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About The Rockdale banner. (Conyers, Ga.) 1888-1900 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 11, 1897)
THE GOLDEN SIDE, There’s many a rest on the road of life, There is many a gem in the path of life, If we could only stop to take it; Which we pass in idle pleasure, And many a tone from the better land, That is richer far than a jewelled crown, If the querulous heart would wake it. Or the miser’s hoarded treasure. To the sunny soil that is full of hope, It may be the love of a little child, And whoso beautiful trust ne’er faileth, Or a mother’s prayer to heaven, ' The grass is green and flowers are bright. Or only a beggar’s grateful thanks Though the wintry storm prevaileth. For a cup of water given. Better to hope, though the clouds hang low, Better to weave in the web of life And to keep the eyes still lifted, A bright and golden filling, For the sweet blue sky will soon peep And do God’s will with a ready heart, through, And hands that are swift and willing, When the ominous clouds are rifted. Than to snap the delicate silver threads There was never a night without a day, Of curious lives asunder, Nor an evening without a morning; And then blame heaven for the tangled And the darkest hour, the proverb goes, ends, Is the hour before the dawning. And sit, and grieve, and wonder. —M. E. Crouch."^ t i ij In the Garden of Romance. F iGt'S i:, su. $ HE fact that he was riding a bicycle should have kept him to remember¬ m romance, ing living that in he an But was age not he of tip!.. forgot it. And to live in the midst of a matter-of-fact 1 world and forgot that it is such is w'hat makes moat of the tragedies of that world. There were excuses for him, of course. The first, that he was young; the second, that he was care-free, and the last—and as the nursery rhyme has it, the beat—that he had come from the early spring of New York to that, of Southern California. He had ridden through willow paths along the gravel roads that a month before had been the b§d of the San Gabriel; he had crossed the shallow gleaming branches of the stream time and again; ho had looked from the green swell of the divide over as green a valley, whore wild flowers were thick on the ground and where peach and almond trees made pink and white patches. Just across the valley the mountains were half covered with snow, but the air was warm from the sea and the sky was bright blue. So there was excuse for bis forgetting the bicycle and thinking the world a place for romance. A place for romance, but there can be none without a woman. And there was no woman. He coasted down the incline of the divide and made for the Monte road, by tros-bordered byways and paths. There was not a flake of dust in the splendid air. All kinds of picturesque, Old World things ought to happen. In a garden of, this sort man ought certainly not to be alone. Some nymph should come : dripping and glittering out of the zanja; some slender figure should push its way through the high, green barley and the fluffy branches of the peppers and stand beside him. He forgot the barbed Avire fence be¬ tween the barley field and the road. The grasses and flowering weeds and the peppers hid it. But the zanja rippled and purled on, the barley waved in the Avirnl from the sea, and the sun gleamed on an uninhabited world. Then a bell rang out, just ahead, by the road side, and the silence of the spring high noon Avas filled Avith the voices of children and young girls. The woman entered the garden. She was neither nymph of zanja nor sprite of the field, only a black-goAvued school girl, Avko stood on the sohool house steps and Avaved a handkerchief at the passing tourist. The tourist was a man and young—which Avas all the school girl oared about. The girl was pretty and AvilloAvy—which Avas all the man cared about. He raised his cap and motioned to a clump of trees down the higkAvuy. Of course she would under¬ stand. It Avas all a part of the romance and the country, and she understood. She left the calling, screaming chil¬ dren and her older companions and strolled toward Avhere he sat, on the grass under the trees. It was out of sight of the school house. He watched her black, lithe figure moA'ing through the flecked Bunshine that came in through the plumy branches of the peppers. They were all alone in the midst of spring and the garden, birds were sing¬ ing from the earth, the sun Avas shin¬ ing from the sky, and the soft wind bleAv from the sea beyond the valley. The snoAvy mountains