"FOR GOD, FOR COUNTRY AND FOR TRUTH."
Single Copy 5 Cents,
oo a Year, In Advance. "
PLYMOUTH, N, C. FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 1905.
NO. 24
X VI.
V
i".
LONG
KVhen all ths dreams of our life have van-
ishcd.
I When love is banished
' And hope is iled,
me turn away from bleak to-morrow,
; To walk with Sorrow
Among the dead:
!7e look once more on the loving faces
And sunny places
'We used to know;
And lose for a time our hurt and sadness
Within the gladness
Of long ago.
T'e days are long, and the days are dreary;
Our hearts are weary
And in distress,
As through the blur of our tear-wet lashes
We see the ashes
Of happiness.
From brooding over our lives left lonely,
We seek the only
Escape we know,
By going back to the sweet affections
And recollections
Of long ago.
HEARTS
By MARION
HERE -was the constant
passing of footsteps and
the sound of merry laugh
ter in the halls of Mrs.
MeCalium's rambling old
house: a snatch of college
A 1
wow
fashioned
song, sung by fresh young voices, float
ed up from the moon-flecked road; from
the distant gymnasium came the throb
of languorous music, but the ten young
"women in one of the upper rooms of
the college boarding house were ob
livious to outside sounds.
The little feast was over, the candles
were burning low beneath the dainty
pink shades, the scent of fading roses
was heavy on the air, but still they
sat absorbed in the recital of what
ise each had made of the ten years
that Intervened between their gradua
tion, and this niglit.
Delight Everett sat with flushed
cheeks and shining eyes, and as one
avid' another spoke, sympathy, admira
tion and affectionate pride were mir
rored in her changeful face. How
nobly the girls had lived, how well
they had fulfilled the promise of their
college days! And through it all she
elt the familiar influence of the dear
ooui that once she had shared with
jLcttice Clayton, who now presided at
this feast of remembrance.
It was kind of Mrs. McCallum to ar
range matters so that the reassembling
should be in the place that had wit
nessed the last gathering of their col
lege days; it was thoughtful of the
present tenants to relinquish the room
to these returning girls of '04. And
then, at that instant, she was conscious
of the gala sounds that proclaimed the
high tide of the college commencement,
and for an instant she forgot the years
that separated her from that night so
long ago.
Nine sighs of relieved tension greet
ed the conclusion of Judith Craves' ex
citing story of the winning of her first
case, and a babel of questions and con-
jgratulations rose about the table.
Surely Judith's triumph shed a reflect
ed glory upon those intimate friends
who had always appreciated the bril
liant intellect, even in the old college
days. Did not the waiting toast to the
i"nost successful belong to her? De
light wondered.
ButHhen there was Henrietta Soule,
already taking an important place
4imong the faculty of her alma mater;
and Mary Lowell, a successful physi
cian, spending 'every moment that she
-could spare from her large practice in
'v work among the suffering poor. The
balance wavered here.
And what of Lettice Clayton, spend
ing her time and strength in a college
settlement; and Dorothy Tait, whose
delightful kindergarten made a spot of
brightness in barren little lives;
Eleflnor Day, just returned from Faris.
fresh from the triumph her spirited
-pictures had won; Laura Dennison
' and Rose Abbott, happy in their mar
ried life and the love and care of little
children; and Cecilia Merton, whose
lovely-voice not long since had thrilled
them with its richness and its power?
Deliiiht sighed again from excess of
joy. The day had been full of the
happiness of revisiting beloved scenes
ind renewing old friendships, for the
daughters of '91 had returned in large
numbers, and class feeling had proved
itself strong to withstand the years.
"Rut this evening was the crown of
all, and in a few moments they would
carry out the old resolve to toast the
-, one of their number who had made the
hest use of her time and talents since
last they had patted. But oh, how dif
ficult it would be to choose!
Delight suddenly awoke from her ab
sorntion to find laughing eyes turned
uipon her.
"I beg your pardon!" she stammered,
with a bright flush. "Did you speak
to me?"
, "We are waiting to hear your story,
npiiolit." Lettice said, gently. "Then
we will put the question to vote."
