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VOL. X.
BEWITCHED.
While stretched upon the sands one day
Beside a lake, whose waters shone
As bright as any mirror on
My lady’s chiffonier, in play
I tossed therein a stone. It made
A rippling circle, one that grew
Sards wider as the seconds flew.
Until it kissed the shore. A maid
Who sat near by gave me a glance,
Awakening into life a wave,
.Whose impulse J could not deter,
And so love conquered. Sweet romance,
Beginning then made me thy slave,
Yea. rather Love’s idolator.
—James T. Sullivan, in Boston Globe.
B
4 Great-Grandmother's Mantle, 4
f 4
p By Annie Hamilton PonDOll. i ‘
9
®
In spite of herself, Nancy had to
laugh at the frowning face in her lit
tie looking glass,.
-There goes the scowl!” she cried.
“Well, you do look a deal better, ma
’am. The idea of scowling because
it’s a pleasant morning, when it’s been
a rainy one every blessed other clay
for ’most a week! 1 '.now what the
trouble is. It’s that washing, Nancy
Crowe! What would your great
grandmother say?”
There was an authentic and valued
entry in tiio Crowe family records to
the effect that Great Grandmother
Nancy was won’t to rise extremely
early on wash-days and get her
washing for a household of fourteen
out on the lino before breakfast. It
was even recorded that she had ac¬
complished this extraordinary feat at
seventy years of age.* Her achieve¬
ment was the boast of the Crowe fam¬
ily, and Nancy had heard it over and
over again.
“You’ve got turoe in your family and
You're SfflLea-tetia’." '^nc Nancy scolded
-pitV of
such a great-grandchild as that!”
Nancy was housekeeper for her
father and Thomas while her mother
was away nursing a sick sister. It
was great fun, too—all , - n v but ,„ f the wash
mgs. How Nancy disliked those!
Down-stairs there was breakfast to
get and clear away, the chickens to
feed and Thomas to “shine-up” for
school, it was long after nine o’clock
before the young housekeeper got to
the washing.
While the water was heating she
ran across the yard to se how little
Mrs. Gilley’s baby was.
, a 1° jvAi-iiv -rtr
S i N. -I’m nearly aid diseoar
mo.de to-day, I don’t
w L v-.„ ‘ a , rinp S . 1n ,i “ n for. clean
.
1 '
“I do!” Nancy cried, cheerily. “I’m
just going to take his little clothes
home With me and wash ’em with my
things. They’re so little I shall hard¬
ly know they’re there!”
She held out her hands for the tiny
wailing one. “You poor, tired little
woman, you! Give me that baby while
you go and get his things picked up.”
A few minutes later Nancy went
home with a little soft roil under her
arm. She was humming a tune as she
wcr _t.
“i ll just put some more water on to
heat and get these little bits a-soak
ing ” she thought. “I’m so thankful
I went over there—that poor little
thing looks all tired out! She’s so
yuuue,.
Nancy added another gallon of water
to the sizzling, foamy contents of the
boiler on the stove. Then, singing at
es top of her clear voice as she work
ed, she bustled about among her tubs.
The clock struck eleven.
“Eleven o'clock! Of all things! Well,
l’m glad I haven’t got to stop and get
dinner for anybody!” she cried. “It
was lucky for daddy he took to-day to
go to town on! And Tom would carry
his dinner to school—‘so ’f it did rain.’
I must run out and put up my lines—
there’s Mr. Sophia putting out his now.
Oh, my goodness, I hope Mrs. Sophia
doesn't see where he’s putting ’em!”
Nancy gazed across the road at the
pottering figure in the bed-ticking
apron. The glimpse of dun-colored
trousers below the apron hem betrayed
the sex of the washerwoman. Poor Mr.
Sophia! How he would blunder, and
how poor Mrs. Sophia would groan!
How the water wouldn’t be hot enough
and the starch wouldn’t be cold enough
ami the bluing would be too blue!
“My heart goes out to Mr. Sophia,"
laughed the girl across the road, un¬
der her breath. It really was a hard
place to put an innocent, well-meaning
mau-pTson, to have to do the wash¬
ing for a Mrs. Sophia!
*To thine own self be true,and it will follow, as night the day, thou eans’t not then be false to any man.”
LINCOLNTON, GA , THURSDAY, JUNE 26. 1002.
“Oh. he’ll make a mess of it. fast
enough,” Nancy said, with positive¬
ness and pity, “i know Mr. Sophia.
And she’ll lie there and groan at him.
I know Mrs. Sophia, too.”
It was hard on Mrs. Sophia, too.
Wasn’t she known throughout Far
Acres as the “most particular house¬
keeper on the footstool?” And wasn’t
mild Mr. Sophia’s capacity for blund¬
ering known to be limitless? It was
the Far Acres name for him—‘Mr. So¬
phia.”
