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$i.oo a Year, in Advance.
" FOR GOD, FOR COUNTRY, AND FOR TRUTH."
Slofile Copy, 5 Ctnts.
VOL. XV.
PLYMOUTH, N, C, FRIDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1904.
NO. 31.
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HAPPINESS.
I would not care to sit upon
A throne if none could share
The glory of my state with me
Or shout in thankfulness to see
Me wisely ruling there.
I would not care for millions if
I ne'er might hear the praise
Of others who accounted me
Their grandest friend and happily
Trod newer, fairer ways.
I would not care to gaze upon
Earth's grandest scene, to see
Another fair day dawn if there
Could be no others who might share
It and be glad with me.
S. E. Kiser.
f AMADIE'S
I I CHANCE
J4Q, O nearly all of us there
4 comes, at some period of
jt O rP o life, what- we call "a
K ) chance." Many of us
"SsSOSsJ probably more than the
majority let the chances pass us. We
do not recognize them, or are too timid
or inert to grasp them, and they do
'v not return; for the same chance never
jp offers itself twice. Of those who seize
them many are influenced merely by
selfish motives, by the promise of per
sonal profit they present. But a few
lay hold of them simply from a sense
of duty, as knowing what is right and
desiring to do it, and to such the re
sults, of their action are doubly blessed.
Amadie Flessell was a French girl,
or of French descent, being the only
daughter of French parents, but born
in this country. She was an orphan,
and was poor; consequently her lot in
life was a hard one. It would have
puzzled her to tell how she had man
aged to get along since the death of
her parents. She remembered confus
edly a long and unpleasant series of
hard rubs, but could not have given a
clear account of them.
At the age of sixteen known as
"sweet sixteen" by girls who -are well
cared for and happy Amadie was a
, ballet dancer in a variety theatre. It
was neither a proud nor a profitable
position. She was but a beginner, and
much of her small salary must be paid
for education, while a portion of it was
absorbed by fines for her ignorance and
awkwardness. It was supposed that a
French girl must necessarily dance,
but Amadie was not a natural dancer,
and did not take kindly to that branch
jlof the theatrical profession. She be
lieved that she would bo able to sing,
if she could get a chance to learn, but
no such opportunity came to her, and
she felt that she could only worry her
wjxy along over the hard road that had
!i en appointed for her.
One night she was going home at a
late hour. The dancing had come on
near the close of the entertainment,
and Amadie had been detained for re
proof by the ballet master, who had
informed her that a severe fine would
be assessed upon her for an awkward
. mistake in a dance. With a small
bundle under her arm, she wearily
.wound her way through the streets of
,, the city, and was quite sick at heart,
"as she knew that the fines of the week
would not leave her money enough to
pay her rent and procure her the mea
ger necessaries of life.
Just before she reached a neat
brownstone house, - the second door
from a street corner, her attention was
attracted by something unusual and
peculiar. The basement window was
open, and a rough looking man was
coming out at the opening.
There could be but one explanation
of such a singular circumstance; the
hou.se was being plundered by burg
lars. Of one thousand girls that might be
placed in Amadie's position, all but
one would run away, but Amadie was
' .It lie one 'who did not think of running.
She saw a chance to make herself use
ful and availed herself of it instinct-
Shrinking behind the wall of the cor
ner house she peeped out and watched
the proceedings. She saw the man
who had emerged from the basement
.window take some bundles that were
handed to him from within. Then an
other came out, the window was
closed, and the two men picked up the
bundles and walked rapidly up the
street.
Ama'Jie looked around for a police
By
fob tftnY.
rtVl GHZ
Semper
I Eadem
5)0(0
man, but of course without expecting
to see one, and at once resolved to fol
low the thieves.
Swiftly and silently she sped after
them, near enough to keep them in
view, and saw them turn the corner a
few blocks away, where a covered
wagon was waiting for them. They
hurriedly deposited their bundles in
the wagon, climbed up in front and
drove rapidly away.
This maneuvre did not change or
prevent Amadie's purpose. She was
near enough to the wagon when it
started to run after it to catch hold of
it, as she had seen the stout boys do,
and to swing herself up in a very un
comfortable position.
