'
as well as the Black Bull; sheep farm-
in' is risky business."
She looked at him , anxiously. She
knew that his father had been a
"waster," and it was uphill work to
restore the farm to prosperity; but it
was not her way to express sympathy
The town was very quiet next even
ing; every one who could afford it was
at the circus. The side windows of the
best kitchen were wide open, and. the
spring breeze wafted the muslin cur
tains inward. Esther sat at a table
with the contents of a leather bag
spread before her a heap of sovereigns
glittered in the light from the pine
logs. She lifted the gold in her fingers,
counting it with a pleased expression.
She had a self-satisfied conviction that
success like hers must be the reward
of a good church-goer and an upright
woman. She had no fear to be alone
in the house with so much money,
for thieves were rare in Annandale.
There was a rustling sound among the
shrubs at the window, but she .did not
hear it. The bell of the outer door
jingled, and, gathering the coins into
the bag, she set it on a shelf and went
out. It was old Mr. Meldrum, , a f re
quenter of the inn; he was an elder of
the kirk, and 'he gave her his opinion
at length on "playactin' an' a' sic de
vices o' Sawtan." As he was leaving
her she heard hasty footsteps run down
the passage to the kitchen, and at the
door she met Robert Jardine. He was
flurried and breathless.
"I'm late for the showt Esther; you
won't come? Well, I brought you a
posy to keep you from feelin' lone
some." He patted her shoulder and rushed
out. The kitchen was filled with frag
rance from a bunch of violets on the
table. She buried her face in their
cool, purple beauty.
"He's a faithful soul, Robert Jar
dine," she said to herself. "A body
might do, worse than take him at his
word some day."
She turned to take the bag and lock
it up !n the safe. It was gone! Two
of the sovereigns lay on the floor. A
hasty hand had snatched the bag' and
dropped them out. She saw it all in a
dreadful vision, and the hand she saw
was Robert Jardine's! It all flashed
in grim detail on her limited brain.
His hints of losses, his flurried air.
There was a mortgage on The Willows;
perhaps the interest was not ready.
He knew she could never charge her
father's friend and her own with theft.
And so she thought bitterly he had
robbed a lonely woman. She paced
the room wringing her hands. The
pine logs were dying into ashes, and
the air was chill. She closed the win
dow, picking up her overturned work
table. Robert Jardine a thief! And
this was the end of it all. She never
knew till then how strongly she had
cherished the thought of a love-lit
home and little children round her
knee. No, she could never marry a
thief. But, surely, it had been a sud
den impulse; he' would come back and
explain. She would len'd him all he
needed. She heard the servants' voices
at the rear. The show was over. The
farmers' springcarts flew past, the
east wind sighed through the pines.
She listened for the rapid hoof -beats
of Robert's chestnut. Yes, there he
comes slower; he is going to stop.
No; he passes on. She buries her face
in her hands, and, like a dirge of lest
love, comes the murmur of "the river
flowing down from Ericstane Brae.
Then she started up, and seizing the
violets his sweet gift she flung thsrti
into the fire, piling fresh logs upon
them, and watching them writhe and
squirm like living things.
But when the maids came In she was
calm, and none of them guessed that
their mistress had touched the border
land of tragedy that night.
A week passed, in which she did not
see Robert Jardine. She said nothing
of her loss; it would be her secret
and his. She heard among the gossips
in the porch that he had gone to Glas
gow, and that he was making some
improvements on the farm.
"He'll be takin' hame his wife some
o' thae days, Miss Esther," said old
Mrs. Burrows, the matchmaker of the
town. "An' she'll no can say him nay.
It's lang he has waited, an' it's a guid
fairm, The Willows; an' he's a gey
decent lad, Robert Jardine."
Esther smiled at her.
He came on market day, but there
was a crowd in the porch, and the
benches were filled with smokers. She
did not see him till afternoon. He
took his usual stand on the hearth, and
locked around.
"Your violets will be withered by
now?" he said. "I'll bring ycu fresh
ones. They're fine the now down the
bank where mother planted them, an'
the daffy down dillies, as Molly calls
them, are comin' out, in the long
meadow. You're fond o' flowers, Es
ther? They're real heartsome."
"Yes," she answered oldly. "I'm
for takin' in more ground at the rear
an' plantin' a flower garden.
He stared blankly at her.
"You're what? An' what for would
you lay out money for other folk that
way; Esther? The Willows will be
ready for you, an' what's to hinder
the weddm'? I'm wearym' for ye."
She looked straight in his eyes. How
could he meet her glance and know
he had robbed her?
"There'll be no weddin' for me, Rob
ert Jardine,", she said. "You'll have to
seek your wife elsewhere."
He started forward to grasp her
hand, but she pushed him back.
"No word more shall cross my Hps;
but well you know I can never marry
you now."
