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$l.oo a Year, in Advance. "FOR GOD, FOR COUNTRY AND FOR TRUTH." Single Copy 5 CenU,
VOL. XVI. " PLYMOUTH, N, C.TfRIDAY, OCTOBER 20, 1905. NO. 31.
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THE "HOME, SWEET HOME" HOUSE.
Still stand the maples at the gate,
The dark fir-trees beside the door;
The bob-white calls his pensive mate
As sweetly as he did before.
No more the footpath breaks the lawn,
Its course is overgrown and dim;
My father never treads upon
The spot for years so dear to him.
AN EXPERIMENT .
. IN REALISM
t " r)'d!
How the Jimmy
Supplemented the Pen.
BY JULIEN
tO F you have ever tried to
4 wa write u story in which a
2 I burglary forms a vital part
t" J? of the plot, you will agree
vCOW that for this sort of work
theoretically, at least there
should be no time so fitting as the
midnight hour; no place so prolific of
spinal shiverings as a bare, dimly lit
room in a rambling, deserted old
house, where cold draughts, and eerie,
unaccountable creakings conspire to
add just the right flavor of ghostliness
to the situation. It was exactly upon
this theory that I rented such a room
in such a house in a lonely suburb of
San Francisco, and on a certain bitter
cold evening in December prepared to
pass the night there.
My desire was to work up a vivid
account of a burglary in all its fas
cinating details depicting the entrance
of the burglar, the feelings of the un
fortunate Individual whose lot it was
to be the victim, and all that sort of
thing. Naturally, I spared no pains
to make my environment as suggestive
as possible. On the table at which I
intended to sit while recording my im
pressions of the situation, I placed a
loaded magazine pistol. The blinds I
had drawn so closely that from the
outside the room must have seemed
to be in darkness-. My only light was
a dark lantern, which I had bought
that day from a benevolent-looking
Hebrew patriarch, who recommended
the lantern most highly. He evidently
had mistaken my calling.
I did not at once feel In the mood
for writing, And so, as there was a
comfortable fire going in the old-fashioned
grate, I got out my pipe and
smoked until the midnight hour with
all the weird, fantastic images that it
calls up in the imagination was almost
at hand. At such a time and such a
place, sterile, indeed, were the imagina
tion that did not feel itself aroused. I
was soon scratching away quite mer
rily. I had been working thus for
perhaps twenty minutes, and had just
reached the point where the burglar is
due to make his entry on the scene,
when. I fancied that I heard a faint
scraping sound at one of the windows.
It startled me for the moment. Then
I concluded that it was nothing, con
gratulated myself on having brought
my imagination to such a responsive
pitch, and laughed at myself for hav
ing been frightened by a monster of
my own creation.
I resumed my writing. But I had
not completed a dozen lines when
something occurred which was not
down on my program. It was a repe
titionthis time unmistakably real
of the sound which had startled me a
few moments before. In a flash I shot
the slide of my lantern to, picked up
my revolver, and slipped quickly and
noiselessly into a closet. I pulled the
closet door almost shut just leaving
a sufficient opening to enable me to
see what was going on in the room
without myself being seen. I did not
have long to wait. The window at
which I had first heard that faint,
scraping sound was slowly, carefully
shoved upward. The blind was then
cautiously thrust aside, and a masked
face appeared in the opening. For a
moment it glanced warily about the
room. Then, apparently satisfied with
what he saw, the prowler raised the
blind and climbed in softly through
the open window. This was realism
with a vengeance.
I shifted my feet silently, and took
a new grip on my revolver. For a
moment I thought of sallying forth
from my hiding place and giving battle
to my nocturnal visitor. On second con
sideration it seemed better for me to re
main where I was and await develop
ments., Then if the burglar did dis
cover my hiding-place, I would have a
decided advantage.
WhSe these speculations had been
forming in my mind, the burglar had
pulled an ugly-looking pistol from his
pocket, examined it, and put it back.