If she had known what a journey it
was to be it must be confessed that she
would not have attempted it. More
than once after it was begun, she
would have been glad enough to aban
don it, but she could not. The wagon
was whirled through the streets at
such a rapid rate that she knew it
would hurt her to alight and feared it
might kill her. The danger of letting
go was greater than that of holding
on, and she clung as with a death grip
to the wood and iron, although she
was several times nearly flung off, and
although she was in terrible and con
stantly increasing pain.
At last, when she had become noth
ing but a bundle of aches and exhaus
tion, the vehicle stopped at a small
house in a shabby street. The girl felt
quite incapable of using her body i
her brain, but the danger of discovery
compelled her to exertion. Fortunate
ly there was a narrow alley in sight,
and she slipped down and ran te it
just before the wagon came to a full
stop.
Crouching down on .the bricks fer
she could not stand she peered out
and saw one of the men carry the bun
dles into the small house. Then the
other drove the wagon away slewly,
and all was quiet.
Amadie rested herself tkere a little
while and then crawled out and no
ticed the number of the house. Then
she started to go home. As she went
she repeated the name of the street
and the number of the house until tkey
were firmly fixed in her memory. It
was a long journey, and she was very
tired and sore, but she at last reached
her lodgings and let herself in, glad
that nobody was up to look at her sus
piciously and scold her about the late
ness of the hour.
She overslept herself in the morning,
and it was so i,iit when she rose that
she saw that she had no time to lose.
So she went to a cheap restaurant,
where she hurriedly drank a cup of
coffee and ate a roll, and then hastened
to the brownstone house where she
had seen the burglary committed. She
told the servant that she wanted to
see the proprietor of the house, saying
that her business was important. There
was a little demur, and, while she was
talking to the servant the gentleman
whom she wished to see came to the
door and asked her what she wanted.
"Did you lose something last night?"
she asked.
"I should think I did. Some silver
plate and some valuable dresses, .with
other things."
"They were stolen?"
"Yes; the house was entered by bur
glars." "I saw it done and I know where the
things were taken to."
"Ah! You are the person I want to
see. Come in here, little girl, and sit
dowa and rest."
Amadie followed him Into a finely
furnished room, where a pleasant lady
was seated, and he placed her in aa
easy chair.
"My dear," he said, "this seems to be
an amateur detective, who has some
valuable news for us."
The lady raised her eyebrows and
smiled.
They were both so kind to her that
Amadie was easily encouraged to tell
her story, and she did so as speedily as
possible, as she felt that the time
might be precious, but the simple man
ner in which it was told did not pre
vent her from receiving many expres
sions of praise and pity.
As soon as she had finished the gen
tleman hurriedly wrote a note and
called a boy.
"Take this at once to the station
house," he said, "where we were this
morning, and tell them that I will be
there presently.
"And now, little girl," he said to Am
adie, "there is a good reward offered
for the recovery of that property. That
is to say, I intended to offer a reward
in to-morrow morning's papers. If I
get the property through ycur infor
mation the reward will belong to you."
"You needn't think of any reward
for me," she said.
"Why uot?"
"Because my mother said " and
she hesitated. '
"Well, what does your mother say?"
"She doesn't say anything, sir. She
is dead."
"Ah! it is something she once said,
then. Perhaps your father "
"He is dead, too, sir."
"Oh! Poor thing! Well, we won't
force anything upon you that you don't
want, you may be sure of that. Can
you stay here a few hours with my
wife and get your dinner?"
"No, sir; I have to go to rehearsal."
"To be sure. Glad to see you punc
tual in attending to business. And, of
course, you can't come to see us to
night, as you will be at the theatre.
Can you call this afternoon at 4 or 5
o'clock?"
"Yes, sir; if you wish it."
"I do wish it. I want you to know
whether the property has been recov
ered, and I want to thank you and talk
to you."
Amadie went to her rehearsal, where
she did so badly being still tired and
sore that the ballet master threatened
to discharge her, and in consequence
of that threat she scanted her bit of
dinner more severely than ever.
In the afternoon she went to the
brewnstone house, because she had
promised to, and because she csusid
ered it a part of her duty.
She was very warmly received by
the gentiemau and his wife, who has
tened to inform her that the stolen
property, had all been recovered. The
police kad aiade a descent upon the
small house in the shabby street, and
had found, net only the proceeds of the
burglary, but many other missing val
uables. "And now," said the gentleman, "as
you have done so much for me at the
risk of your life, and as you seem to be
a very good girl, I must see what I
can do for you. Fortunately I am in
the theatrical line, and yeii may let me
help you in that. Are you very fond
of dancing?"
