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VOL. XIII. PLYMOUTH, N. C, FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 1903. NO, 48.
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TELL THE- GOOD.
Had I the gift of tongues, a Shakespeare's
pen,
A seraph's voice to make heav'n ring again,
J could not tell the good I've found in
men ;
Their kind deeds have been numberless;
yet still
I find myself sometimes recounting ill!
Had I the harp of Orpheus; a command
Of all the languages men understand,
The kind acts that I see on every hand
1 could not even catalogue; yet still
bometimes, forgetting this, I n
name the ill!
r
THE UNSPOKEN ANSWER.
A REVELATION OF A WOMAN'S WAY.
"L
OOK here, Dlgby." observed
Guy Maxwell to his chum,
with that air of superiority
which was peculiar to him.
"there's only to-morrow left, and I
must arrange to have a few minutes
with Miss Lyttleton. She's the sort of
a girl who would make a fellow a real
good wife. I rather think she likes me,
and the fact that I am heir to a baron
etcy, with a good income attached, will
have some weight. I Intend to have
a try to-morrow."
Digby Grant blew out a cloud .of
smoke in order to hide the expression
.that crept over his face,
t "That means," said Digby, after a
pause, "that you intend to propose to
her to-morrow?"
"I don't see what other interpreta
tion you can put on my words!" re
joined Guy, rather, irritably. "You
don't seem very bright to-day; you
are tired after your walk. Yourvoice
is a bit shaky. Have something to
brace you up."
"No, thanks!" said Digby, forcing a
laugh. "But go on."
"Well," continued Guy, "I have fallen
in love with that girl. My life "will
not be a happy one if I do not win her!
I have mentioned my intention to you,
old fellow, because I wish to ask a
favor." '
"What is it?", inquired Digby, sur
prised. "I can't help you to win Grace
I ought to. say, Miss Grace Lyttle
ton!" "Yes, you canl" was the astonishing
rejoinder. "I simply want you to keep
out of the way. You see," pursued
Guy, a trifle awkwardly, "we are al
ways together. Now, I can't propose to
her with you by my side, so I want "
"Oh, I'll clear out for the day!"
agreed Digby. "You ought to get a
good chance. I'm going to turn in
now. You will have to-morrow en
tirely, and on the following morning
we start for town. Good night!"
Dlgby Grant was not in a pleasant
mood when he reached his own bed
room. He, too, was in love with
Grace Lyttleton; he had been trying 'to
arrive at a decision as to whether she
cared for him or not whether he
.would stand any chance if .he proposed.
He was not very well off, but never
theless he could offer her a good home,
and he was rising in his profession.
'Now, at the last moment, Guy had an
nounced his intention of. essaying the
capture of Grace's hand and heart.
v "I can't go behind his back," mut
tered Digby disconsolately, "so I must
stand aside. Is she the sort of a girl
that would be captivated by the pros-
pect of a title? I hardly think so, yet
"ehe may be in love with him, for
;women like a masterful man."
' He was true to his word and Guy
.Maxwell watched for his opportunity.
Miss Lyttleton "was staying at the same
hotel, where her father had taken a
teuite of rooms to accommodate himself,
is daughter, and his young son, a boy
of fourteen. Mr. Lyttleton thought it
'a. bore to be compelled to spend two or
ithree weeks away from his business,
he bad letters sent on, and spent a
fair proportion of his time in writing
his instructions, talking to London on
the telephone, or reflecting over com
mercial problems in the smoking room.
Grace and Roy were left much to
ithemselves, whieh was fortunate from
Guy's point of view.
"The boy will be off somewhere, and
she will be alone, so far as her rela
tives are concerned," mused Guy, with
rreat satisfaction. "I can manage to
get her to a quiet spot somewhere in
side or out, and the thing will be done."
ne had to wait some time for his
chance during the morning. Other gen
tlemen appeared to claim a goodly
share of her attention, and she was
.playing tennis in the spacious grounds
of the palatial hotel. Roy, too, seemed
;to be "dodging about," as Guy inele
gantly phrased it, more than usual.