Then with the slide half closed he be
gan to flash his lantern about the room.
He was in truth a burglar to satisfy
the requirements of the most san
guinary youth who ever reveled in a
jdime novel. He was short and squat
I still behold my mother's face,
Her singing voice drifts down to me;
But vacant now her waiting place,
Where she had always loved to be.
No hand can stay the crumbling -walls,
The fearless weeds and mosses start;
And every piece of Home that falls
Rests heavy on my homesick heart.
lloscoe Brumbaugh, in Lippincott's.
JOSEPHSON.
of figure, shabbily dressed, and pos
sessed of a gait which for pure burglar
iousness far surpassed anything I have
ever seen on the stage. He wore a
soiled muffler about his throat, for
tiie night was bitter cold. Now catch
ing sight of my watch which, in my
excitement, I fca'd left lying on the
table he slid over to the table, picked
up the watch, and after a moment's
scrutiny he thrust it into his pocket
with a grunt of satisfaction. He con
tinued his search of the room, but
could find nothing else worthy of his
attention. Once he seemed to be look
ing rather queerly at the closet, as if
he thought it might bo profitably inves
tigated. I had a rather bad minute
just about this time, and felt greatly
relieved when he went silently from
the room, leaving the door open behind
him. For some minutes afterward I
could hear him walking down the halls
and through the uncarpeted rooms of
the old place. I was just beginning
to hope that he would find his investi
gation so barren of results as to cause
him to leave the house in disgust, when
his footsteps now sounded in the hall
leading to my room, and an instant
later he was with me again. He looked
about him; then walking over to my
table, he picked up my unfinished man
uscript, contemplated it a moment, and
thrust it into his coat pocket. Then
going over to the coal box he scooped
up a generous shovelful of coal and
threw it upon the fire, which had near
ly gone out. After which he calmly
almost luxuriously drew my chair up
to the fire, laid his pistol on the table
within easy reach, and proceeded to
read my manuscript. He was clearly
a most extraordinary burglar.
At first the unexpectedness of his
singular actions dazed me; then the
boldness of them fairly took me off
my feet. I watched my felonious
friend narrowly, noting Avith pardon
able pride that he semeed interested in
my story. Then a sudden wild idea
seized me. Why not enlist the aid of
my degenerate guest in the noble cause
of literature? Indeed, could anything
be more appropriate? Surely, I reas
oned, it does not necessarily follow
that no good can come from a burglar.
And this one seemed unusually intelli
gent. The more I thought of the idea
the more it pleased me, the more it
took hold of me. Still I hesitated.
The thing was undeniably dangerous.
To be sure, I had obtained my knowl
edge of guns on a cattle ranch, and
felt that I could shoot about as fast
and as straight as nine burglars out of
ten. But what if this burglar hap
pened to be the tenth? I had just
about come to the conclusion that I
had better lie low until my knight of
the dark lantern had departed, when
something occurred that suddenly
changed my plans. As the burglar
finished the manuscript, he yawned
and laid it back on the table with the
muttered remark: "Nobody but a
blamed idiot would act like that
burglar!"
Those were unfortunate words for
him. For no sooner had he delivered
himself of this caustic and unmerited
aspersion on my powers of character
ization than I sallied forth with blood
in my usually tranquil eye. He
reached as if for his pistol. "Cut it out
quick!" I snapped, with as much in
cisiveness and determination as a mild
and peaceable author could reasonably
be expected to muster. Then I picked
up his gun and placed it in my pocket
after which I addressed myself again
to my burglar. "Now, my good friend,"
I said, pleasantly, "seeing that you
have expressed dissatisfaction at my
conception of your calling, I shall be
indeed grateful to you if you will give
me some idea of what a true burglar is
like. You will find my fountain pen an
exceptionally smooth writer."
The burglar regarded me for a mo
ment with puzzled face. "I'm not a
burglar any more than you are!" he
then said, with a short, snappy laugh.
His statement almost made me drop
my pistol. But I never took my eyes
off him. Then a sudden idea occurred
to me. "Take off your mask!" I
commanded.
