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$1.00 a Year, In Advance. . FOR 001), FOR COUNTRY, AND FOR TRUTH." Single Copy, 5 Cent.
VOL. X V.' PLYMOUTH, N. C. FRIDAY. MAY 20 1904. NO. 9
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I PTFTV for
S&.03. T is not unusual for people
T i t0 teeP their best house-
0 I O hold tilings the best bed,
) and china for their guests;
'SfrOfcf some keep for them their
best looks, manners and words; some
go still farther and keep all their piety
for them. Not a bit of it do they use
for themselves or their families; it is
never seen on ordinary occasions, and
so is perhaps all the nicer, and there
is all the more of it for company. I
Enough of it there surely is, if not a
surfeit. The visitor is treated to it
with a liberality like that of the West
ern housewife, who, on being told by
her minister that she might put less
molasses in his tea, insisted that if
she made it all molasses it wouldn't
be too good for him.
It was Mrs. Simpkins' parlora nice,
religious-looking parlor, very. A mon
strous great Bible, bound in fine mor
occo and gold, with a purple ribbon
book-mark, a yard long, dangling white
crucifixes, lay alone in seeming sacred
ncss on the marble centre table. Three
certificates of life-membership in re
ligious societies hung in heavy gilt
frames upon the walls. No idle orna
ments or vain curiosities on the what
not, but Divine songs and sacred
hymns, Baxter's Saints' Rest, Taylor's
Holy Living and Dying, Howe's Bless
edness of the Righteous books of ex
alted piety, that bear their readers
like angel wings to the very gates of
the beautiful city. Beside them were
choice- piles of magazines, labelled
"Guide to Holiness." j
The air of the place was still and
solemn, almost holy. Deacon Wilson
felt that it was while he waited there
for Mrs. Simpkins. He took up a num
ber of the "Guide to Holiness," and
opened it. "Perfect Love," "Heaven
Below," "Living Below Our Privilege,"
lie read in the table of contents.
"What a godly woman Sister Simp-!
kins is!" he said to himself, and laid
the magazine in place, feeling himself
po far from holiness that the very titles
of the articles were discouraging to
him... J
"I am glad there are some good peo
ple," he added, looking j.round the
room, at Ihe "parlor Bible," and the I
life memberships. "Yes, Sister Simp-!
kins is a very devoted woman." I
Mrs. Simpkins entered with sweet !
and placid countenance, and grave,
subdued manner, like one just leaving
chapel service or closet meditation, and
in low, chastened tones, welcomed the
deacon, and assured him of her high
estimate of the privilege of Christian
communion, of the strength she de
rived from Christian association, the
comfort from Christian sympathy.
The deacon had barely time to make
a suitable response, when she in
quired: "And what is the state of Zion',
deacon? What say the watchmen on
her walls?"
The question was general, and the
deacon was safe in the answer:
"Few go in at the gates."
"And why? Why is it?" exclaimed
Mrs. Simpkins, with an air and tone
of touching solicitude. "Why must
we wait so long to see the spirit of
God poured out? Surely the fault Is
in ourselves. The church is living far
below her duty and her privilege. Too
many of us are not yet sanctified,
wholly sanctified one with the Lord.
Too many of us still cling to the world,
si ill have appetite for the fleshpots of
Egypt. We must come out from the
world, and we must not look back."
"Oh!" groaned the good deacon, "I
feel sometimes that I am the Achan in
the camp of Israel, the Jonah that hin
ders the ship."
"Do you ever read the 'Guide to
Holiness?' " asked Mrs. Simpkins, when
she had fully delivered her opinions
on the condition and duty of the
church. The deacon confessed that he
had, not. "It's an excellent work, dea
con," said Mrs. Simpkins, with slightly
increased warmth of manner. "I can
recommend it with entire confidence.,
1 have read it three years, and find it
very, spiritual. . Perhaps you would
like to read It. Take this last .num
ber, if you would."