A thousand thoughts come flocking to my
mind
Out of the misty past that lies behind
Recalling human kindness; yet so blind
Sometimes are human eyes, I murmur still.
Forgetting good, remembering only ill!
The heav'n I hope for is a lightsome place
Where smiles aye cling to every angel face;
Where, through eternity and endless
space
Teir million million tongues shall ne'er be
still,
Always recounting good, forgetting ill!
S. W. Gillilan, in Los Angeles Herald.
However, the much desired, opportun
ity presented itself at last, and he
found himself alone with Grace Lyt
tleton. "May I have the pleasure of a walk
and a talk witu you in the garden, Miss
Lyttleton?" he asked, gallantly. "You
must feel warm after that game, and
the flowers are worth seeing. I am
going away to-morrow, and I should
like this last day of my stay here to be
the happiest."
She glanced at him shyly, half fright
ened, but bowed and said briefly that
she would like a walk among the flow
ers. "I think she , guesses what is com
ing!" said Guy, exultantly to himself.
"That makes my task easier!"
They went into the garden, and,
after a few steps he suggested that
they should seat themselves on a rustic
bench.
In spite of his masterful disposition,
Guy felt a trifle nervous about begin
ning. He nerved himself and began:
"Miss Lyttleton I have asked.you to
come here because -"
"Oh, here you are!" chimed in a
shrill voice. "Nice in here, isn't it?
Got room for me?"
And Roy Lyttleton took a seat next
to his sister.
'"What do you think of Mr. Benson's
play, Mr. Maxwell? Not up to much,
is it?" asked the boy.
Guy made some kind of reply me
chanically. He wished that young gen
tleman far away, but he had to con
ceal his annoyance and be pleasant.
Guy Maxwell laid himself out to
make another opportunity for the after
noon. He suggested to Roy that there
was good scenery for an amateur pho
tographer in the neighborhood of Rook
ham, about three miles away, and that
the day was a perfect one; Roy ap
peared to catch at the idea, and Guy
was hopeful.
Guy felt just a trifle mean at the
thought of spying on Miss Lyttleton
in order to discover which way she
went for a walk, but he did it, and was
rewarded by seeing her alone on the
cliffs.
"This is a fortunate meeting, Miss
Lyttleton!" he declared, raising his hat.
"Suppose we go to the base of that
cliff? There is a pretty nook, invisible
from here, and it would form a pleas
ant afternoon excursion. Don't you
think so?"
Grace Lyttletok murmured that it
might be so, but she was afraid to un
dertake any climbing on account of the
fatigue.
"It is really very good o' you to take
so much trouble to make my stay
agreeable, Mr. Maxwell," she said,
charmingly, "but I fear that it is a
thankless task for you." -
She looked at him with a strange ex
pression which he Interpreted favora
bly. He stretched out his hand to take
hers.
"I'm going to Rookham to-morrow or
the next day, Mr. Maxwell!" said a
well-known voice behind him.
Guy nearly uttered a rude exclama
tion, but he smothered it and resigned
himself to the loss of another oppor
tunity. The evening alone remained, and Guy
vowed that, by hook or by crook, he
would have his answer then. There
was a ball that evening, so he certainly
would get Grace alone at one portion
of the entertainment. Roy would be
in bed, that was one thing to be thank
ful for, and old Lyttleton was nobody.
He secured three or four dances,
carefully selected by himself for con
venient times, and felt certain of vic
tory. "She knows what to expect!" he
murmured several times. "She's shy
and restrained, which is a good sign."
When his first dance with her was
over he tried to lead her away to the
conservatory, but her next partner
claimed her.
The second dance was before the In
terval, so he was safe from the intru
sion of the next partner. Without ask
ing her, he led her away to a quiet
spot; she appeared reluctant, but he
paid no heed, If he lost this
chance !
