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About Schley County news. (Ellaville, Ga.) 1889-1939 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 16, 1890)
The Chimes. Stop thief! The old year goes O'er the drifted snows, And the gray old year hath brought me grief. lie hath stolen the bud and the darning leaf, And the dear little robin that used to sing At my window-sill in the balmy spring, And the rapturous kisses my lover gave. He bath hidden him. too. in a narrow grave Deep down from the light of the broad, blue skv, And so through the rush of my tears I cry: “Stop thief!” As the old year goes O'er the drifted snows, For the gray old year hath brought me grief. All hail! The new year comes With the beat of drums, And clangor of bells in the windy vale. He bringeth the song of the nightingale; And w hat if his robe is fringed with snow, The April buds on his bosom blow. He sendetli a new love unto me From an ancient country across the sea, And far to the South we will sail away Through the purple dusk of a perfumed May. All hail! The new year conies With the beat of drums, And music of bells in the wintry vale. — Minnie Irving. THE BRIDE’S ROSES, This grand and ancient temple, which was built in the far-gone days of the old British regime in America, stands amid the low-lying hills that encircle the swift-flowing Rappahannock, with the spires of Fredericksburg shining in the distance, and tlie everlasting pines, for svhich Virginia is so noted, standing iti thick files on either hand. Centuries upon centuries 1mm ex peuded their storms upon the massive wa Is, and yet they stand, mute but most eloquent monuments of the strength and durability of old-time architecture. One can even yet discover some traces of the old altar-stone? and the tablets whereon the names of the dead and gone vestrymen are recorded, and the pew once occupied by Washington and his relatives i3 still reverently pointed out to every sight-seer who turns out of the beaten thoroughfare of travel to have a look at tills sacred and s'caerable pile. “But the bride’s rose, have you seen that? ’ questioned the guide as we were making our way out over the crumbling heaps of mortar. “The bride’s rose? Why no, what is it?” Our guide was a woman—a gray and gaunt old creature, who lives in a little hut near at hand and earns an'honest penny now and then by showing travel ers over the ruins of old Potomac Church. She turned back on the instant, shaking her gray head slowfiy from side to side. 4 ( Ah, you must see the bride’s rose,’’ she said; “come along!” W e followed her back over heaps of debris, under the crumbling arches of the old English temple—bats aud ghost moths hurtling in our very eyes, and the hush of the falling twilight .all about us. Through the main aisle, out at the gieat arched door, down the fall en steps into a little court-yard. 1 nc old woman stooped down and parted the rank, luxuriant growth that covered the ruins at our feet. “There it is,” she said; “look!” "Wc stooped down, and looking closely, saw amid the rank grass a great cluster of scarlet roses. The shrub upon which they bloomed seemed to be small and stunted in its growth; but the flowers were a marvel of perfect loveli ness—so large, so fine, so delicate in tint and texture, more like the culti vated bloom of a hot-house than the will? growth of the fields. “Stop! You wouldn't touch’em?” cried the old woman in utter horror, a 3 wc put out our hand to pull one of the perfect flowers. “Don’t, for pity’s sake! It is the bride’s rose, red with blood; and presently the bride herself will come, ns is her wont every night, and gather them, and every mormug they bloom again afresh. Don't touch ’em!” Wc drew back with an involuntary shudder, and the old woman rose to her feet, letting the rank grasses close around the blood-red blossoms. “Come,” she said, in a sort of awed whisper, “you’ve seen the roses; let’s be going. The dark will be upon U 3 — and the bride walks at dark! We mustn’t be here svhen she comes! Hark —that’s her voice now ! Don’t you hear? She always comes a singing, so that her lover may know when to meet her. Don’t you hear?” SCHLEY COUNTY NEWS. With her skeleton linger uplifted and her hollow gaze fixed on mine, the old eieature stood and listened. A faint, sweet muimur that might have been the echo of distant song, or the pulsing of the summer air, thrilled the twilight si lence. ( 4 Don’t you heat?’’ she cried, in tcr ror. 4 Come away!'’ And, half in awe myself, as I looked back at the gray rui ns, over which the summer darkness was falling, I fol lowed her across the green copse, through the moaning pine ridge3 and up the low doorway of her little hut. Thorc was a light within, and we could sec her daughter busy preparing our evening meal. The old woman sat down upon the stone sill, and wiped the perspirat on from her brow. “We’ve run a risk,” she said; “if we’d lia’ lingered another half hour, >twould ha’ been the last o’ us. No one ever lives a3 once sees the bride. One man was foolhardy enough to try it long ago; lie waited and watched to sec her come, and he was ne’er heard of again.” 