"Never marry me? An what for,
do you think, I have been toilin' a
these years if it wasna to make a
home for you? An' now you say you
can never marry me."
He stood before her, his face working
with emotion.
"I'm no great things, maybe, butI'm
your faithful lover, Esther, an' you're
not goin' to throw me over in the face
0' a' the neighbors. It's not as if we
were strangers; you ken me lang
enough."
"Ay, fine I ken you, Robert," she
said drily. "I woul maybe be a hap
pier woman this day if I didna."
"I'm hanged if I can make out wha
you're drivin' at," he retorted in an
ger. "Will ye sp?ak straight, an' tell
me why you're thorwin' me over?
You're mair glib wi' the speech than
me."
"I have nothing to say if you have
not. I car.Jot help what the neighbors
think. I do not mean to marry you."
"So be it, then. You'll be fashed wi'
me nae mair. le can spier me wnen
ye want me back," he said, flinging
out. She watched him mounting his
spring cart, and unwilling tears cloud
ed her sight.
Snow fell late that year, checking
the promise of spring, and the hedges,
instead of whitening with hawthorn
buds, were weighted with a pallid
burden. There was much gossip over
the cessation of Robert Jardine's woo
ing, for every one was interested in
the love story of the mistress of the
Black Bull.
Esther's heart was heavy, and as the
snow began to thaw she turned her
thoughts to the garden she meant to
lay out to the edge of the pine trees.
She kilted up her skirts and made her
walk over the heaps of last year's
leaves. In a hollow something red
caught her eye. Stooping over it she
saw that it was a scarlet jacket with
gay brass buttons. She took a branch
and cleared the snow away. Soma
bulky thing lay beneath. A shudder
seized her; it looked like a human
bodj , Had some poor creature per
ished iu.the snow? There was a heap.
of bones Under the scarlet cloth. Again
a shudder seized her, though she was
not a nervous woman. She swept
away the last remnant of snow, and
there lay bkre a ghastly object the
gigantic skeleton of the lost ape!
She was turning away to make
known her discovery, when something
stopped her. This time it was the
glitter of gold. Under the fleshiess
fingers was a leather bag. Some of Its
contents lay on the earth, Conquering
her repulsion, she withdrew the bag
and gathered up the coins. It was her
lost property.
A sudden raininess seized her; she
remembered in q. flash the open win
dow, the overturned work-table. To
think that she had held Robert Jar
dine for a thief and lost him!
She concealed the bag under her
cloak. No one had. known of her loss;
none need know of its recovery. She
went in by the back kitchen; the ser
vants were whispering together in a
group.
"Haud yer tongue, she'll hear ye.
Wha's gaun tae tell her?" some one
said.
"What is it?" she asked sharply.
She turned to her old Irish cook, whose
ruddy face had grown pale. "Speak,
Betty; what is wrong?"
"They're sayin', mistress, that Mr.
Jardinp has broke his neck or some,
thin'," Biddy blurted out. "But I
wudn't be afther heedin' thim if I was
you. It'll not be a word av thruth'll
be in't at all, at all."
But. she did not hear the attempt at
comfort; it seemed to her she had al
ways known how the story would end.
The servants looked in silent pity at
her white, set face as she passed out
of the kitchen. She locked the bag in
the safe, and set out for The Willows.
It was a long walk, but .she felt the
need of action. As she ascended the
hill she could hear the bleating of the
sheep in the fields of The Willows.
She nad never guessed till now how
strong a hold this place had on her
affections as her future home. A sal
low, dark-browed woman opened the
door.
"Eh, it's no' yersel'. Miss Morrison?"
she drily asked. "Ay, the rnaister's
hed a sair come down. The doctor says
he's no' to be disturbed by naebody."
"Then he is not
"Na, na, he's no' deid, though there's
them that hasna been carin' muekle
what cam' tae him." N
She stood blocking up the door, but
Esther pushed past her.
"I'm going to him, Molly," she said.
"Weel, he's in the auld mistress's
chaumber, but I'll no' tak' the respon
sibility "
Esther went softly along the corridor,
and opened the door. A sunbeam
struck through a corner of the blind,
but the room looked bare and chilly.
His bandaged head rested on the pil
low; his face was ghastly, but his
eyes turned on her with a look of glad
surprise.
"Why, Esther!" he said.
"Hush, don't speak, Robert. I heard
ycu were hurt, and I came to you."
"Ay, I had a near shave. Prince
woudn't take the dyke. I've been a
bit reckless this while. Nobody cared,
ye see, Esther." His brow contracted
in pain, and he stopped.
"Yes, dear, I cared," she whispered,
stooping over him. A crimson blush
crept over her face and neck, and she
iissed him cn the mouth. Never, in all
his long wooing had he ventured to kiss
her. Surely he must be dreaming
now!
"You mind what you said to me. If
I wanted you I must spier you. Get
better, dear, for my sake, and then you
will let me come home to you."