"Miss Lyttleton Grace! I must tell
you!" he began, losing no time in pre
liminaries. "I cannot "
"I say; it's late for me to be up, sis,
and dad is cross! Do ,you think that
Mr. Maxwell Oh, that is Mr. Max
well!"
Roy looked as though he had said too
much. Guy was on the point of telling
him to clear off when Grace spoke:
"I am afraid father will be cross,
Roy, but I must take the blame. I'll go
and find him and explain. You will
excuse me, won't you, Mr. Maxwell?"
She was gone before he had time to
realize the fact. He gazed sternly at
Roy; if he could get that young rascal
out of the way, there would still be a
chance after one of the other dances.
"Roy," said Maxwell Impressively,
"I want to have a quiet talk with your
sister, and you come in every time.
See here, I'll give you this half-crown
if you'll go to bed go anywhere and
leave us!"
Roy's face lighted up and his arm
began to stretch itself In the direction
of the piece of silver; then his face
grew sombre and he shook his head.
"That would be treachery,", he ex
plained. "Grace told me this morning
that she expected you would try and
say something to her if you were with
her alone, and she didn't want you to.
So she gave me a shilling to keep near
her all day, so as you shouldn't have
a chance, and I agreed. I'll stick to
the bargain, even if I lose by it!"
Maxwell paled.
"Did she tell you why she didn't wish
me to speak to her?" he asked, as an
idea crossed his mind.
"Yes," admitted the boy. "She said
she didn't want to hurt your feelings
by saying something you wouldn't like,
so it wouid be better to prevent you
from saying anything to her. Girls are
funny, aren't they?"
"Roy," said Maxwell, after a pause,
"I understand now. I'll give you this
half-crown on condition that .you say
nothing whatever about this chat we've
had."
"Done!" exclaimed the boy, and the
money changed hands.
"So that's my answer," groaned Max
well, as he made his way to his room.
"Yet it was kindly on her part to wish
to spare me a refusal. A refusal!
H'm! That must be pretty uncomforta
ble for a man to hear when he expects
to be accepted! Yes, it was a strange
way of doing It, but a well-meaning
way. Now I understand her apparent
ly shy glances. I'm off by the earliest
train to-morrow. I wonder if she is in
love, and whom she loves?"
His question was answered six weeks
later'by the announcement in the news
paper of the engagement of Miss Grace
Lyttleton and Mr. Digby Grant, the
rising young barrister. New York
News.
Wrote Without Compensation.
A correspondent of the Athenaeum
writes: "What would Sydney Smith,
Jeffrey or Macaulay have said if he
had met with such a sentence as this
which is to be found on page 284 of
the Edinburgh Review for October?
"The original idea was to run the Re
view without giving any remuneration
to the writers." Perhaps the mildest
remark which any of the three might
have made is that the conductor of a
journal or review is not 'a runner.' I
may add that the payment of contrib
utors was the exception when the
Edinburgh was founded. Henry Samp
son Woodfall was personally aggrieved
when he was charged with paying any
of the writers In the Public Adver
tiser, while in the Gentleman's Maga
zine most of the work was done for
nothing."
Tom Reed's Youth.
Tom Reed never looked like a man
till he was past forty-five. I refer to
his countenance. He had a baby face.
Even his giant stature could not over
come, the Innocent, unsophisticated ap
pearance of his countryfled phiz. No
picture ever did him justice. He al
ways reminded me of Horace Greeley,
whose face was young even when he
died. When Reed was elected Speaker
in 1S8SJ a member of Congress from
Alabama remarked: "We don't want
that overgrown kid from Maine. Give
us a man of mature years." Reed
was then fifty. Singularly enough,
there have been two Thomas B. Reeds
in Congress. The other was a Missis
sippi Senator in 1S2G, and a statesman.
Victor Smith, in New York Tress.
DENMARK'S GREAT CATHEDRAL
Hlttorlc Sanctuary With the Remains of
Kulers la at Koskllde.
