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$l.oo a Year, in Advance. , "FOR GOD, FOR COUNTRY AND FOR TRUTH." Single Copy t nt.
VOL.X.VI. PLYMOUTH, N, C. FKU)AY MAY 1905. NO. n.'
?
HE ALWAYS TOLD THE TRUTH.
Cy Anne
Ucwas not very quick to iearn,
Nor "promising," 'twas said;
He was not of a brilliant turn,
Nor one to "go ahead;"
-Defects if they must bo confessed-
In plenty had the youth
Hut thi.s one virtue he possessed
. lie always told the truth.
In every way he seemed below
The average of boys.
In intellect, and "push," and "go,"
And all that youth enjovs;
Hut no one ever doubted "him,
Because they knew, forsooth
Yes, even those who flouted him
Jle always tc'.d the truth.. 1
7i
7f
For the
V S 4
J
ON DAVID, it -strikes me
I ileal of late. I don't ap-
I nrove of boys of your aire
being out evenings; it leads
to bad company, and bad
company leads to all kinds of badness.
I hope you don't spend your time at the
tavern';"
"Son David," a broad-shouldered six
footer, miled a little, and colored a
.great deal at thesa words, -which were
delivered with a precision and a sol
emnity of look and tone that made
them doubly impressive.
"There's no occasion for any alarm,
father; I keep very good company.
And as for the tavern, I haven't set
foot in it for six months or more."
About the usual hour, David laid
aside his book, and putting on a clean
collar and a linen coat, fresh from the
hands of Aunt Betsey, sauntered down
toward the village. This had been his
custom for several weeks past, and the
old deacon shook his head with a per
plexed and somewhat troubled air.
"I suppose the lad finds it rather dull
lere," he mused; "the house is lonely."
And. as he recalled the light of a
-certain bright eye and a sunny smile,
what he had thought of doing "for the
sake of David" seemed a not unpleas
ant thing to do for his own.
"I think I'll go and consult Farson
Dunlow," thought the deacon, who, like
the generality of mankind, having fully
made up his mind on the subject, de
termined to seek advice, not for the
purpose of gaining any additional light,
but to strengthen and confirm his own
opinions.
The worthy deacon bestowed quite as
much time upon his toilet before leav
ing the house as did "Son David." And
if a glinrps? of the sprinkling of gray
in the hair that he brushed so carefully
away from his temples made him some
what doubtful as to the result of his
mission, it was but for a moment.
Ought not any woman to be proud of
Hie honor of becoming Mrs. Deacon
Quiniby, wife of one of the most
wealthy and influential citizens of the
place, even though his hair might be
a little frosty and his form not so erect
as when he departed on the selfsame
errand thirty years before.
In the weekly prayer meetings, of
which lie took the lead, the deacon
often called himself "the chief of sin
ners," "an unprofitable servant," and
the like, confessing and bewailing the
depravity of his heart. But, like a
great many other self-styled "misera
ble sinners," he had a tolerably good
opinion of himself after all, making
the above confession with an air that
seemed to say: "If I. Deacon Quimby,
a pillar of the church, and a shining
example to you all. can say this, what
must be the condition of the majority
of those around me?"
lie found Parson Dunlow in his
study, hard at work upon his next Sun
day's discourse. But ho was used to
interruptions, and had a sincere liking
for the worthy' deacon, who was his
right-hand man in every good work; so,
laying down his pen, he shook him
warmly by the hand and bade him be
seated.
But somehow the deacon found it
difficult to get out what he came to
say the words seemed to stick in his
throat. But at last he managed to
stammer:
"I I have called, parson, to to sec
you about my son, David, whose con
duct has occasioned mo a great deal
of uneasiness of late."
"You surprise me, Brother Quimby;
I consider him to be an unusually
steady and exemplary young man."
"He has been, parson, very steady
indeed at home every evening, busy
with his book or paper. But now he's
out "most every night, and sometimes
don't return until quite late."
A faint smile flickered around Tarson
Dunlow's mouth, but it was unobserved
by the deacon, who resumed:
"The fact is, the boy wants a
mother."
'IIe wants a wife", you mean," was
the parson's inward comment, but he
said nothing, for he hadn't filled his
"sacred office a quarter of a century
without learning that some things are
letter th "Might than spoken.
