' , ,1111 . , , , , .... -I , , , II ,
Si. oo a Year, In Advance. FOR GOD, FOR COUNTRY, AND FOR TRUTH." Single Copy, 5 Cent.
VOL. XIV. . PLYMOUTH, N. C, FRIDAY. MARCH 18, 1904. NO. 52.
"
TWO NURSES.
In the aoul'a chamber, reft and bare,
When the soul may not weep,
Conies rtealing in the nurse, Despair,
And drugs it off to sleep.
An. A
wkward Mistake
By Helen Forrest Graves.
KG AG ED to be married.
Cousin Abigail? Is it really
El true?"
I Little Dorothy Wallace
looked up into the sober
face of her forty-year-old
Bpiuster relative with delighted expec
tation and maiden curiosity. Miss Abi
gail Fendasset laughed rather awk
wardly. "Well, I suppose it must be. Dotty,
because, you see, here is the diamond
ring on the forefinger of my left hand,
jmd there aTe the dressmakers hard to
work in ihe little back parlor. If it
wasn't for those two things I might
think the whole affair moonshine." "
"And does he love, you, Cousin Abi
gail, 'very, very much?"
"He says so?" '
"Oh!" sighed Dorothy, "it must be
ho nice to have a real lover allof one's
own!" '
"Have you one, Dotty?"
Dorothy colored radiantly, and her
?yes involuntarily fell.
"I-I don't know, Cousin Abigail."
"Then I'd make 'it my business to
find out if I were you," said Miss Fen
dasset, rather tartly. . "Don't let any
of the fellows play fast and loose with
you. Dotty. I didn't" "
"Hut, Abigail, you are so different."
"Different? I'nra woman, I suppose,
and quite as liable to be made a fool
of as any other of my sex. We're all
fools. Dotty, to a certain extent. . And
now mind what I say to you, and don't
stand any flirting."
"But you haveift told-me his. uame
yet. Cousin Abigail," interposed Dor
othy, evidently rather anxious to
:hange the subject. "Is it Squire Peck
liam?" "Squire Feekham? No. indeed; "what
nonsense is the child talking? It is
Captain Summerson."
"Captain Summerson!"
"Yes; isn't, it a pretty came?" said
Miss Abigail, with more of maidenly
consciousness than Dorothy -had ever
before seen her exhibit. "He's .as
handsome as a picture, too; is in the
regular army, and, to say the truth, a
few years younger than I am. He'll be
liere this evening, and you shall be in
troduced, Dotty. You'll like him ev
erybody likes him."
Dorothy Wallace sat with downcast
eyes, and a round pink spot on each
cheek, while Miss Abigail, the frost
work of her reserve now fairly broken
through, chatted on and told her all
the incidents, past and present, of her
engagement to 1 his Adonis of the reg
ular army.
"Now I said to him, the very night
be proposed," wound up Miss Abigail,
"that I had the prettiest little cousin
in the world, whom 1 should write to
at once, to come and be ray bridesmaid.
So. here you are, Dotty, and you must
come iii and see ihe pink silk I have
selected for your bridesmaid'3 dress."'
"Did you tell him my name?"
' "Yes, of course. Why?"
"Oh. it's such a funny, old-fashioned
name'' laughed Dorothy, rather
constrainedly. "Come, let's go and
look at the silk!"
Captain Alfred Summerson called as
usual that night. He was a tall, hand
some, sentimental yotnig fellow, ten
good years the junior of his bride-elect,
with no end of poetical quotations on
his lips, and the most seductive way
imaginable of lowering his voice to a
whisper when he came near a pretty
rwoman. He was dressed in a suit of
dove-color, which was unusually be
coming to his dark, rich beauty, and
,wns formally introduced to Miss Fen
da sset's cousin.
"You needn't color np so. Dotty!" said
Miss Abigail, laughing; "Alfred won't
at you up!"
