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About Schley County news. (Ellaville, Ga.) 1889-1939 | View Entire Issue (March 29, 1894)
The Ship of Love. Onles that blow tho ships away Over leagues of lonesome sea, gearoh the dreary deep today— Waft Love’s wandering ship to me! Put tho winds reply: ••We roam the sky And we trouble and toss the sea; And thy Love’s ship sails Whore the black night wails, And comes no more to thoe!’’ Stars, that light the seas afar, Where tho mists and mounlug be; Blend your beams in one great star Light Love’s wandering ship to me! But the stars reply : -Wo light the sky, Far over tho lonely sea; And thy Love’s ship dreams Where no bright star beams, And cornea no more to thee!” -FitANK L. Staston, in Atlanta Constitution. “OUR TOM.’’ EY AMY BANDOnni. The sun, a sphere of amber glory, hail just gone majestically down be hind the cedar-trees on old Mount Milton ; and Bessie Vane, washing the tea-dishes in the little outer kitchen, was vehemently haranguing her brother, who sat dejectedly on the window-seat, staring hard at the glow of yellow light which still hung above Mount Milton. “If I were you, Torn,” said Bessie, vigorously polishing up a tumbler, “I would not be such an idiot!” “Oh, Bessie, don’t chatter,” said Tom, despairingly. “You mean well, dear, but you don’t understand. It’s no use.” “It is!” asserted Bessie. “I’m not good enough for her.” “You are!” protested Bessie, red dening angrily. “She don’t love me.” “More shame for her, then!” “She deserves a richer, handsomer, nobler husband than I could ever be to her.” “She don’t!” “And so I’ve pretty much regolved •to give the whole matter up.” Bessie was silent. In her estima tion Tom was the best, bonniest, most heroic of all the young men in the countryside; and it Hermione Doug las looked down upon him, Hermione Douglas must be bereft of common 6ense—that was all. “I did think,” sadly added Tom, “that I had some shadow of a chance before that young foreign scoundrel stepped in—De Castle, or whatever his name is. ” “Di Casoli,” corrected Bessie. “Well, Di something or other. A man can’t be expected to remember these four-syllabled things,” growled Tom. “But he has upset things alto gether. I hate foreigners! I always did!” “Oh, Tom,” remonstrated Bessie, “ aren’t you little unjust?” a <i s Unjust!’ People are unjust to me, ain’t they?” retorted Tom, pluck ing a solitary slender-stemmed carna tion whose modest petals were glim mering in the faint lialflight, in the window recess. “If this De Cassell had only minded his own business and stayed in Milan or Nice or wherever the place is, I might have had some show. As for his being a count, I ‘Ion t believe lie’s a count any more than I am a convict.” Bessie was silent as she placed the little piles of cups, saucers and pre serve-plates on the cupboard shelves in due order. “As for my being jealous without a cause,” moodily added Tom, “Didn’t George Daily himself hear her say that she liked Italians better than any other sort? What does that sound like, eh?” Well, he is handsome,” reluctantly added Bessie. <( < Handsome!’ That’s all you wo nien think of!” burst out Tom, as he flun g himself away. Aik] the next dm he announced his intention of going to Canada. Oh, Tom!” shrieked his mother. <( Isn’t ) this rather a sudden resolu lon ’ n U T son?"’ mildly questioned his lather. , ‘And Dave us, Tom?” faltered essie > "’ith tears in her gentle blue eyes. ° me 18 place for me just “°w, i) said Tom, riftn lumber recklessly. “Uncle H mill will take the non- 11Sf 0llt of me H anything will. » art work and no time to think— tbat is what I need. ” Bessie said nothing more, She drew a long shmlderiiig breath, and resolved secretly to take a decisive course of action. < i Tom 1ms the host right to Hor moine,” she thought. “Tom loved Hermione long before this Count Di Casoli ever came to this country. And I think Hermione liked him. Tom is not like other people, who con sole themselves easily. This thing will break Tom’s heart. I shall inter fere, even at the risk of appearing un feminine and meddlesome.” Her resolution once formed Bessie lost no time in carrying it into effect. That very afternoon she dressed . her self in the pretty blue India silk dress that was so becoming and tied on the little hat that was wreathed around with blue forget-me-nots and loops of azure ribbons, and set off for the old Douglas house, where Count Di Casoli was visiting Hermione’s brothers. She had met the count several times before. He was, as she had told Tom, strikingly handsome, and sjioke as good English as if he had been born on Massachusetts soil. He liked America, he had told Bessie, and thought it extremely likely that he should remain in this country for sev eral years. Moldy old Italian castles, he had laughingly