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"FOR OOf, FOR COUNTRY. ANP FOR TRUTH."
Single Copy, 5 Cent.
VOL. XV.
PLYMOUTH, N. C FRIDAY. AHRIL hVf lSW.
U2
iti . a i
r ,
THE MOTHERLOOK.
"-At one from whom his mother comforteth." Isaiah, Ixvi.. 13.
You take the finest woman with the roses in her cheeks.
An' all th' birds a sinpn in her voice each time she speaks; ,
Her hair all black an gleamin', or u glowin' mass o' ! -An'
still th' tale o beauty isn't more th'n half way told.
There ain't a word-that tells it; all description it defies
Th mother look." that lingers in "a happy woman's eyes.
A woman', eyes will sparkle in her innocence an' fun.
Or snap a warnin.' meswige to th' ones she wants to ?hun.
In pleasure 'or 'in anger there is always han'sornenesy,
Hut still there is beauty that was surely made to bless
A beauty that grows sweeter a a' that all but glorifies -
Th' mother look that sometimes comes into a woman's eyes.
U ain't a smile exactlyyet it's brimin' full o' joy.
An' meltin' into Kun.shiue when she bends above her boy
Or girl when it's sleepin', with its dreams told in its face:
She smooths its hair, an' pets it as she lifts it to. its place-.
"It leads all th' expressions, whether grave or gay or wise
Th' mother look that glimmers in a lovin' wornan'.s eyes.
There ain't a picture of it. If ti.pve was they'd have to paint
A picture of a woman mostly angel an' some saint,
An make it still be human an' tlry'd have to blend the whole--
There ain't a picture of it. for v. "u can paint a nouk
No one can paint th' glory conun' straight from paradise
Th' mother look that lingers in a happy woman's eyes.
W. ). Nesbifc, in Chicago Tribune.
When
Kiel:
e
By V EN IT A
An Unintentional Deception That Swept
Away the Barriers of Wealth Be
tween Two Lovers.
tAULEIN PAULINE YON
ENGELRUHE flitted
nbniir. -lipr dsiinfv room.
F
lliil humming si snatch ol' son;;.
Now she nansed to nrraneie
a utsti of violets, now to give her hair
.1 coquettish little twist., now to chirp
..softly to her bird.
Fraulein Pauline's sewing girl bent
her bead over the skirt she was alter
ing, but not one of those careless
graceful movements escaped her. and
her whole soul was filled with longing
wad discontent. The Fraulein was a
young German lady visiting some
American relatives; she was rich, she
was loved and admired and made much
of. she could flit about in her dainty
clothes and talk to her bird. The sew
ing girl stitched away fiercely.
By and by Fraulein Pauline took up
a book, but her lovely eyes wandered.
They studied the dark face of the girl
bent over her work, noted the sallow
skin, the tired droop of the shoulders,
the heavy frown. Presently a soft
band was laid on the nervous fingers
that hold the needle, and a gentle
voice said: "Sly dear, tell me what it
is that troubles you." '
The girl looked up with suivtied eyes,
then suddenly she burst into tears.
"Oh, Fraulein, I hate to be poor! I
hate it sol It is always work and work
and work, and I have no pretty dresses
and no pleasure! I am ugly arid poor
and I hate everything!"
"Poor child, poor child!" said Frau
lein .Pauline, thoughtfully. "You are
young, and have nothing, and you are
thinking that I, too, am young, and
have everything, am pretty aud rich,
and. admired is it not so?"-
"Yes. I cannot feel lhat it is right
that people who are rich should have
everything they wish for,, while 1
work so hrrd and never have what 1
want. Poverty's a curse! Those who
write of the curse of riches have never
been really poor." . '
- Fraulein was stroking the trembling
hand. She rose and went to the win-
' dow, then came back to her chair.
"My child, do you think rich people
'IiavV everything they wish tor?" she
. said, softly. "I will tell you a little
story. Far away in a German city, at
one of the great music concerts, an
artist and a young girl were introduced
to each other. Those two met many
limes thereafter, and life was very
. beiuitiful to them. Then came a
change. The man's eyes could no
longer hide the. love that lay behind
them, but he did not speak. The girl
was an heiress and he feared to be
called a fortune hunter. She was also
well boru, and he was but a , poor
American: her wealthy relatives looked
iiUance at him. lie knew that he was
not a fitting match for her. The girl
did not want a fitting match; she
wanted a mate. But. ach! she could
not speak, she could only wait."