“I declare, I pity that man!” ex
claimed Nancy, suddenly. “I’m going
right over there and do it out loud!”
"Sh!" Mr. Sophia held up a warn
I ing forefinger as she approached. His
; anxious glance wandered toward a
! certain window. “She’s asleep. She’s
\ just dropped off. I’m puttin’ in to see
j if I can’t make out to get the washin’
( done before she wakens up again. Look
| j here, things Nancy, about I how wisht to you’d do it—do tell me some blue
you
the clothes before you rinse ’em or after.
| j An’ how much do you starch the
sheets? Seems as if I’m all muddled up
in my mind. Sophia’s so particular—
I’m all of a tremble!”
Nancy’s laughing face tried to sober
at sight of hio genuine dismay. What
a pity it hadn’t been Mr. Sophia that
sprained his back—no, that didn’t
sound kind. But there was a pity
somewhere!
“She had a turrible night with the
pain in her back,” whispered the plain¬
tive voice. “I’m glad she can get some
of her sleep made up now. All I ask
is to get the washing done while she
has her nap.”
Nancy touched Mr. Sophia's arm
gently.
“I’m afraid you’re not putting the
lines out quite right,” she said.
“I know it! I 'know it!” he kept
; groaning, softly. “I don’t hope to do
j any of it right, my dear.”
L fe,
-tight his *h. y hurriedly.^
? uick ’. b ™ g me the clothes she
whnperea. I , know wnat well do
j J™ wash ” take e “’ em across ™,‘ 3 to wliat! my house The a and 111
hang era out over here on your ’' line— , !
! kn ° w f actly how Mrs^Sophia . does ,
j Quick, we ve got to hurry! Never
j ’ mind if they are in soak. Pour some of
1 the water out and take the tub right
j across. Of course I can do it as well as
not. I’m washing to-day, tco. A little |
more or less won’t count.
i Nancy hurried on ahead of slow Mr.
| Sophia to put. on another kettle of wat
i er to heat. She hummed all the way
i sr “ -.s “
«
| Uiw * ho,d ’
“That’s there. a., Poor rtehti Mr. Sophia .SsnHol he > need- wen. j
i I over
ed help!” she was thinking, as she ate
1 her hasty wash-day luncheon from the
pantry shelf.
All the afternoon how Nancy work¬
ed! How she splashed and rubbed and
rinsed and wrung! How clearly and
contentedly her voice trilled out above
the sound of the rubbing. It was n;a.
I D i' 011 '’ °' cIcck w heI1 at last she hung
| her washings out.
“What would great grand-mother
say?” she laughed. “She got hers out
hqf'ore breakfast. Well, I don’t care, I
shall get mine out before supper!” ;
The clothes were daintily white and
sweet, and Nancy hung them up with I
careful precision. She gave the tiny ;
baby things a cross line to Jhemselves. !
Mrs. Sophia had a long, refreshing |
sleep. When she woke the wash was j
«aPPmg . gently out the ,, line, !
on
h ” rse ' t P^ufully on her 'dhow
and gave it sharp scrutiny astonish¬
ment and amtmet approval dawning m
he f ^ le ^decide'" j
1 J0 aetu - le - she - ne ejaculated ejacumxeu
Mowly.
Done! cried tired Nancv, . tri
in i
umph. “Why! Why, I don’t call wash- j
ing Very hard work. I’ve enjoyed it.
Nancy Crowe, I believe you’ve put on |
your great-grandmother’s mantle!”—
Youth’s Companion.
Unfaltering Self-Esteem.
“I am afraid you have a very good
opinion of yourself,” said the candid
person.
“Well,” answered the genial egot¬
ist, “that isn’t any disadvantage to
me. People have to admit that I
know more about myself than anybody
else does.”—Washington Star.
Mexican Politeness.
Foreign Visitor (in Mexico)—'What!
Do you still have those barbarous bull
fights in your country?
Native—Oil, yes; so many Ameri
can travellers want to see them, you
know, that we have to give one now
; and then.jcCliicago Tribune.
Baby and the Monkey.
Babies are very little like monkeys,
and we are least human when we are
youngest. But by way of solace, and
to save our self-conceit, if that has
suffered, they assure us that, whereas
the little monkeys grow less and less
like humans every hour they grow,
our babies turn their backs on the
monkey typo at the first squirm, and
grow away from it hand over fist dur¬
ing the whole of their protracted
period of development. The monkey
child's strength runs to jaw and to
length of limb, and to agility and
monkey ways, says warper’s Magazine.
The human child’s nose asserts it¬
self, his brain grows and grows, and
insists on having room to expand in,
and his skull takes shape accordingly.