Avere far aAvay, and the world on the other side of them yet further. Her name, she said, was Alicia. How sweet the double e’s of the vowels, how different the stern Nelson to which he had to confess. But even that was pretty when she said it. How old Avas she? She was fifteen. The heroines of the poets were that age. Where|did she live? Some vague Avay over there among the pink blossoms. He re membered that when he was a child those questions had always ^begun an acquaintance: “What is your name? How old are you? Where do you live?” AU the wisdom he had accumulated in the years between then and now had vanished. He did not want it. He forgot that he had meant to reach the hotel of the valley by luncheon time, He was not hungry; but Alicia was. bhe put her plump brown hand into her pocket and brought out a news paper roll. Inside of the paper there was a tortilla and boiled meat. She ate these while she talked to him, and when she had finished she started to draw the back of her wrist across her mouth; but remembering the teachings of school and the presence of the for¬ eign young man, she took out her handkerchief. He had meant to ask for that haudkerchief, the white signal which had fluttered in the air; but he saw that it was grimy and ink-spotted, so he asked for the wire ring she wore instead. Alicia parted with it as though it had been very precious. Then she brushed the crumb3 from her black frock and stood up. “I must go now,” she said, with an accent that kept the words from being com¬ monplace. “First tell me where you live,” he asked. She pointed over to the patch of feathery pink, “In the white house in them trees.” “What is your father’s name?” “Mateo Manzelo,” she answered, winding one of her heavy braids around her hand. “I will come to see you to-night,” he told her. “Yes,” she murmured, with musical indifference, as she Avent leisurely up the pathway and never once looked back. The man rode on to the hotel and returned to real life as he asked if a valise and a trunk had come and if there were any letters for Nelson Cameron. There was one. After he had had bis luncheon he sat on the long piazza, from which the snow¬ capped mountains could be seen through the climbing roses, and read it. But the letter was dull, and the memory of the brown liair and eyes that had always) seemed the most beau¬ tiful in the world paled beside that of two soft black braids and two orbs as soft and as black. There was a vague promise that the owners of the brown hair and eyes might be in California, too, ere long. Cameron was not so pleased as he tried to think he -was. He began to imagine tho meeting of that night. It came about. Old Manzelo and his fat, black-wrapped wife did not object to him in the least. He walked for hours up and down She moonlit road, with Alicia’s hand in his and went from her—a Lord Lovel on a steed of glittering steel—at midnight. The poison was in his blood. He bad eaten of the lotus, and he forgot homo and \ho past. He gave reckless rein to the course of young blood. And so a fortnight passed away. There were no more letters. They were being sent to Santa Barbara, where he had told the brown-eyed girl that the first weeks in March would find him. He had not written to her. He had meant to. But it was the land of poco tiempo. In pursuance of the romance he was living, he one day put on the dirty overalls and coat of old Manzelo and Avent with Alicia to the San Gabriel railway station to Avask and pack oranges. Alicia Avas dressed in faded dark blue, Avith a yellow handkerchief around her neck and a pink boAv in her hair. She was very pretty, and vei’yopen in accepting the open devo¬ tion of the American. It Avas still just a lark for him. It was rather more for her—a little more. A tally-ho drove up to the station and the driver stopped it, that his party of tourists might watch one of the really picturesque scenes left to the United States. Some of the Avash ers looked up. Cameron and Alicia Manzelo were talking together aud did not. Both Avere gaziug light love into each other’s eyes, The boss of the gang caine up to the tally-ho with a handful of oranges. The finest one, all wet and glistening with its scrub¬ bing, he offered to the girl on the front seat. “Thank you. What a splendid one!” shepiaised. ^1 am so thirsty that it will taste good, “May I peel it for you?” he asked, with an inflection that showed him English at once. He had not offered to peel them for the others, but this was a very beauti ful woman, with brown hair and a skin that