"It is a very important step," re-
H. Woodruff.
''Uncouth" and "awkward," how it hurt
When on his cars it fell!
.Who could the fact not controvert,
Was sensitive ns well.
But one there was who sympathized,
Who knew right well the youth
Jlis mother thi.s great comfort prized- '
lie alwajs told the truth.
A slow but steady plodder, he,
Along the path of life;
In business ever seemed to be
Behind-hand in the strife;
But then he won his fellows' trust,
They honored him in sooth
The man unlearned, but noble, just,
, Who always told the truth.
Ham's Horn.
Sake of David,
By Grace Terry.
I
sumed Deacon Quimby, after waiting
vainly for the parson to speak, "and
and as I think of taking to myself
another companion for for the sake of
David, I thought I would come and
and consult you about it." "
Here the deacon wiped the perspira
tion from his forehead, betraying so
much hesitancy and embarrassment as
to quite astonish the good parson, who,
to reassure him, said briskly:
"To be sure, Brother Quimby. And a
very good idea it is, too, for yourself,
and, no defubt, for your son, David.
And I shall be very glad to assist you
in the matter. There are many very
worthy ladies in the church and vicin
ity, so that you cannot fail to be suited.
There's the Widow Bean; her sons are
now men grown and quite off her
hands. A most excellent and worthy
woman is the Widow Bean."
But the deacon did not seem to re
ceive his .suggestion with much favor;
he shifted one leg uneasily over the
other.
"As you say, parson, the Widow Bean
is a most excellent and worthy woman;
but but the leadings of Frovidence
don't seem to be in that direction."
"Well, then there is Miss Mary Ann
Tease, a member of the church for
many years, and an ornament to her
sex and profession. Now that her
brother is married again, she is quite
at liberty, and will make you a very
desirable helpmate."
"True, very true, parson: I have the
highest respect for Sister Pease. But
but the leadings of Providence don't
seem to be in that direction, either."
The good parson looked puzzled, but,
honestly desirous of assisting his vis
itor, he made another effort.
"Brother Jones has a number of
daughters, and either of the two eldest
would be "
"Yes, yes. parson," interrupted the
deacon, rather impatiently, "I know
that vjery well. But I think that that,
for the sake of David, I had better
marry some one younger and more
lively, and who would consequently
be more of a sort of companion for
him."
A sudden light broke in upon Farson
Dunlow's mind.
"Perhaps you have some one already
in view, Brother Quiniby?"
"Well, yes, parson, I have sought
Divine light, and the leadings of Provi
dence seem to be in the direction of
your family; in short, toward your
daughter, Miss Emma, whose staid
and discreet behavior, I am happy to
say, would do honor to more mature
years."
It was not the first time, in Tarson
Dunlow's pastoral experience, that he
had known people to mistake the lead
ing of their own hearts for "the lead
ings of Providence," but if he had any
suspicion that this might be the case
with the worthy deacon, he prudently
kept it to hims?lf. So, without evinc
ing anything of the dismay and con
sternation at his heart, he said:
"I cannot fail to realize, Brother
Quimby, the high compliment of such
a desire. But you remember the words
of Ilebekah's parents under like cir
cumstances: 'We will call the damsel
and Inquire at her mouth.' I don't
know that we can do better than fol
low their example.
"Willie," he added, going to the win
dow, "run and tell Emma that father
wants to see her in his study."
"She's dot company," said the little
fellow; "and is doing to dive me a new
ball if I'll stay out in the yard."
"No matter," said his father, smiling;
"you shall not lose the new ball. So
run along."
Miss Emma, though very pleasantly
engaged, dutifully obeyed her father's
summons. She blushed as her eyes fell
upon the deacon, to whom she dropped
a pretty, deferential courtesy.
"My daughter," said the parson
gravely, "Deacon Quimby informs me
that, for the sake of David, he has con
cluded to take to himself another wife,
and that his choice has fallen upon you.
I have ever left such matters to you,
but you cannot fail to realize the value
of such an offer, and I trust you will
give it the consideration it demands.'
