J
tl.OOa Year, In Advance. " FOR OOD, FOR COUNTRY AND FOR TRUTH." Slotl. Copy j i
VOL. XVII. PLYMOUTH, N, C FRIDAY,, JULY 13, 1906 NoTj
f
X
x3
THE SUNSET GUN.
palnst trie ?1ty the nag is tinnr
Ky winds ;hnt catch the buKl song.
And bear It inward, giving tongue
To echoes faintly sweet and long.
The white clouds hi the western sky
I trio now wit h red rays of the siin,
-And throngh the forest floats a sigh
'that whispers that the day Is done.
1'h Fun dins lower, lower then
The clouds b'aze out l:i richer red
"Tim I. Hernia reflected hack again
From the brave banner overhead.
The shifting colors, pink and gold.
And red, like fabrics In the loom.
t'hanfo Biiblly. stripe and strenm and fold
Ami now there comes a mellow boom.:
It Is the sunset gun. Now slow
The flag glides downward to be furled,
And mist and cloud and fair sky show
Their sunset glory In fhis world.
A roll of drums, a murmured tune
The fagstaff, tapering and tall
Then to the vanished afternoon
There lifts a melting bugle call.
The shadows of night's army come
In serried ranks adown the hill
With neither trumpet, life nor drum
And all Is strangely hushed and still.
Up from the east the first stars rise.
Out from the west in red and white
The sun sends bars that stripe the skies
The old Aug bends above the night. .
W. IJ. Nesblt, In Chicago Tribune.
The Second Time.
A ROMANTIC
SHORT STORY.
The north wind was howling round
the solid walls of Cranford Lacy, but
within the cozy rooms of the old
Tudor masion all was warmth and
brightness. The firelight from the
blazing logs danced over the oak
panels of the lofty dining room; the
daintily shaded lamps shed a rosy
glow over the long table, which, with
its snowy damask, glittering plate,
and decorations of ferns and monster
chrysanthemums,, seemed to smile a
welcome to the merry rapty who were
gathering round it.
Only a few old friends tonight,
Dick," observed Mrs. Cranford to her
cousin, Sir Richard Ruston. "It is
so provoking that your godson Jack
is not here yet; but I do hope he may
be with us before the Southport Hunt
week. He is always the life of our
party!" she added.
. It appeared to Sir Richard that the
members of the family and guests al
ready assembled were little in need
of mere enlivening influence, for, led
and encouraged by the master of the
house, they were positively overflow
ing with high spirits.
lie confided this impression to his
hostess, who smiled indulgently, say
ing, ".yes, they are a merry set; and
some of them come here every year.
I think you know them all well, ex
cept old Mrs. Doyle and Capt. Barker."
"Who is that fair girl in the white
frock?"
"Oh, . that is only Joyce, Udell.
Surely you remember the vicar's twin
. . ' - - ' r'-
'No, Carry; I can't say I do. Prob
ably 'Miss Lidell ..was in the nursery
when I was here last. Remember it
is four years since I was in England."
"Yes'four long years since we have
seen you. And how delighted we were
to hear you were coming at last!"
said Mrs. Cranford, looking very kind
ly at the big dark-faced man beside
her.
"And uncommonly nice it is to be
with you all again," answered Sir
Richard, while his eyes wandered
rather absently from her good-natured
plump countenance to the pretty girl
who was sitting near the opposite end
of the table.
Certainly,Joyce Lidell's beauty' was
of rather an uncommon type. Her
features were so delicately chiseled
and the black arched brows above
her forget-me-not blue eyes were such
a striking contrast to her pale golden
hair. She was very tall and graceful
in every movement.
Mrs. Cranford, who was not unob
servant, smiled and said, in a lower
and more confidential voice, "I was
telling you about Joyce. She is only
nineteen. And I am going to take her
to the Hunt ball, as she has never
been to. anything! But after that she
will go back to college, for she hopes
eventually to earn her own living as
a high school teacher."
"She is much too pretty for a blue
stocking!" "Well, perhaps her face will be her
fortune. The vicar is dreadfully poor,
and there are so many children. I
can't imagine how the girls manage to
dress as well as they do," remarked
the wealthy chatelaine of Cranford
Lacy.
iSir Richard .Ruston, at the age of
forty-one, was a-1' pTeftsaht-mannered
if rather staid bachoiSr. Owing to the
leath of an elder brother, he had late
ly succeeded to a baronetcy and a
large fortune, after spending a con
siderable portion of his life working
hard as a civil engineer in Ceylon.