He finds his legs and gradually puts
them to use, though in some chSdren
strength comes to the legs very slow¬
ly. The learned doctors assure us, too,
that the period of upward develop¬
ment in which the child grows more
human all the time, and keeps putting
distance between himself and the
monkeys, is in infancy and early
youth, and that presently upward
evolution stops, and development be¬
comes “an adaptation to the environ¬
ment, without regard to upward zoo¬
logical movement.’'
BED HOT BiBGlIKS
1 -IN -
_r Gb W_ L™ Boots, Shoes §
■Hwr
- \ .
m ; A 2 fiffer A_
mm; W
mmw Hotter Shoes Bargains than ever and was Better
K. G. TABVEK, Manager Before. I
Our One Dollar Brogan is . Detter. Our _ One _ Hollar u ana . i Two«tv> J. en )- fiv.. '
,
Dents Brogan heats the world.
Onr One Dol ar and Fifty Cents Shoes are simply _ superb. Dollar j
Onr Two Dollar Vici Kid Shoes a big value. Onr Two ano
Fifty Certs Hand-sewed Shoes are the best on the market.
We can give von Ladies Shoes at 75c, but the Shoes we want to sell
ron are $1.00 and $1.25 Ladies every day Shoes and onr $1.25 and $1.50 j
Ladies Dress Slices. Thev are RED I10T BARGAINS and don’t you j
Jr*? «• bh " aaK *■***“
' (bis Sine of Shoes thb j
J , ' le "tie , er f or g e t efir ’he Children and Babies and
s In n before 1
HATS® “ HAT C3 HATS! ;
:
Our prices in Hats are simp'.v Tornado Swept. We give you Hoyt
Hats 10c, areal good Hat 25c. Men’s Felt Hats 65c, Men’s Extra Good |
Felt Hats $1.00, and so on to the end. this . j
We don’t expect any one to come within a mile of us season it
Price and Quality. When in the city be sure to Call and Examine and be j
Con w (Tinned iiiieu. . I
j
GREAT EASTERS n i
907 Brcmd Street., Angrn,=tn, Da.
Remarkable Iiongrevity.
Mr. Allen McKay of Taylorsville is
visiting his 3ister, Mrs. Maria Haney.
Mr. McKay is past 86 years old, and is
nn llis way t0 his * lome * n Taylorsville
after a visit to his brother, Mr. George
McKay of Palestine, Tex. 4 who is 93
years of age. Mr. McKay is as lively
and hearty as a man of 50, and no one
would think that he had passed his
GOth y’ear. While in Texas he also vis
ited his sister, Mrs. Susan Duncan,
who has seen 91 summeis. Mrs. Ha
ney acknowledges 88 years. Mr. Chas.
McKay, the baby of the family’, is an
active youth of 71. The average age of
six brothers and sisters is 85 years,
and it is believed that there is not
another family in the United States
that can equal the record. All of them
are in good health and the full enjoy¬
ment of their faculties, and there is
not one of them that cannot reason¬
ably expect to live several years more
at least, especially when it is known
that their mother died only a few
years ago at the age of 106 years.—
Owensboro (Ky.) Inquirer.
A writer in the New York. Indepen¬
dent describes J. Pierpont Morgan’s
economic developments as the “mor
ganization of industry.” That comes
as near as possible to embalming the
financier linguistically.
the Corinth of St. I’aui Has YaniBlied.
Old Corinth, that St. Paul. visited so
frequently and which was one of the
most important, luxurious, immoral
and enterprising cities of his day, is
dead and buried. Buttercups and
dandelions are growing upon his grave
as bright and cheerful as those that
decorate the prairies of Kansas or the
dooryards of New England. New
Corinth, a modern town, which lies at
the head of the gulf, resembles Santa
Fe and other of the adobe towns of
New Mexico and Arizona. It is sur¬
rounded by clay cliffs, weatherworn
into fantastic shapes and the dust is
quite as deep in the unpaved streets.
The same lean cattle, mangy dogs and
halfnaked children playing in the sun¬
shine; the same diminutive donkeys,
the modern “Greek slaves," bearing
burdens that hide their bodies and
leave only their legs and ears exposed;
tue same mud fences and adobe wails;
tne same bake ovens beside the cabins
and women of similar features, wear¬
ing similar garments, picking the live
stock out of the children’s hair.
Crowds of men are sitting at tables
in front of the cafes drinking coffee
and talking politics, and the same di¬
lapidated vehicles that you see in the
old Spanish-American settlements
await the traveler's arrival at the
station.
gabmariuo Csimera.
One of the most interesting of new
inventions is a camera for taking pho
tographs in the depths of the sea. It
consists, more correctly speaking, of
two cameras, which are so arranged
as to be focused upon a common
point. Each is inclosed in a large
steel bulb to protect it against the
pressure of the water.
