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About Schley County news. (Ellaville, Ga.) 1889-1939 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 4, 1890)
Why the Cows Came Late. _ Crimson sunset burning O’er the tree-fringed hills; Golden are the meidows, Ruby Hash the riffs. Quiet in the farm house. Home the farmer hies, ' Rut his wife watching. >s Shading anxious eyes, "While she lingers with her pail beside the barnyard gate, Wondering why her Jenny and the cows come home so late. Jenny, brown-eyed maiden, Wandered down the Sane; That the daylight . was ere Had begun to wane. Peeper grow the shadows. Circling swallows cheep, Katydids are calling, Mists o’er meadows creep. Still the mother shades her eyes beside the barnyard gate, And wonders where her Jenny and the cows can be so late. Loving sounds are falling— Homeward now at last, Speckle, Be:-s and Brindle Through the gate have passed; Jenny sweetly blushing, Jamie, grave and shy, Takes the pails from motner, i Who stands silently by. Hot one word is epoken as that mother shuts ! the gate, But now stie knows why Jenny and the cows came homo so late. — [Omaha World-Herald. ON PIKE’S PEAK 1 I had been in the signal service but little over a year when I was sent to Pike’s Peak, which is considered by the men in the service the most dis agreeable station in the whole country. In summer it is not so bad, when there arc numerous visitors up every day from Colorado Springs and the weather is comparatively pleasant. But from the middle of October until about the middle of April it is very different. Then it is almost impossible to get •either up or down the mountain, .and the only communication with the out side world is by wire. One man takes charge of the station in summer and two in winter. My duties were to begin with the winter season. I reached the station the first day of "•October, where I found my companion for the winter awaiting me. His name was Harry Sands. He was a good looking, bright, jovial fellow from somewhero down in Maine. lie was fully six feet tall, with a physique that seemed to bid defiance to fatigue and exposure. If anyone had told me then that he would be the first to suc cumb to the rigors of that terrible win ter, l should have laughed at the idea, for I was at that time by no means robust and unaccustomed to hardships of any kind. <i The station is located just a little ■below the extreme top of the peak. It Is a low, one-story log building about twenty feet square. Around it on three sides is stacked at that season, almost as high as the cabin itself, the supply of wood for the winter. To keep the roof from being blown olV rocks arc laid upon it in different place*, and two immense chains arc strung across and fastened to the ground at either side. The interior is •divided iuto two rooms by a rough board partition. In the larger one the men cat, sleep, and do their work. The other is used as a store room. | The weather did uot begin to get ▼cry cold that year until about Dec. 1. It kept getting colder and colder until one morning between Christmas and New Years the thermometer registered <0 degrees below zero—a spirit ther mometer, of course. It was so cold that in spite of all we could do the water would freeze an inch or more in the cabin every night. So high was the wind and blinding the snow storms that often for a week at a time we were unable to go outside to take ob «cr various. One morning the latter part of January, llarry got up looking very pale. He would not eat any break fast, and before dinner time he was back in bed again, complaining of a terrible headache. By evening lie was in a raging fever. So delirious did lie soon become that at times it was as much as I could do to hold him in bed. I gavo him such medicine as I thought he needed; and many an hour I spent poring over tho book of instruction accompanying the chest in search of a proper remedy. But noth ing I gave him seemed to do him any good. One day early in February I went outside to remove some sticks of wood the wind had blown against tho door. I left Harry- sleeping soundly, Sfid t 1 thought, more naturally than at any time during his sickacss. Ke. turning a few minutes later I found him sitting- in front of the telegraph instrument -with his hand upon tho key. But the effort had probably been too much for him; his head Jay upon 1»is chest and he was trembling all over with weakness. I had hardly gotten him back to bed when he began to sink vapidly, and in less than half an hour he was dead. As soon as 1 had recovered a little front the shook I started to telegraph the news to Colorado Springs. 