"Thank you, sister, not to-day.
Come other time, perhaps." ?
: "The work strenuously urges the
doctrine of entire sanctification: that
It is the privilege of all Christians.
What do you think of it, deacon?"
queried Mrs. Simpkins.
mMPaw
"Oh, I don't know," sighed the good
man. "The command Is, 'Be ye holy
as I am holy,' but, oh, dear! sometimes
I'm afraid I haven't even been justi
fiedthat after all, I shall be a cast
away." "We need faith, faith to lay hold on
the promises," urged the unwavering
Mrs. Simpkins.
"But my life is so poor, sister,"
groaned the deacon. "I come so far
short in everything. The thing I would
not do, I do, and what I would; I do
not."
"I believe it is our privilege to live
above sin," began Mrs. Simpkins, when
the door opened, and a smutty, uncared-for
little fellow, of half a dozen
years, put in his head.
"Yes, darling, you may take ome off
the bureau. Now don't disturb mother
any more."
"I believe it is our blessed privil
ege," resumed Mrs. Simpkins, "to live
above, sin, to have Christ dwelling in
us continually, filling us with perfect
love, raising us above all doubts and
fears, and strengthening us with the
hope of glory."
"A blessed privilege!" echoed the
deacon, and rose to go.
Don't furbish the parlor with any more
religious show till you've given her as
good wages as yoli'd think yourself
deserving of if you were in her place.
Don't go to a single meeting when she
will lose more by your going than you
will gain. Don't say any more to the
church about sanctification here below
till you've made your own family think
such a thing is possible. Learn to be
just before you even aim at perfec
tion; learn to be patient before you
think you have reached it; and be sure
and take the opinion of those who
know you best before you come to a
settled opinion on the subject.
"Dont think I'm persecuting" you,
wife, nor anything of the sort. I'm
glad you're a pious woman, and that's
one reason why I married you. Every
man likes to have a good wife. I
want a little of your piety myself;
and the children wouldn't be the
worse for some, nor Bridget, neither.
We aren't deacons Tier ministers, nor
saints, but we should like to be treated
in a sweet, heavenly way smetlmes,
"I thank you for this visit, deacon,"
said Mrs. Simpkins. "I think it is
good for the saints to speak often to
one another. Come again, soon, dea
con, and borrow my 'Guide to Holi
ness.' ''
"Thank you, thank you," said the
kind-hearted deacon, hastening his
movement's, seemingly alarmed at this
second mention of the magazine.
"Thank you. I am glad we meet so
often in the house of God, sister."
"I am never willingly absent from
the means of grace," answered Mrs.
Simpkins with something like a glow
of satisfaction on her sweet face.
"I am glad you love God's worship,
sister., Good-by."
And the deacon took his leave in no
way benefited by his visit, and feeling
that he had conferred no benefit. Mrs.
Simpkins was on spiritual heights too
far above him. He could not touch
the hem of her garment.
She flew upstairs to her nursery,
and snatched the baby from Bridget.
"Now go to your washing as quick
as you can, and try to have it done in
some kind of season for once. And
have your dinner cooked decently, for
once, if you can."
Not a word of thanks to the poor ser
vant for having held the baby so
long, while her work was lying undone
below stairs. What had so suddenly
changed Mrs. Simpkins' look and man
ners? What had driven away her
sweetness and placidity, her heavenly
smile? How changed her voice was!
So keen and cutting. How angry she
looked as she called to her little son:
"Jimmy, come here!" The boy
obeyed. "Now don't you ever come
again to the parlor when I'm there
with company," she exclaimed to the
young intruder, as she cuffed him first
oh one ear and then on the other,
making both ring. She did not call
him darling, then. "You're the worst
boy I ever saw," she went on. "How
many times have I told you not to
come" to the parlor when I'm there
with any company? And yet you al
ways come. Just as sure as I am
there, in comes your frowsy head."