Emma opened her brown eyes widely
at this announcement, and then the
long lashes fell over them, and lay
quivering upon the rosy cheeks. But,
unexpected as was the position in
which she found herself placed, her
woman's wit did not desert her.
"I should be very happy to become
Deacon Quimby' wife, papa,'- she said,
demurely, "if I had not already prom
ised, for the sake of David, to do my
best to be a daughter to him."
Deacon Quimby was so accustomed
to consider his son as a mere boy that
it was some minutes before his mind
took In the sense of these words.
"Do you mean to say, Miss Emma,"
he said, at last, regarding the blushing
girl with a bewildered air, "that you
are going to marry my son?"
"With your permission, sir," respond
ed Emma, with a smile and glance
that would have softened a far harder
heart than the deacon's. "I have al
ready obtained that of my father."
Deacon Quimby turned his eyes upon
Mr. Dunlow, who bad been a quiet but
interested listener to this.
'Why, David is nothing but a boy,
parson!"
"He is a year older than you were
when you married, deacon" was the
smiling response.
True; so he was.
"I dare say it does not seem possi
ble," continued . the parson. "I can
hardly bring myself to realize that it
is eighteen years ago since my little
girl, here, was laid in my arms; but
so it is."
As the good deacon looked at the
blooming maiden, and remembered how
often he had held her, a smiling babe,
in his arms, the conviction was sud
denly forced upon him that that he had
been making an old fool of himself.
The rather embarrassing silence that
followed was pleasantly broken by
David's cheery voice and pleasant
smile.
"You seem to have quite a family
party," he said, pushing open the door.
"So this is where you spend your
evenings, joung man?" said his father,
shaking his finger at him, with an air
of mock displeasure. "Ah, I see very
plainly that I shall never be able to
keep you at home, unless I can per
suade Miss Emma to come and live
with me. What say you, my dear?"
"That I will come very willingly,"
returned the smiling and blushing girl,
"for the sake of David." New York
Weekly.
A Traveling: College
The farmers in Illinois, as well as
thost in other States, last year were
taught scientific farming by rail. The
train consisted of two cars, arranged
to allow speakers to make their talks
aboard, was a sort of itinerant agricul
tural college, -sowing knowledge at
every stop. The project was under
the supervision of the University of
Illinois, and was fostered by the Burl
ington on the grounds that the more
grain the farmers raise the more there
will be to ship over its lines.
The first stop was at Aurora, where
Dean W. A. Henry, of the University
of Wisconsin, talked a half hour on the
way to tell good seed, and the kind of
soil it ought to be planted in. Ten
minutes was used in inspecting sam
ples of earth and seed aboard the cars.
Eleven more stops were made before
the train reaclW Tolo for the nignr.
The next day Dean Eugene Davenport,
of the University of Illinois, was the
speaker, and on the day following Dr.
F. II. Hall, State Superintendent of
the Farmers' Institute, did the talking.
Every town of importance on the Burl
ington lines in Illinois was visited.
The, next trip of the "Seed and Soil
Special" will be through Missouri, and
then it will visit Iowa, Western Ne
braska and Wyoming. Chicago Trib
une. Twenty-four Messages on One AVire.
The invention of new methods for
sending a number of messages simul
taneously over the same wire contin
ues, and one of the most recent of
these is due to Professor Mercadier
of the French High School for Post
and Telegraph.
In this method an alternating current
is employed whose frequency depends
upon a tuning-folk having a certain
definite number of vibrations. The
current of such an interrupted circuit
can be broken by an ordinary key, and
signals transmitted over the line wire
by an induction transmitter. On the
line at the distant station are a num
ber of so-called monotelephones which
respond to current of one frequency,
and are turned to the forks in the cir
cuits at the sending station.
Thus each particular circuit has its
own telephone, which is connected
by tubes with the ears of the receiving
operator, and responds to the signals
made at the sending station. In all,
twelve transmission circuits are pro
vided, so that twenty-four messages
can be sent over the line simultaneous
ly. A double line, or metallic circuit,
is required, but otherwise the appara
tus is comparatively simple, and in
volves merely the adjustment of the
tuning-forks and suitable condensers
and inductance coils. Week's Prog
ress. Lord Tumour, twenty-one years old,
a son of Lord Winterton, has just been
elected to the English Parliament, and
will be the youngest member in that
body.
