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About Schley County news. (Ellaville, Ga.) 1889-1939 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 11, 1890)
% r /Mk 4 FA v | , 1 s ■ S - V H fe/T 2 i' a % fit |v<$> ft i 3 «iC fp! f i « < •’ $ m £ $ tas /■ 1 •',! i mg k Ay l.' « * Ay vy'5'i y v! / DEVOTED TO UIVINO THE NEWS, ENCOUKAGINti THE l’KOORESS AND AIDINti THE PltOSPKltlTY OF SCHLEY COUNTY. R. DON. McLEOD, Proprietor. ■ DEALER IN ]D:ry COOds sp TTOTIOXnTS, HiATS, BOOTS AND SHOES, Fancy and Family ETS 1 PLANTATION SUPPLIES, Harness, Sewing Machines, Shot Guns, Cooking Stoves, and Ranges. We have a nice line of Ladies Fine Dress Goods with trimmings to match that we are selling at very low prices, We make it a point to keep the best goods and meet all competition. Thanking our patrons for past favors and soliciting a continuance of same. Me are yours truly, T. CCLLIINS. IWWl ■i >■ mii iw i in i n i iiiii —i w iM iir wiifiiiiinnn'Mrr PEACOCKI -AND- iARRINGTQN, The leading Dry Goods men of Ellaville, beg to inform the public that they have now in stock the largest and toost complete line of goods ever shown in Ellaville, con listing of everything in Dry Goods, Notions, Clothing, Shoes, Hats, Caps, Trunks, Umbrellas, –c., We call special attention to our Shoes. We are sole agents for J G. Hynd’s Honest Homemade Shoes, made at Gainesville,that cant be beat for durability and We also carry a full line of Groceries, Hardware, Tin ^re, Willow ware, Crockery, lamp goods, etc;., etc. Come and see us for we study to please and give bar Aiim. With thanics for past favors we are yours truly, fl?eaoooIls: –c Arrington, ELLAVILLE, GA. THURSDAY DECEMBER 11, 1890. MOTHER AND WIFE. Two windows face the highway. Two faces guard the panes. For a loved one's swift home coming. And the rainy daylight wanes. The hour has struck; he comes not; They softly talk awhile*. But silence falls between them; Again they watch the stile. The wife, with poet’s fancy. Sits in a blissful dream. Waiting her lord's returning. In her eyes the love light's beam. The mother, wrinkled and white haired. Leans on the window sill. A smile on her saintly visage. Time worn, yet iovely stiU. Which pair of eyes is keener? On whom does the vision burst? One murmurs, “Now be’s coming!” The mother sees him first' All, yearning heart of a motherl Tender as summer skies. Can wealth of wife’s devotion Surpass thy sacrifice? Owifei thy dear gift cherish! The mother yields to thee Her treasure, joy and comfort; Croxvn thou his destiny —Adaline Ilohf Beery CUT OFF. A small steam launch, containing half a dozen persons, swept swiftly along with tiie muddy current of the Guajaia river The vessel and party had left Para, at the mouth of a branch of the Amazon, nearly a month before, and had steamed up as far as the junction of the Madera, there taking a southerly course as far as Ralsamaco. After leaving the latter town they had turned into a side stream and before long were inextricably mixed up in the net work of creeks and small rivers which cross and recross themselves in southern Brazil. The leader of the party and owner of the launch lay stretched out on the deck with a small rille in his hands, occasion ally shooting tit some bright plumaged bird flying overhead or at a lazy reptile coiled in the branches of a tree on shore “Jack.”he said presently, to the young man who sat in the pilot house and with rare skill kept the vessel clear of the in numerable; loga in the river, “where are we now?” “I don't know,” replied Jack. “Where is Bunco? He’s the only person who has ever been known to leave these parts alive.” A shout from the young pilot brought Bunco into view—a tall, thin, swarthy man, with a countenance that would have made his fortune as the leading villain in a drama of the lurid type. But in spite of his looks and chronic indis position to work he was good matured and intelligent, and of valuable service to the party. Jack had christened him Bunco, as the name most closely resem bling that which he had given at their first meeting. “I dunno whar we is.” he said in reply to the pilot’s question. “Hit's mighty queer, too. for 1 liaf been yere befo'.” He looked nervously toward shore as he continued: "Hit ain't fur from Balsamacoto Inca, I reckon, an' ef once we git thar we arc sure ter ruu ini;) ther natives. They're thick right aroun’ hyer, an' savager’n all taxation." The captain of the craft arose and stood at Bunco’s side. “Can you tell us how to reach the Madera again?” he asked. “This must be one of the branches to it—possibly the Guajara.” “Thet's jest whut I’m nfeard of,” said Bunco, shading his eyes with one hand and peering ahead. “An’ ef hit is. we’re agoin’ right in ther v Inca ter run country.” “And the natives there, you say, art savage?” The colored man nodded. "They're wusser than in any other part of Brazil." The conversation