1 gave the customary signal upon the key,but received no answer; I repeated it, still no answer. I thought it very strange. I knew the operator at Colorado Springs was always in his office at that hour. Again and again I tried, but with no better success. I made a careful examination of the instrument, the batteries, arid all connected with it, but could find nothing wrong. Then came tire awful thought, “the wire was down or broken somewhere on the mountains.” It was not long before I was compelled to admit that such was the case. Burying my face in my hands, 1 wept like a child. The prospect certainly was a terrible one. The probability was l should be cut off from ail communication with the world for two full months or more. The next morning I wrapped up Harry’s body in a couple of blankets and buried it a few yards from the cabin, among the rocks in a protected part of tho peak. My loneliness then 4cgau in earnest. Such clays and nights as I put in! My only diversion was reading and taking observations. Every day at tho customary hour I would try the telegraph instrument, hoping that communication might pos sibly have been re-established. Every day the same disappointment. My great fear was tiiat I should lose my reason. One night, about three weeks after Harry’s death, I was wakened up by what sounded iiki the distant howling of some wild animals. For a moment or two the sound was lost Then it returned louder than ever. The next minute I remembered one of the men in the service telling me, when he heard I was going to Pike’s Peak, to look out for the coyotes. Coyotes are somewhat smaller than the ordinary wolf, and are called by many people barking wolves, owing to the peculiar nature of their cries. I had never heard them before. My opinion was that the keen-nosed brutes had scented Harry’s body and had come to devour it. Instead of stop ping at the place where Harry was buried, they made a bee lino for the cabin. A series of most diabolical yells announced their arrival. Then 1 heard something thump, thump against the cabin dooor. The door was a strong oak one and I felt confident would resist any effort they could make. However, to make it doubly secure I pushed two great heavy Gov ernment chests against it. Suddenly their howls ceased. Breathlessly 1 awaited developments. So long did the silence continue that I began to think that they had taken their depart- ure. But I was mistaken. I soon heard them upon the roof. Before I had time to recover from iny astonish ment at this change in their tactics, l heard one of the rocks that held down the roof roll off to the ground. Ter ror stricken, I jumped to my feet, be lieving nothing now would keep them out. If they could roll off one of those rocks, tho boards of tho roof would be nothing to them. I picked up a gun that hung upon the wall, and raised it toward the roof. Soon I saw one of the boards begin to move; but a little at first, then more and more until the star right was plainly visible through the crack. Then it was suddenly wrenched from its place, and adaik object appeared in tho aperture. I fired. The same moment I was dashed violently to the floor by something heavy coming from the direction of the roof. The next thing Trcmcmbcred was finding myself lying upon the bed. To my surprise I saw the cabin door was open and the sunlight stream ing in. I started to get up, but foil back exhausted. Wondering what could be the matter, I made another attempt As I did so my heart almost stood still at the sight of a inan stand ing in the doorway. Could I be dreaming? I rubbed my eyes tromb llugly with my hands. Tho man, ap patently divining my thoughts, said; SCHLEY COUNTY NEWS. “Don’t be afeared; it liain’t no ghost, but it might have been if you’d shot me that night, as you tried to.” “Shoot you,” I gasped. “Yes, shoot me,” repeated the man “and if I hadn’t Hirow'd you to the floor when I did you’d shot at me the second time.” “But the coyotes?” I ask d. “Coyotes,” repeated the man in amazement, “What do you mean?” I told him my story. He laughed heartily. “It warn’t no coyotes or nothin’ as you heard. It war me and the other fellows a-holerin’. Y'ou see we busted both our lamps,and we were a-hollerin’ for you to make some light so we could see where the cabin war. You see you were dean out of your head with the fever and you ’magined all them things.” lie then told me that I had been lying ill with a fever ever since that night, some three weeks in all, and that I had been delirous the whole time. While he was still talk ing, two other men came into the cabin. “That’s a nice way to be a treatin’ people as is sent to your rescue,” spoke up one of them. “And after bein’ nearly frozen to death on the way,” added the other one. “My rescue! what do you mean?” I inquired, not a little puzzled. i » Ain’t your name Harry?” asked the first speaker. “No,” I said; “it isn’t.” They all looked at one another strangely. Then the same man said: “Why, ou the 5th day of February a telegram came from a man up here a savin’ that t" e fellow as war a stayin’ with him had got lost, and he himself war a dviu’.” ( * February fifth,” I thought. “It was the day Harry died.” In a moment I saw through it all. Harry’s business at the telegraph instrument that morning was explained. Getting awake while I was out taking away tiie wood from the door, and not see ing me, he had thought in his deliri um I was lost; hence his message to Colorado Springs. It is still a matter of wonder to the people out there how the rescuing party ever got up the mountain. It was a feat never at-; tempted, much less accomplished, at that season of tho year. Some time afterward I met the man who had told me about the coyotes. He laughed heartily when l related my experience, lie said what he had meant by coyotes were the fleas that fairly swarmed up> there at certain seasons of the year. They were so big and bit so hard that the men in the service nicknamed thorn “coyotes”.