1 i She must be a terrible bride, then,’’ I answered, sitting down beside her; “won’t you tell me about her? Tell me the story from beginning to enL There is a story, isn’t there? “Oh, yes; I’ve told it hundreds of times in my day. Listen, and you shall heir it. It all happened centuries ago, when the old church yonder was being built. * » Then she continued: “A great gen tleman come ac s the sea from Eng land—Lord Ctfross bv name. lie lived in a great house down among the hills below there, and had no end o’ servants, and dishes o’ gold and silver to eat out of, and fine carriages to ride in; and his daughter was the grandest lady in the svholc country, and the handsomest. She had a skin like the snow, and cheeks like primroses, and eyes like stars, and she wore gowns o’ the finest silk ever worn. 4 4 Well, Lord Culross meant to marry her to some great man who was to come across from England; but the Lady Diana—that was her name—what should she do but fall in love with the head architect, who was a-building the old church down yonder. “He was a fine young fellow, but he come o’ the people and wasn’t over rich, aud he daren’t show himself at Lord Culross’s great house; so every evening at twilight the Lady Diana she comes down to the church to meet him, and they walks up and down—talking o’ their love, till the midnight stars were a-shining overhead. “Lord Culross knows nothing about it, and he sends to England for the fine gentleman to come over and marry his daughter. And he comes, and puts a glittering ring on Lady Diana’s finger, and the wedding day is fixed and the wedding finery a-making up—white silks and satins and laces, such as never was seen afore under the sun. “And Lady Diana is afraid to say a word, but she-goes on a-meeting her lover. Every evening at twilight she goes down to the church; and if he isn’t there the falls to singing in her soft, sweet voice, and he hears her, and comes, aud they walk up and down to gether. 4 4 But at last the wedding-day comes, and the wedding feast is cooked, and all the grand wedding guests invited. And the wedding finery is all in readi ness, and Lord Culross commands his daughter to got ready for her marriage. Aud she dare not disobey or open her mouth to tell him a word about the man she loves. So she Sits white and still, like a ghost, while they robe her in the white silks and laces, aud jewels, and then they lead her down the greit stair case, and put her ia the carriage, and the grand wedding party drives down to the new church. They are to be married there—the very first marriage before the new altar. “A groom gallops ahead, to bid the head architect to havo the bells in readiuess to riug for the wedding, and lie goes up on the dizzy steeple in a great hurry, to sec for himself that all is right. Ho has heard nothing of the marriage, and has no dream that Lady Culross is to be the bride. “But presently ho looks down, just as the grand party comes dashing up; and he sees Lady Diana come walking up to the steps, all in her white silks and laces, with her white veil flowing to her feet, and she a-lcaniug on the arm of the fine English gentleman, aud all in a minute it flashes through his mind what is going to be—that Lady Diana has played him false, and has come to church to be another mail's bride. *'IIe grows blind and sick, and reel* where he stands, and presently he falls headlong down from the dizzy steeple. He strikes the flagstones in the court yard, right at Lady Diana's feet, as she comes sweeping up on her bridegroom’s arm. “She sees him, and knows him, and falls on her knees beside him, with an awful cry. The blood stains her white marriage robes, and the white roses in her hair fall out, and lie dabbled iu a pool of red blood. “They raise her up, and carry her off, but the wedding does not go on, fer the poor lady lies in a swoon, and that night she dies, a-calling on her dead lover’s name. “The next day, when the men come to svash away the blood-stains from the flag-stones where the poor architect fell, they find that Lady D.ana’s bridal roses have taken root, and are growing be twixt the flag-stones in the court-yard, and instead of being white, they are blood red. “That’s the story of the bride’s roses. And for hundreds and hundreds of years they have grown and bloomed in that same spot; and every night, as surely as the dark falls, the poor, broken-hearted lady comes a-singing, with her white laces, and her long mar riage veil a-trailing and rustling, and she stoops down and gathers the red roses; but svhen the next morning comes they are blooming again as fresh as ever. Winter or Summer, the bride’s roses never fail. “They arc emblems of her love.” Longfellow’s Memory. About 1S5G an Eaglish man of letters, Mr. Kingston, visited this country. While in Boston he took occasion to call upon the poet Longfellow with letter! introductory from mutual ac quaintance3 in England. As he de scribes the interview in his 4 4 Wester n Panderings’’ it must have been very gratifying to the visitor. “We were soon discussing books and writers of books, the leading spirits of our two great countries. After talking for a few minutes he stopped short and said: ‘I am certain of it; we have met before—many years ago, though.’ ( 4 ‘When can that have been? I muit own that I have no recollection of your countenance ; but then, from being near-sighted, countenances do not make much impression on me,’ I replied. i i •Did you not cross from Ostend to London one night in September, 1842? And did you not spend the first part of it on deck, as the cabin was crosvde l?’ he asked. “ ‘I am pretty certain that I did, undoubtedly, about that time, and L think I made a note in my diary that I had met on board a very agreeable American, with whom I had much con versation, but little thought I who it was!’ I exclaimed, gratified at being so recollected. > 5 A Delicate Palate. According to the chef of the Grand Hotel in London, the French and the Russians understand the art of eating better than any other nation. By way of illustration the chef told this story: “Bouillibaissc is a famous Marsellaise dish of fish., garlic and all manner of curious ingredients, which you may be cure is seldom asked for in a London hotel. Oic day wc had a Russian gen tleman among our guests and he asked for a dish of bou llibaisse. I made it. lie ate it. ‘Is it right, sir?’ asked the waiter. ‘It wants something.’ In the Mediterranean is a certain shell fish which is always used in preparing the dish and which I not unnaturally did uot possess. Not one person in a thou sand would have noticed the difference. You see, the Russian’s palate recognized even the nuances.” A Child of Misfortunes. SCENE i. Bjoucs—What makes you looi-i DJ unhappy, Bjenks? Bjenks—My best girl has given'me the mitten. SCENE II. Bjoues — Hullo, Bjenks! Haven’?; seen you since your best girl threw you over, ten yeari ago. I’ll be blessed if you aren t looking just as glum now, too, as you were then. What’s the matter? Haven’t you got over that old trouble yet? Bjenks—No, I haven’t. You see sh* changed her mind. WHAT A“L00KER” IS. | j The NWme by Which Salesgirls Know Some Shoppers. They Make a Deal of Trouble and Seldom Buy Anything. “Hero comes a looker,” sail one New York saleswoman to another so loudly that her remark w r as overheard by a Da ill/ JYeios reporter, who wa, standing at a counter near by. ‘ Yes,” said the person addressed, “and she’s got a beau with her, too.” “Majlu? she will buy something, then, to show her young man what an economical shopper she is,” said the first speaker. The young lady who was evidently meant by the sale 3-girls was fine-look ing, neatly dressed, and, as far as np pcmazice went, was certainly unobjec tionable. So, with sonic curiosity, the reporter asked the pretty girl waiting on him what was meant by calling that young lady a “looker.” “Why, don’t you know?” said she, smiling. “How green you men are about shopping! Every woman knows that a ‘looker’ is a woman who simply looks at goods, doesn’t expect to buy any, puts you to all the trouble she can, asks you to cut oil' a sample and then says she will call in again to-morrow. And so she does, to bother some one e!se. “A ‘looker,’” continued the sales girl loquaciously, “is usually to be found frequenting the large dry goods store* Her visit is timed to that por tion of the day when you are most busy and desirous of making your sales as >.rge as possible in order to stand in well with the ‘powers that be.’ “Then in cbmes a looker and wants to be shown the goods at once. How we hate her. On,” said the girl im pulsively to the reporter, “if wo only dared talk to her as she deserved wouldn’t she just catch it, though.” At this thought the shop girl’s eyes fairly danced as if in anticipation of how she would get square for once and for all with the troublesome lookers if she had but half a chance given her. “The looker,” resumed the girl, “is generally making a crazy quilt, or something or other, and belongs to the same class of young women who go around bothering young men for their neckties, and who feel deeply aggrieved if they don’t instantly promise them their very best ties before they have done wearing them. “She comes here for samples of silks and dress goods. ‘Mamma wanted a sample and couldn’t come out herself.’ Or ‘papa wanted to see what the goods would look like before I ordered the dress,’ and so on. Finally we hit upon a scheme that put an end to the looker’s using our samples of goods for fancy work. We cut the sample as narrow as possible and then cliji a little piece out of the centre of the same, telling the looker when she says, ‘Oh, what did you do that for?' that we were only cutting our trade-mark into the goods in order that she might know from what store she procured them. That generally has the desired effect and gives the looker to understand that we are perfectly aware of what she wants the samples for, and don’t intend to let any one make crazy quilts at our cx pen.se. “Another spades of looker is one who comes from a well-to-do family, and has nothing to do but kill time. She is not intellectual enough to read. It makes her head ache. ‘Calling is a bore,’ she yawns, and then she ‘guesses’ she will go shopping, She expects us to be pleasant and affable and so oblig ing. ‘Show me this.’ ‘Now, show mo that.’ Everything must be hauled out for her inspection. Rarely she buys; makes us provoked, cross, angry and mad, until we wish that the whole tribe of ‘lookers’ could be turned, like Lot’s wife, into a pillar of salt, and we could turn the hose on it and put an end to her forever.” Silver Prayer Docks. The average New York mau, espe cially the one who does not attend se*> vices in a fashionable Episcopal church, bas been taught something that he never knew before by the General Epis copal convention that was held in New York city recently. But uuless ho is blessed with riches, his new-found in formation will avail him nothing but regret. In the show windows of the large manufacturing silversmiths during the entire session of the conveatioj there were displayed a dazzlin 5 co 11«(>. tion of prayer books and hymnalsb in part wholly in solid outd or silver, quaint lv fashioned and exceedingly r f c j. is design. line The of best goods known exhibited manufacturer of thj his wares to * correspondent the of the Indianapolu AeJ thj other morning and explained growth of this peculiar industry “We first began binding prayer boo’J in silver,” he said, “about five yean ago. Since then wo have sold many thousands of volumes. "We buy thj books from English firms. They ar , remarkably strongly bound in leather handsomely printed and finely finished' Then we mount them in metal. Here," he added, producing a prayer book and hymnal bound together by a cover of solid silver with a floral design of gold in bas relief, “is a pretty trifle that costs $200. Rather heavy, it weigh) over a pound, but it is neat and very fashionable. No, we have not sold many of this style, but of those that I run from forty to seventy-five doll® I we have had a large trade. We have a larger style that weighs two pounds, and is a marvel of skilful work, but we have not sold six copies in two years. It is loo heavy for practical use, but il makes a beautiful parlor ornament. The little prayer books that come in leatheyj felclj with silver corners and edges, from twelve to fifty dollars, and have) had a great run, both iu and out Oli town.” “What will you do with your oil stock now that the convention has rnadi some changes in the text?” 4 v Those that are bound in leather and silver will not be changed save by tli introduction of a single leaf noting th convention’s changes. But those tin are bound wholly in silver are all right The books can be slipped out of th silver covers and if placed by new edi tions at a trifling cost, comparative! speaking. It is now too late to male new stock for this winter’s trade. LVi will manage to get along with those wi have in stock, and next year we wi! come out with new books in newer am more elegant bindings than have eve been seen.” New York’s New Croton Aqueduct From an article in the Century , oi the above subject, we quote the follow ing: “Compared with other tunnel?, the new aqueduct is easily at the head of all works of a like character in the world. The cities of Chicago and Cleveland are each supplied with watei through tunnels extending out into: lake. The first Chicago tunne 1 is 5 fetl in diameter and 10, 507 feet long. Th; second tunnel is 7 feet in diameter and 31, TOO feet long. The Cleveland tun nel is only 5 feet in diameter and 6661 feet long. All of these tunnels vreri laid in comparatively soft materials! The Baltimore water supply includes rock tunnel, twelve feet in diameter anj seven miles long, and is lined svitl brick-work for about two miles. Tli: old Roman aqueducts were several ol them longer than the Croton Aqueduct, but they were all very small, and wed merely masonry conduits a fen feet iu diameter. Toe Liver pool water supply is conveyed by aij aqueduct about twice as long as the Croton Aqueduct, but it Is mainljl a surface aqueduct, theie being only 1 little tunnel-work. A portion of Thj thj aqueduct is purely a pipe line. supply is from a reservoir, formed likj that at Croton or at Sodom, by build ha a dam across a narrow gorge in a vallej Tli among the mountains in Wales, dam is larger than that at Sodom, beici 136 feet high, while that at Sodom 1 only 78 feet. Compared with the pH posed dam it will be small, as the nej anl dam is to be over 200 feet high, will be the highest darn in the world The aqueduct tunnel, when compel with railroad tunnels, is a little small*! in diameter than the three most famoj Thj tunnels, but is very much longer. feetlonjJ Iloosac Tunnel is only 24,000 the Mouut Cenis is 8 milei long, 0 the St. Gothard miles long, wlnj the new Croton Aqueduct, as wc seen, is nearly 30 miles long.” , Looking Ahead. Mrs. Gabb (hostess)—Your little 3ja doesn't appear to have much appetite- deli; Mrs. Gadd—No, ho is quite cafe. Mrs. Gabb—Can’t you think of a3? ' thing you woull like, my little m an M ’ j Little Man—No, ’m. You see, made me eat a hull lot before we starts so I wouldn’t make a pig of