Off came the black cloth- Oae look
at that thin, scarred face, with its
crooked mouth and restless, shifty blue
eyes, convinced me that if ever a
burglar lived, here was a choice speci
men. But I determined to humor him.
"That may be," I said. "At any rate,
will you have the kindness to place on
paper and perhaps hand down to a
grateful generation of authors a true
description of the most exciting bur
glary you have ever committed?"
He looked at me in apparent aston
ishment. "Why," he replied, smiling
broadly, "I'm a writer myself. I just
fixed up in these togs for a bluff. I'm
out for the same thing you are. I
thought this old place was deserted.
That's why I came here. I'm an Am
herst man," he said, with a tinge of
pride that was either real or else ex
ceedingly well done. "Class of ninety
four." But the farce had proceeded far
enough.
"Will you kindly explain to me in
what way you expect your literary
experience to be enriched by purloin
ing my watch?" I asked, politely, wish
ing to bring matters to a head.
For reply the burglar sprang at me.
But I had seen his sharp eyes meas
uring the distance between himself and
my pistol-hand, and I was prepared.
Springing back quickly, I avoided
his grasp, and dealt him a chopping
blow on the head with my heavy pistol.
He went down like a log.
I was sincerely sorry that the neces
sity for violence should have arisen
and up to a certain point in our inter
view I had even hoped that I was
about to secure some bits of realism
that would be real contributions to
the common literary fund. But as mat
ters now stood, there seemed but one
thing to do. So I bound the burglar
hand and foot with some rather feeble
looking rope that I found in the closet
where I had been hiding. Then going
to the window, I blew shrilly upon the
police whistle with which, in my stren
uous endeavor to attain the realistic
atmosphere, I had previously equipped
myself. Before many minutes a couple
of blue-coats were on the scene and a
little later the patrol wagon was clat
tering over the pavement with my
burglar inside. At that moment he
probably did not know just what was
going on. No doubt, however, the true
situation occurred to him later.
And now for the sequel which con
cerns itself with the fate of the manu
script and of the burglar. The fate
of the manuscript, like that of the
burglar, was cruel. After many trips
across the continent, it was finally ac
corded an entire pigeon-hole in my
desk, where it will probably rest to the
end of my days. And the question of
why an unavailable manuscript should
be preserved and given an entire
pigeon-hole brings me to the second
part of my sequel. Shortly after the
arrest of the burglar he was identified
as one Nicholas Ware, a man wanted
by the police in half a dozen cities.
The aggregate reward offered for his
arrest amounted to some two thousand
dollars, and as the chief of police wats
a man of small experience in such mat
ters, we divided the money.
All of which, I humbly submit,
merely goes to show that the pen Is
mightier than the jimmy. The Argonaut.
An Irvlnjr Story.
Sir Henry Irving tells that at one
time visiting Shakespeare's birthplace
he had a slight experience with a rus
tic of the vicinity. Being in a quizzi
cal frame of mind. Sir Henry addressed
a few questions to the fellow, and in
reply obtained some illuminating in
formation, according to the Buffalo
Commercial.
"That's Shakespeare's house over
there, I believe," Sir Henry innocently
remarked.
"Ees."
"Have yon ever been there ?':
"Noa."
"I believe Mr. Shakespeare is jlcad
now. Can you tell me how long?''
"Dunno."
"Let's see, he wrote, did he not?"
"Oh, yes, he did summat."
"What was it ho wrote?"
"Well, I think it was the Boible."
Meanlnjj of Storthing,
The storthing, which has deposed
King Oscar from the Norwegian throne,
is, being interpreted, the Great Court,
and should be pronounced to rhyme
with "courting." The second part of
the word is identical with our "thing."
however, as the Scandinavian lan
guages, in common with Anglo-Saxon,
have the same word for "thing" and
"council." In modern English a trace
of the second sense survives in the
word "hustings," which came to moan
the public platform upon which a can
didate appeared at election time,
though originally the "busting" was
the council at which the candidate was
selected, the "house-thing" or house
council.