"My story!" Delight had forgotten
that she must testify. And what could
AGO.
Our dreams of love and our golden visions,
The fond ambitions
Of other years,
By stern decrees of the Real, broken.
Have left their token
Of unshed tears.
Without remorse are the fates that sever.
Those hopes we never
Again may know;
But although lost, they renew their glory
Within the story
Of long ago.
When love proves false and we seem for
saken, Our spirits shaken
With sorrow sore,
There is one solace Time can't deny U3,
Which lingers by us
For evermore.
We dream on our lips a soft mouth presses
The sweet caresses
We used to know;
Our hearts yet revel amid the pleasures
And cherished treasures
Of long ago.
J. A. Edgerton.intheNew York Times.
DELIGHT
I-
r
DICKINSON.
she say? Ah, what a pitiful, meager
record beside those of these fuller,
richer lives! None of the hopes with
which she had crossed the threshold
of college life had been fulfilled; she
had made no name for herself, had
done no great work for humanity; had
cultivated no talent until it had become
a minister to the sum of beauty.
She rose, as had the others, but stood
silently, twisting her fingers in the
old way that the women about her re
membered tenderly. Then she looked
appealingly about and laughed a
tremulous little laugh.
'Dear girls," she said, a bit unstead
ily, "I have no story to tell, for I have
just lived along in Purhain, and the
record of life in Durham would not
interest you."
Before any protest could be raised,
they were surprised by a tap at the
door, and Delight, being upon her feet,
moved to answer it, glad of the inter
ruption.
"O Mrs. McCallum!" they heard her
say, with sweet cordiality in her tone
Then she stepped into the hall and
drew the door shut. No one spoke or
stirred until the door swung open
again and Delight stood holding the
knob.
"If you will not mind, I must leave
you for a few minutes," she said.
"Grandma McCallum wishes to speak
to me before she goes to sleep. Dou't
wait for me, girls. If I stayed, I
couldn't decide which one has done the
most nobly, for I wonder at you all."
She glanced about at the garlands of
roses which Eleanor had hung upon the
walls, at the twinkling candles, at the
faces turned affectionately toward her. j
What a wonderful evening it had been, I
and each had contributed to its perfec
tion. Through the open Avindows she j
could see the glimmer of lights upon !
the campus, and the sound of music
and gay voices mingled with the sigh
of the night wind in the trees. She
treasured it all in this moment, that
its remembrance might bring gladness
in the coming years, for when she re
turned the spell would bo broken, and
all that remained would be to say good
night and good-by.
When the door closed behind the
slim, white figure, Lettice Clayton rose
abruptly at the head of the table.
The girls looked at her in surprise
and inquiry. Would she propose the
toast at once? Not one but would have
waited indefinitely for Delight's re
turn. Nothing was complete without
Delight.
Lettice looked from one to another
with a curious expression.
"Perhaps Delight Everett is the last
person competent to tell her own story,"
she said, with a thrill in her voice.
"If you are willing, I should like to
tell you something of this quiet life
in Durham."
"Do tell us, Lettice!" urged Dorothy,
and the rest nodded.
"Perhaps you remember that it was
the desire of Delight's life to go into
settlement work with me," Lettice be
gan, "and I know of no one who would
be better fitted for the work. Besides,
she was an orphan, and seemed unus
ually free to follow her wishes. But
the summer after graduation the aunt
who had made a home for Delight dur
ing vacations fell sick, and Delight
would not leave her. It proved to be
a lingering illness tilled with intense
suffering, and through it all the poor
woman clung to Delight as to her only
hope and comfort. For three years
Delight devoted herself to this mission,
doing the housework as well, for the
doctor's bills were heavy and the fam
ily purse was shallow."
She stopped a moment, and her eyes
grew tender, while the others waited in
silence.
"I saw Delight once in that time,"
she said, softly. "She was the same
dear Delight no word of complaint,
no sigh for her deferred hopes, no
consciousness of sacrifice, just 'sun
shine in a shady place.' It was only
1 when Bhe was, listening to the stories
of my work she begged for, that I
caught a glimpse of her hope denied
But if you could have heard what the
poor sufferer said one morning in her
absence! Girls" she threw out he
hands dramatically "what would I not
give to have such things said of me!"