reminded him of the women at home. While he prepared it, she looked at the workers. And when he handed it to her: “Thank you,” she said again, “and can you tell me who that man by the j ! girl in the blue gown is? He is evi dently not a Mexican.” ETe pondered why she should car® to know, but he answered: “No; he is an American. All I can tell you about him is that his name seems to be Nelson. It is what the girl calls him.” “The girl?” “Yes. It’s a picturesque flirtation, I gathered from her father. It has been going on for some weeks, and the old man says Nelson, or whatever his name really is, means to marry her. But it is unsafe.” “Very, I should say,” said the girl, reflectively. “They rarely do, these whites that make love to pretty Mexicans, ” added the Englishman. The pretty Mexican cast up her dark eyes just then and took notice of the tally-ho. She had known it was there all along, but she had not been interested in it. “The lady on the front watch you,” she murmured to her companion. Cameron glanced up. He caught the unfaltering look of the brown eyes, and the scales—the rosy scales of ro¬ mance—fell from his own. He dropped the orange that he held into the water in his tub and started to the tally-ho. But he took only a step, then went back. The girl on the front seat had turned to the others. “Can’t we get out for a while? I’m sure we are all cramped and tired, and I should like to watch this pretty scene for a bit.” The Englishman helped her down, but she thanked him and walked away. Her manner implied that she would make her own investigations. She wandered among the boxes and the tubs and trays, hazarding a word to the washers here and there. Most of them did not understand her. She came up finally beside Cameron’s tub and spoke to him. The on-lookers fancied that she might be asking how many oranges he had cleaned that day. Alicia, a half dozen feet away at the end of the tray, was unconcerned. So the Anglo-Saxon conducts his tragedy. “It is evidently more attractive here than in Santa Barbara,” the fair Amer¬ ican said, in cool, placid tones. Cameron stammered. “I can’t blame you. It breaks my heart, of course. But that can’t be helped. I can stand it—and better now than later. Only I cared for you a great, deal—a great, great deal.” She stopped. “Don’t you now?” asked Cameron baldly. “Yes. I suppose I always shall, too. But, of course, I shall never see you again.” He started to protest, a little out¬ raged in feelings at her severity. “Please don’t make a scene,” she said, anxiously. “It won’t do any good. You ought to know me well enough to know that.” Cameron reflected that Alicia would have screamed, and cried, and stabbed, perhaps, but would have forgiven. That was her Latin blood. This girl was Anglo-Saxon. She would never forgive, but neither would she ever forget. He understood—he was of her race. So he kept silence. “Did you tell her yon would marry her?” “Yes.” He did not attempt to evade. t ( Then you will keep the promise, .will you not?” He did not answer. “I must leave that to you,” she finished. “If you think you should, you Avili do it. Good-by.” The cool possessors of hot young blood parted after the manne\’ of the well-bred of their kind. Tne girl drove aAvay through the country of romance. She Avas in Elysian fields aud her heart and soul were in hades, but no one kneAV that. The man washed his fruit in silence Avhile the little daughter of the land stood beside him, patiently waiting for him to speak. When he did, he said: “We shall be married in a week at the mission, Alicia.” “Yes,” she answered, pleased. And the romance Avas closed.— Argonaut. Sense of Touch Wanting. One has heard of heartless women and Avornen without feeling, but that a human being can exist without any sense of touch seems marvelous. Yet that is claimed for Mrs. Evartina Tar do, a young widow in the West In¬ dies. Physicians who have known her case pronounce it a physiological freak. She is said to be wholly with¬ out feeling, has swallowed poison, been shot, bitten by rattlesnakes, re¬ ceived a puncture in her heart from a doctor’s lance and had her neck dis located, all without experiencing any pain. Besides these experiments, she can without injury drink benzine and light the gas at a hollow needle which pierces her cheek. This strange as ae j-tion is backed by the word oi ■ physicians of repute. As a child she was bitten by a oobra, and it is claimed : that her sensory nerves were paralyzed and her system inoculated with poison. Could photoersph « Block or