Expectant Maidens.
It is all very well to blame the girls
of to-day for making themselves cheap,
but the fact remains that they are
cheap, and that the poor things cannot
makes themselves otherwise. For
every eligible man in society there are
at least tive-aud-twenty expectant mai
dens waiting, and the only wonder is
that under the circumstances so many
of these partis are as nice as they are.
Ladies' Field.
SOUTHERN fABM fOTES.
TOPICS OF INTEREST TO THE PLANTER, STOCKMAN AND TRUCK GROWER,
Blight in Cotton.
During the present summer, 100u,
there has been an unusually large
amount of complaint made by cotton
growers about the ravages of the dis
ease commonly called leaf-blight. In
many cases the complainants averred
the crop would be reduced one-half or
more by this disease. The red and
yellow blights of cotton are manifesta
tions of the same disease. The disease
itself is of a physiological nature and
may be best described as starvation.
The immediate cause is the lack of
assimilable plant food, more especially
potash, in the soil. The proximate
cause is often the bad physical condi
tion of the soil, resulting from lack of
humus, shallow plowing or breaking of
land, and over cropping without rota
tion or resting the land.
During the present year cotton grow
ers were advised by newspapers to
reduce the cost of the crop by using
less fertilizer or none. That this inju
dicious advice has been followed to a
considerable extent and that it has re
sulted in the present season's relatively
enormous development of leaf-blight,
the writer is fully convinced.
If There is any one point in the whole
theory of cotton' culture thoroughly es
tablished, that point is, that within
certain limits rarely or never sur
passed by the average grower the
greater the amount of fertilizer used
on the crop, the greater the profit or
the less the pound of seed cotton costs.
Whether or not it is profitable to
grow cotton at all. is another question.
Those who will grow cotton should aim
to grow it at the cheapest price per
pound. This under normal climatic
conditions means that the higher the
yield the less the cost per pound or
bale. The greater the amount of fer
tilizer, the greater the yield.
The writer has advised all who have
sent him blighted cotton leaves to apply
immediately, per acre, from 200 to 500
pounds of kainit and fifty pounds of
nitrate of soda and cultivate the crop
frequently, but shallowly. This fer
tilization will, in most cases, prevent
further extension of the disease, but it
will not remedy the check the plants
have already experienced by lack of
these food stuffs which should have
been added to soil before the seed was
planted.
Cotton growers must hear in mind
the old proverb, "Nothing from noth
ing." They cannot extract any profit
able crop from the average cotton soil,
Avithout generously feeding the crop.
Gerald McCarthy.
Shading; Vegetables.
A few years ago the Connecticut Ex
periment Station and the Department
of Agriculture at Washington conduct
ed experiments on the results of shad
ing groAving robacco plants. Some im
portant results seemed to be achieved.
Last year the Rhode Island Station
undertook to find out whether such
shading would be beneficial in groAving
certain vegetables which are more or
less difficult to raise during the hot
summer months. In addition to the
better growth looked for, it was hoped
that plant diseases and injurious in
sects might be more readily kept in
check. It is, of course, impossible to
gain a definite conclusion from such an
experiment Avith only tAVO seasons to
judge by, especially as the last tAVO
summers Avere rather cool, a condition
which would serve to reduce any differ
ence Avhich there might be between
shaded and unshaded growth. Hoav
ever, there are some results which
have been quite manifest during both
seasons, and which may be of general
Interest.
During both seasons transplanting of
the different vegetables has been more
easily accomplished on the shaded
ground than on the unshaded.
The tent covering broke the force of
rains, and the ground was not packed
so hard under the tent as outside. The
moisture was confined by the covering,
and the soil did not bake so readily in
side as outside.
Lettuce formed leaves faster inside,
and at first looked far superior, but
headed better and showed less ten
dency to run to seed outside.
