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Vol. XXIX.
if GOOPBY i
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4 * By Ci ry d« .Maupassant
O
The two friends had finished their
dinner. From the windows oft the
eafe they overlooked the uoulevard,
which at this hour was crowded
with people.
One of them, Henri Simon, said
to his companion, with a profound
sigh:
“I feel that I am growing old,
my friend. On such a night as this
in days gone by I was keenly alive
to the pleasures of existence. To¬
night I have nothing but regrets.
Life is short at best.”
He was a man about forty-five
years old, a little stout and quite
bald.
The other, Pierre Carnier, not his
senior in appearance by any means,
but more slender and vivacious, re¬
plied:
“I, my friend, have grown old
without noticing it. I was always
gay and jolly, vigorous and all that.
For when one looks at himself in
the glass every day in the year the
ravages of age are not apparent.
They are slow and regular and work
such gradual changes that the tran¬
sition is not noticeable. We can
hardly ly perceive it. To see it plain¬
one should not look into a mir¬
ror for six months at least, and then
—ah, what a shock l
“And the women, old fellow—
how I pity them! All their h&ppi-
ness, their power, their life, is in
their beauty, and that lasts but ten
years at best.
“As for myself, I gr ew old with-
still out suspecting it. I tn< ought myself
a youth when I was near fifty
years of age. Free from infirmities
of any kind, I was going my way,
happy and content. But the revela¬
tion of my decline came upon me in
such a simple yet startling manner
that I felt the effects of the shock
six months afterward. Then I ac¬
cepted my fate gracefully.
“I have often been in love, like
all men, but once in my life I was
quite hard hit. I met her at the
seashore, Etretat, about twelve
years There ago, not long after the war.
is nothing more delightful
than that beach in early morning at
the bathing hour. It is not very ex¬
tensive, is curved like a horseshoe
and encircled by tall, white cliffs,
pierced ‘the with singular holes called
Gates.’ One of these cliffs is
enormous and stretches its gigantic
length to the water’s edge. The
other is round and flat. The wom¬
en swarm over this narrow strip,
with its pebbled walks, and trans¬
form it into a brilliant garden of
summer toilets within walls of rock.
The sun Bhines full upon the coast,
over parasols of every imaginable
color and over the sea of topaz blue.
It is a jolly picture, enchanting to
the eye. Close by the water’s edge
the people lounge in the sand,
watching the bathers as they come
tripping down in their flannel bath¬
robes. which they discard with a
pretty movement as soon as the
white fringed waves play around
their feet. Then ..they run in with
swift little steps, while the water
sends thrills of a delicious chill
through their veins.
“Few women are made to endure
the crucible test of the bath. Their
figures stau^j \eaied from ankle
to throat. AS they emerge from
the embrace of the briny waters ei¬
ther their the shortcomings are made
phi in to eve or the rounded con¬
tours of form and limb are en¬
hanced by the clinging, dripping
garments.
“The first time I aaw the young
woman of whom I have spoken I
was carried away by her charms.
Few women possess the beauty of
form that ia startling and overpow¬
ering at the first glance—that teems
to a man as if he had suddenly met
the creature he was born to love. I
experienced that sensation and that
shock.
“J was introduced to her and was
more deeply smitten than ever in
my life. She made me her slave,
and it was both terrible and deli¬
cious to submit thus to. the reign of
The Toccoa Record
Toccoa, Georgia, October 3i 1902.
a woman. It is torture and inde¬
scribable felicity at once. Her look,
ber smile, the little tendrils of hair
round her neck ruffled by the breeze,
every line n her fate, her slightest
movement, captivated my senses
and ensnared mid drove me to dis-
traction. She took complete posses¬
sion of me.
“She was married. Her husband
came again every Monday. Saturday I and departed
on was not in the
least concerned about him nor jeal¬
ous of his relation to her. Ho liv¬
ing creature ever seemed of less con¬
sequence to me than this man.
“Ah, how 1 loved her, she who
was so gay, so pretty asnd ao grace¬
ful! She was youth, elegance and
freshness personified. I newer felt
more keenly than 1 did then that a
woman is a sweet, lovely and deli¬
cate being Never made before of had chavj&a I discov¬ and
graces.
ered the beauty that lay in the
rounded contour of a cheek, the
movement of a lip, the curves and
creases of a little ear, the shape
even of that stupid feature the nose.