Hon>««. What is to be the largest photo graphic camera in the world is at present being made to the order of a Dublin firm. The case of the instru rnent measures seven feet six inches long by six feet high and is of richly ' carved oak. The lens is of special I manufacture and will cost about THROUGH GEORGIA. The coroner’s jury at Atlanta freed old man Zion Bridwell of the suspi¬ cion of murdering his wife. Some of the evidence at the inquest made the case against the old man Bridwell rather suspicious, but altogether it cleared the feeble-brained old man of all complicity in the crime. Savannah is much wrought up over the latest street car grab. Recently all the car lines went under one manage¬ ment. A day or two ago the council gave the new company such valuable privileges and so protected them from competition in future that the citizens are up in arms against their action. The resolution recently introduced by Representative Knowles, of Fulton, in the house of representatives provid¬ ing for a uniform system of quarantine laws under federal control is meeting with hearty approval in both branches of the legislature. The Savannah rep¬ resentatives will oppose it on the grounds that it would be unwise to give the United States marine hospital ser¬ vice full control of the quarantine reg¬ ulations in preference to those who are directly interested. Outside of Savan¬ nah, however, the measure is meeting with the general approval of the legis¬ lature. The hosts of the confederacy are to be clad in gray again. And the women of the south are going to do the cloth¬ ing. What was done in the days when the land was stirred with strife will be repeated this year. Survivors of the southern army are going to be uniformed, and the women are going into the business of making up the gray suits once more. It is a novel plan and a novel repetition of what was done in historic times. This de¬ cision was reached at the recent meet¬ ing in Atlanta of the commanders of the survivors’ association of the state of Georgia. * * * The most disastrous fire ever seen in Moultrie occurred last Saturday morning about 5 o’clock. Twelve business houses, including one livery stable, one blacksmith shop and one dwelling, were burned. The fire was first discovered in the “Brilliant sa¬ loon,” about midway the block, and spread rapidly north and south, and along East Broad street till the entire block was swept away, and all efforts to check the progress of the fire were futile. It looked for a time as if the entire town would be destroyed. The fire department, fought the flames valiantly. The loss will aggregate $30,000. The board of inquiry in the case of Captain O. M. Carter, corps of en¬ gineers, Avho A\ r as charged Avith irregu¬ larities in the management of the river and harbor works in Savannah harbor, has come to an end and it is expected that the report of the findings of the board will reach General Wilson, chief of engineers, for his indorsement in the course of a day or two. Captain Carter is noAv in Washington attached to the bureau of military information and still retains his assignment as mil¬ itary attache at London. No changes Avili be made in these details, pending the final action of the Avar department in his case. Mr. James E. Brown, the newly appointed librarian, assumed the du¬ ties of his office last Saturday. The bond of $20,000 Avas approved by the goA r ernor, after which Mr. Brown was sworn in. The new librarian is busy acquainting himself with the affairs of the office and shaking hands with his numerous friends. Captain Milledge will be retained in the office until the 1st of December and probably until the 1st of January. Captain Milledge has held the office of state librarian nine years, and has given eminent satisfaction to all. Mr. Brown, the nevv librariab, starts on the discharge of his duties Avith the esteem and con¬ fidence of all that know him. He states that he will make no immediate changes in the office. Miss JeAvett, the assistant librarian,will retain her place until the 1st of January and may prob¬ ably continue after that time. Grady Reynolds, the murderer of Hunt, seems to have grown tired of confinement in the jail at Jefferson¬ ville. Plans for his escape that had been most carefully laid were thAvart ed a feAv days ago only by a mere chance, and the jailer at Jefferson owes h* 3 the flimsiest of accidents, He happened to go into the jail and passed Reynolds’ cell. Reynolds was intent upon some object, and did not notice the sheriff. The officer watched