"is It necessary for my fair fiancee to
go bail for my harmless disposition,
Mss Wallace?" R'ghed ihe captain, in
hi most honeyed tones. ' "'
''-Dorothy did not answer. She only
on at her wort' with' .increased
diligence.
But in some-watch, ere night be dead.
Another takes her place;
At dawn, above the soul's dim bed,
Hope bends her beaming face.
Agnes Lee, in Lippincott's.
4
The days went by, the "wedding day
at the old Fendasset manor house drew
nearer and nearer. Miss Abigail was,
.to use her own expression, more forci
ble than eloquent, " ver head and ears"
in the manifold preparations for the.
coming event. Little Dorothy Wallace
helped her with zeal enough for half a
dozen, and nobody, in the hurry of the
occasion, noticed how pale and thin
the child was getting.
"Mercy upon us."' said Miss Abigail,
with a little sigh, "I shall be gladw-hen
it is all over!"
"So shall I!" echoed Dorothy, almost
inaudibly.
It was just a week before the day
appointed for the wedding, a balmy
September twilight, and Captain Sum
merson, later than usual, arrived on his
usual visit.
"Is your mistress afhome?" he asked
of Hester Brya.the head factotum.
"Miss Abby is to hum," jerked out
Hester, who, besides heartily disliking
the captain, was too republican a New
Lnglander to' recognize any created
female as her "mistress."
"Where is she?"
"In the settin' room." ,
"And Miss Dorothy?"
"She's in the little south room, where
"the plant's is." ,
"Very well, my good woman, that
will do; you needn't' bring lights at
present," said the captain, gayly tiptoe
ing off, down the broad, matted pas
sage. "Good woman, indeed," muttered
Hester, turning her head; "I ain't his
good woman, and I'm thankful to
Providence there ain't no chance of "my
ever being. I do b'lieve Miss Abigail
left her common sense behind her when
she promised to marry him. But
there's no fool like an old fool," and
Hester descended ' into -the kitchen,
treading somewhat of her resentment
under her quick, emphatic footsteps as
she came.
And the captain, instead of proceed
ing at once, as a liege lord should have
done to the sitting room where he had
been told that his intended bride a wait
ed him, turned down another corridor
that led to a pretty little south room,
its glazed walls checkered with the
indistinct shades of foliage from the
vines outside.
Starlight and twilight together dis
closed only a solitary figure sitting
there. The captain stole toward it.
"Dotty, my darling."
A slight start, that was all the an
swer he received.
"Dotty, loy,e, why are you so silent?"
He half k'neit beside her, taking pos
session of the hand that hung listlessly
by her side. "Now. I know you are
angry with me, but is it my fault?
You should pity me rather, for being
tied for life to a cankered old maid,
with nothing to sweetcnthe bitter dose
but thft money bags she represents.
What else can I do? You do not know
you never can know how wretchedly
I am 'fettered by those confounded
debts which must be paid. I am a
drowning man. and Abigail Fendasset
is the straw that I cling to. I know,
as well as yon do, that she is old, ugly
and unattractive, but she is my fate.
I cannot avoid her. Dear Dotty, you
have refused to allow me one single
chance to speak to you since we have
met, but I have not forgotten- the de
lightful days at Long Branch, and
never shall. I love you now as dearly
as I did then. I shall always love
you, and you only, Dotty. There is nd
reason why you shouldn't spend half
your time at Tendasset House Manor,
Dotty, if you play your cards well.
! We may bp very happy yet, and hush,
I who the deuce is that?"
I The sound of approaching footsteps
j broke in. upon the tete:a-te and the
'next moment Captain Summerson
found himself alone.
His visit that evening was unusually
nleasant. Miss Abigail was in the
'highest spirits, and even Dorothy Wal
I lace was a trifle mare sprightly than
her ordinary mood. Captain Summer
son stayed late and, after he was
gone, Abigail went into her cousin's
room.
"Dotty," says she, "I've found out a
thing or two!" '
Dorothy lo6ked up.'
"What are they, Abigail?"
"One's that you used to know Cap
tain Summerson at Long Branch."