“This lasted three months, when
I was called to America, whither I
went with a crushed and broken
heart. Even away from her I was
her slave still. Years went by. I
could not forget her. Her charms
were constantly before my eyes and
in my heart. I cherished her mem¬
ory with a tenderness that had
grown calm, and I loved her as one
loves a dream of a most beautiful
and enchanting thing.
“Twelve years do not mean much
in the life of a man. They ffi ass al-
most unnoticed. One follows upon
the other slowly yet swiftly. Each
is long, yet soon at an end. Al-
though they multiply rapidly, they
leave few traces behind and vanish
so back completely that when one looks
upon them there is nothing
left to remind us of their flight, and
age creeps on without warning.
“It seemed to me that only a few
years lightful separated me from that de-
season on the beach at
Etretat.
“One day last spring I went to
dine with friends at M aissons-La-
fltte. Just as the train was about
to start a portly matron entered the
coach I occupied accompanied by
four little girls. I could not help
looking curiously at this large, ro¬
tund, motherly creature, whose face
was like the full moon under a be-
ribboned hat. She puffed and pant¬
ed from the exertion of her hurried
walk. The children began to bab¬
ble, and I unfolded my newspaper
and commenced to read. As we
passed Asnieres my neighbor sud¬
denly accosted me:
“ T beg your pardon* sir. Are you
not M. Carnier?’
“ ‘Yes, madame.’
“She laughed with the contented
laugh of a cheerful woman, but
there was just a tinge of sadness in
her voice.
u < Do you not recognize me V
“I hesitated. It seemed to me
that I had seen her face before, but
I could not tell when and where. I
answered:
“ ‘Yes and no—I certainly know
you, but I cannot recollect your
name.’ She blushed a little.
a « Mme. Julie Lefevro.’
“I was startled out of my wits.
For a moment the earth seemed to
reel around me, and a veil was rude¬
ly torn from my eyes which made
me see things with terrible, heart¬
rending clearness.
“It was she! This stout, common
woman, the mother of these four
girls! I eyed the little creatures
with as much astonishment as I did
their mother. They had followed
her; they had taken their places in
life, already half women, and she
counted for nothing—she who had
once been such a marvel of delicate
and coquettish charms!
“It seemed to me that I had
know'n her but yesterday, and to
find ber thus again! It was impos¬
sible! A violent pang wrung my
heart. I rebelled against Nature
and her brutal, infamous work of
dest ruction. I looked at her with
frightened eyes. When I took her
hand in mine, tears dimmed my vi¬
sion. I wept for her youth; I wept
for her death. This stout woman
wasa stranger to me.
“Good Will to All Men.’
'■'She, too, was touched, and Bhe
faltered: ‘I am much changed, I
. know , but .. . . T
’ A ll 14 only natural. A . I am
ft mot,ler 11 ow nothing- but a moth-
er Tu g0 ° d Farew « 11 \° f v :
erything else , that is passed. 1 did
not tlunk that you would ,, recognize
me or that we should meet
again. You yourself are not as you
used to be. It took me some time
to decide whether I was mistaken in
my surmise, Your hair has grown
quite gray, Think of it—twelve
years is a long time. My oldest
daughter is nearly ten years old.’
“I looked at the child and discov¬
ered in her some of the old charms
of her mother, undefinable as yet,
unformed and in the bud, and life
seemed to me nothing more than a
rapidly passing train. We arrived
at Maissons-Lafitte. I kissed my
old friend’s hand and parted from
her with a few trivial phrases. I
was “In too deeply moved to speak.
the evening when I was alone
I examined my face a long time in
the mirror and ended by recalling
to my mind the picture of myself
aa I had been in bygone days, with
brown mustache and black hair and
a young, fresh face. But now I
was old. Farewell!’’
Beauty Versus Brains.
A physician with wide experience
among the insane has come to the
conclusion after examining the
brains of 1,600 subjects that nature
makes palpable differences between
male and female brains, and he fears
that the tendency of too much ed¬
ucation or intellectual development
in women is to make them lose
beauty. He instances the Za^o wo¬
men of India. They are supreme.
They woo the men, control the af¬
fairs of the home and the nation,
transmit property and leave men
nothing to do. Result, they are the
agliest women on earth I
SEAL HUNTING.