She struggled with her shy pride to
bring out the words, and they revived
him like wine. The deadly depression
that had baffled the doctor's skill be
gan to lighten, and the patient revived
with the tonic of hope. Esther left the
Black Bull to the care of her maids,
and nursed her lover back to health.
The doctor rubbed his hands, well
pleased. "He's going to do, after all,"
he said. "But I don't know that I
have all the credit of the case. He
was bent on slipping through my fin
gers. Now he wants to get round,
and that's half the battle."
When the roses bloomed white among
the ivy in the porch of The Willows
Esther Jardine came home. John Rob
inson is the landlord of the Black Bull,
and The Willows Is more heartsome
than ever under the rule of its tidy
mistress.
Now and again a memory comes to
her of the sinister visitor that almost
robbed her of life's treasure of love,
and she has learned to be very char
itable in her judgments. Scotch
American. France's newest prison, eight miles
from Paris, is the biggest in the world.
It covers half a square mile, has 1821
cells and will contain 2000 prisoners.
WHfcN D0D3Y GOES A.COURTING.
When Bobby goes a-courting
'Tia a nobbv suit he's sporting,
And its blue ail dotted brightly with two
rows of buttons yellow,
Shining like the stars above htm;
Sure, what lass could help but love him
In his haughty stripes and helmet, he ia
such a naughty fellow?
And it's oh! for dear Bobby just coma
from the force,
With a smile for his sweetheart, and
more, too, of course. . ;
There's a ring in his pocket sweetr boy, 1
let me see.
Now, Bubhy, stop teasing I know it's
for rae.
When Bobby come3 a-swinging
Down the street my heart is singing
Like a lark at dawn, and always it ia
"Bobby loves me true!"
And my cheeks they blush unduly,
For, my eoul! they're so unruly! -And
I tremble and dissemble, for I don't
know what to do.
But it's Bobby, sweet Bobby, who know
the best way
For arresting such troubles how, I'll
never say
Now, Bobby, be easy! You've rumpled
my hair!
Sure, lad, you are crazy not one more!
well, there.
R. C. Rose.
Mary had a little Iamb,
She sold it to the trust. x
She'a cutting coupons now so fast
Her scissors never rust.
Judge.
He "Many a girl wears a sailor hat
who can't row -a boat." She "Yes;
and many a man wears a silk hat who
can't set up a stovepipe." Chicago
News.
It's queer that people who are always
railing at the world are nevertheless
willing to pay the doctors a fortune to
keep them from leaving it in a hurry.
Atlanta Constitution.
Miss Fortysunimers "I had a pro
posal last night and refused it." Miss
Crusher "You are always thinking of
the welfare of others, aren't you,
dear?" Ohio State Journal.
First Reporter "Our city editor has
been discharged for wasting time."
Second Reporter "How?" First Re
porter "Asking the reporters how they
Sot the news." Town and Country.
Physicians have him in their grip
Whichever way he fares;
He either pays the final debt,
Or else he owes them theirs.
New York Herald.
"It seems to make Scaddington's wife
as mad as a hornet every time he boasts
that he began at the foot and worked
his way up." "Well, he started in as a
bootblack, you know." Chicago Record-Herald.
"How clean and fresh the landscape
looks to-day," said Mrs. Hilland to her
husband. "I read something in the
paper about detectives scouring the
country," explained Mr. Hilland.
Pittsburg Chronicle.
"Come here, Johnnie," called his
mother, appearing at the window with
a cake of soap and a scrub brush.
"Goodby," said Johnnie sorrowfully to
his playmate. "I gotter go an' take th
water cure." Boston Post.
"How many quarts in a gallon?"
asked the teacher. "Six," answered
the little son of a market man. ''No,
no, Johnny. Only four." "Huh, I
guess I've seen 'em sell enough straw
berries to know." Baltimore Amer
ican. Intimate Friend "The assessor
hasn't listed your property at one
tenth of what it Is worth? Then why
don't you increase your assessment
voluntarily?" Millionaire "I did that
last year, and everybody said I was
making a grand stand play for popu
larity." Chicago Tribune.
"We ought to do something to keep
the public reminded that we are re
markable men," ' said one statesman.
"That's so," answered the other. "Let's
have a little, tilt on the floor of Con
grcs?." "Good. Come around to my
hotel next Wednesday and we'll re
hearse the affront." "Very well. And
you come to mine on Wednesday, and
we'll run over the apology." Wash
ington. Star. . . '
Telocity of a Rifle Bullet. ..
It appears that the greatest velocity
of a rifle ball is not at the muzzle, but
some distance In front. An average
of ten shots with the Gorman infantry
rifle has shown a muzzle velocity oi .
20G3 feet per second, with a maximum
velocity of 2132 feet per second of tea
feet from the muzzle.