"It is quite true," said Dorothy,
calmly.
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
"What was the use? He chose to
meet me as a stranger why should I
rake up the past?"
"Yet you cared for him once?"
"Once but not now."
"Are you quite sure?"
"Yes, quite."
"I am glad of that, Dotty Wallace,"
said Miss Abigail,, in a voice that
trembled slightly, as she reached out to
clasp the other's hand in hers. "Yes,
I'm heartily glad because, if you have
trampled the thing called love under
your feet, I can do the same, and I
will."
"Abigail, what do you mean?"
The bride-elect laughed hoarsely.
"Only that the captain made a little
mistake to-night. I was sitting by my
self in the south room, and he-mistook
our identity he thought he was talking
to you. A 'cankered old maid' that
was the polite epithet he applied to the
woman he has pledged himself to
marry within the week; and he went
on to vow that he always had loved
j'ou, and always should, although ho
couldn't make you his wife!"
And Miss Abigail proceeded to un
bosom herself of the whole story, Dor
othy listening, pale, quiet and silent.
"And what shall youdo. Cousin Abi
gail?" she asked, when finally the
spinster came to a full stop.
"Do? What did you do when you
discovered that th man was a villain?
Cast him off, to be sure." '
"And break j our heart?"
"My heart isn't made of such brittle
materials, fortunately," said Miss Abi
gail,' with a grim smile. "We will
both see him to-morrow, Dotty, and
we'll send him. about his business with
as little delay as possible." .
When Captain Alfred Summerson
called the next day, he was ushered
into the presence of Miss Fendasset
and her cousin, sitting together in the
south room. -.
"Well, captain," said his promised
bride, composedly, "which is it?"
"Which is what?" demanded the
somewhat puzzled son of Mars.
"The one you made love to in here
last night? Ah, you dou't quite com
prehend. You thought it was Dorothy
Wallace, but it was I. Beware of love
in the twilight, captain; it makes an
awkward tangle, sometimes. In this
case it has opened my eyes to the fact
that you are a villain. Dorothy, I be
lieve, knew it long before, and neither
of us cares to have the pleasure of your
acquaintance any longer. Good morn
ing, captain.?
"Good morning, captain," sweetly
echoed Dorothy, with a malicious
sparkle in her eyes.
"But, ladies," began the bewildered
young man.
Miss Fendasset rang the bell vio
lently. "Hester, show the captain to the
door. If he should ever call again,
you needn't admit him.
And thus sneaked the valiant Cap
tain Alfred Summerson out of the
substantial old manor house, which he
had hoped so soon to call his own.
Nor was honest Hester's chuckle, as
she bolted the door behind him, the
least of all his mortifications.
"I guess, my dear," shrewdly ob
served Miss Fendasset, "it will be
some time before he makes love again
to two at a time." New York Weekly.
To Uelp Poop Children. t .
The Earl of Meath, a somewhat en
thusiastic British humanitarian, has
suggested to the London school au
thorities that children of the elemen
tary grades be taken from , the city
and brought up in model country vil
lages, the parents to pay only the bare
cost of food, the County Council foot
ing other expenses. He urges that ia
that way children of the very poor
would have an otherwise unobtainable
chance to grow up strong, healthy and
good citizens. In addition, many of
them would probably stay in the coun
try, thereby helping to repopulate the
rural districts.
mi - . 1. j
Prince Cupid.
Prince Jonah Kuhlo Kalaniaao!e. the
delegate to Congress from Hawaii, is
known in official circles as Minister
Kuhlo, but is usually referred to by
his nickname, Prince Cupid, acquired
while at school id San Francisco.
THE "BETWEEN MEALS" CLOTH.
Anxieties. That Go With the Care of'
Highly Poli el Top.
Where the dining table is cleared n.(
reset at every "meal, its appearance
between times is a matter of concern
to the housekeeper,, especially since
the old-fashioned spread, which cer
tainly had a cosy, homey look, is ta'
booed ia the present. The highly pol
ished surface of the table is thought
to be so ornamental that It must not
be covered up, and in consequence the
housekeeper has a new anxiety ia the
care of that same highly polished top.
