111
w itf "i
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$1.00 a Yer, la Advance. . .4 FOR QOD, FOR COUNTRY, AND FOR TRUTH." Single Copy, 5 Coot.
VOL. X V. PLYMOUTH, N. C, FRIDAY. AUGUST1 26. 1904. NO. 23
. I .1 I .1.1 , ...I-,, ! I " ,1- Ml ' " " ' ' lll-H n !
Fe House
The house Js old its windows racked;
its aoors are tailing down;
Where once the dainty tintings were
Is now a faded brown.
The steps are rotting; in the porch
Great Raping holes are seen;
The roof'tree's broken; with thick mold
The boards are fairly green.
The yard is filled with weeds ant. trash;
The walk is crumbling fast;
The trees and shrubs are broken all
Their beauty-days are past.
The sagging rails tug at their posts
As though they fain wouid drop,
Aye, all is drear and desolate
From floor to chimney top.
STORY OF MONTE CRIST O
The Paris Police Case on Which the Novel of
Dumas Seems to Have Been Based.
AltIS, France. The Police
of Paris had it orierin in
PI 1GG7, during the reign of
. I Louis XIV. From that ne-
riod dates the systematic
classification of all official documents
relating to matters over which the po
lice had jurisdiction. The complete
ness of this collection has been more or
less dislocated by the ravages of po
litical or revolutionary upheavals, not
ably during the Commune, in 1S71,
when,, through the partial burning of
the Prefecture of Police of Paris, the
building in which these documents
were housed, many of the more valua
ble records were destroyed. Fortunately
the various archivists of the police
who had charge of these papers had
arranged complete dossiers, each relat
ing to n particular case, which from
time to time for 200 years were put
in print and thus preserved from com
plete annihilation.
Alexander Dumas, Eugene Sueand
others have drawn largely fromttiese
scarce police reports, disguising" the
source of inspiration with such skill,
enveloping them in such a cloud of
decorative accessories that the bald
originals were ornamented almost be
yond recogntion.
The narrative which I am about to
give is taken from one of these rare
dossiers of the Folice of Paris put to
gether by an archivist of the Prefec
ture in office during the early years of
the last century. It will disclose the
possible source from which Alexander
Dumas derived inspiration in the con
struction of his famous romance,
"Monte Cristo."
In Paris in 1S07, Francois Picaud, of
Nisnies, a journeyman cobbler, on a
certain Sunday set out to call upon
his fiancee. On the way he stopped in
the Place Sainte-Opportune at a cafe
conducted by a fellow townsman. This
man, Giles Loupain, was older than Pi
caud, a widower with two children.
He was noted for malice, contempt of
the prejudices of others and intense
jealousy of his more prosperous or
fortunate neighbors.
When Picaud arrived at Loupain's
he found him with three men, all na
tives of the district about Nismes.
These were strangers to the cobbler,
nor were their names made known to
him during hisbrief halt at the cafe.
The gala appearance ol Picaud aroused
the curiosity of Loupain. When it
was learned he was on his way to vis
it his fiancee; that she was the rich
Marguerite Vigoureux, and that the
day of the wedding was to be the one
after the morrow, the malice and jeal
ousy of Loupaine were aroused. He
determined forthwith to thwart the
cobbler and to postpone the wedding,
if not permanently to prevent it. With
this in view, when Picaud had depart
ed, he consulted with his companions,
and a plan of action was agreed upon.
One, however, Allut by name, declined
to join in the conspiracy. He warned
tuo others that evil consequences
would surely follow and that Picaud
would not fail to seek revenge.
It was agreed that Loupain should
go before a Commissioner of Police
and denounce the cobbler as a spy in
ine employ of the English. This he
did two hours later. At that time the
Vendeans were in revolt against the
fJovernment. The Due de Rovige,
then Minister of Police, when the case
was reported to him, was convinced
that in the unfortunate cobbler he had
arrested a spy of the insurgents and
an important nersonaee.
and fle IDinc.
And yet about the crazy door
And round the tottering stoop
Clambers and clings a tendriled vine
In many a verdant loop;
And on that vine bright blossoms glow
And smile through all the day;
From every dainty flow'r the bees
Sweet burdens bear away.
The broken house a ruined man
With blighted life and -ame;
fcioul-windows dimmed, a tarnished coat
A more than tarnished name.
The clinging vine, a woman's love
Perchance a mem'ry dear
Whose fragrant blossoms bless the world
Through all the changing years.
-S. W. Gillilan, in Los Angeles Herald.
On the very night of the visit to his
fiancee Ficaud was arrested. His cap
ture was enveloped In such mystery
that no one was a witness to it; no
one saw his departure. From that
day all trace of him was lost.