In the middle of the apparatus is a
glass fronted chamber, which contains
a powerful electric 'light. When the
light is turned on it shines through
the 'glass and illuminates the water
for a considerable distance.
Thus the object to be photographed
is brightly lighted up, and it only re¬
mains to expose the plates, which is
accomplished by the help of electric
wires that run up through rubber
tubes to the surface of the water
above.
ClsSms fnventloa of “Old Glory.”
Capt. William Driver, a Salem,
Mass., skipper, is credited with the be¬
stowal of tbe name “Old Glory” to the
stars and stripes. It was in 1851 and
the flag to which he gave the name
was carried by the brig Charles Dog
gett all around tho world and is now
on exhibition at the Essex institute.
Salem.
NO. 4.
FAMOUS AMERICAN HIGHWAY.
Cumberland Koad Well Known In tlMf
Country's Early History.
The most remarkable highway built
in the United States early in the cen¬
tury was the so-called Cumberland
Pennsylvania, over the Allegheny
road, which was to extend from Cum¬
berland, Md., through southwestern
mountains to the Ohio at Wheeling,
W. Va., and then on to St. Louis. It
was so well constructed that it is a
good road today. Henry Clay was its
projector, and chief supporter, and his
services in its behalf are commemorat¬
ed by a monument near Wheeling. We
are told by letters written at that peri¬
od that there were sometimes 20 gayly,
painted four-horse coaches each way]
daily. The cattle and sheep were never
oue of sight, and canvas-covered wag¬
ons were drawn by six to 32 horses.
On this grat road, which eventually
passed into the hands of the states
through which it runs, the government
expended no les a sum than $7,000,000. ■
Within a mile of it on either side the
country was a wilderness, but on the
highway itself the traffic was as dense
as in the main street of a large town.
Ten miles an hour was the usual speed
for coaches. From Baltimore to
Wheeling ran lines of freight wagons ,
which carried ten tons, drawn by 12
horses and with wheels ten feet in di¬
ameter.
When Charles Dickens visited Amer¬
ica in 1842, he traveled by stage coach,
from Cleveland to Sandusky, Ohio. De
scribing his experience, he wrote:
"At one time we were all thrown !o
gether in a heap at the bottom of the
coach, and at another we were crush¬
ing our heads against the roof. Now
the coach was lying on the tails of the
two wheelers and now- it was rearing
up in the air. The driver., who cer
gicuitd ia- a
ner quite miraculous, so twistei
turned the team in forcing a passage
corkscrew fashion through the bogs
and swamps, that it was a common cir¬
cumstance, on looking out of the
window, to see the coachman with the
ends of a pair of reins in his hands, ap
parently driving nothing, and the
leaders staring unexpectedly at one
f rom the back 0 £ the coach, as if they
Bad some idea of getting up behind. A
great portion of the way was over
W hat is called a ‘corduroy road,’ which
is made by throwing trunks of trees
into a marsh and leaving them to set
tie there. The very slightest of the
jolts with which the ponderous car
bones in the human body, il world
set * ot sensations in any oi.ici ? , encum “j
stances, unless, perhaps, in attempting
to go up to the top of St. Paul s in an
omnibus.”
This description serves to illustrate
the condition of our country roads.
generally speaking, as they were",
years ago, except in a tew wealthy
communities. There has oeen a won
derfu i change since than.—Pearson's
Magazine.
]No Chance for Him.
“Now that we are engaged.” said the
fair young thing. “I will tell you that
1 do not fear mice.”
“That is nice,” said the prospective
groom.
“And, continued the fiancee. I <an
drive nails without hitting my tnum ,
and I know how to use a paper cutter
without ruining a book; and i can add
a row °* figures without making a
separate sum for each consecutive ng
ti' 3 ’, and I can build a lire; and 1 an
tell when a picture is hung straight on
the wall.”
Here the man drew himseli up v. ;tn
much dignity and sorrow, and cried
“Then I cannot marry you, alas*, ^
“Why?” gasped the girl.
“What prospect is there for my ever
being able to demonstrate the superior¬
ity of man over woman if 1 marry a
woman who possesses such traits of
character as you!”—Baltimore Ameri
can.
A Floating; Mission.
A new steamer of unique character
arrived at Yarmouth from the build¬
ers. at Leith. She is named the Queen
Alexandra, by her Majesty’s consent,
and is the gift of an anonymous donor
to the Ttoyai National Mission to .De°p
Sea fishermen. The vessel is fitted out
as a iloating church and hospital, for
service' with the fishing fleet. She is
also provided with,gear for trawling.
The Queen Alexandra is splendidiy
equipped, and will be a great boon to
tho thousands of men engaged in the
deep sea fisheries.—London Globe. .
__