Cunlife- (?), under the tent, was more
free from insocts. especially the mag
got, the yield av:is greater, and the
product was whiter than that from
unshaded ground.
Celery matured more quickly, and the
weight untrimmed was greater outside
than inside the tent, but the stalks
were longer, and the amount of mar
ketable celery Avas considerably great
er from the shaded ground. The qual
ity also 'seems to be a little better
from the shaded ground.
As already said, these results cannot,
be considered as establishing any defi
nite conclusions. Further study will
be necessary, in order to find cut
whether the results of the last two
seasons can be sot down as typical,
and whether they are of sufficient im
portance to warrant the practical ap
plication of shading In the groAving of
vegetables.
9
Curing; Corna on Horses.
A Tennessee subscriber asks for "a
sure way of curing corns in horses and
mules."
There is no such way; and then there
are different kinds of corns that orig
inate differently and have to be treated
according to their ppecial nature.
Professor Law, in a discussion of the
problem, says: If a recent bruise and
uncomplicated, apply either a bar shoe
or a common one, but rasp doAvn the
bearing surface of the affected heel
to aA'oid pressure, and place the feet in
water to keep the wall moist with wet
swabs and the sole with oil meal or
clay packing.
"When tenderness has subsided,
smear the hoof with ointment and
work carefully. Remove the ' shoe
early enough to prevent pressure on
the heel, and in preparing the foot re
tain the strength of the heel by pre
serving the elastic horn of the sole be
tween wall and bar. Never allow this
to be pared and weakened inless it is
to evacuate matter or sand, or for the
remoA-al of a horny tumor.
"If suppuration has taken place, pave
down the heel until the matter escapes,
remove all horn detached from the
quick, and pare the horn around to a
thin edge, poultice until the surface
is smooth, dry and not at all tender,
then apply a bar shoe, a leather sole,
and a stuffing of turpentine.
"No pressure should be allowed on
this heel until the sole has grown up to
its natural level as a support.
"If old-standing corns are connected
with the death of a portion of the
heel, of the foot bone or ulceration of
the lateral cartilage, these must be
scraped or cut off before improvement
is to be expected. If connected with
side bones, they are liable to be kept
up by frequent pinching of the quick
between the bone and horn, and de
mand careful shoeing to avoid pressure
on the heel. Some cases may bo bene
fited by cutting out the side bone."
These remarks may put the present
correspondent on the track of exactly
what he needs to do. It is a general
statement by an authority on the sub
ject of corns of horses and mules. In
being thus general, we necessarily fol
low the character of the call here
made. Home and Farm.
The Compost Heap.
A Florida subscriber and friend of
Home and Farm wants to know how to
form a compost heap.
Tls sort of heap is made by getting
together, as opportunity offers, all the
decomposable animal or vegetable mat
ter within convenient reach every
thing thus obtainable that can make
manure.
Soil can. in this service, be used, both.
as an ordinary absorbent and to hold
A-aluable gases that otherwise would
escape.
In this view it is in order ever" Dow
and then to turn over and so mix the
material in a heap of this character.
Thus decomposition is helped and a
hicrhlv available and good form of plant
food is produced.
Professor Voor'nees, in his work on
the "First Principles of Agriculture,"
says: "A good compost heap may be
made by placing a layer of manure,
then a layer of the weeds or other like
Avaste products of any kind, then a
layer of lime or ashes, the Avhole well
moistened, and the order repeated in
til all this class of products is used.
"The manure starts fermentation, the
lime aids in the rotting, as well as to
prevent acidity and to keep the heap
alkaline, and the moisture prevents
toi hot fermentation.
"By careful management destructive
fermentation is prevented and the qual
ity of the constituents is greatly im
proved." The expense of making a compost
heap varies greatly, of course. Com
mercial fertilizers can be added with
great advantage; this ought to be done
according to the requirements of the
particular soil and crop.