In 1S14 the Empire had ceased to
exist On the 15th of April of that
year there emerged from the chateau
or prison of Fenestrelle a man bent
with suffering. In seven years he had
changed as if he had lived for half a
ce'ntury. No one would recognize in
him the young and good looking Pi
caud of a few years before.
lie had been incarcerated under the
name of Joseph Lucher. During his
imprisonment he acted as servant to
a rich Milanaise ecclesiastic. The
prince of the church treated him more
as a son than as a domestic, and when
he came to die, on the 4th of January,
1S14, indignant at the little effort of
his relatives to procure his release, he
conveyed to Joseph Lucher, the quon
dam cobbler, 7,000,000 francs on de
posit in the Bank of Amsterdam and
described to him a hiding place in
Italy where were concealed 1,200,000
francs worth of diamonds and three
millions of specie, consisting of ducats
of Milan, florins of Venice, Spanish
quadruples, French louis d'or and Eng
lish guineas.
When Lucher was at last free he
proceeded to Milan, found the buried
treasure, with which was a multitude
of antique gems and cameos of great
value. Then at" Amsterdam he made
good his title to the amount deposited
in the bank, and, having divided it
into three parts, he distributed the
money equally among the banks of
Amsterdam and Hamburg and of Eng
land, after reserving for his immediate
use a million francs and all the dia
monds from the Italian hiding place.
Then on February 15, 1815, eight years,
day for day, since Picaud, now Joseph
Lucher, had disappeared, he arrived
In Paris and went forthwith to the
cafe in the Place Slainte-Opportune.
Here he found that after mourning
him for two years, his fiance had mar
ried the restaurant keeper, Loupain,
and brought him enough money to set
up the finest and best equipped cafe
on the boulevard. Nobody could tell
him the names of the men who had
caused his undoing, but he was told
that Antoine Allut knew them and that
he had gono to live at Nismes. To
Nismes Joseph Lucher went and
lodged at the well-known Hotel Lux
cmborg, disguised as an Italian priest
Baldini. After much difficulty he
found Allut, got into his confidence,
told him that he had been a fellow po
litical prisoner in the Chateau del
Oeuff, at Naples, with a Nismoisian,
Francois Ticaud, who on his deathbed,
in 1814, at about thirty years of age,
had implored him to find out the names
of those who had consigned him to that
living death and expressed confidence
that they were known to Antoine Al
lut, a fellow townsman of his at Nis
mes. He authorized the priest to give
to Allut a superb diamond, which had
been given to him by a noble English
prisoner, if he would disclose those
names. Then the priest flashed the
diamond before the eyes of Allut, who
yielded to the temptation and gave up
the names when a jeweler had offered
03,000 francs for the stone, to be paid
in a farm and 50,000 francs in money.
The names were Gervais Chaubard,
Guilhem Solari and Gilles Loupain.
When, four months later, the diamond
was resold to a Tvikish merchant for
102,000 francs, the jeweler was mur
dered and Allut was obliged to take
refuge in Greece, where he fell into
great poverty.
Picaud went to Paris, and by a clev
er device, being unrecognized In a
shabby disguise, he secured employ
ment as a waiter in the Cafe Loupain
and there found as fellow employes
Gervais Chaubard and Guilhem So
lari. " One day the former disappeared,
and at last his body was found by the
other on the Pont des Arts, killed with
a poignard. Then a superb dog be
longing to Loupain was poisoned; then
the favorite paroquet of Madame Lou
pain; then the pretty daughter of the
family was courted by a reputed mar
quis. As he boasted of his enormous
wealth, the Loupains were overjoyed
when he married the girl and ordered
a rich wedding supper at the Cadran
Bleu. .But when the guests arrived
they waited in vain for his coming.
At the dessert a note was found un
der each plate announcing that the re
puted marquis was an escaped con
vict; that he was'in flight and the po
lice were after him.
Loupain was ruined by a fire in his
cafe. Only a pittance was left to him.
His son joined a band of thieves, was
convicted and sentenced to twenty
years' imprisonment. Only Prosper
(the name by which Picaud went) re
mained true and worked without pay
in a modest cafe which he had ob
tained for Loupain from means fur
nished by putative friends, and where
Solari also was employed. One even
ing Solari died in frightful convul
sions from poison.
One evening while Loupain was
walking in a little frequented path in
the Garden of the Tuileries, he was
killed by a poignard in "the hands of
a masked man.
With this, his last act of vengeance
completed, Picaud was about to leave
the path in the Garden of the Tuiler
ies, when he was seized by the collar
and thrown violently to the ground
and carried away to a place which
seemed to be some recess or cavern of
an abandoned quarry.
Here in the darkness the captor said:
"Well, Picaud, what name are you
passing under now? The one assumed
in your release from Fenestrella?"