Twenty years before the elate when
this story opens our hero had been
most cruelly jilted by a woman a few
years older than himself. Thenceforth
he -had hardened his heart against the
iajr sex generally, and had firmly de
termined that the joys and troubles
of a benedict should never be his por
tion. But twenty years is a big slice
out of the allotted three score and ten;
and perhaps (though he was hardly
aware of it) the old wound had heal
ed long before that winter's evening
when his eyes strayed so often in the
direction of young Joyce Lidell.
Friendship may ripen very quickly
In the country if circumstances throw
two people together who are mutually
satisfied Avith the arrangement. This
fact Sir Richard Ruston and Joyce
discovered when the former had been
but a few days a guest at Cranford
Lacy. A hard frost, holding the earth
in an iron grip, stopped the hunting.
while it provided another pastime in
the shape of skating over a very fair
sized lake. Thither from early morn
till twilight flocked all the young and
active neighbors; and Joyce from the
vicarage and the Cranford Lacy party
were ever among the merry crowd.
Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Cranford cared
greatly for the delights of the ice, and,
rather inclined to regard their digni
fied cousin, Sir Richard, in the light
of "Mrs. Qrundy," gladly sent off the
young people under his care and chap
eronage. He took great care of ,the
vicar's daughter, who was but a no
vice in the art of skating. He assisted
her shuffling, sliding efforts, and
pushed her in a chair when she was
tired, receiving in return the most
grateful of glances and smiles. She
never talked much, but she proved a
very sympathetic listener, and the
usually reticent bachelor found him
self developing brilliant and hitherto
undreamed-of powers in the conver
sational line.
But one cold gray morning the
skating party was suddenly broken
up by au unexpected change in the.
weather. The wind lifted its .voice
with an angry moan, and great flakes
of snow came falling helterskelter,
thick and fast, upon -the surface of the
ice. .
"We are likely to have a bad storm,
so we had better all go home at once,"
Sir Richard said to Joyce, and, with
an air of calm .-authority, he led her
to the bank, removed her skates and
suggested that she should wrap her
cloak around her and wait until he
collected the remainder of his flock in
order that he might escort her to the
vicarage on the way to Cranford Lacy.
She was obedient enough; but his
cousins and their kindred spirits were
very much more difficult to control;
and it was only when they encounter
ed the full fury of the gale on the
homeward road which led across an
exposed moor, that they were con
vinced that Sir Richard was right.
Joyce, struggling with a cloak which
showed a decided inclination to whirl
round her head, was not sorry to hear
a kind voice behind her saying, "Take
my arm, Miss Lidell this weather is
too rough t for slender folk like you";
or to be guided through the snow un
til she had nearly reached "her father's
gate.
"How should I have got home with
out you! You are always so kind!"
said the girl, gently, looking up at
her companion with the most tender
and grateful of blue eyes.
"Kind to you! I think It is quite
the other way. You have been very
good to me. Wrhy, you did not even
call me an old fuss when I told you
you had better come home! Now,
Miss Clarke called me something very
like it," said Sir Richard, laughing.
"Of course, I should not be so rude
or so stupid! You are not old, and
you are not a fuss!" was the rather
vehement reply.
"Compared to you I am decidedly
elderly!" said the other, looking well
pleased, nevertheless. "Well, of
course you can call yourself what you
like, but you are much nicer to talk
to than that stupid Capt. Barker, or
any of those boys who are staying at
Cranford Lacy!" answered Joyce,
with the engaging candor of extreme
youth.
Sir Richard stopped abruptly on the
road and caught the girl's hand in
his. "Do you really mean that,
Joyce?" he asked, very gravely.
"Of course I do! Why not?" she
replied. Then, catching an expression
in his dark eyes which filled her soul
with sudden shyness, she drew her
hand away, saying, saying, "I must
go now. Father will see me from his
study window and wonder why I
don't come in!"
"Wait one moment. When shall I
see you again?"