"Ho was of noble eoul. Had he
es
as IN
SEIBERT.
been wealthy and the girl poor, he
would have been willing, to become
poor for her sake, iC that were neces
sary to win. her. lie did not under
stand a woman Avell enough to know
that she, too, may have such a noble
soul, that to her. also, wealth and po
sition may be 'as nothing beside love.
And so, meaning to be kind, he was
cruel. He went away. He would per
haps have been willing to die for her,
but he was not willing to be thought
a fortune hunter for her sake Is it
right to be so proud in one's love? The
pride of wealth Is nothing to the pride
of poverty. A woman would like to
be loved without thought of either.
He did not understand!"
The last words broke away from the
even tenor of the story in a little cry,
and the Fraulein's pretty- brown head
sv'!v"r,!y dropped into her hands.
; . :v was silence. The sewing girl
iaured to lay her hand tenderly on
the bowed head; her eyes were filled
with gentler tears.
"Did you never see him again?" she
asked, softly.
The other girl lifted her face. "Never
again," she said, quietly. "It is near
ly two years ago now. I am too young
not to find joy in my friends, my flow
ers and birds, my books and traveling,
but the best thing in life I have missed,
because I am rich! You see, we do
not 'have everything we wish for. My
dear little friend, some day this beauti
ful love may come to you; then you
may -live in one attic room, and have
poor food and few clothes, but you
will bo far richer than I. And now I
want you to have a holiday this after
noon. It is ...a beautiful spring day)
aud you need some fresh air. I want
you to walk In the park. The skirt
can wait until to-morrow."
The girl glanced dubiously at a large
bundle that she had brought with her.
"Those are vests," she said. "Sly sis
ter sews them, and I must deliver them
at the tailor shop this afternoon.. It is
away up on East Thirtieth street."
"I will deliver them myself," said
Fraulein Pauline, her natural gaiety
breaking forth in delicious smiles. -
"Oh, no. not you yourself! They are
very heavy, 'and they make an ugly
bundle. Perhaps you could send some
one?"
"No; I shall play that I am a vest
maker taking home my v week's work.
I wish to see how it feels. It will be
large fun."
Fraulein Pauline's mother had been
an American girl, and she herself had
been educated in Paris, therefore she
spoke English very well, with only a
tiny accent and an occasional curious
expression. She arrayed herself in
her' plainest black , hat and gown, took
careful note of the tailor's address,
and then sallied forth with the vests
hanging over her right arm in the cor
rect position, ill-coaecaled by a news
paper covering.
aught
Fraulein Paulino' V.id not take a car.
She was a good walker, and Thirtieth
street did not seem for off. Neverthe
less, the vests were so heavy that be
fore she. reached her destination she
grew very tired. She glanced wearily
up the street, and suddenly her cheeks
grew white, then pihk. A man was
coming directly toward her a tall,
brown-eyed young man, with dark hair
curling upward under his straw hat.
He bent; upon her an eager, f.ce.
"Paul Fraulein Pauline! Am I
dreaming that I see you here?'; he ex
claimed. The Fraulein stretched out to him
her left hand. "No, II err Westcott, it
is only me, and not s. dream at all.
Ach. it is good to see you again. I
would give you both hands, but you see
the other is occupied."
Herr Westcott dimmed the little
baud he was holding. Certainly his
greeting had been too impulsive, and
his eyes saddened.
"May I walk with you?" he asked,
courteously.
"I should be glad. I should like to
talk of home, Jt seems so long since I
left. Ich habe heimweh. You have
not forgotten the dear old city and the
pleasant little garden of The Lions?"
"Forgotten!"
"Those were happj days," she con
tinued. "Of course, you were accus
tomed to gayer pleasures, and they
could not have been such happy days
to you. It is not to be expected. But
you leff us without saying Auf Wei
dersehn!", "I was obliged to leave hurriedly,
Fraulein, and surely you must know
that those were happy days to me,
also."
Fraulein Pauline shifted the bundle
on her arm and Herr Westcott was
overwhelmed with contrition. He had
forgotten his manners.
"Oh, I beg your pardon! Let mo
have your bundle! Forgive me that 1
did not think of it sooner! You must
be very tired!"
"Yes, I am very tired," Fraulein Pau
line glanced down at the bundle, and
sighed deeply. "They are vests that
I am taking to the tailor shop. It is
a long way from where I live, and the
shop is on Thirtieth street."
Herr Westcott started. He noted
the first time the contents of the bun
dle, the plain black hat, the simple
gown. A light broke upon him. He
stopped, stared fixedly at the demure
face and dewncast byes, then he lifted
the bundle, and looked at it in dismay.
"You to carry such a heavy load such
a long way! Is it possible, can it bo
possible, that all your wealth is gone,
and you are sewing vests for a living?"