"Are you still the priest Baldini, or
the waiter Prosper? Has not your in
genious mind invented a fifth? For
you, without doubt, vengeance is but
a passing amusement, or is it a furious
mania of which you would be ashamed
had you not sold your soul to the de
vil? You have devoted the last ten
years of your life to the pursuit of
three poor creatures that you should
have spared. You have committed
horrible crimes, and last, but not least,
you have dragged me to perdition."
"You, you; who are you?"
"Your goid has been my undoing.
The cupidity you aroused in me has
never been quenched. The thirst for
riches has made me mad. I killed him
who cheated me. On account of this
I was obliged to flee with my wife.
She died in exile, and I, arrested,
judged and condemned to the gelleys,
have suffered shame and exposure,
dragging for years a ball and chain.
At last, enabled to make my escape,
my sole thought was to reach and pun.
ish the priest, Baldini. This evening
I was about to speak to Loupain and
warn him of your intentions; but you
anticipated me, and before I could in
terpose you had killed him. However,
after all what does it matter? You are
in my power now and I can retaliate
upon you all of the evil you have done
to others. Do you recognize me? I
am Antoine Allut.
"How much will you pay for bread
and water?"
"I have no money."
"You have sixteen millions," replied
Allut. He then proceeded to tell Fi
caud of the amount of his investments
in England, Italy, Germany and
France. The information was so ac
curate that his victim shivered with
apprehension.
"You are dreaming!"
"And you dream that you are eat
ing." Picaud was deprived of all nourish
ment for twenty-eight hours. lie asked
pity of his jailer.
"Listen," said Allut. "These are my
conditions. I will give you something
to eat twice a day; but you shall pay
mo 25,000 francs for each meal."
The miserable prisoner passed the
rest of the day and night in raging
hunger and despair. His sufferings
became acute; he was seized with
spasams; his mind wandered. The
merciless Allut saw that he had gone
too far. If his victim died, he would
have no certainty of securing his great
fortune. Picaud evidently divined the
thoughts that were passing in the mind
of his persecutor. A cynical smile
lighted for a moment his livid coun
tenance. This was too much for Allut.
Aroused to fury by the sardonic leer
of his victim, and by baffled cupidity,
he threw himself upon Picaud and
stabbed him until life was extinct.
From Paris Allut fled to England.
There In 1828 he fell ill. Brought to
a realization of his crimes, he dictated
to an ecclesiastic the details gien in
this narrative. Allut died repentant
and received Christian burial. After
his death the priest P sent to the
Paris police the document which re
cords the strange events here related.
New York Sun.
NEVER SAW A CHILD.
An Island Boy of Fourteen Who Had
Only Seen Grown-Ups.
"Did you ever hear of a child or
ever know of one yourself that had
never seen a child?" asked a man who
takes an interest in the oddities to a
representative of the New Orleans
Times-Democrat. "Well, I have, and
the case is not a thousand miles from
New Orleans, either. The child in this
instance had rounded into its fifteenth
year before it had ever iaid eyes on an
other child. It had never heard the
musical prattle of companions other
than the father and mother. The par
ents settled across the lake a few years
ago, after a long residence on a small
island of the sea. Where the child was
born and where it spent fourteen years
of its life there were no children. The
little fellow knew no associates but the
father and mother. I have often won
dered since learning of this peculiar
case what must have been the im
pression of the youngster when he
gazed for the first time on a member
of the human family smaller than he
was. Did he think he had come upon
a race of dwarfs? Or had his parents
given him an idea of the existence of
children? I do not know the family
and therefore cannot answer these
questions. But I would like to know
just how the little fellow felt when he
first beheld a child. It is the only
case of the kind which has come to
my knowledge. He had never had an
opportunity to play the little games
which most of us knew in the days
of our childhood. He had never gone
through any of the things which made
young life sweet to all of us fellow,
and while not knowing but there may
be compensating advantages in a life
of this sort, I have always felt a bit
sorry for the youngster. Come to think
of it, though, he missed a few things
one would like to forget, for I suppose
most of us have felt the rap of the ma
ternal slipper because of disobedience
due directly to one's companions. At
any rate, we have always cherished the
the idea that our companions were in
a measure responsible for many of the
raps we got. The child who never
knew a child could not be led astray
in this way. So we do not know but
that the lack of companionship may
have something to commend it."
A Lover of Funerals.
A quaint character on the lower
West Side is a young man who appar
ently takes charge of the outside ar
rangements at funerals. Standing in
front of the house he signs for the
carriages to come ahead, gives whis
pered instructions to the drivers, is
ahead of the procession at crossings
and holds back teams with uplifted
hand. He has a word with the police
man on the beat, and escorts the old
folks and professional mourners to a
place of vantage if the dead was a
popular personage. He has a mania
for attending funerals.