observed, were not nearly so pleasant as these sunny New England homes, and as for society, he much preferred the clearer, brighter atmosjihere of American intellect. “So sensible as he is in everything,” thought Bessie, “and yet not to see how unjustly he is acting toward poor, dear Tom ! Oh, I can’t understand it at all J ” Jnst before she reached the pretty grounds of the Douglas place, Bessie came upon the Count Di Casoli, leis urely seated on an old fallen tree, in tently watching the pranks of a group of gray squirrels. He sprang to his feet in an instant. i 4 Miss Yune!” he cried, with bright ening eyes. “How fortunate I am to meet you thus! May I have the hap piness of escorting you up to the house?” “No,” answered Bessie summoning all her courage to the front. “I was not going to visit Hermione today. I —I came especially to see you, Air. Di Casoli.” “To see me?” His eyes sparkled, his cheeks deepened in its ruddy brown color as he looked down into her averted face. Bessie felt as if she could sunk through the very ground at his feet. “I wanted to speak to you,” she added, hurriedly. “I am at your service, Aliss Vane.” “Would you think me very imper tinent if—if I were to ask you some questions?” she faltered, secretly wishing herself anywhere else in the world than under the light of those brilliant, searching eyes. “I cannot think of any circum stances in the world under which I could possibly think , you impertinent, Aliss Yane.” At this Bessie blushed hotter than ever, and resolved to strike straight at the root of the matter and settle affairs at once. “Air. Di Casoli,” she falter ed,“you know you said you wouldn’t be of fended ; but—are you engaged to Her mione Douglass?” He looked at her curiously. i - No,” said he; “I have not that honor.” 6 i You promised, Air. Di Casoli!” pleaded poor Bessie, in agony. “I promised what?” “Not to be angry.” “I am not angry, signorina—I mean Aliss Yane. Speak on!” i t Because—” faltered Bessie—“I thought—our Tom—oh, Air. Di Casoli he loves Hermione so dearly—he has loved her ever since they were child ren together, and they were all but engaged when—when you came here and spoiled it all.” The Count Di Casoli stroked his silken mustache, with a puzzled ex pression of countenance. “But—pardon—” he began--“I do not see what I have to do with the matter.” “Are yon not in love with Her mione?” flatly demanded Bessie. “Strangely as it may seem I am not,” Di Casoli answered, with the ut-, most gravity. “Nor engaged to her?” “No, nor engaged to her. ” “But—but—” Bessie hesitated. SCHLEY CQUNTY NEWS. “Yes?” Tbo questioning, brilliant eye* see mod to glow upon her like jewels. “She—said she liked Italians better than any one else. Mr. Daily heard her—at the reception—day before yes terday !” The count smiled. “Yes,” said he, “she did say so. j also heard her. The remark was made in my presence. But, unluckily for my self-esteem, we were talking, not of individuals, but of bees. Her father lias just received a few colonies of fine Italian bees, and it was of them that we were speaking. As to the Italian gentlemen, as compared with those of this country, she has not yet expressed an opinion.” Bessie’s whole face had grown ra diant. “Oh, Mr. Di Casoli,”she said, “will you promise me not to fail in love with Hermione? I’m asking a weak thing, I know, for Hermione is so sweet and beautiful, and I don’t see how any man can be with her and not love her. But our Tom—” “It is asking a great deal,” said Mr. Di Casoli, so solemnly that Bessie started back and shrank within herself like a sensitive plant at the touch of a profaning finger. “I can only con sent on one condition.” “What is that?” murmured palpi tating Bessie. “That I may confide in you, signo rina Bessie, even as you have confided in me,” said Di Casoli, suiting his voice to the confidential accent. “Have I your consent?” “Yes, of course,” said Bessie, won dering what was coming next. “I am not in love with Miss Doug las,” confessed the count, “because I am in love with somebody else. If you can use your influence with that fair queen of my heart, to secure my happiness, I will pledge myself sa credly never to interfere with, the sig nor, your brother.” “But what can I do?” questioned Bessie. 6 < You can do everything!” asserted the count. “The name of my queen is Bessie Yane—she stands before me at this instant. If she will take charge of my heart, it is safe forever. Cara mia! Don’t look at me with those startled eyes. Just put your hand m mine, and ‘Marco, I love you ! 