The number of students at the uni
versities cf Germany this winter is
within 2S4 of lo.OOO. ' .
SOUTHERN
TOPICS nF INTFBeer to THF Pi A NT
K
Killing Voan: Chickens by Feeding:.
The great mortality amongst little
chicks is caused by too early feeding.
Nature has provided the yolk of the
egg (which they absorb through the
vent just before hatching) with enough
nutriment to sustain life for sixty
hours, and if you feed them before
most of this yolk has been taken up in
the system, you give them indigestion;
bowel troubles follow, and your flock
diminishes. What the little chicks do
need at once is clean fresh water given
them in a shallow pan with a board or
rock over the pan to prevent them wet
ting their feet. And they also need a
few teeth to help them digest whatever
is fed later; this is supplied by scat
tering pure sand on the coop floor, and
you will be surprised to see how they
will devour it.
At the expiration of the thirty-six
hours the first few feeds should be
hard boiled eggs chopped fine, or light
bread soaked in milk, squeezing out
all surplus milk before feeding. Never
feed a sloppy mess to chicks, and never
feed the chicks on the coop floor; have
a little feeding-board and on this
put all feed. Feed five times a day for
the first week; after that, four times.
When chicka are a week old feed
cracked wheat, or screenings, rolled
ats and cracked corn mixed. Con
tinue this feeding until chicks are
large enough to take care of them
selves, and you will raise ninety per
cent, of all chicks hatched if you fol
low this method.
But never during any stage of its
growth, feed it a wet, sodden mess of
corn dough. Progressive Farmer.
liaising- Horse.
The Southern Farmer has this very
sensible talk about farmers raising
horses:
There is a very good demand for
horses suitable for hauling in the cities
and for farm work, whether they are
of the heaviest type, the medium strong
backer "big little" sort or the express
van kind. Seeing that most farmers
are certain to use one of these varieties
in order to do the work of the farm,
It Is satisfactory to know that the sur
plus ones will find a ready sale, and
surely the breeder has the advantage,
inasmuch as he can market the four
and five-year-olds and fill up the gaps
with the youngsters which are coming
on year after year. There is no reason
why the farmer should not work this
system, if he breeds at all. and if he
doc-s it is well to aim at the heaviest
kinds that his mares are capable of
producing; by which I mean that
blocky mares with substance should
be mated with the weighty stallions,
and it is -usually better when breeding
draft horses to select a sire on the
larger rather than on the smaller side
of the mare.
Horse breeding commends itself for
this reason, that the work of the farm
has to be carried on with horses, and
their presence is indispensable; there
fore, those which are fitted can be
made to answer the dual purpose of
workers and breeders, which must be
better from a financial point of view
than if geldings are purchased and
worked out with no prospect of re
newals except by clipping into the bank
for a fresh supply.
Val je of Mixed Planting.
Wm. B., of Trenton, Tenn., says: I
have an orchard started, composed of
apples, peaches, cherries and plums.
The apples now occupy one-fourth of
the ground; they are set in alternate
rows, with a peach, plum or cherry
tree between each apple tree in the
row. It is my intention to cut out all
but the apple trees when they become
too thick. The trees are set twenty
feet apart each way; thus, when they
are. thinned, the apples will be stand
ing forty feet apart each way. Early
bearing, short-lived apple trees may
be substituted for the peaches, etc.
My theory of this mixed planting is
that a larger amount of fruit can be
grown on the same ground than if
planted to apples alone, that it is no
more trouble to cultivate trees twenty
feet apart than forty feet, that the
peaches, cherries' and plums will com
mence bearing first and will naturally
die out first, that the manures and fer
tilizers remaining in the soil will be
used by the arples when the other trees
are cut out.
Most of the peach trees in my orchard
are seedlings, and I consider this a
good way to grow them, as the fruits
of these trees are doubtful. Should
you be successful in growing an im
proved variety, then cut out all the
trees near It, thus 'giving it plenty of
room to develop. It can then lie pro
pagated by bi-.dding or grafting on
other stocks. If you are unsuccessful
in growing a new variety, still your
labor Is not in vain, for whore the trees
are overcrowded they can easily be
thinned.