"He's not exactly right, you see," an
undertaker said. "Imagines he's a rel
ative. I've instructed my drivers to
respect his orders when need be, and
we've never had any trouble with him.
He's pretty well known and the fami
lies seldom object to him. The queer
est thing about him is that he seems
to have some intuition when a funeral
is to take place, going from one neigh
borhood to another on the same day.
But I have never seen him in a house.
I believe he has an aversion to a
corpse. "--New York Sun.
A Valuable Spring.
The value of a spring of water on
a farm may be gathered from the fol
lowing item: John E. M,nduen, of Lex
ington, Ky.t recently purchased the
farm of James C. McCann, paying ?75,
000 for eighty acres. NMr. Madden de
clares that he did not want the land,
but that he purchased it because It
contained a never failing spring of
water adjacent to his own farm.
A FABLE.
BT M'LANDBUECH WILSON".
There was a very learned man
Who had a foolish wish;
He set a mouse-trap on a bank
In hopes of catching fish.
i
He then went home and all day long
He sat around the house;
With rod and reel and wriggling worm.
He tried to catch a mouse.
The moral of his enterprise
The whole of life will match;
You always should adapt your bait
To what you want to catch.
Collier's Weekly.
The Instalment Collector "Are yon
"sure your mistress isn't in?" The New;
Maid T hope you don't doubt her
word, sir." Chicago Journal.
Nellie "Gracious! How did you man.
age to knit so much in so short a
time?" Ninette "Every time I do tea
rows I give myself a chocolate cream."
When with the stomach ache you moan.
Small joy, let this allay distress
'Twould cost, if you were fully grown,
A thousand dollars, more or less.
Washington Star.
Buxnbuz "Whatband seems ' to be
taking quite an interest in old Gotit's.
daughter." S. T. Udent "No, it's only,
the principal he's after." Princeton
Tiger.
J. Axon Bond "Would you have
loved me had I been poor?" She
"Certainly, my love; but I'd have kept
you in blissful ignorance of the fact."
Smart Set.
"Did Alkali Ike make that tenderfoot
eat his words?" "No; the tenderflot
turned out to be one of those fellows
who would rather fight than eat"
Chicago Journal.
Agent "Madam, could I sell you this
book of fairy tales?" Mrs. Much wed
"No; I've been married four times,
and fairy tales are a chestnut with,
me." New Yorker.
"Just give me time," the culprit cried,
"And I will mend my ways."
"Oh, very well," the Jud&! replied,
'Til give you ninety days."
Philadelphia Ledger.
He (during the quarrel) "Well, I
don't seem to cut any ice in this
world." She "Well, it's a safe bet
that you'll not be in the kind of climate
where you will be able to cut any la
the next." Yonkers Statesman.
Mrs. NewlyricUe "Well, of oil the
impudence!" Mr. Newlyriche "What
is it, Hannah?" Mrs. Newlyriche
"Those poor first cousins of yours have
gone and got themselves the same iden
tical ancestors that you've got!"
Puck.
"Oh. George!" exclaimed the young
wife, "it was nearly midnight before
you got home last night." "Well,
well!" exclaimed the husband, "you
women are so inconsistent. Before we
were married you didn't caro how late
I got home." Sioux Falls Press.
Naggsby "Was Bragsby surprised
when he was nominated for the Gov
ernorship?" Waggsby "Surprised?
I should say so. Why, he was so tak
en aback that he almost forgot the
speech of acceptance he had prepared
in advance." Baltimore American.
Betty "So Maud is engaged? Well,
I'm sorry for the man. She doesn't
know the first thing about keeping
bouse." Bessie "Oh, yes, she does.'
Betty "I'd like to know what." Bes
sie "The first thing is to get a man to
keep house for."-Harper's Bazar.
Ethel "So Bob and Edith are en
gaged? Can he support her in the
style to which she is accustomed?"
Jack-"Support her? Why, he can't
even support himself any longer in
the style to which she has been ac
customed to seeing him while courting
her." Judge.
The Teacher "Now, Johnny, can yon
tell me what Joan of Arc did?" John
ny "Which one do you mean, the Ir
ish Joan of Arc, tbe Bricklayers Joan
of Arc, the Japanese Joan of Arc, or
the Joan of Arc what led the messen
ger boys to victory last summer?"
Chicago Kecord-IIerald. .. .
Getting Around If.
The German Emperor is said to have
spent more than ?10,000 in fixing up his
kitchen so that his daughter may learn
to cook. Some men will do anything
rather than hire a cook. Atlanta Jour
nal. The population of Ireland, which
fifty years ago was more than eight
million, is now less than four million,
and a half. '