was interrupted by the appearance of two young men. one about the same age as Jac . an t )<• other a few years older. “Bill is going to strike, said one o them, with a laugh. lies got nearly all hia clothing off now. but he says its hot enough down in the engine room to ‘‘ wanta to know when ba k "We ** ago tin* thatched roof of a native hut. Jack turned the vessel towards shoro and rang the signal in the engine room to shut off steam. In a few minutes they had reached dry >«“* a ' ,J wcrc m «>« direction of the building, leaving Bill to moor the launch and follow them later. The party consisted of an English gen tleman named Robert Etynge, his two sons. George and Russell; Jack Camp bell, a young American, and Bill and Bunco, engineer, fireman, deck hand and steward, in turn. They were on a six months’ pleasure trip through South America. The house, which they discovered in the center of a cleared space of ground near the river side, was a well built struct uro, containing one large and one small room, with the single entrance in theside of the former. It had evidently been lately inhabited, for a large supply of grain, dried meats and vegetables was stored within, and a pile of wood already cut for fuel lay ready at hand. The party proceeded at once to inspect the .cabin, to see what sort of a place it would be to spend the night in. Their quarters in the vessel were so cramped that whenever it was practicable they had slept in a tent on shore or in a tem porarily deserted but like the present one. “I guess we'd better stay here for the night.” said Mr. Etynge. “The building is a stout one and proof against both wild beasts and wild men Suppose a couple of you youngsters go down to the boat and get some bedding.” Jack and Russell stepped to the door, but drew back suddenly, the former beckoning to the captain as he did so. “There’s a crowd of natives coining this way,” he whispered. “Look through the window while we bar the door.” Mr. Etynge sprang to the small win dow and glanced towards a body of men rapidly advancing in the direction of the cabin. They were within gunshot before catching sight of the house, then they fell back, concealing themselves behind some »rees and bushes, and jabbering away like an army of monkeys. “Well,” barring said Russell, as he and Jack finished the door, “this is a nice adventure, isn’t it? The i lea of leaving the bout with only one rifle* among us!” They looked into each other's faces, but no one spoke. Whiz! A short, thick, sharp pointed piece of wood flew through the window and bur ied itself in the opposite wall Another and another followed, some of them striking the cabin and others coming in by way of the open window. The men threw themselves on the floor, at Bunco's suggestion, and all but Jack Campbell remained in that position for nearly half an hour. The latter had seized the captain's small repeating rifle and cautiously approached the window For some minutes the arrows from the natives' air guns flew so thickly that he was unable to get a shot at them, hut presently there came a lull in the one sided bombardment, and the sharp crack of the rifle was followed by a death yell from without But one rifle, although it kept back for some time the assault of the savages, was not sufficient to drive them away, and late in the afternoon. Jack's car tridges having given out. the natives up proaelied nearer u> the cabin. They seemed to realize that the deadly ammunition of their enemies had become exhausted, and were preparing for a band to hand conflict, knowing that they outnumbered the inmates of the cabin ten to one. But as they cautiously approached the hut. shooting almost constantly at the door and windows, an unexpected but powerful re-enforcement came to the aid of the tourists in the shape of their en gineer on board the launch. Bill was slow to comprehend the real danger of his friends' position; hut when tie did so he at once made preparations for their relief tie gathered all the ammunition be could find into the pilot house, and loaded nearly a dozen repeat ing rifles before commencing to shoot. When he finally opened fire he was able to keep a steady stream of bullets trained upon the savages, and this thoroughly demoralized them and caused the major ity to retreat precipitately from the hut and turn their attention toward the river. pm vvas not particularly noted for his mar ij sma j) 8 hip, and not more than one in every twenty bullets took effect: but the unceasing lire was too much for the nat j vca am j they broke and ran like so |n 8l For a few minutes it looked as though Bill’s plan would enable those imprisoned in the hut to make their escape: but with the cessation of the tiring the courage of the natives returned, and they ajM-edily placed the cabin between themselves and the vessel. Then they sent a half dozen particularly good shots nt the doughty