"If the storm is not too bad I am
coming to tea at Cranford Lacy this
afternoon, and Janie is coming',' too.
She Is at home now! You have not
seen her?"
But Sir Richard was not interested
in Janie, or in any other member of
the vicar's family but the one he was
now trying to detain by the gate.
"And if the storm keeps you away
this afternoon, when shall I see you?"
he asked.
"Not tomorrow, for I am going to
Barminster for two days to stay with
my aunt. But I shall be back for the
Hunt ball, You are coming to that,
too? It Is my 'coming out ball, you
know!"
"Certainly I am going to it. And
you must give me the first waltz!"
exclaimed Sir Richard with all the
ardor of five-and-twenty, as Joyce,
with a merry laugh, disappeared
through the paternal doorway.
When the skating party reached
Cranford Lacy they found that Jack,
the eldest son and the pride of the
family, had at last come home. A
general favorite, lively and amusing
in his light-hearted, irresponsible
fashion, his timely appearance more
than compensated for the disappoint
ment caused by the storm; and under
his leadership the majority of the
guests found no lack of amusement for
the afternoon in the billiard room.
But Sir Richard, shivering at the in
clemency of the weather, sought the
solitude of the library, where, before
a cheeful wood fire, he Indulged in
quiet meditation while smoking a big
cigar. And the subject of his thoughs
was none other than Joyce Lidell, for,
in spite of his forty-one years and
calm judgment, he had actually fallen
desperately in love with a little girl
of nineteen.
"I wonder if it would be possible for
her to care for me," he muttered
aloud. And the cigar being finished,
he tossed the stump into' the fire, and,
leaving his chair stood before a large
mirror gazing long and critically at
his own reflection. "No, a young girl
could never care for such an ugly
looking fellow," he thought, sadly;
then again he told himself that Joyce
was different from other girls, and
that she really liked him for his own
sake. But he tried to put away that
last flattering thought, and contrasted
himself with Jack Cranford who had
all the best of his life still before
him. "What a lucky " lad!" Careless,
untidy chap, tool" Jtnused his cousin
as he glanced at the big writing ta
ble where his godson had left a writ
ing case open and papers scattered in
all directions after dashing off a hasty
note for the post.
One letter was lying spread open
on the floor. Sir Richard, orderly soul
that he was, decided to pick; it up.
Jack's correspondent wrote a ' large
clear hand; every letter was distinct.
It was impossible not to see a few
words as he placed it on the blotting
pad. Ah! how those lines stabbed
him, and what a weight fell suddenly
upon his heart: "Get your godfather
to pay this bridge debt. I feel sure
he- is good-natured. But you must
flatter him well, and take him the
right way." More followed, but Sir
Richard had seen quite enough, for,
his eye had not failed to observe
the bold signature, scrawled across the
paper, "J. Lidell."
Sir Richard seldom indulged in the
luxury of afternoon tea, so his absence
from that cheery meal was hardly
noticed. But a couple of hours later
Mrs. Cranford, reading quietly in her
own boudoir, was interrupted by the
entrance of her husband and cousin,
the former evidently annoyed and ex
cited. "Here, Carry! Dick has to go to
town on business. He heard by the
evening post. He has only ten min
utes to get to the station, and he
ought to have twenty!" And the as
tonished lady found her hand warmly
shaken in farewell long before her
somewhat slowly working brain had
time to grasp the situation.
a a
A thick fog in town. Sir Richard
Ruston was horribly bored. Already
he was tired of his club, and tired of
the friends he met there. He felt out
of touch with English life; he was
weary of the coming election; he had
no desire to talk politics, which seem
ed to be the one subject his acquaint
ance cared for at present.
What a fool he had been to run
away because he had been mistaken
in the character of a little unformed
schoolgirl! Why had he ever taken
any notice of her? Why had he been
caught a second time by a pretty face,
which no doubt was the mask of a
false soul? And that very evening he
was to have met her at the Southport
Ball! He had actually asked her for
the first waltz. Well, he supposed she
would now give that dance to Jack.
And yet he could not stifle his de
sire to see Joyce at that ball. He
longed to let her know in some way
that he was well aware lhat she had
tried to fool him; That at least would
give, him some satisfaction; and per
haps eventually he would play the
part of the benevolent relative,- and
pay Jack's gambling debt. Yes, he
would run down to Southport for the
ball that night, and claim his dance
with Joyce. Apres ? Well, at least
he would have the consolation of a
few days hunting from Cranford Lacy.