A hot dish, a little hot water, a drop
of alcohol produce a mark on the sur
face which is anything but ornamental
and which is not easily removed. Pre
cautionary measures are required, and
thick "hash cloths" or table pads are
indispensable. A very thick cotton pad
is woven especially for the purpose,
which with asbestos table mats prove
a great help. The asbestos mats are
slipped into embroidered linen cases
and thus become ornamental, or em
broidered pieces are laid over them.
Heavy crocheted mats are often em
ployed, and mats of coiled corset laces
are useful, on account of their thick
ness. Sometimes a thick blanket is laid un
der the regular hush cloth; in fact, the
housekeeper takes every possible
means to protect the varnish of her
table.
But this top must be displayed, so
the cover is relegated to obscurity, and
a square or circle of embroidered linen
of Battenberg work or of renaissance
lace, not too large, is put in the centre,
and a small but handsome jardiniere
stands upon it. This is the only decora
tion admissible. Often the table is en
tirely bare, the owner's eye gloating
upon its mirror-like surface. The chil
dren are fcrbidden to touch it. "Hands
off" is the cry, and rubbing anU polish
ing and dvstlng are added to the house
keeper's tasks.
Oh-for. the "good old days" when
"thing.1!" were not "in the saddle" and
riding poor tired housekeepers to
death! The elegance and the elabor
ateness which can be secured by the
rich only and which we try to imitate
in our humbler way is driving women
to despair. The. "girl" becomes more
and more necessary to relieve the hard
worked woman, and she grows less and
less obtainable. Detroit Free Press.
A Tet Terrapin.
A young terrapin about the size of
a quarter is spending the winter at the
Democrat and News office. Mr. Carl
N. Jones, who lives near Cambridge,
presented him to the oflice. He wan
plowing during July and turned up a
nest of terrapin eggs. He took one to
the house and put it on the mantel.
A few days later Mr. Jones noticed a
part of the eggshell on the 'floor, and
upon looking on the mantel saw that
the egg had been hatched and avery
small terrapin was crawling about the
mantel. It immediately became the
pet of the family and was put in a box
with a little meal, a dish of water and
a wad of raw cotton to crawl under
during the cold nights. Mr. Jones and
.the terrapin became great friends. One
day Mr. Jones put it in a basin ot tepid
water, which seemed to be a treat.
It would crawl on a piece of bark
and dive overboard just for fun. At
night it would crawl under the cotton
to stay until, morning. At the present
tiine it has increased to double its
size and seems to be in a good state
of health. Cambridge (Md.) Democrat
and News.
Sacred City of Lfcaasa.
Very little of the world remains un
known. Tibet will soon bo a well
known as China, the sacred city ol
Lhassa as littTe of a mystery as
Fekin. A ltussian traveler, M. Tsybi
koff. has communicated to the Geo
graphical Society of St.. Petersburg &
pretty full account of Lhassa, where hs.
stayed for over twelve months being
an Oriental scholar and professedly o
Lamaite by religion. lie found the
land far less populous than is com
monly supposed, and a most intolerable
proportion of its people monks.
Lhassa. he reports, has no more thau
10,000 inhabitants, and two-thirds of
these are women. M. Tsybikoff made
a great number of observations on the
climate of Tibet, and has brought away
several Tibetan books on philosophy,
medicine, astronomy and history, be
sides collections of prayers and incan
tations written by renowned lamas.
The latter. dn"art;netit are mnr-h more
in the way of Tibetan tint philosophy
ami science. London Telegraph.
. .Automobile - building gives employ
ment to --d.UOJ pei'so.is in Fiance.
FAILURE.
He brought me t his garden rare, -To
give'me of his best; V-
He pul.'ea a lily for my hair, i.
The jasmine for my breast, ,
And filled my lap with roses red, ' i
For they were born of love, he said.