Lettice stood turning a rose in her
fingers while she waited to recover her
poise, her eyes looking beyond the
drooping petals of the flower.
"I went to Durham again," she con
tinued, "when I heard that the poor
woman was at rest. This time I ex
pected to carry Delight away with me.
The work needed her I needed her.
But I found somebody else had estab
lished a prior claim. 'I cannot leave
poor uncle,' she said to me, with her
bright, brave smile. 'He is so deso
late and so helpless!'
"When I urged that there were oth
ers who might shoulder that burden,
she shook' her head. "Uncle is pecul
iar,' she answered, 'and if one did not
know him well, one might not under
stand, and might be impatient.' "
The narrator laughed out suddenly.
"Peculiar!" she cried. "He was a
wizened little creature, but possessed
of a cantankerous spirit quite gigantic.
Indeed, if Delight had not st,ayed at
the helm, I doubt if anybody could
have been found who would take
charge of that terrible old man. And
there our dear Delight has stayed, car
ing for him as tenderly as if he had
been her father, and finding time, too,
to spend her love and sympathy upon
every needy creature in that little
town. And now, at last, Delight is
free, for her imcle died this spring,
leaving her the poor little farm as
a token that somewhere in his gnarled
and twisted soul he acknowledged her
loving service. And this is why De
light has no story to tell of the past
ten years."
Judith Graves looked across at the
narrator with eyes that were sus
piciously bright. " 'She hath chosen
the better part,' " she murmured.
"I have so often wondered that De
light did not marry," sighed Rose Ab
bott. "She would make a wonderful
wife and mother."
Lettice opened her lips impulsively,
then closed them again. Not even to
her had Delight confided the full ex
actions of her duty. But she remem
bered the day when her cousin, Dr.
Philip Clayton, had come to tell her
that he must go alone to complete the
preparation in Vienna which should
make him more skilful in his beloved
profession.
"And she used to sing so charmingly,
not a brilliant voice, but wonderfully
touching," mused Cecilia Merton.
"Oh, Delight still sings," said Lettice,
whimsically. "She leads and trains the
village choir, and every week she goes
to sing to the forlorn souls at the poor
farm not a trained voice, but they
en3oy it."
"And now what will Delight do?"
asked Eleanor Day.
Lettice thought of thoatter with a
foreign postmark, which had reached
her that day. "She goes to Russell
House with me until somebody else
puts in a claim," she answered, with
inward wonder whether Delight would
recognize her right to listen to the
call to happiness.
Mary Lowell looked thoughtfully up
at her. "It seems to me that we shall
have no difficulty in deciding who is
worthy of our toast," she said, gravely.
"There is but one of our number who
has put aside her own hopes for the
good of others. No matter what the
rest of us have accomplished, it was
all in the line of our personal plans,
ambitions, pleasures. Girls" she
looked about at the assenting circle
"I propose that we wait a little longer
before drinking the toast. Undoubt
edly Grandma McCallum has sent for
Deiight to quiet her with a hymn, as
she used to do in the old days. Sup
pose we frustrate this little sacrlfioe
for it is a real one by delaying until
her return."
A chorus of acclaim greeted the pro
posal, and in the midst of the clamor
the door opened, and Delight paused in
surprise on the threshold. "You dear
girls," she cried, "did you really Avait
for me?"
"We really did," and Henrietta Soule
beckoned her to her place. As she
reached it, the girls rose; Lettice lifted
her glass of lemonade. "To the one
who 'seeketh not her own.'" she said,
clearly "our Heart's Delight!"
Across the brimming glasses affec
tionate eyes were turned upon the girl,
so self-forgetful, so generous, so swift
in loving service, so slow to claim re
ward, so well-beloved.
"Why, girls," gasped Delight, grow
ing very pale. "Why, girls!" Youth's
Companion.
Chairman Shonts anil M. Bunau-Varlll
Mr. Shouts was asked the other day
what he thought of the schome of M.