The Slaughter Is Not Sport, but Hard
and Dangerous Toil.
Hunling the seal from the icy,
storm swept cosst of Newfoundland
is not sport; it is toil, whereby in
part the Newfoundlander wins his
scanty measure of bread. The hunt
is a slaughter, dull and bloody—a
leap into the w r hining, scurrying
pack and the swinging and thrust
of an iron shod gaff, a merciless
raining of blows, with a silent waste
of ice, all splashed red, at the end
of it.
There is no sport in this, nor is
there any fear of hurt, for the harp
seal pleads and whines like a child
even while the gaff is falling. But
the chase is beset with multitudi¬
nous and dreadful dangers, which
are seldom foreshadowed and are
past all fending off—perils so vast
and uncompromising and w'illful
that escape from their descent is by
the veriest chance. The wind gath¬
ers the ice into floes and jams it
against the coast, an immeasurable,
jagged expanse of it, interspersed
with plains. Then the Newfound¬
lander takes his gaff and his grub
and his goggles and sets out from
his little harbor, making the start
at midnight that he may come up
with the pack at dawn. But the
wind which sweeps the ice in inevi¬
tably sweeps it out again without
warning in an hour or a day or a
week, nor does it pause to consider
the situation of the men who are
twenty miles offshore. It veers and
freshens and drives the whole mass,
grinding and heaving, far out to
sea, where it disperses it into its
separate fragments.
The lives of the hunters depend
upon the watchfulness of the at¬
tenuated line of lookouts, from the
women on the head to the first sen¬
tinel within signaling distance.—
From “Seal Hunters of the Out-
ports,” by *_ Norman Duncan, in Out¬
ing-
Helped Him Out.
An amusing story is told of a
widow who kept a small grocer’s
shop and who counted among her
lovers a local farmer who was as
modest as he was big.
“Here, Mr. she said to
him one day as he was looking un¬
utterable things at her over the
Successor to Toccoa Times and Toccoa News.
counter, “just you tie that parcel
up for me."
Whether it was native clumsiness
or the embarrassing effects of con-
eealed affection, the farmer bungled
so much over the knot that the im-
patient widow exclaimed, “I know a
man who can tie a knot much bet¬
ter than that."
“Who’s that?" queried the inno¬
cent farmer.
“Why, the parson, of course, ’’
was the prompt and unexpected an-
swer.
This was an opening which even
the farmer was not stupid enough
to lose, and a few' weeks later the
parson’s*services were in demand.—
Loudon Standard.
Power of the Sun’s Rays.
A gentleman writes to the Lon-
don Spectator to tell of an experi¬
ence which certainly ought to be
very widely know'll. “One of the
most extraordinary cases of fire
fighting by the sun’s rays through
glass," he says, “is the following: A
few years ago my wife and I were
driving in a victoria near Canter¬
bury. It was about 3 o’clock on an
October afternoon. The horse was
slowly walking up a hill between
two pine woods, and the sun was di¬
rectly facing us, wdien simultaneous¬
ly both lamps were ignited. I called
the coachman’s attention to the
fact, and he simply laughed, think-
ing we were making fun of him. It
was, how'ever, a fact that the rays of
the sun through the circular lamp
glasses had actually lighted the
candles."
Misdirected Energies.
The waste of energy shown by
some men is pathetic. With the in-
tention of accomplishing worthy
deeds they urge themselves to ef-
forts which, properly directed,would
bring the early fulfillment of their
lie in not clearly defining the object
which they gain or in working spas¬
modically or without system to ac-
complish it. I hey are seized . at
times bv discouragement and lack
of faith in themselves when the
turning of . their forces into . the
proper channels and a steady, un-
ceasing pull toward the goal would
speedily bring them to it. Mahin s
Magazine._
A Palpable Lie.
Bertie—It’s very wrong, father,
to tell a falsehood, isn’t it?
Father—Of course it is, my boy.
Bertie—And it’s wicked to ask a
boy to tell lies ?
Father^—Why, yes.
Bertie—Well, that’s what my
master made me do today.
Father—Goodness gracious! Made
you tell a lie, * Bertie ?
*/
Bertie—Yes; he made me prom¬
ise always to be a good boy in the
future.
CAPTURED THE CANOE.
Curious Adventure With a Rock Snake
In Central America.