The Hunt ball promised to be a huge
success, as vehicles of all decriptions,
from the ancient station fly to the
smartest electric brougham, deposited
party after party of young men and
maidens, chaperons, local magnates
and officers from the barracks at the
brilliantly illuminated Town Hall.
W'hile the first bars of the "Rosen
aus dem Suden" waltz were floating
off the fiddles, Sir Richard Ruston,
tall, dignified and outwardly noncha
lant, strolled slowly into the ball
room. Aready Jack Cranford was
dancing, and Joyce was his partner
Joyce, looking very lovely, but more
animated, more sparkling and coquet
tish than she had ever , appeared be
fore. But who was this standing be
side Mrs. Cranford, who lifted a
blushing face as he drew near, and
such gladly welcoming eyes?
"I kept your dance for you. I
knew you would come!" she whis
pered. "Joyce! Is it you, or have you a
double? I saw you dancing with Jack!
he exclaimed, in utter yet happy be
wilderment, unheeding th exclama
tions of satisfied astonishment which
his appearance had called forth.
"That is my twin sister, Janie, and
of course, you have not heard the
news. She and Jack are engaged!"
Modern Society.
AN EARTHQUAKE CITY.
I SAN FRANCISCO OB ED TO SHOCKS
BUT EXPECTED THIS DISASTER.
WHEN SCIENTISTS ERRED, t
Dr. Lardner Maintained Steamers
Could Not Carry Enough Coal.
It occasionally happens that the
predictions and theories of mathema
ticians and scientists are woefully up
set and contradicted by actual re
sults. Every one is familiar with the
story of the editor who, in the days
of Stephenson's early experiments in
railroading, predicted that a speed
of more than 12 miles an hour by rail
would be impracticable if for no oth
er reason than that the human sys
tem would not withstand traveling at
a higher rate of speed.
In the early days of steam naviga
tion also, Dr. Lardner delivered an ad
dress before a scentific body, in
which he maintained that transatlan.
tic steam navigation was impracti
cable, mainly because of the Inability
to provide room aboard ship for the
coal that would be necessary for the
voyage. The meeting had scarcely
adjourned before the news arrived
that a ship has just completed a
transatlantic trip under steam.
In another case a number of indi
viduals seriously promulgated their
belief that it would never be possible
to successfully lay a cable across the
Atlantic, because, as they said, the
density of the water below a certain
depth would be so great that the ca
ble would not sink to the bed of the
ocean. Regardless, however, of these
predictions, the cable promptly sank
to the bottom of the sea. At that
time also, it may be noted, the great
est ocean, depths in which cables
4" were laid was only about 10,404 feet.
witnm ure past year a caoie has been
successfully laid by a German com
pany in the Pacific ocean in the vicin
ity of the Luikin islands at dcrth of
2G,24G feet.
In still another instance the author
of a well known text book on telegra
phy, published in the sixties of the
hist century, expressed the opinion
that while the idea of duplex telegra
phy, or the sending of two messages
at once over one wire, was very beau
tiful in its way, it must be looked up
on as little more than a feat of intel
lectual gymnastics, and quite useless
from a practical point of view. With
in less than a decade after the i
cation of this opinion not only was
the duplex telegraph in practical op
eration, but quadrupled telegraphy or
the sending of four messages at once
over one wire, was also an accom
plished fact.
Notwithstanding that instances of
this kind could be multiplied, there
are still to be found people ready to
write themselves down to posterity
as erring prophets and so it will
doubtless be to the end of the chap
ter. Fortunately, however, for the
sake of progress, there are, on the
other hand, always optimists enough
to offset the discouraging views of
the pessimists. Cassier's Magazine.
An Orchid Romance.
Orchid lovers have for many years
been watching for the rediscovery of
Fairie's lady's slipper orchid. They
wanted it, not merely because it had
been utterly Jost to cultivation, but
because it was the parent of many of
the most beautiful hybrids we have.
That Fairie's orchid has eventually
been rediscovered and reintroduced is
the direct result of the British gov
ernment's mission to Tibet.