Bunau-Varilla, who told the French
Academy of Sciences that he had a
plan for digging the Panama Canal in
four years. Mr. Shouts did not laugh
and declared that the Frenchman
should have tried hisi scheme when he
was employed on the canal work under
De Lesseps, but said:
"Mr. Bunau-Varilla is a very capable
engineer, and I dare say there is much
value in his proposition. If he sub
mits it to the commission we shall be
glad to consider It. We have a special
committee that looks after all these
matters." Brooklyn Eagle.
CAUSE AND EFFECT.
We often sec
In this, our life,
A pensive man;
Expensive wife!
- New Orleans Times-Democrat.
SORT 0' PIE CRUSTY.
First Actress "What makes the
comedian so crusty this morning?"
Second Actress "Oh. I suppose it's
that dinner business in last night's
performance. You know he has to cat
a whole pie." Judges
AN IMPOSSIBILITY.
Biggs "Why do you think it impos
sible to obtain light without heat?"
Diggs "Because it's impossible for a
man to pay his light bills without get
ting hot. .That's the answer." Chicago
Now 3.
HAPPY THOUGHT.
Mrs. Bacon "I see the walls of
many of the houses in Mexico are from
three to six feet thick."
Mr. Bacon "I wish you'd run down
there and see if you can find a. flat to
suit us." Yonkers Statesman.
WOULD DROP DEAD.
"Suppose a millionaire was to give
you a hundred thousand dollars?"
"Well?"
"What use would it be put to?"
"You will have to ask my. heirs."
Houston Tost.
ENOUGH SAID.
Katie "Tell me, Edith, what did you
say when Charley proposed?"
Edith "Me? Oh, there was no occa
sion for me to say anything. Charley
had said all that was necessary." Bos
ton Transcript.
SAGACIOUS.
Miss BIy "A man with a past Is al
ways the most interesting kind, don't
you think so?"
Miss Sly "Well, no. To tell the
truth,. I am looking for one with a fu
ture." Detroit Free Press.
IN THE MARKET.
Eva Richly "Oh, I really don't think
thD count is marrying me for my
money. There seems to bo a bond of
sympathy between us."
Edna Sinick "Then it must be a
gold bond." Chicago News.
LIVING.'
Book Agent "Is Billings still selling
that book, 'How to Live on Forty Cents
a Day?' "
Standard Work Peddler "No; he
didn't make over $4 a day selling it,
and he couldn't live on that, you
know." Puck.
APPEARANCES DECEPTIVE.
Mr. Headstall "That horse you
bought yesterday is a vicious looking
animal. Is he kind?"
Mr. Cropper "Kind? I should think
so. Why, when he came out of the
stable he stood up on his hind legs and
tried to embrace me." Life.
HE WAS REAL RUDE.
"Just to show you that I am not
ashamed to have my age known," said
the bachelor girl. "I'll bring the family
Bible ar.d you can see for yourself."
"All right," rejoined the giddy young
man. "What chapter and what verse,
pi pa se?" Chicago News.
ONE POINT DIFFERENCE.
"What Is the difference between man
and woman?"
"I give it up."
"Wei!, a woman doesn't mean half
the wicked things he says, and a man
doesn't say half the wicked things he
means." Manchester (X. II.) Mirror.
IN THE FIFTH AVENUE PARADE.
Respectable Deacon "I wish that
young Canon May berry weren't obliged
to preach to such a small congrega
tion." Frivolous Widow "So do I. Every
time he aid 'dearly beloved' this morn
ing I felt as if I had received a propo
sal." Smart Set.
UNREASONABLE.
"Are you still offering your down
town lot for sale?"
les.
"What's your price on It by this
time?"
'Fifteen per cent, more than when
yon asked me about it a few years
aso."
"It ought to be about fifteen per cent,
less. There isn't nearly as much ground
in it now as there was then."
"That's a mistake. It's exactly the
same size it always was."
"I happen to know better. There
has been a bir tunnel bored right
through it." Chicago Tribune.
f ,ff -
SOUTHERN FARM f- 10TES.