"It does not pay well, but it is hon
est work." said Fraulein Pauline, plain
tively. "Great heavens! It is monstrous! 1
could not have believed it possible!
Was there no one to look after you?
Forgive me for speaking so, but I have
always been interested in '.your wel
fare, and surely you will pardon a
friend for his frankness."
"True sympathy is never out of place,
Herr Westcott. . Ach, strange things
are possible. But you must know that
my wealth was never the greatest
thing to me. Not that it is very pleas
ant to be poor."
"Of that I am well aware, therefore
I deplore it for. your sake; but for my
own sake "
"Here we are at the bailor-shop !"
interrupted Fraulein, in a sudden flut
ter. "You will wait without while I
deliver the vests. I shall appear again
directly."
In a very few moments they were
proceeding on their way, minus the
vests. Fraulein Fauline held in her
hand a five-dollar bill. "A week's
salary!" she said, viewing it medita
tively. Suddenly a hand closed over the bill
and the fingers that held it. "Pau
line, at last I niay speak! 1 hart no
right to before, but now you are poor,
poor, and I cannot feel sorry, because
I am so glad. Pauline, dear one, do
you guess how I have loved you al
ways from the very first? Sometimes
I have thought that you cared. 1
dared not let myself dwell long on that
thought, but now I must know. Pau
line!" She lifted her long lashes and let him
see Avhat lay beneath. There was no
coquetry in those clear depths now.
"Ich liebe dich!" she said, simply
words that in any language need no
translation.
After a long, long time, when they
had once more become ' conscious of
the pavements end the shops and the
earth, Fraulien Pauline said, "Ernest,
my first care shall be to exterminate
the one fault which I find iu the?.
Thou art too proud. T was left lonely
and unhappy simply because I had
more money than thou hadst, . and
thy pride could not bear the thought.
Couldst thou not have loved me so
well that wealth would have meant
nothing to thee?"
"It was for your sake '
"For my sake! Ther. thou didst not
give me credit for equal depth of soul
with thyself. Ach!"
"Pauline, treues hertz, forgive me!
I see my mistake."
"It is well, for I have a confession to
make to thee. I have done my best to
please thee by being poor, but alas!
1 am still rich, but I trust to thy hon:
or as a gentleman not to desert me
under the sad circumstances." Her
eyes smiled at him mischievously. "It
was only what you Americans would
call a bird."
"A bird? Oh. I see. A lark! You
were carrying the vests for somebody
else. But this plain gown?"
Fraulein Fauline laughed merrily.
"Thou art. also a bird!" she said "Thou
art a goose! It is a Paris gown. Dost
thou think that vest-makers wear such
a fit. But. Ernest thou hast not said
that I am forgiven for still being
rich." '
Herr Westcott drew her into an
empty entry and kissed her. "Dear
little lark," he said. "I have learned
my lesson!" Woman's Home Companion.
Finger Marks.
The Bertillon Bureau in the State
Department of Prisons was recently
asked by Chief of Police Watts, of
Boston, to identify, if possible, a cer-,
tain dead burglar. A photograph of
the dead crook who was shot in Bos
ton while in the act of robbing a safe
was mailed here. The lepartment was
unable to make the identification. In
speaking of the matter Superintendent
Collins said: "We have never made a
mistake yet in an identification in all
the 4580 identifications we have made
since the inauguration of the bureau.
The Boston police had to photograph
the man after he was dead and our
department was unable to prove to a
certainty his identity, although there
two or three pictures on file here bear
ing a striking resemblance. We could
have identified the man without ques
tion if his fingermarks had been taken.
That means of Identification is unfail
ing. There are now in the bureau here
the fingermarks of 3200 criminals, all
taken since March 1, 1003. We have
one line of classification here which
makes' identification by fingermarks
easy, and I have found that this experi
ment is a great success." Albany Jour
nal. hateaubi iainl's Sea-tiirt Tomb.
Francois Rene, vicomte de Chateau
briand, some twenty years before his
death, writing to the Mayor of SL
Slalo, his native town, made the re
quest that the town should grant him
on the west point of the rock of Grand
Bay a space sufficient for his burial.
To this island rock, accessible only at
low tide, the body of the great French
literateur was brought at his death.
A granite cross marks the spot. At
high tide the rock becomes an island,
and the waves of the Atlantic beat
against this lonely grave. The fiftieth
anniversary of the funeral "was cele
brated by a pilgrimage to the Grand
Bay, each person being requested to
make some floral tribute. After solemn
mass in the cathedral a procession,
headed by the mayor and two members
of the French Academy, crossed the
sands and mounted the rocky slopes,
and with the sound of music and the
firing of salutes the floral homage was
made. Foems composed for the occa
sion were recited, an oration was pro
nounced by M. le Vicomte de Vogue,
and at night the Grand Bay displayed
green funeral lights.