Mr. C. N. Bell, the author of
“Tangweera,’’ writing of his adven¬
tures among the gentle savages of
Central America, cites a curious ad¬
venture with a snake. Rock snakes
from ten to twelve feet long and as
thick as a man’s arm are not un¬
common in the woods of Central
America. This snake is not poison¬
ous, but is sometimes very savage.
As w T e were returning from our
work . m the pitpan one evening,
says Mr. Bell, we saw a large snake
of this species coiled on a branch of
a tree about ten feet above the wa¬
ter. I told the Indians to paddle
under it so that I might kill it with
a pole. They said I had better leave
it alone, as it might attack us. But
I persisted, and they let me have
my way.
I passed forward to the bow and
with my pole struck at the snake,
which uncoiled itself, raised its
head and waved it from side to
side, darting out its tongue.
The canoe had drifted directly
underneath when I Btruck the next
blow', and the snake dropped in-
stantly into the bow of the boat. I
threw away my pole and, hastily
dodging past the men, got to the
stern. The man in the bow struck at
the rept ile, b ut missed and Mi over-
No. 43
hoard. The snake raised its head
and came furiously at the next man,
who without delay jumped over-
board. So did all the rest, and as I
saw the serpent meant .business I
followed them.
When I came to the surface, I
heard roars of laughter from tha
men swimming about. To have
possession of the canoe did not sat-
isfy his snakeship, for he followed
us into the water, upon which we
all dived.
On coming up again. I heard a
yell from one of the men, who on
rising to the surface had lifted the
snake on his shoulder. He dived
quickly. The reptile swam toward
the shore, und we got into our ca¬
noe again. My snake killing desires
were somewhat dampened,
Knew Human Nature.
He had called at a house in the
suburbs on business, and as he rose
to go he said:
“1 believe you were in the lake
district last summer?"
“Yes."
“Go fishing?"
“Yes."
“Catch an y thing?"
“One little perch."
“Ha, ha, ha l That’s what I ex-
pected. Well, good night."
When the caller had gone, the
wife said indignantly:
“Richard, how can you sit there
and tell stories in that bold way?
You know we caught over twenty
fish weighing five pounds apiece,
and that big jack weighed eleven
pounds."
"My dear wife," returned the hua-
band soothingly, “you don’t know
human nature. That man is now
billing to take my word for £500.
If I had told him of those fish, he
would, have gone away believing me
to be the biggest fibber in the king-
The Comma Made a Difference.
Recently a school inspector ar-
r i ve( j a t a small town in Germany
an( j requested the mayor to accom-
pany him on a tour of inspection
rolmc i the schools. The mayor, aa
be put on his hat, muttered to him-
self> should like to know again?® why
that ass has come so soon
a re mark which the inspector over¬
heard, but affected to ignore. Ar¬
rived at the first school, he began to
examine the pupils in punctuation,
but was told by the mayor, “We do
not trouble about commas and such
like." The inspector merely told
one of the boys to write on the
blackboard, “The mayor of RitzeL
buttel says the inspector is an ass."
“Now," he added, “put a comma
after Ritzelbuttel and another after
inspector." The boy did so. The
mayor is believed to have changed
his opinion as to the value of comr
mas.
Novel Helmets.
The following amusing story k
related of the maharajah of Bhart-
pur: He once visited the store of a
merchant in Agra who had a num¬
ber of old wire dish covers for which
he could get no sale. The mahara¬
jah stepped up to the dish covers
and asked for what they were used.
“Oh,” said the mendaei ous mer¬
chant, “those are the new helmets
which the emperor uses tor his
household guaraa."
The maharajah immediately
bought the entire consignment,'and
al , A wag gtartled nelt ^ *
sec the maharajah's bodyguard trot¬
ting alongside his carnage with
these T, wire dish covert on their
u ea
A Judicial fUboka
In a case once tried before J odge
Robert C. Grier, Andrew G. Curtis,
then a young man, made an impaa-
gioned speech in defense of a man
about whose guilt there could be
little doubt, and to the surprise of
everybody the verdict was “not
guilty."
Judge Grier glared at the Jury
w ith a look of disgust and then
drawled out in his squeaky voice:
"Humph, gentlemen! This is like
ordering states out a regiment of United
soldiers to shoot at a pigeon
an( j then miss the pigeon."
-L.----— ■ ■ >