They were rushed to the auction,
rooms, and so keen was the excitement
in the orchid world that plants of two
or three growths sold at prices rang
ing from $300 to $500. The secret
of another shipment being on the seas
had been well kept, but it arrived in
due time and today the lady's slipper,
lost fcr half a century, can be pur-'
chased in good specimens for $25. Al
ready American collectors are in pos
session of the rarity, and it has even
flowered in the collection of Mr.
Brown, at St. Louis, Mo. The Garden
Magazine.
Nothing to Fear.
"Were you frightened when you
arose to make your first speech?"
"Wrhat should frighten me?"
"The audience."
"The audience left as soon as my
name was announced." Cleveland
Plain Dealer.
For thirty-five years the Govern
ment of Great Britain has owned and
operated the telegraphs.
Only Recently Have They Had Cour
age to Put Up Skyscrapers Part of
City Which Suffered Is On The Flats
and Made Lands A Stupid Water
System.
Although San Francisco has always
been known as an "earthquake town,"
frequency of shocks rather than vio
lence has been characteristic of its
seismic history.
There was a violent shock in 1S56,
when the city was only a mining town
of small frame buildings. Several
shanties were overthrown and a few
persons killed by falling walls and
chimneys. Next in violence was the
shock of 1872, which cracked the walls
of some of the public buildings and
caused a panic. There was no great
loss of life. In April, 1898, just before
midnight there was a lively shakeup
which caused the tall buildings to
shake like the snapping of a whip
and drove the tourists out of the ho
tels into the streets in their night
clothes. Three or four old houses fell,
and the Benicia navy yard, which is
on made ground across the bay, was
damaged to the extent of about $100,
000.. .These were the heaviest shocks. On
the other hand, light shocks have been
frequent. Probably the sensible
quakes have averaged three or four
a year. These are usually tremblings
lasting from ten seconds to a minute
and just heavy enough to wake light
sleepers or to shake dishes about on
the shelves. Tourists and newcomers
are generally alarmed by these phen
omena, but old Californians have
learned to take them philosophically.
To one who is not afraid of them, the
sensation on one of these little
tremblers is rather pleasant than
otherwise.
Yet the fear of a great earthquake
disaster has always been over San
Francisco. It has accounted in great
degree, for the peculiar architecture
of the place. It was only in 1890 that
any one ventured to build a high
structure, and the inhabitants, have
been shy of brick and stone.. The
houses and the business blocks, to
some extent are of wood mainly
California redwood. Brick residences
are not common.
With the steady trade winds which
prevail, there at all seasons of the
year the city should have been wiped
out by a great conflagration long ago,
and would have been but for the pe
culiar quality of California redwood,
which smoulders in a fire and re
fuses to break into a bright and ener
getic blaze. Given a good water sup
ply the fires are such that they are
easily handled by the fire department.
In fact, there has never been before
this what might be called a general
conflagration in San Francisco.
To understand this disaster it is
necessary to consider the peculiar
physical characteristics of the land
upon which San Francisco is built.
The original site was a bunch of high
and abrupt hills ending in a penin
sula, whose furthest reach forms one
side of the Golden Gate, the entrance
to San Francisco Bay. The greater
part of the city proper is on the inner
side of the peninsula, facing on the
bay and not on the Pacific ocean. The
city has been growing out toward the
ocean, however; and Golden Gate
Park, which starts as a broad ribbon
of land at about the centre of the
town, has reached an ocean frontage.
The city now has a population of
more than 400,000.
The four or five high hills were ap
propriated early in the life of the city
as a residence district; and with the
exception of Telegraph Hill, at one
corner of the city, they hold the homes
of the wealth and well-to-do. The
business district was set on the low
lands in the clefts between the hills,
and, of course, as close to the wharf
room on the bay as possible.
Such land being valuable, this dis
trict has been gradually filled in and
extended for fifty years. "When the
water came up to Montgomery street"
is a San Francisco! phrase describing
the early days. Now there are. ten
blocks, of business streets between
Montgomery street and ' the water
front. Hero lies the warehouse and
wholesale district.