TOPICS OF INTEREST TO THE PLANTER. STOCKMAN Ann Trtur.lt nffnuPt. I
U
The Family Garden.
There is no adjunct to a home that
affords as much pleasure and profit as
a well planned, a well nlauted and a
well cultivated garden, and I use the
word in its broadest sense.
The family garden should be conve
niently located to the residence; it
should consist of about one acre of j
land, and enclosed with a well con- j
etructed and substantial poultry fence. ;
The plot should be liberally fertilized
with cow or horse manure, and it
should be broken early and deep, and
harrowed several times to make the
soil fine and to thoroughly Incorporate
the manure before the early planting
begins. The garden should be divided
into four plots by making walks both
ways through the middle of the gar
den, crossing in the centre. These
walks should be laid off with a line,
about three feet wide, with little gut
ters or drains on each side next to the
beds or squares, and should be oval
shaped so that even in wet weather
there would be a high and dryer place
to walk.
The selection of seed, the varieties
and when and how to plant are very
important. It is also important to lay
all rows with a line and equi-distant.
Nothing adds more to appearances if
Dot to results than order and system in
the garden, and where this is practiced
you may make sure there will be re
sults. The garden should have a four-year
system of rotation, just as the fields
should have, in order to obtain best re
sults from your plants. The plots
should be numbered 1, 2, 3 and 4 and
should rotate around once in four years.
For instance, I would take plot No. 1
and plant spring turnips, radishes, let
tuce, onions or any other early matur
ing crop you may fancy, and as these
came off I would plant a late corn and
bean patch by planting every other
row.
On plot No. 2 I would have two
planting of Irish potatoes, and just
before these mature I would plant corn
and beans in every other row, or it
might be devoted to a late cabbage
patch or some other late crop, and
whatever crop was selected to follow
the potatoes could be worked as the
potatoes were removed.
On plot No. 3 I would have two
plantings of corn for roasting ears,
and when the corn was waist high
put in white crowder peas. As the
ears were pulled from the stalks I
would cut out for the corn and give
the peas more room.
On plot No. 4 I would plant all the
later varieties of vegetables, such as
tomatoes, beets, cucumbers, squashes,
or other varieties the fancy dictated,
that come on in the summer.
I would rotate these crops so that,
to illustrate, the potatoes would not
be planted on the same spot but once
in four years.
I would plant along the borders of
the walks a few sage bushes, thyme,
asparagus and other such useful gar
den plants, but I would have no fruit
trees, currants, strawberries, raspber
ries or grape vines in the garden, but
would have all these and other fruit
in an orchard set apart for the pur
pose. Such things in a garden not
only interferes with the proper rota
tion system, but they shade and draw
from the vegetables and prevent their
full development.
Such a garden as I have planned,
planted and workedt would be a thing
of beauty and a joy 'forever, and when
you come in on a hot summer's day
and sit down to the mid-day meal, con
templating with a ravished eye and
an aching void in the region of the
stomach the many tempting dishes
that the good wife (not a slothful ser
vant) has prepared, you will feel like
"praising God from whom all bless
ings flow." S. II. Christopher, Buena
Vista, Ga., Southern. Cultivator.
Proper Flare to Select Seed.
With cotton, as with corn, the place
to select seed for the next year's plant
ing is in the field, selecting with refer
ence to total yield of seed cotton, per
centage of lint, date of maturity, vigor,
hardness, form and size of bolls.leaves,
stalks, limbs and resistance to disease
and insect ravages. By selecting from
stalks that bear a large number of bolls
per stalk, the tendency will be in the
progeny to give an increased yield over
the average of the patch, which is the
seed obtained when one waits to se
cure his seed at random from the gin.
Another objection to securing seed
from the gin in the usual way is that
it is usually deferred until late in the
fall and thereby, generally, seed from
th last picking are obtained which
are hot the best seed. The best seed,
as a rule, are from the middle pick
ing. In selecting a variety one must not
be guided entirely by total yield of
seed cotton, for often between two va
rieties producing about the same quan
tity per acre, the one with the smaller
yield should be chosen because of its
production of a larger amount of lint
"
and higher selling price of total pro
ducts (lint and seed). Remember that
lint sells for from eight to fifteen times
as much per pound as seed.