5 J? say : And in faltering accents Bessie re peated her lesson. Low as her voice was, however, it satisfied Marco Di Casoli. “That was the way it happened,” said proud Airs. Yane. “It seems the count had been in love with Bes aie ever since he first saw her. And Eermoine says she would have accepted our Tom long ago if he had but plucked up courage and asked her. Is he going to Canada? Of course not, now— why on earth should he go to Canada? But as for little blue-eyed Bess becom ing a countess—I declare to gracious it doesn’t seems possible?” “Nothing is too good for Bess,” said Our Tom, who was fully aware of all the benefits he had gained from his sister’s brave intercession.—[The Ledger. A Queer Marriage Ceremony. They have a queer betrothal custom among the common natives or peons of Guatemala, which is scarcely ro mantic for tho girl. I was passing the hut of a native on a tinea or coffee plantation one day when I saw an old woman belaboring her daughter with a good-sized stick, which she applied vigorously across the shoulders and body of her beloved offspring, who set up a wail of woe and pain, though I fancy her tears were quick dried, for it was a significant event for her. This is the way the old lady gave her consent to the marriage of her daughter. The natives receive hut little cash during the year. The priests charge what is there considered a good sum for performing a marriage ceremony, and the natives of the lower classes dispense with it. The mother beats the daughter, there is a feast of fri joles and tartilla cakes and the dispen sation of unlimited quantities of na tive whiskey, everybody is happy and drunk, and that constitutes the mar riage, which,, singular as it may ap pear, is regarded and observed, as » rule, faithfully.—[Goldwaite’s Geo graphical Magazine. A midshipman in the United States navy receives pay equivalent to that of a lieutenant in the British navy. RATTLESNAKE MAN. Catches Venomous Serpents for a Livelihood. Interesting Incidents of a Dan gerous Occupation. In a wild valley at the foot of a rocky ami precipitous mountain, near the little hamlet of Long Eddy, in Sullivan County. N. Y., is the home of John C. Geer, whose business is the charming of rattlesnakes. This ec centric individual who lives in this in solated spot is known throughout that part of the country as “the rattlesnake man.” Though over sixty years of age, he is as active almost as he was twenty years ago, and for a mount aineer, born and reared in that untu tored country, where people of nny kind are scarce, he possesses a rare intelligence. A better insight into liis strange and dangerous business cannot be given than by the following story, told by himself : “I have boen engaged in catching rattlers at the foot of this mountain for many years. Some sea sons I get from 200 to 300 of them, many of w’hick I tame and ship alive to museums of New York and other cities. I kill a good many and extract the oil, for which I find a ready sale at from $2 to $o an ounce. The skins are worth from $1 to $5 each, according to their size and condition. This mountain hack of my house is fairly alive with rattlesnakes; thousands of them live there in their lairs in the cre vasses of the rocks. One day last year I started out below’ my house, and in two hours and a half caught twenty two rattlers and a black snake. I catch the snakes with a hook or snare, and put them into a bag, in which I bring them home. Do they ever bite me? Well, sometimes, but very sel dom, as I know what a rattlesnake’s bite is, and am always very careful how I handle them. Six or seven times they have been too smart for me, and have sunk their fangs into my hands, but I am alive yet, for I have an infal lible cure for the poison. The bites always leave a scar, though, as you will see by the back of my hand.” This hand has a number of small, deep scars, which look like a very pro nounced pockmark, and these, the “rattlesnake man” declares are the results of the bites he has received. The “infallible” cure which Mr. Geer used is compounded by himself. Cer tain it is he has been called upon many times to save people who have been struck by the poison-laden fangs of rattlesnakes, and his remedy has never failed to cure. No loss weird and interesting than the man is his rude logliouse, which is always the home of from a dozen to thirty or more of the venomous rep tiles. These are kept in boxes, and many of them are very tame, actually seeming to be very fond of their mas ter. It does not take the old man long to subdue these wild creatures, and he often has them crawling about the floor while he smokes his pipe and meditates. He is fond of having vis itors come to see his pets, though few people can be persuaded to enter this den of rattlers and black snakes. This amuses the old man, as long asssoei ation has taken away every vestige of fear of having them harm him, and he thinks no more of handling the rep tiles than if they were playful kittens. — [New York Times. Excitements of Mexican Agriculture. At the Casa Camadra are two other log houses, and