We like to see a farmer with the
thOUET ht and practice of the compost
heap'constant'.y in mind. A good out
come can hardly fail to come from the
union. It certainly "pays to take care
of and to save all such manurlal prod
ucts, and to see to it that what other
Aviso would be wastes are reduced."
Cuttings In Sand.
To make cuttings root quickly, G!l a
saucer full of sand, into which slips
of any kind of plants may be set for
rooting. Enough Avater must hp kept
constantly in the saucer to give the
sand the consistency of mud, and it
must then be given a light and warm
place Southern Fruit Grower.
l'lantlns: reach Tits.
In many cases it will be found profit
able to save the pits of the best
peaches, taking care not to, -Ioav them
to become too dry, and then plant then:
ebout tAvo inches deep rr.riy this fall.
Many of them will groAV trees that
will commence to bear when three
years old,
EFFECT OF WEALTH ON LEARNING.
A brilliant and learned prof.
Became of great wealth the posa.
Said the voters in town,
"Give a job to Prof. Brown;"
So now he s become an ass.
Puck.
'AN IMPORTANT STEP.
Ella "I suppose May is busy prepar
ing for her wedding."
Emily "Oh, yes. She has just se
lected her advertising agent."
- . " IMPRUDENT.
Ethel "Is she very extravagant?",
Helen "Yes, indeed. She spends so
much money that she sometimes has
little or nothing left for her complexion."
A GOOD THING.
Mrs. Hicks "John, I'm sure there's a li?
burglar down in the dining room."
Mr. Hicks (sleepily) "Good! If we
keep quiet maybe he'll take away that
chafing-dish of yours." Philadelphia
Press.
A MEAN ADVANTAGE.
Mrs. Jones (reading) "A man in,
Ohio sells his wife to a blind peddler
for ten cents. . Isn't that awful?"
Mr. Jones "It certainly is anybody
.who will stick a blind man is no good."
Puck.
NO REASON FOR PRIDE.
Fuddy "Don't you think Frost rath
er opinionated?"
Duddy "I don't see why he should
be. He is one of the chief men in the
Weather Bureau, you know." Bostou
Transcript ,
TIIE TALE OF A DOG.
.CTo be continued.)
Philadelphia Record.
PREFERS A HEAVY TOMBSTONE.
Mrs. Hanks "What sort of tomb
stone shall we get for dear mother
something elaborate or a plain one?"
Mr. Hanks "Well, I think some
thing good and heavy will be best."
Cleveland Leader.
nE WAS SATISFIED.'
Sister "What! You engaged to
Miss Prettyun? Why, she has no fam
ily tree."
Brother "Oh, I guess she has and
judging from her appearance it must
be a peach!" Columbus Dispatch.
IN OTHER WORDS.
"Those who dance," remarked, the
man with the quotation habit, "must
pay the fiddler!"
"Or, in other words," said the grass
widoAver, Avith a sigh, "those Avho wed
must pay alimony." Chicago News.
SOMETHING SUBSTANTIAL.
She "Do you go to the opera much?"
He "Never."
"But I understand your wife to say
you AA-ere passionately fond of Italian,
productions?"
"So am I. I love macaroni." Chi
cago Journal.
MIGHT HAVE WON MORE.
"And you promised me you would
never speculate again."
"I know it, but it was such a temp
tation. I bought steel at sixty and
sold at sixty-eight." i
"Oh, Algernon, how could you; it
went to seventy-three." Brooklyn Life
TIIE INEVITABLE FRONT.
"I wonder why it is that Ave are al
ways short of money?"
"That's easy, my dear. Because,,
whenever we got prosperous in one
home, you always insist on our moving;
to a more expensive one and living be
yond our means."
"But hoAv can we be happy otherwise?"-!.
TIIE KINDEST THING.
Ranter "I. thought this paper' was
friendly to me?"
Editor "So it is. What's the matter
EOAV?"
Ranter "I made a speech at the ban
quet last night and you don't print a
line of it."
Editor "Well? What further proofi
fiid you Avant of our friendship?"
Philadelphia-Press, - " - --