Other things being equal, preference
should be given to the larger boiled va
rieties, as they are much easier picked
and hence are popular with pickers.
A few hours spent In the fall in se
lecting and gathering separately the
seed cotton from stalks that have a
large number of bolls per stalk and
other desirable characters, will pay as
well, or better, than any other form of
farm work. The seed cotton thus
gathered should be ginned separately,
and the seed carefully saved in soma
secure place for next year's planting.
Everyone who has been through a cot
ton field in the fall has surely noticed
the great differences in the same field
in the form, shape and number of bolls
on different stalks, as well as in the
characteristics of the stalks them
selves. Now, remembering that the
law of heredity is strong and constant
in plants as in animals, will emphasize
the importance of selecting seed of the
short staple cotton only from those
stalks that bear the largest amount of
lint cotton per stalk. Of course this
latter statement does not apply to long
staple cotton in comparison with the
short staple ones, for a long staple cot
ton may produce less lint per acre than
a short staple one, yet this smaller
number of pounds may sell for more on
the market, on account of its higher
selling price per pound. By C. B.
Williams and B. W. Kilgore, of the
North Carolina Department of Agricul
ture. Cotton Seed Meal For Dairy Cows.
E. R. C, Carterton, Va., writes: I
would like to try cotton seed meal
with my cows, as wheat bran is too
high to buy now, and would like some
information on the subject.
'You will find cotton seed meal aa
excellent food for dairy cows, but yout
should not feed more than three to
five pounds per day, and the former
amount is better than the latter, be
cause cotton seed meal is a very con
centrated foodstuff. Pound for pound
cotton seed meal contains about three
and a quarter times as much protein
as wheat bran. Therefore, when you
feed three pounds of cotton seed meal
you are practically feeding an equiva
lent of ten pounds of wheat bran. It
Is "the failure to realize the very con
centrated nature of cotton seed meal
that has led many persons to suppose
it was not satisfactory food for cows
and other classes of farm live stock.
While wheat bran is an excellent food
for the cow and by reason of its ex
cellent physiological effect and its fav
orable action on the coat and diges
tive organs, generally speaking it is
too high to feed at $23 per ton whea
one can purchase cotton seed meal-at
about the same price. Of course, m
little wheat bran, corn meal or sbip
stuff should be fed with the cotton
seed meal to obtain the best results.
If you have good clover hay and plen
ty of corn fodder, however, cotton seed
meal by itself will prove satisfactory,
Knoxville Tribune.
Water on the Farm.
Some of the older readers of the Pro
gressive Farmer may remember af
time when water for domestic purposes
had to be brought from the spring
which was generally 200 to 300 yards
from the house. Stock had to be car
ried to the nearest branch or creek to
be watered. Both people and stock
suffered for water at times. A well in
the yard saves much labor and insures
an abundant supply of water. If at
farmer has several head of stock to
water it will pay him in one year to
dig a well in his horse lot and get an
old-fashioned trough that will hold fifty
to seventy-five gallons. That will save
much time. If the farmer has two or
three hundred acres, it may be incon
venient to carry plow animals some dis
tance for water during the long hot
days. A well dug in a convenient place
will save much time and give water
to stock when needed. But better than
wells, is a hydraulic ram, if a farmer
has a spring or clear branch near his
house with fall enough to use one. The
ram, piping and tank will cost only;
two or three bales of cotton, and water
will be furnished to house, kitchen and
horse lot. Any farmer who runs four
or five plows could afford that, and af
ter using this water system awhile, he
would never give it up. The well could
be kept in good order for drinking?
"water. f bar les Petty, Spartanburg
County, S. C.
Jlint About Transplanting.
In transplanting a tree or plant the
point aimed at is to get the roots ia
the earth as nearly as possible In the
same condition as that in which they
were before removal. In order to do
this the soil should be made very fine
and well worked in with the hand
among all the roots, which should be
spread out in their natural positions.
i-