Amadie confessed that she disliked
dancing, and was afraid she would
never be able to learn the art as it
ought to be learned.
"All the better fer that," said he.
"Do you think you could learn to act?"
"I don't know, sir, but I think I
could learn to sing if I had a chance."
"Very well, you shall have a chance.
You shall come to my theatre. I am
Mr. Milward, manager of the
Theatre, and my wife is Alice Milward.
I will find employment for you there
by which you can earn a living, and
you shall learn as much music as you
want to. Wo will make either a singer
or an actress of 'you, or both, I'll be
bound."
Amadie tried to express her grati
tude. "You don't owe me any thanks." said
he. "You will be sure to earn all you
get from me, .to say n6thing of what
you have already earned. Come to me
when your week is up at the variety
shop, and I will advance you a week's
salary, and my wife will talk to you
about wardrobe and other matters."
So Amadie Flessell, by improving a
chance to make herself useful, gained
a chance for herself, and she also im
proved that chance to very good pur
pose, indeed. New York Weekly.
A noted doctor states that eighty-five
cent, of crippled children could be at
least able to work if their diseases
were treated iu time.
THE CITY MAN OUT-OF-DOORS.
Vacation Habit Means Improvement in
Public Health and Happiness.
A general and killing absorption in
the business of life was once the ac
cepted theory of American activity.
It is true that there is still tremendous
stress shown by Americans in the
pursuit not only of their business avo
cations but of their social avocations.
Yet the business man's summer vaca
tion is getting to be more and more an
accepted institution. He manages to
get longer periods of complete rest and
recreation and he contrives, moreover,
to seize upon any number of half holi
days and over-Sunday outings, espe
cially in the warmer months. When he
can control his time he gives greater
portions of it than evei before to horse
back exercise and to golf and kindred
sports. The business man's family, in
stead of being satisfied, as of old, with
a few weeks in a crowded hotel by the
sea or in the mountains, spend the
whole summer in the country, as board
ers in hotel or farmhouse, or as dwell
ers in a country place of their own,
modest or sunmptuous in accordance
with their means and taste.
The city man's modern discovery of
the country and his increasing use of
it in the summer months has been a
subject of comment now these many
years. There has been discussion of
its effect upon the city people them
selves, and upon the country people
into wThose communities they enter; of
its effect upon manners and morals;
of its economic bearings and its rela
tion to the abandoned farm problem,
and of the greater influence upon the
nation of the greater mingling of peo
ple from various parts of the country.
With all this search for recreation
and health, what with Westerners go
ing East and Easterners going West,
with Northerners going South and
Southerners going North, summer and
winter; with all this search for the
opportunity to fish and shoot, or to en
joy social pleasures; with all this in
terchange of national advantages (for
any and every climate can be found in
the United States), one may look for an
improvement in the public health and
happiness, as well as tor a dissemina
tion of a knowledge of our own people
and of our own country which ought
to be decidedly conducive to an intelli
gent patroitism. From an Editorial in
the Century.
He Got There.
Three Chinamen were walking brisk
ly down First avenue at Pioneer place
yesterday afternoon. Their expression
less faces showed no sign that they
were in a hurry to catch a car or do
anything rash, but all three kept their
eyes directed on a James street cable
that stood opposite the Hotel Seattle,
taking on passengers. Suddenly the
gripman of the car rang his gong, and
the trio quickened their pace a trifle.
Again the gong was rung and this
time the Celestials broke into a run
and covered the ground like rabbits,
with lengthy pigtails streaming out
straight behind them.
All at once the car started and the
followers of Confucius redoubled their
pace, running on in single file. They
would probaly have caught the car,
although the vehicle was then going at
a good rate of speed, were it not for
the fact that right in the middle of
James street tke foremost Celestial
tripped and fell. The other two
promptly tumbled all over him, and in
a second there was a pile of writhing
Chinamen, all making a grand effort
to get up first.
At length the trio got to their feet
and impassively dusted their clothing,
not even smiling, despite the chuckles
of the crowd. The car by this time
was about up to Eighth avenue.
One of the Chinamen was very fat.
This one looked at his companions in
an entirely impersonal manner for a
minute, and then far up on the James
street hill, where a car was gradually
working down kis way.