— [New York Sun. Glove Making in America. A large amount of capital is interes ted in the glove industry iu the United States. Two towns in New York, and substantial and prosperous towns they are, too, are given over to this sort of industry. Gloversville is a place of 13,000 and Johnstown of 9,000 peo ple, and they are wholly dependent upon these glovemakers for their sup port. It does not seem that they arc disappointed in their hopes. Both are in a very prosperous condition; the workmen own their own homes and are well paid. Glove sewers receive from $9 to $12 a week, while the table-cutters are paid from $3 to $3.50 a day. Most of the American-made gloves are of the heavier kind, such as are used bv teamsters, farmers and the in dustrial community generally, But our facilities for making tho finer grades of gloves are constantly in creasing. There is no good reason, in fact, why in a comparatively short time we cannot surpass France in sew ing and finishing the gloves, because the American worker is better paid and will show more pride and care in his work. The chief obstacle at pres ent in the way of tho American kid glove lies in the dressing of tho leather. This is a very important desidera tum. When we can prepare our leather with tho same skill that the foreign glovemakers are able to do it will bo a great stride forward in this industry in America. The best kid gloves made in this country are made from imported kid leather. But the improvements in this direction have been made so rapidly that iu a year or two the glovemakers of the United States will 6tep to a front place.— IChicago Tost. A CHILIAN HOTEL A Traveler's Experience at the Foot of the Andes. A Swimming Bath Under Vines Laden With Grapes. The favorable impression of Chili which I had received in descending tlie western slopes of the Cordillera was augmented when I reached the village, or perhaps I should say town, of Santa Rosa de los Andes. This was my first experience of a Chilian hotel. As we rode up through clouds of dust the exterior of the one-story “adobe” buildings of the Hotel del Comcrcio did not seem inviting. In side, however, I found a series of court-yards, or “patios,” avenues of trellised vines, aviaries, canalized watercourses and other pleasant fea tures. I hired a room in the first “patio,” with an outlook upon the flowering shrubs, the fountain and the wonderful imitation marble statues which stood around it. Who would have expected to find specimens of Greek sculpture—of the period of de cadence, it is true—at the foot of the Andes? Dusty as I was, and having been wholly deprived of the use of soap and water during my six days’ jour ney across the mountains, the old prejudices of the dweller in towns as serted themselves, and I asked the landlady, in an off-hand and half apologctic tone if it would be possible to have a bath. “Como no?” she re plied, with the usual Chilian formula of ready affirmation, and added: “Would you like a swimming bath?” “Is there a swimming b.ith in the hotel?” I asked. “Como no? The water is not crystalline, but it is clean and fresh, and brought from the Aconcagua River by an ‘acequia. “Bueno, vamos a ver,” said I, and we went to see. And behold at the end of the garden was a tank some fifteen feet square, with water running through it, and overhead, as a pro tection against the sun, vines laden with pendent bundles of grapes, form ing, as it we:e, a ceiling to the bath. This was delightful, and I bathed wiili joy. Now after a bath a man needs refreshment of some kind. “Como no?” was the invariable reply; and I was shown into a bar-room, where I found a greater variety of deleterious drinks than you would meet with in similar establishments in Europe or the United States, and yet Los Andres docs not boast 8500 in habitants. Thus fortified and rejuve nated, I was prepared to dine, and I succeeded in dining very fairly, drank good Chilian wine, had a pleasant talk with my friend Don lionorio and other gentlemen, and after dinner took a walk on the plaza, where there was a zealous but inferior orchestra playing for the distraction of “all Los Andes,” represented by a few officers, em ployes. and shop-keepers, a dozen ladies wearing Parisian hats that were the fashion a year ago, and a few score modest natives, the women wearing black shawls drawn mantillawise over their heads, and the men draped in “ponchos,” and sheltered from in discreet eyes by bread-brimmed white straw hats with black string tied under the chin. Second-Hand