The great cathedral of Denmark is
situated about eighteen miles west of
Copenhagen in the little town of Ros
kilde, where in former days was a
royal residence. Roskilde is on the
main railway line running across Zea
land to Kursour, the little port on the
Great Belt, from whence the boats sail
for Kiel and Nyborg It is a very quiet
little town of 6000 inhabitants, the pic
turesque houses looking very humble
beneath the towering mass of the
cathedral standing on the edge of the
hill which drops precipitously down to
the fiord at its foot. It seems strange
to see so grand a pile built entirely of
red brick, but the cathedral of Roskilde
is of this material within and without.
The original building, erected by
King Harald Blaatand in the tenth
century, was of wood. This was fol
lowed In the next century by a building
consisting of a nave and two aisles,
constructed of limestone. The present
building is believed to have been com
menced in 1210, when Peter Suneson
was bishop of Roskilde.
All the Danish royal family are laid
to rest in Roskilde; the word "buried"
is scarcely applicable, for the royal re
mains merely stand in great coffins in
the various chapels on the north and
south sides of the cathedral.
One of the chapels is dedicated to
Christian IV. one of Denmark's most
famous kings, who lived in the latter
part of the sixteenth and the first half
of the seventeenth centuries. The cha
pel was built partly after the king's
own design between 1G15 and 1620, but
the mural paintings were added later
by Christian VIII. In the naval battle
of Femarn the king lost an eye, and
fell fainting from loss of blood.
Christian IV.'s coffin is of oak, cov
ered with black velvet, and ornament
ed with silver plates on the sides, and
a crucifix and the king's sword on the
top. The coffin nearest his is that of
Queen Anna Catherina, the first con
sort of Christian IV.. and another be
longs to the Prince Christian, who was
elected successor, but died before his
father.
During Queen Alexandra's recent
visit to Denmark most of the members
of the royal party at Eernstoff visited
Roskilde Cathedral on the anniversary
day of the death of the late Queen of
Denmark. The coffin is covered with
wreaths, and the one sent by Queen
Victoria a few years ago, though with
ered, is still kept with the others which
cover the coffin. -
Driving: Large Rivets.
The rivets through the keel of the
seven-masted schooner Thomas W.
Lawson, that was launched from the
Fore River Shipyards a short time
ago, were nearly five inches in length
by one and one-fourth inches in diam
eter. It was not possible to upset these
properly with an ordinary yoke, one
arm of which served as the anvil to
resist the blows of the pneumatic ham
mer carried by the other arm. To have .
the anvil heavy enough to accomplish
the purpose would have produced a
tool extremely awkward and difficult
to handle in the cramped quarters un
derneath the keel. The difficulty was
overcome by doing away entirely with
the anvil and substituting a second
pneumatic hammer. The two ham
mers, one on the end of each arm of
the yoke, worked perfectly, and there
was no further trouble in making the
rivets fill the holes completely. The
strokes of the hammers were so ex
ceedingly rapid that it made no differ
ence whether" they worked synchron
ously, or not. Iron Age.
Pica For the Wooden Shoe.
"We have wisely taken to wearing
sandals," says a physician in the Phil
adelphia Record. "I hope that before
long we will learn the advantage of
the wooden shoe, or sabot. Do you
know that a great many diseases are
due To leather shoes due to the wear
ing all day long of tight leather that is
often, in bad weather, water soaked?
And do you know that by the wearing
of wooden shoes, which keep the feet
dry and which do not 'draw,' all those
diseases might be avoided? I have
several pairs of sabots, and so have
my wife' and children. They cost about
thirty cents a pair, and keep the feet
dry, without cramping them or making
them unhealthily tender. I believe
that the wisest thing Americans could
do would be to take up the sandal and
the sabot, discarding altogether the
shoe of leather."
A Child Way Lead.
A tiny child's band may lead a strong
man where no brute force can drive
or drag him. New York Tress.