This was true, for the child was
bright enough to know his opportunity.
The only sweet liberal time his moth
er ever had, was when she was under
the observation of company. Then,
for appearance sake, she would al
ways give him what he asked for. He
always had to pay for it afterwards
in .tingling ears and smarting flesh,
but he was well accustomed, tough
ened, and did not mind them much.
This unsaintly .and unwholesome
treatment had only just been admin
istered to Jimmy, when an odor of
burning food was perceptible.
"Bridget!" screamed Mrs. Simpkins;
"your soup is burning, Bridget!" No
answer; and leaving the baby with
Jimmy, Mrs. Simpkins flew to the
kitchen and snatched a kettle from
the stove. "What made you let the
soup burn?" she exclaimed, as Bridget
entered.
"I was on the shed, ma'am."
"But you ..ought not to be out of
your kitchen when you've anything on
the fire."
"But I had to hang out the clothes,
ma'am, or they wouldn't be dried. I
was so long with the baby that the
washing's far back, ma'am."
"I never saw anything like it. You've
always some excuse, no matter what
you do. Why didn't you set the soup
back while you were on the shed?"
"I did not think of it, sure."
"And why didn't you think of it?
I've tried so hard to make a good girl
of you, and I declare I'm most tired
out."
"Well, I've thoughts of giving you
rest from me. There's no use in so
much, said, and being so tired, all for
a sup o' broth."
"No words, Bridget; I never allow
my girls to answer back. It's bad
enough to have my things burnt up,
without any impudence from you."
"You can look out for another girl
to do your work. I can't suit you, and
you've leave to find one that can."
"How foolish in you, Bridcet, to get
mad just for nothing. It was my
place to get angry, and not yours. It
was my money that was burnt in the
soup."
"Ah, and there was no money burnt
at all, and no loss of soup, neither
for the children and me'll have it all
to ate, burnt or not burnt as you
yourself knows well. And It's not all
about the soup; there's enough more;
fretting and fussing from morning till
night, Whenever yourself's in the
house; and I'm running here for the
children, and there for yourself, and
me work to be done all the same, and
ye never pleased, but always this is
wrong and the other ain't right, and
me working till I can't hold me two
feet t'wunst to the floor for the pain,
and thin I've niver done the work
half well enough."
"If your are dissatisfied, you had
better go, Bridget; but first consider
what it is to have a good steady place,
with good religious people. You Irish
girls never know when you're well
off."
"And it's not well off any one is,
that works in this house," answered
Bridget.
"I sha'n't listen to any more of your
impudence, Bridget. I wish you to keep
on with your work till I can get an
other girl," said Mrs. Simpkins.
There was something indescribably
galling and oppressive in her tone and
manner, that roused the worst feel
ings the generous, good-natured Brid
get was capable of, and she dashed
the dipper from her hand to the floor
before Mrs. Simpkins had turned her
back.
Mr. Simpkins came home tired and
worn with business, and the first thing
that fell upon his ears was the dash of
the dipper and the next a complaint
from his wife.
"What worthless things these ser
vants are!"
"What now?" he asked.
"Oh, Bridget has flared up."
"What's the matter?"
"She complains of her work."
"I don't much wonder. She's at it
every morning at five o'clock, and I
leave her hard at it when I go to bed,
and yet I don't believe it is ever
done."
"Well, whose fault is it, I should
like to know?" asked Mrs. Simpkins.
"It isn't mine, I know," answered
her husband; "and it don't seem to be
Bridget's."
"Then I s'pose you'll have it that it's
mine," responded the wife.
"I didn't say so."
" "You might as well."
"Do you think so? Now whose
fault is it? All our girls complain of
being overworked, and scolded, and
underfed, and underpaid; and you
have the whole management of things
here. I leave ail house matter n
you."