in them live some squalid, yellow-hided humans who are to form a litt.le stretch of bottom-land this year. They reqniro work steers to do their ploughing, and Mr. Bell has brought up half a dozen vicious old “stags,” which are both truculent and swift of foot. The Mexicans in sist that they are not able to handle them; and Mr. Bell orders his punch ers into action. After a lot of riding and yelling they are herded and dragged into the enclosure, where they huddled while seven punchers sat on their ponies at the gate. I was stand ing at one corner of the corral, near two men, when out from the midst of the steers walked a big black bull, which raised its head and gazed direet ly at me. The bull had never before in his stupid life observed a man on foot, and I comprehended immediately what he would do next, so I “led out” for the casa at a rate of speed which ; the hoys afterwards never grew weary of commending. No spangled torero of the bull-ring ever put more heart and soul into his running than did I in my great coat and long hunt ing spurs. The bull made a “fo’lorn hope” for the gate, and the gallant punchers melted away before the charge. The diversion of the punchers made the retreat of the infantry pc ssible, and from an entrenched position I saw the bulls tear over the hills, with the punchers “rolling their tails” behind. After an hour of swearing and haul ing and bellowing, the six cattle were lugged back to the pen, and the bars put up. The punchers came around to congratulate me on my rapid recov ery from, a sprained ankle, when they happened to observe the cattle again scouring off for the open country. Then there was a grunting of ponies as the spurs went in, some hoarse oaths, and for the third time they tore away after the “gentle work-oxen.” The steers had taken the bars in their stride. Another hour’s chase, and this time the animals were thrown clown, trussed up like turkeys for the baking, and tied to posts, where they lay to kick and bellow’ the night through in impotent rage. The punchers coiled their ropes, lit their cigarettes and rode off in the gathering gloom. The morning following the steers were let up, and though wet and chilled, they still roared defiance. For agricultural purposes a Mexican “stag” would be as valuable as a rhinoceros or a Bengal tiger, and I await with interest the re port of the death rate at the Casa Ca madra during spring ploughing. — [Harper’s Magazine. Unorganized Greer County. “Greer County still remains ‘no man’s land,’ and probably will for some time,” said a Texan. “It is as yet not an attractive country, and is governed hv no laws, because it would be impossible to establish jurisdiction. The United States Court deals with offenders, but the county is practically not governed at all. Up to this time for convenience it has been termed a part of the Indian Territory, although Texas claims it; but being remote from the civilized tribes and its own ership disputed, the people haVe gono along about as they pleased without law, courts, or officers. It is large enough for a state like Massachusetts in itself but is sparsely populated. There are no taxes to pay, hence a great many Texas cattle are grazed there every ye.tr, and a few farms have been cultivated into wheat fields, the land producing wheat in large quanti ties and of the best quality. The peo ple of Texas are not anxious to own it, as those interested can now use it without the payment of taxes, and very little attention has been paid to it by the Indian Territory. In fact, it is the one spot in the United States which no one owns, and very few care to own, although the soil is good.”— St. Louis Globe-Democrat. Decorations lor Brave Dogs, In France there exists an order of merit, founded by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, the members of which are dogs who have distinguished themselves by deeds of bravery. A tastefully designed “col lar of honor” is awarded to the nom inees of the order. Among the ani mals already decorated in this way, one of the most celebrated is Bacchus, a large bulldog, whose specialty is to stop runaway horses by jumping up and seizing them by the bridle. Bac chus’s master resides in the Hue Bis cornet. The intelligent beast has already saved the lives of eight per sons, if not more, in this way. Pntaud, another bulldog, received a collar in 1887 for saving his mistress from the attack of a footpad; and Turk, a splendid Newfoundland, has had a similar honor for saving three young children from drowning on dif ferent occasions.—[London News. Great Expectations. “How long is your lecture?” “That depends on the audience.” “What has the audience to do with it?” “Much. With applause the lecture is. two hours long. Without it I think I can get through in forty minutes.” —[Harper’s Bazar.