1
The Abbe Hue's Discovery In China
It Has Weaknesses.
According to the delightful French
missionary Hue, who recorded so
many queer things about the Celes-.
tial Empire, no man needs a watch,
or a clock, if he has the right kind
of a cat. In certain parts of China
they can tell the exact time of day
or night by looking into a cat's eyes.
The pupil of the eye, assuming that
the creature in question is just what
it ought to be, gradually diminishes
as noon approaches, until it looses
completely its oval form and becomes
a thin perpendicular line. When that
line is plumb, it is 12 o'clock. Then
the pupil begins to grow very gradu
ally and finally becomes as big and as
round as a marble. Then Jt is mid
night. With patience, practice and
good mathematical perception, the
I'f-ppy possessor of a time-keeping cat
can tell the hour of the day and of the
night, because the thin perpendicular
line which the pupil of a cat's eye as
sumes at noon, gives him a clear start
ing point.
Unfortunately M. Hue did not tell U3
how to know the living time keeper
from any common roof walker or boot
jack dodger, and that is a great mis
fortune. It may be that he did not
discover all the ins and outs of the
secret, or, if he did, he selfishly kept
them to himself. How fine it would
be if, instead of raying half a barrel
of money for a good watch, a man
could get an infallible cat for-the tak
ing away of the thing! But this, of
course, would Involve the necessity
of carrying a bag for the cat and of
keeping poor puss inside with care.
The missionary discovered this valu
able piece of feline peculiarity by pure
accident. He noticed a little boy mind
ing a calf and asked him if he knew
the time. The child looked up and re
marked that the day was too hazy; he
couldn't see the sun. "But wait a mo
ment," he said, "we will know precise
ly in a moment." Then he ran into
the nearest hut and came out with a
big cat in hi3 arms. "It is just half
past 11," he shouted, and, running up
to the missionary, he placed the cat's
face under the holy man's nose. "See
for yourself!" said he. "Sure enough,"
said Hue, who had serious reasons for
concealing his astonishment and his
ignorance, "it is just half -past 11!"
Later on, when he got among his
converts, he asked them to explain the
mystery. They did so, and showed
him some living specimens of the pre
cious time-keepers. The good man,
however, was not altogether satisfied ,
with the proofs. He was always wor
ried with the thought that too many
cats might be cock-eyed. New York
Sun.
Daniel O'Connell's Sweetheart.
That the lady who slighted Daniel
O'Connell should have survived her
lover for fifty-five years, remarks the
London Daily News, is a curious cir
cumstance. She was Miss Rose Mc
Dowell, whose death at the age of
eighty-two is reported from Dublin.
The romance of O'Connell's love for
her in his old age had a considerable
influence on Irish politics in the stir
ring days of the forties. Miss McDow
ell was the daughter of a wealthy Bel
fast man, and when the Irish liberator
met her in Dublin she was a young
iady of many attractions and a charm
ing conversationalist. Moving in po
litical and literary circles, she often
met O'Connell, and was pleased at the
attention paid her by so famous a man,
never dreaming that a gentleman old
enough to be her grandfather had ma
trimonial intentions. When O'Con
nell proposed to Miss McDowell his of
fer of marriage was received with
amazement and firmly refused. The
disappointment of the aged lover was
so keen that his interest in politics
became listless. The leadership was
allowed to devolve upon his son. John
O'Connell, a man who had nothing in
common with his father but the name.
John's halting leadership led to the
secession of the Young Ireland party,
and to the ultimate attempt at rebel
lion. O'Connell did not survive his
disappointment in politics and love for
long, and died on his way to Rome in
1847. A bundle of letters which, in his
final Instructions, he directed to be
destroyed, were taken to be those he
had received from Miss McDowell in
the ordinary ,way of friendly acquaint
ance. This old-age romance of O'
Connell's was always treated with
honorable reserve by Irish writers of
the Young Ireland period.
CLOCK-EYED CATS.