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About The Toccoa record. (Toccoa, Ga.) 1901-1995 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 31, 1902)
Subscription $1 Per Year. Vol. XXIX. if GOOPBY i «» * 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.----— ■ ■ >