All day he taught me garden lore,
The way to sow and prune,
And what to waste and how to store ,
From fitful March to June; ,
And then he,Mt me mistress there,
Proud niifetites of the garden rare.
v ' . -- . . ...
I worked ,win jealous hanmand eye
Ilia watchful praise to wv?.
But O, the creepers shot so high,
The weeds did oversin! 1
And when his coming he delayed ('
1 grew mustrustingly afravL
The roses, too, began to fade,
Ilia roses born of love!
Perchance it was the willow's shade
Big boughs I could not move; '
I know not, but in wild dismay
I kissed them dead, and fled away.
Lilian Street, in English Country Liffe
"Is he a pleasant fellow to talk toT
to, he's what they call a good conver
sationalist." Detroit Free Press.
Pish "What made 'em put peophs
on the rack?" Tush "They wanted, I
surmise, to draw 'em out." Harvard
Lampoon.
Of advice so freely offered
This you'il find is far from worst: t
.Then you call a man a liar,
Always take his measure first.
Baltimore American.
The Stranger In New York "Pardonl
iVhat street is this?" The Resident
If you walk up six blocks and then
three blocks to the left, I think, you:
will find a sign." Harper's Bazar.
"Say, Harkert" began Van. Albert,;
"my wife insists that I attend tha
sewing society with her to-night.
What is the best thing to wear?"'
"Wrear ear muffs," advised the experi
enced friend. Chicago Daily News.
"nave you discovered the perpetrator
of this crime?" "No," answered the
detective, "but we have -something to
show for our work. "We have placed
a whole lot of people under suspicion
of misbehavior." Washington Star.
We all of us try to forgive and forget
When similar treatment we crave,
And think we are virtuous paragons, yet
We cannot forget we forgave.
Sam S. Stinson, in Lippincott's.
"Statistics show," said the amateur
scientist, "that every time 'you draw,
your breath somebody dies." "Per
haps, but if I didn't draw my breath
the somebody who dies in that case
would certainly be me." Baltimore
Herald.
Poorchap -'T have called, sir, to to
ask for the hand of your daughter."
Old Bullion "Oh, really now, I
couldn't give you my daughter, you
know. That is asking too much. But
here are some soup tickets." New,
York Weekly.
Gaston "We occultists, you know,
have no idea of time. To us there ia
no such thing." Alphonse (aside)
"That explains why he hasn't paid me
the ten he's owed for two years. Prob
ably thinks he borrowed it about fifteen
minutes ago!" Detroit Free Tress.
"I think, sir," said Woodby Ititer,
"you will find this the most realistle
society novel you have ever exam
ined." "H'm, yes," replied the editor,'
skimming through the pages of manu-;
script, "the dialogue appears about a!
dull as it could possibly be." Phila
delphia Press. ;
"Finished experimenting on your new,
breakfast food yet?" asked the inquisi
tive party. "Yes," replied the great'
inventor, "and while it is a great suc-
cess, the hardest part is yet to come."
"What's that?" queried the inquisitive!
party. "Inventing a name for it," an-;
swered the modest genius. Chicago!
Daily News. , j
Farmer "That was a good number
of the Tooter you got out last week."i,
.Country Editor "I am glad to hear;
that you were pleased with it",
Farmer "Them stories you had in.:
about them fellers bein cured of long-',
standin diseases were the entertain- j
ingst bit o' news I've read for a long
time." Manchester Times.
Like a Dime Novel.
Clinton C. Grimm, St. Louis, Colo.,
ran away from his home several year
ago and his parents could find no trace,
of him. The other tiny his father re-
.1 m ,.V,rtl- f.-n. SJflAO frnm ftia
young man, accompanied by the in-,
fpi", yn'tion that lie had a-goodly' sum
le.'i a. ml world rcuin to his old home:
an;! cngne in l.r.-::. .
n :-;:!-at!'"n h: t'pcn commenced la
! N'.'W York for a. more uiiifovui systems
of tea in.-p.vou.