engineer. “It looks ter mo." said Bill to himself, as several of the sharp pointed sticks flew past him, “as if we’d kinder got inter a hornets’ nest. These* dumed sav ages will starve the boys put unless I can VOL. II. NO. 24. time them off. 1 guess I’ll wait till after dark and see if 1 can’t carry eorne rifles to them.” Fur some time afterwards the mind of the engineer was busily engaged in choos ing from a number of plans the one best suited for the speedy deliverance of his feiiow tourists. It would lie necessary to reach the cabin without alarming the savages, and at the same time leave be hind him some indication of his presence on board the vessel, thus distracting their at tention from his expedition. yfe finally ’perfected a scheme that would carry out his idea, and when night fell, he had completed his arrangements for liberating the tourists. He secured all the rifles in a bundle and stowed about his clothing all the cartridges lie could carry. Then he set the whistle on the boat to blowing, tying back the valve cord, so as to frighteu the natives and give them to understand that he was still on board. The vessel was also provided with a large and reso nant brass bell, and the clapper of this he connected by a cord with the plung ing piston rod, for he had set the engine gently to working. The result must have puzzled and amused the captives us much as it alarmed the natives, and for a lew minutes not a sound could be heard above the hoarse shriek of the whistle, and the loud ding dong of the bell. Just as the din commenced Bill leaped on shore with the rifles and ammunition and set out in the darkness for the cabin. Twice be stumbled and fell, and several times caught sight of dark forms mov ing about him. for the cabin was sur rounded by savages. But if they saw the engineer they must have taken him for one of their own number, and he reached the front, of the cabin in safety. “Hey, there,” be whispered, rapping lightly on the door. “It’s me—Bill.” The door was cautiously opened and the engineer crawled in. receiving a per fect ovation from the-prisoners. When they bad divided the rifies and cartridges, the captain said; “1 guess we'd better start for the boat at onee. Undercover of the darkness we are more sure to reach it, and live noise of the whistle will shew t:u the way. Are you ail ready?” “Yes.” came in chorus from the rest, and the door was slowly opened The captain went out first, followed in turn at intervals of a minute hv Bunco, Jack. Russell, Bill and George. Just as the latter started, the fun began. The rifles kept cracking merrily, each succeeding report sounding nearer and nearer to the bout, until the captain, wit h Bill at his side, sprang on hoard, and the ingenuity of the latter was still further demonstrated by the preparations which he bad made for repelling boarders. Two long pieces of rubber hose, con necting with the bailing waier in the engine room, were brought into service, and. while waiting for the remainder ol the party to come up. did valuable wort; •n keeping the savages tit a distance. When the last man was on board Bill rushed below and started the propelie-, vhile Jack, in the pilot bouse, beaded the boat down stream. “We are saved!" exclaimed the cap tain, fervently “Now let us get out of this region jis quick :us possible. It is hardly the sort of one for a pleasure I our. “ Howard M. Boynton in The — Ar gosy. S. C. Bowen, of Nashville. Tenn., says; The true story of the death of Gen. Ewell is known only to a few. As a young man he was quite a dandy, and continued to pay a great deal of atten tion to his dress until August, 18G2, when he lost a leg at the battle tof Grove ton. He recovered in a few months and led his troops until the close of the war, but with the loss of his leg he also seemed to lose all interest in his personal ap pearance, ami after he went back to hi# farm in Tennessee was in the habit of wearing the most dreadful old garments imaginable, saying that it made no dif ference how a one-legged man looked. A year or two after the close of the war there was a sale of quartermaster's stores, and Gen. Ewell bought a quan tity of military trousers for which there was no longer any use. He issued them to his workmen, and at last took up the habit of wearing a pair about his farm. They were shoddy goods, very thin aud flimsy, and on a damp day in the winter Ewell took a cold, which developed into pneumonia, and from which lie never recovered. A duy or two before hia death, when he knew there was no hope, he said to a friend: “The enemy has killed me at last. I was in many battles, was severe ly lilt more than once, and on more than one occasion thought 1 was as good a# dead. When the war closed it seemed to me that I had nothing more to fear, but 1 was mistaken, for here I am at last dying of a pair of Yankee breeches."— ' St. Louis Globe-Democrat.