How Much Sleep is Nccessarj'.
A proper amount of sleep is, of
course, absolutely essential to con
tinued good health, but, if dietetic hab
its are correct it is matter which will
regulate itself. If a rule is needed, one
will follow naturally from the fact that
almost every one feels languid on wak
ing and is disposed to take another nap,
no matter how long he has been sleep
ing. This is a morbid sensation which
it would take too long to explain here.
It is enough to say that lack of sleep
should be made up, if possible, at the
beginning aud not at the end. The
best general rule is to rise at a given
hour every morning, whether tired or
not, and go to bed when sleepy. Cen
tury Magazine.
The United States imports every
year about f2S.O0O.00i) worth of crude
rull
THE END OF THE. DAY.
Ho! for the end of the rainbow,
IIo! for thtf'- ofc of gold.
We'll journey along
With a fiinile and a song.
And we'll hark to the stories 6t old. -
Ho! for the end of the rainbow,
With hearts that are stout and strong!
Though the gold we miss
We have had the bl
Of the smile and the story and song.
. . Washington Star.
Gyer "What kind of a chap is
Blank?" Slyer "He is as honest as
the day is long." Oyer Yes, but the
days are getting shorter now, you
know." Buffalo News.
Who sits' and waits for dead men's shoes
In which to make his climb
Will leavo no footprints of his own
Upon the sands of time.
... Life.
"That, young man," said the visitor,
"behaves as if he know more than you
do." "Naturally." replied the merchant.
"Why 'naturally?'" asked the visitor.
"I am merely his father." Philadel
phia Ledger.
"Of course' said the man. "we are
very vulnerable in this matter." "What
shall we do about it?" "Why, if we
holler loud enough at soma on else our
own position may escape notice." Chi
cago Evening Post.
Sliss Newriche "Oh, papa! He has
the most delicate touch of any pianist
I ever heard." Newriche "Delicate?
Great cats! Two hundred dollars for
two hours' work Is what I call a pretty,
healthy touch." Puck.
How worldly pride kin pass away,
I's takin' fon my tex'.
What is a Christmas tree one day
Is kiudlin' wood de nex'.
Washington Star.
"What a queer looking fireplace!"
"Yes, It's an odd conceit of mine. It's
made of paper pulp." "Paper pulp?
Won't it take' fire and burn up?"
"Burn up? Old boy, that fireplace is
made of certificates of steel stock!"
Chicago Tribune.
"I suppose," said the visitor, as he
paused at the humorist's desk, "it Is
your business to be funny." "Not at
all," replied the laugh provoker. "It's
my business to extract bread and but
ter from the smiles of the multitude."
Chicago News.
Sirs. Noobride "The surest proof
that a man loves his wif: is when he
buys her everything she wants." Mrs.
Elderly "Not at all. The surest proof
is when he buys her everything she
wants and doesn't growl about it."
Philadelphia Press.
Proprietor "Do you know the rea
son why you didn't sell that woman a
suit for her little boy?" New Clerk
"No." Proprietor "When she told you
he was three years old, you should
have replied by saying that he would
take an eight-year-old size." Cleve
land Leader. 1
"Do you think the trusts have any
right to exist?". "My dear sir," an
swered Senator Sorghum, "there is no
use in talking about that now. In my
opinion the judicious and proper way
to handle the trusts is to avoid doing
anything that might irritate, them."
Washington Star.
A Great Little Itluncl Group.
Bermuda is the Mr. Feewee of col
onies, a great little island group.
United States Consul Greene, of
Hamilton, Bermuda, estimates in a
report the cultivated area of the Ber
mudas at 3000 acres. The total area
of the islands is only eighteen square
miles.
Yet the 3000 acres, enough only for
fifteen fair farms in New York, keep
two lines of steamers well loaded with
onions, lily bulbs and early vegetables
in season. Of these things they export
$500,000 worth. The islands import al
most a thousand dollars' worth of
goods for every cultivable acre to be
exact, $2,058,413 during the past year.
A very large share of the $1,583,714
received from the United States comes
from New York along with the tourists,
who eat and otherwise us? the stuff.
There are-always about 5000 people ''
In Bermuda connected with the gartb '
sons and their families. In the reason,
now at its height, the tourists number, '
perhaps. 2500. The entire population
of the Islands is only 17,500, but they
have made of a waterless desert ft
garden spot Kich n i ;t oft"a