INitato Growinff.
The statistical bureau of the Depart
ment of Agriculture has prepared some,
common sense notes on potato grow-
FARM : fOTES.
PR. UTOrteMHN 6NH TRUCK GRCWFR. 1
-A
ing, which particularly emphasize the
importance of maintaining plenty of
humus in the soil to conserve moisture.
In tests made soil supplied with humus
produced a fair crop of potatoes not
withstanding a bad drouth, ' whereas
the crop on the adjoining tract was
practically a failure. The great im
portance, of thorough tillage is also
brought out by these experiments. A
warning is sounded, however, against
over-tillage that is, too much deep cul
tivating. During a drouth the cultiva
tor should aim simply to keep the sur
face soil loose and dry. , The dryer the
surface layer of soil the more complete
a blanket it forms for preventing evap
oration from the lower soil around the
potato roots. Harrowing potato land
before the plants appear above ground
is considered a wise practice. The use
of Bordeaux mixture invariably results
in an increased yield, evea when there
is no blight. Thorough spraying with
this material is recommended, as a
general practice, as a decided stimulus
to potato leaf growth and consequent
increased yield of tubers.
Separate Peach and Apples Tieei.
G. W. M., Hendersonville, N. C,
writes: I always plant my apple
orchard to itself, as the planting of a
mixed orchard is too much encum
bered. You cannot cultivate it to an
advantage, although the peach tree if
planted at the same time with the ap
ple will about have its day before the
apple comf s into bearing. The peach
will just last about five or six years.
Two or three crops of peaches are
about the life of the tree. My favorite
plan is to plant the apple by itself and
plant a few peach trees to themselves.
The greatest mistake with most of us
is in planting trees too close. It seema
to be the trouble all over this country.
This is as line a fruit country as any
one can wish for. I have planted a
small orchard. I set my trees forty
five feet apart each way and find it the
best distance. I planted some peach
trees in it and let them stand three or
four years, and they encumbered me
so that I went and dug them up. If I
were to plant a dozen orchards I would
not put peach and apple trees on the
same ground from experience and ob
servation. Japanese Persimmon!.
In many of the yards in the South
can be seen the Japanese persimmons,
the fruit being about the size of the
Lady Blush apple. The bushes are
not more than six feet high, and the
limbs are laden with this pleasant
fruit. The Japanese fruit is consid
ered a luxury, and the housewife of
the home where these bushes have
been planted takes much pride in them
as an ornament to the yard, as well as
the pleasure of eating the fruit. Trees
grafted on the native wild persimmon
will grow on any soil in the South.
They will do better on very poor land
than any other kind of fruit trees.
Take up this spring wild persimmon
trees, and transplant in the yard or
old orchard, and the second year graft
the Japanese buds into the native
bushes. Such a tree will be an orna
ment to the home, and afford some ex
cellent fruit Southern Agriculturist.
Cnttlnjra From (irapefc.
Grape vines should be pruned with
out delay. When this is postponed un
til the beginning of spring the sap
will flow from the cots and greatly
weaken the vines. Phosphates are ex
cellent fertilizer for grapes. Grapes
can be grown on most soils, and it is
surprising that so few homes have
luscious grapes. If the reader has not
the money to purchase the roots, if he
will obtain a cutting fifteen inches
long, and place it the whole depth in
the ground, covering the top of the
vine one inch, it will take root and
make grapes in three years. It is an
easy matter to have a vineyard. All
that is necessary is the disposition and
knowing how.
The First Twenty Days.
The first twenty days of a plant, or
calf, pig or lamb almost invariably de
termines the growth and future devel
opment of the plant or animal. This
natural law is the reason why the
Southern Agriculturist so persistently
advises tfce thorough pulverization of
the soil, or seeing that the little pig or
calf is warm and full of milk for the
first twenty days of its existence. Start
the plants on rapid growth and they
will prove a success. Where the most
of the milk is taken from the calf in its
infancy it will never become a well de
veloped, cow or beef.
Uon't Starve the Orchard.
Too many orchards are starved, and
while a tree will do the best to produce
fruit under any circumstances, it is
useless to expect much from it unless
it is properly fed and cared for. The
cultivation around a bearing tree is of
less consequence than that the ground
be fertile. Many orchards need ma
nuring, and most of all newd mineral
manures.