Sculpture. “There are many so-called sculptors in the United States and Italy who are a disgrace to tho profession so far as their work is concerned,” said Sculp tor Giovanni Turiai a few days ago during a conversation in his studio on Staten islands. “Not only is their work poor, but frequently their names are attached to work which has not been done by them. There is a fla grant example of this in Florence at the present time. A young woman has a studio in which she employs two men who arc thorough sculptors. “Whenever she expects an American visitor these men are sent out of the shop, she smears her hands and apron with clay, and when the expected one arrives she is found busily at work on a figure. Evidence of hard work in the shape of unfinished busts, etc., are scattered about the place. If an order is given her, her workmen are recalled as soon as the visitor has de parted, aud they take up their unliu ished tasks. When the order 6he has been given has been executed her oame appears on it, while, as a matter * of fact, she cunt liaiicUo a tool properly. “Nearly 90 per cent, of the model ing done in this city is by Italians cm ployed by American firms. In the past few years large numbers of skilled artisans have come from Italy, where they are not adequately paid, and have secured good positions here. Americans should patronize home workmen more, now, instead of going to Italy, where they are imposed upon by people like the one of whom I Lave spoken.”—[New York Star. 4*3 A Dog’s Extraordinary Leap. Lieutenant Franklin A. Shaw, of th« First Regiment of Infantry was out walking at Grcathead with his little daughter Grace. They were attended by a thoroughbred St. Bernard dog, the property of Lieutenant Shaw. While at the highest point of the cliff, Grace went close to the edge, and th* dog, seeing her in danger, walked be tween the child and the precipice. The turf started and the dog lost li"i footing. Realizing his danger, he made a spring far out over the cliff. The child had turned to her father and was really out of danger when the dog sprang up in front of her, but the no ble brjite had done his duty in guard ing her. He sprang clear of the locks and landed on his feet ou the beach, 120 feet below. It was a remarkable escape, for the dog is extremely large, weighing 105 pounds, and such a leap without breaking limbs seems impossi ble. Beyond a few cuts on bis feet the dog was apparently unhurt.— [Ex. Horsemanship of Mexican Yaqneros. In the days when I was a cowboy it Old Mexico, the vaqueros knew how to ride. Those fellows who go round with Wild West shows can’t ride a little bit- Sec one of them lean out of his saddle to pick up something on the ground! lie hooks his foot behind his saddle and can hardly reach his hat ou the ground as the horse lopes by. The vaqueros 1 used to ride with could pick up> a pin on the ground with the horse at full gallop. The rider would hitch the spur on one foot in the sineh of the horse, and the little beile on tire heel, falling iuto the rowels of the spur would hold the foot as firmly to tho sinch as if it were tied there. Then the rider could throw his whole body out of the saddle and could reach the very smallest object on the ground. Nowadays the cowboys don’t seem to understand that trick. In fact one of them told me once that the only use of the little bolls on the spurs was to jingle and add to the dashing appearance ol the horseman—* Globe-Democrat. A True Incident. A lady living in the vicinity of New York had two pets, one a large cat with a beautiful striped fur coat, gray eyes, white faee, and elegant whiskers; the other a small < auary bird. An tagonistic by nature, yet being raised together they became true friends. The cat enjoyed the singing, and watched the movements of Dick as he jumped from perch to perch with the greatest interest. One warm day the lady raised the window to admit the baliry air, when the cage had not been properly fastened. Birdie sought it* freedom instantly, flew out and landed j cm the grass plot. Quick as thought the cat sprang for it, spreading her largo paws so as not to hurt it, and I held it until her mistress (who was I lame) came down a flight of stairs to I the relief of both. When Dick cvasl within his gilded cage safe and sound,! a happier “trio” could not be found! than mistress, cat and bird.—[^ cff | I York Witness. A Story of Hannibal Hamlin. In Hannibal Hamlin’s early days, » a certain caucus in Hampden, the only attendants were himself an 1 a citizeB] of very large stature. Mr. Ilamliu had some resolutions tw pass which began by representing, th® they wore presented to a “large a 11 ^ respectable” gathering of voters. “Hold on,” cried the other m» n * “we can’t pass that, for it ain’t true* It ain’t a large and respectable cam u 3. There’s only two of us.” “You keep still, brother!” e ° e manded the wily Hannibal, “it s * right, for you arc largo and I am 1 spoctabie. You just keep still.” So the resolutions were passed W out further demur.—[Portland (• Press, _