"Very blame mad," he said calmly
Seattle Pest Intelligencer.
Kufchinjr Things.
As there is a law against burying in
the city of Albany, the bishop had to
have a special act of Legislature to be
buried in the Cathedral. He was suc
cessful in having the act pass the
lawmakers, but his friends were as
tounded and worried whei they read
its text. It began with the usual
verbiage. The ending was something
like this:
"We do grant that Bishop Donne bo
buried within the precincts of the
Cathedral at Albany. This act to take
effect immediately." Lippincott's Mag
azine.
A HAPPY LITTLE CIRU
There was a little girl,
And she had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead,
"No room for it," she said,
"On the side of my head"
For she lived in a flat which waa horrid.
The little hat she wore,
Long behind and before,
Pointed up in the air like an arrow.
And she had a little plume
On the top. There wasn't room
On the side 'cause the flat was too narrovf
Her pretty little mouth
Always pointed north mid south,
As if it only uttered "prunes" or "prism."
Neither "cabbages" or "game"
Could she undertake to name,
There wasn't even room for "rheumatism."
So the dear little girl,
With her pretty little curl,
And her plume and her "prunes" and her
"prism,"
And her narrow little hat,
Dwelt contented in a flat.
For sha hadn't any room for pessimism.
Chicago Tribune.
Customer "I don't like the shoes;
the soles are too thick." Shopman
"You will learn to like them, as the
objections you speak of will gradually
wear off." Pick-Me-Up.
The warship truly is a grand
But perishable trinket.
It takes five years to build it and
A half an hour to sink it.
Washington Star.
"Macintosh boasts a good deal about
his family, doesn't he?" "Yes, I think,
he claims that the head of his family
was the original Macintosh that Noah
had with him during that rainy sea
sons'Philadelphia Press.
Mrs. Cantor "I can't understand
why Mr. Steemer invariably leaves the
room when I go to the piano. He told
me he was very fond of music." Mr.
Cantor "And doesn't his conduct prove
it, my dear?" Boston Transcript.
Mrs. Deepdigger "You never said a
word about our wedding anniversary
last Tuesday not a word." Professor
Deepdigger "My dear, how can you
expect me to take any interest in any
thing so ridiculously recent?" Puck.
'Tig little I ask of fate
A life exempt from harm,
A horse, a dog, a pleasant mate,
And a little radium farm!
New Orleans Times-Democrat.
"There will be a serum for every
disease." "Just what do you mean by
that, doctor?" "I mean that the time
will come when every ill which flesh
is heir to may by simple inoculations
be exchanged for some other ill."
Puck.
She "Don't you ever send any of
your stories to the magazines?" He
"Don't I? I send lots of them, but I
believe I'd drop dead if they ever ac
cepted any." She (sympathetically)
"I do wish they would accept one."
Philadelphia Ledger.
"So you are going aAvay?" "Yes,"
answered the young housekeeper.
"You see, we discharged the cook, and
she's so cross about it that we've de
cided to live somewhere else until she
gets good natured and goes away her
self." Washington Star.
Mrs. Lakeside "Oh, yes; some of
those narrow, exclusive Eastern peo
ple say that Chicago isn't cultivated."
Mr. Lakeside "H'mph! All the city
is except the south part, and that's
too marshy. The land isn't worth cul
tivating." Brooklyn Life.
"Well, what are the prospects with
you?" asked the cheery visitor. "Not
very good," was the misanthropic an
swer. "My son Jerry is in the wood
shed fooling with gunpowder, and I
guess it's pretty safe to say there's
going to be trouble." Washington
Star.
Summer Besorter "But how can you
guarantee fresh vegetables when you
don't know what kind of weather you
are going to have?" Landlord "Be
cause I run my establishment on sci
entific principles. I leave nothing to
chance, you know; I feed my boarders
011 nothing but canned goods, which
can be depended upon, whether or no '
Boston Transcript.
Prolltg From One Hen.
A man in south Missouri gave his
daughter a hen and agreed to feed it
two years. He hart an elevated opin
ion of the girl's talents for business
when she told him, at ihe end of the
time, tha the products of the hen's
industry and that of her offspring in
the two years was ?4 in the bank and
200 chickens that would soon be ready;
for the skillet Kansas City Journal.