The heart of San Fransico is "News
paper Corners," only a block inland
from Montgomery street, ahd therefore'
verging on the old waterfront and the
made lands.. Here, on four corners,
stood the Chronicle building, eleven
stories, and the first high building in
San Francisco; the Call building,
twenty stories high, and the tallest
structure in the city; the Examiner
building, eight stories, and the new
Mutual Bank building, twelve stories.
Ju?t on the edge of the made land
stood the Palace Hotel, not a high
building, but covering a block of
ground and one of the largest struc
tures in the city. Across from it was
the Crocker building, ten stories, and
the smaller llobart building, in which
the Postal Telegraph Company was
housed. At the eeutro of the square
formed by tho nev;.;p:v.-.cr buildings
stood the fountain preserved by UiCJ
actress Lctta to the city.
As ha3 been said, the fea
might happen in an earthqu
bined with the scarcity o
quarries and brickyards, k
Francfsco people from bulb
a show of permanence. Th
break the tradition was
Young, who put up the elf
Chronicle building in 1890. i
in the early days of skyscr,
struction, and the framewo!
Chronicle building was not
but of wrought iron, while
was of brick.
The building stood, weathe
small earthquakes and had
happened to It. San Francis,
heart and began to experinJ
tall buildings. In 1894
Spreckles put up the Call
noted as one of the few real
ful skyscrapers in the count
stood out of the city like a
viewed from the hills and
most conspicuous feature on
scape of San Francisco. The
building, the Emporium buil
Wells Fargo building, the n
win building and half a doze
followed.
The business district lies
Market street or north of it.
street, even after it gets past
of made land, is in depress
most all of the district soutl
ket street is on low lands,
tide fiats. Here are the dwe
the poor, corresponding to i
ment district of New York, ex
the poor of San Francisco ar
not in tall tenement building
frame houses often of' flimsy
tion.
Experience with earthqual
shown that low lands, and e
made lands, suffer the moi
seems to have been the cast
earthquake. It ripped thing
the wholesale district of mat
devastated all Market str
tumbled about the tenement
Just across the Bay from S
Cisco, and on the eastern e
the svjurbs of Oakland, Alar.
Berkeley. Oakland, a city
thing more than 70,000 inb
is to San Francisco what
is to New York, except thai
further away about six n
ferry. Here are all the tern
the' direct overland lines, antij
Jrengers, except those comim
southern routes, take ferry at
for San' 'Francisco. Further af
bay shore, and adjacent to O;
Alameda, a residence town
lowland. Hitherto Alameda
fered from the slight earthq
that region more than San F
On the other side of Oakla
ward of it on the overland r
the college town of Berkeley,
of the University of Califori
Although the water supply
Francisco was ample, and wa
out for fire purposes by a s
salt water mains, the systd
made to be the prey of eart
The greater part of the suppf
from the Spring Valley lake
distance south of the city on
insula. The chief main ran a
backbone of the peninsula f
distance, but upon approach
city it took an abrupt turn to
and ran along the made lan
it reached the business districl
that point it was pumped t
voirs on the crests of the ci
where it got the fall to sui
residence district. That dist
of the made lands, which, of
broke the water mains, cut off
nearly the whole supply of t
That possibility had not be
seen in planning the San F
water .mains.
i ne ban Francisco new
never mentioned the possibili
disastrous earthquake, but the
was always in the public m
common subject of discussion
Francisco was the effect of a
upon the new tall buildings.
all of the architects declared tl
stood a vastly better chance tl
structures of brick and stone
nary frame buildings. The IrJ
ing steel structures, they d
would sway and give; the wo
could be expected would be t'J
bardment of the streets cav
their shaking off their shells
Dancing Men.
Men who can dance, accor
the London Observer, are apt
viewed with suspicion by. thi
sex; and at public schools the
of so many of our- insular foil
prejudices a dancing boy is al
much "rotted" as a boy
French with a Parisian act
have met many a man who ca
17 feet, dance a "scufQe" or
walk, run a three mile race, pi
20-pound dumb-bells, vault, wa
and swim, but who cannot f
waltz, and doesn t want to.
The Englishman regards da:
effeminate and "footing" and
accordingly; and the girls h
at dances have to dance in hiw
A Dire Prophecy.
The eagle I have one great
tase over you. I don't need j
dodging ruftomobiles all th? i
The cow No; tut just v;
they get these airships going."
tish American. 1 ;