"And this is what I get for my
management," interupted Mrs. Simp
kins. "But not all," responded her hus
band. "You get a great reputation for
piety; a great deal of time to go to
meetings, male and female,- sewing so
cieties, maternal associaitons, anni
versaries, and every other religious
meeting, far and near, that you can
hear of. And you get money for
'Guides to Holiness,' and life member
ships, and great expensive frames to
hang their certificates in, thereby obey
ing the Divine command, 'not to let
your left hand know what your right
hand doeth,' all your good work done
secretly that you may be rewarded
openly."
"What has all this to do with Brid
get?" interrupted Mrs. Simpkins, a
little touched by the cutting irony.'
"It has a great deal to do with her,"
answered her husband, "if it puts a
part of your work on her, or tires you
out so as to make you cross and un
reasonable with her, or if it makes you
pinch her in wages, or deny her in
food, or wrong her in any way; you'll
allow that, won't you?"
"Yes, if it does."
"Well, don't it? I ask the question.
"What would you have me do more
than I do now? I should like to
know."
"Perhaps not more, but I would have
you do somewhat different. You can
make some equalization. Be as sweet
and angelic with Bridget as you are
with your deacons, as mild in the
nursery where only God and the chil
dren hear you, as yon would be if the
Maternal Association were here. Show
a little of your deadness to the world
and heavenly Handedness when the
new fashions come. Stop taking the
'Guide to Holiness,' and give the mon
ey to Bridget, as her rightful due.
and perhaps 'twould make is better.
I'm sure it would make us happier,
and you, too. Suppose ydu try and
give us a little more family piety.
"This is my first sermon, and I hope
it will be productive of good. There's
no company here, so I won't pretend
that it has been preached from a
sense of duty, but because I feel out
of patience and just like speaking my
whole mind."
Well, what did Mrs. Simpkins say in
answer? This only: that she was glad
there was no one in her own family to
hear him; that she was glad there
were some people who had a good
opinion of her; that the Rev. Dr.
Smoothtongue had told some of the
church that very week, he wished
there were a few more women just
like her. Waverley Magazine.
Diamonds in Storage.
"There are thousands of millions of
dollars' worth of diamonds stored in
deep deeps, or underground safety de
posit vaults at the Kimberly mines in
South Africa," said J. II. Mortimer, of
Chicago, at the Republican House. Mr.
Mortimer was a British soldier in the
war with the Boers in 1881, and be
came intimately acquainted with the
conditions there. "The natives go
down deep into the mines and bring
up the clay-like earth, which is spread
in the sun and dried into a scaly brittle
material. This is examined very close
ly for the precious stones, which are
picked out. They are nothing but
rough looking pebbles, and their value
cannot be estimated with any degree
of certainty until they are polished.
But the pebbles are not polished at
once. They are packed up and sent
down into the bowels of the earth
again. The mine owners will not al
low them to be sold, as the market
would be flooded and the price would
go down so that there would be no
profit in the gems. Instead they are
stored in big vaults, and brought up a
few at a time, as the market conditions
demand. As I said, there are thous
ands of millions of dollars' worth of
diamonds stored away." Milwaukee
Evening Wisconsin.
Old Grave Despoiled of Valuables.
A remarkable case of grave- robbing
is reported from Louisville, in Totta
watomie County, Kansas. Miss, Nora
Hill was buried in the village cemetery
nineteen years ago. When she was
placed in the coffin a gold watch and
chain and a valuable ring, given to her
by an admirer, were on her person.
Now, after nineteen years, the grave is
found open and despoiled of its valu
ables, and the town Is said to be in a
great state of excitement over the dis
covery. Kansas City Jorunal.
A school for theatrical critics is to be
opened in Taris. The students are to
attend dress rehearsals and write them
up for practice.
SOME MODERN UTGi.V
Places "Where War, Poverty anl lloa'
esty Are Unknown.