Jr? P AFFAIRS
SILVER CLEANEIl.
Dissolve one ounce of powdt-rel
borax in half a pint of boiling water.
When cold, pour it on four ounces of
precipitated chalk, and beat mwil
smooth. Add thirty drops of ammonia
and one gill of alcohol 'and bottle.
Shake well before using.
FOR A WALNUT. STAIN. '
To make walnut stain for floors, take
one quart of water, one and a half
ounces of washing soda, two and a half
ounces of Vandyke brown and a quar
ter of an ounce of bicarbonate of pot
ash. Boil for ten minutes and apply
with a brush. This staili may be used
either hot or cold.
A PILLOW HINT. '
rillows wear out, just like anything
flse, says a housekeeping authority,
even though one may change the tick
covering from time to time; the feath
ers become impregnated with dust and
dirt and lose the life that is in all good
feathers at first. Then, too, years ago
feathers were not prepared, nor pillows
made according to the scientific meth
ods that now obtain. A pair otfeather
pillows bought to-day of areliable
firm, are not at all like the feather pil
lows of our grandmdther's day, as one
soon finds, and it would be wise for
many a housewife to go through her
bed chambers and place new pillow?
on every bed, renovating the feathers
in the old pillows, perhaps, .but using
them for filling sofa pillows, for which
purpose they do very well, but not for
affording comfortable rest and sleep utv
night.
DON'T PROCRASTINATE.
To the woman who would bo up with
her work, I say, don't leave your dishes
unwashed, and don't leave your wash
ing until the last of the week. I know
women who most always do this, and it
.seems their whole household interior
Is a drag. It seems to me so much
better, says a writer in the Florida
Agriculturist, to have the washing and
ironing done the first of the week; it
makes the week longer, seemingly, for
other work, and oh, the horrors of
ironing on a Saturday, when one al -l
ways has baking and scrubbing aiu?
general cleaning up to do. i
I once knew a woman who alway r
left her breakfast dishes unwashed hi
til she had started a fire to get dinne:
Then her dinner dishes were left likf
wise until supper and her supper J'kI"
till the next morning. .
It seems to me if I wer'jo be?f
the day's work with a pileyof dii'
dishes, well dried and stuck, tfverythil
would go wrong all day. Recently!
lady told me she had not wasboi'f
e nau not wasue(.j
; day, and early
husband told lieri
led away on busiif
dish for a whole
next morning her
was suddenly caiiea away
and that she had to go with i
Imagine going away to .spend sev
days, which they did, without eml
I
time given her to wash those di
Scarcely anything will tempt iif
leave my dishes. I have seen
kitchens, and I think I know wlif
I speak when I say the womanf
leaves her dishes unwashed is g"nf
behind with her work.
i
REClPESj:
Tiquante Tomato SoupThe
this is mulligatawny soup. I
cupful of juice from a can of i
strain through eheescloth, put f
fire and boil fast ten mir-uter
add a tablespoonful of butter f
browned flour, and when
has boiled stir this Into it. .f.
i
drop in a hard-boiled egg tit
and sliced lemon.
Green Corn Cakes Dm in
the corn fine. Beat three
light, add a pint of mil; : a
a teaspoonful of molted . .v j
spoonful of sugar, and v.l j
thoroughly mixed, three t..l
of sifted flour, or just eno f
the corn together. Bake ci
as you would buckwheat!
serve as a vegetable.
i
Green Tea Pancakes T-
peas, lay in slightly salto';
?half an hour. Pour off
boil soft. Rub through j
while hot, work in pepj
teaspoonfuls of butter.-
cold. When ready to
in, gradually, two beat
of milk and a very f
enough to bind the m
you would griddle caVj
Cinnamon Cakes Jal1L a'i
of six ounces of burner, a p,i.:
dry flour, three-quarters -fa
sifted sugar and a dessempo
pounded cinnamon. Add 1 1. in
flour, if needed, beat, roll, but
thin, and cut out the cea v. '
cutter. Bake them h v, .
oven fifteen or twenty L.! , .
longer should they not
through.
A