closely and saw that Reynolds had a knife in his hand—a keenly sharp blade and bright as a razor. Summon ing help, the officer went back to Rey nolds’ cell and demanded the knife. Reynolds firmly and grimly refused to gj ve U p weapon, He glanced menacingly through the bars and swore that he would never give up the weapon. At first he denied having it, but when faced with the announcement that it had been seen in his possession i ie admitted knife it. Finallv, after some trouble the was secured, BY THE MARSHES. end And dark against the sunlit skv The golden plover fly. y *3^5, And zigzag traced, from left’ to ri-ht Darts by a jack-snipe’s flight. ° * Here bask the shy and weary teal Beside the pool’s dim edge Here water-hens all noiseless steal Among the waving sedge. And bitterns in the inmost brake Stand solitary, line a stake. Wide stretches steeped in sylvan calm Wind Beleaguered by the sun; ’balm UthWeSt winds ’ with touch lik Green grass and rushes dun; And wheeling through the far-off skv The golden plover fly. ” —Ernest McGaffey, in Woman’s Horn Companion. HUMO R OF THE DAY. Hard money—The money you try t<j borrow. Never waste your time; waste some body else’s. and Handled forks, generally. without gloves— Knive] She—“And were you successfa with your first case, doctor?” HeJ “Y-ye-es. The—er—widow paid thd bill!” 1 “The mills of the gods grind slow ly,” remarked the philosopher, “Geared too low, eh?” queried the cy¬ clist.—Puck. “Drink to me only with thine eyes”? The poet was a sage, I wist. The things one drinks with but one’s eyes Are least expensive on the list! —Harper’s Bazar. “Time works wonders,” said a sold dier, aged thirty-seven, when he re-1 turned home from India and found his cutta twin Critic. sister only eighteen.—Cal] “Were your wife’s pictures satisfacl tory?” “Good pictures enough, bu: not at all natural, >> << What was the de raphertook feet?” “Why her the while fool she of a photogl was looking pleasant.”—Philadelphia Bulletin. “I don’t hear Jones love prating anjj more about his great for little children.” “Jones has moved into ai house that has a vacant lot nest door, where the boys of the neighborhood play ball daily.”— Indianapolis Jour¬ nal. “Why this sign not to touch this particular piece of statuary with canes the or umbrellas?” asked a visitor at art exhibit, “Because,” snapped competing artist, “you could only do justice to it with an ax.”— Detroit Free Press. Bridget has a kitchen full of her company, Mistress (from the head of the stairs)—“Bridget!” Bridget— “Yis, mum.” Mistress— “It’s ID o’clock.” Bridget— “Thank ye, mum; an’ will yez be so koind as t’ tell me whin it’s 12?” -London Tit-Bits. Why a Swelling: Follows a Flow. The swelling which follows from flj blow is nature’s effort to protect the! part from further injury and to keep it at rest while repair is going on. Y kaw jury actually is not takes place at quite the understood.I seat of inj even now ics-j The injury to the smaller blood sels interferes with the flow of bloo 1 through them and the white corpuscles! with part of the serum - the watering part of the blood, escap into the surd rounding tissues. At the same tim the blood vessels in the neighborhood dilate and the increased flow of blood with the thoroughfare obstructed in 1 creases the swelling. that the white J 1 It is probable blood into > n«j puscles of the pass wea tissues to assist in the repair, as or ants assemble at an injury differ o j storehouse, but with this that the substance conrertea of MO* the corpuse J probably From repair. is one only o gigantic! human body & swelling that follows injury but the rush on these to repair the breach.—Phi- a 1 delphia Times. The Poultry Industry. Our enormous wheat ° rop ’ >j extolled in every journal m the >c try, and which excites the -J J of the world, is equalled by ^' of the poultry and eggs P r0< J the United States, the eggs andpo,1 try finding home markets * OOO.OoS J wheat cents a crop bushel is the about ^ v * , n J a year. The census teen years ago) showed poultry and eggs to be v- • 3 and enumerators yet it is were doubtful able if g ^ L fu l1 To-day * » kn0T vU number or value. j that the poultry industry i one-third larger than in -300,1 J that the value of the P° altr ^ country u , produced in this J J 000,000, which places it other leading mdustr many and Fireside. Farm U was not'until those used England in this country Fnace^ je ^ from or trade is such a large eontaiai n 3| 50,000 packages, eacu : twenty-four demand pms daily m >e Tor fc a-<3 ’ P sale