Denmark claims that there is not a.
single person in her domain who can
not jead and write. On tiie northeast
coast of New Guinea, the Island of Ku.
taba, surrounded by a wall of coraJ 30O
feet high on one side and from fifty to
100 feet on the other, maintains thir-
teen villages of natives, to whom war,'
crime and poverty have been unknown'
since the beginning of their traditions.1
The most .peaceful and comfortable
community in Europe is the commune
of the Canon Vaud, in Switzerland.
Nearly every one is well off and there
are no paupers.
Finland is a realm wrhose inhabitant
are remarkable for their inviolate in
tegrity. There are no banks, and no
safe deposits, for no such security is
essential. You may leave yoifr luggage
anywhere for any length of time, and
be quite sure of finding it untouched
on your return, and your purse full of
money would be just as secure under
similar circumstances. The Finns place
their money and valuables in holes la
the ground and cover them with a big.
leaf. Such treasure is sacredly re-J
spected by all who pass it, but, in the!
rare event of a man wishing to borrow;!
of his neighbor during his absence he:
will take only the smallest sum he re-(
quires and place a message in the hole
telling of his urgent need, promising to
repay the amount on a specified date.'
And he will invariably keep his word,,
for the Finn is invincible in his inde
pendence, i
Agneta Park, near Delft, in Holland,
is another Utopian example. A tract
of ten acres has upon it 150 houses,;
each with its little garden and with
certain common buildings and common
grounds. The houses are occupied by)
the employes of a gre"at distilling com
pany, who form a corporation which
owns the park. Each member owns
shares in the corporation, and pays
rent for his house. The surplus, after
all expenses have been paid, comes
back to him as dividend. If he wishes
to go away, or if he dies, his shares are
bought up by the corporation and sold
to the man who takes his place. Gold
en Penny. ,
The Migration of the Doe Family.
From' Brooklyn Borough courts is re
ported a large increase in the number
of "John Does." The excess of 'Does"
in Brooklyn, too, is almost coincident
.with the disappearance from the courts
of Manhattan of "Does" and "Roes."
In the old English courts, when the
name of a plaintiff was unknown, the?
custom was to describe him as "John
Doe." When the defendant's name
was unknown he was described as
"Richard Roe." In the criminal courts
the name of an unidentified male pris
oner was entered as "John Doe" and
of a female prisoner as "Jane Roe." In
civil cases with women appearing as
principals, "Jane Doe ' was the name,
in default of any other, for the female
plaintiff, and "Jane Roe" for the fe
male defendant.
In Manhattan the colloquial use of
the word "dough" as a slang designa
tion for wealth is chargeable with the
words, "John Dough," describing a
man of money. As John Dough has
come forward, John Doe has receded,
and the name "John Doe" has been
giving place in the criminal courts to
"Walter Jones." As "Jane" and "John
Doe" have of ten-been allied in legal
papers in court, "Jane Doe" has been
superseded by "Kate Best."
Thinker Live Long.
Thinkers as a rule live long-; or, to
put the proposition into more general
terms, exercise of the mind tends to
longevity". Herbert Spencer has died
In his eighty-fourth year, Darwin
reached his seventy-third, Sir George
Stokes his eighty-fourth, Carlyle his
eighty-six. Tyndall was accidentally,
poisoned at seventy-three, but might
have lived several years longer; Hux
ley was seventy when he died, Glad
stone in his eighty-ninth year, Dis
raeli in his seventy -seventh, Newton ,
lived to be eighty-five and Lord Kel
vin is still vigorous in research in. his
eigthieth. To a 'great extent the brain
is the centre and seat of life, what
Sir William Gull called the central
battery, and the stimulation undoubt
edly strengthens the forces that make
for vitality. Healthy exercise of
either mind or body, of course, favors
length of days, but the strivings of
the thinker and writer are seldom
I quite of the healthy order. Darwin,
Curlyle and Spencer were victims of
nearly lifelong dyspepsia, and yet ex
ceeded three score and ten. .
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