DUstin DIAMONDS' SUPER GuestBook

[ << | < | 653 | 654 | 655 | 656 | 657 | 658 | 659 | 660 | 661 | 662 | 663 | 664 | 665 | 666 | 667 | 668 | 669 | 670 | 671 | 672 | 673 | > | >> ]

26th April 2005 - 11:50:08 AM

13289 : Julie

Dustin,

Write to my house sometime,
250 E Centeral Av Apt F
West Carrolton OH, 45413

26th April 2005 - 03:40:16 PM

13290 :

hey fellow queers - have you seen this http://www.hollywoodiscalling.com/ you can pay 20 bucks to have Dennis Haskins call you up to talk to you - I might do it and start asking him if he ever rimmed Dustin and talk all dirty to him and ask him about all the gay stuff Dustin has done.

26th April 2005 - 04:17:26 PM

13291 : Dennis Haskins

I was wondering when someone would bring that site up - please do it people I need the money. I used to suck dick for cash, but found people would pay money for me to call them and have quick phone sex - now don't get me wrong, I'll still suck dick for money - I can be found at most dumpster scenes.

26th April 2005 - 06:29:42 PM

13292 :

Dustin I was just visiting Rome and I would very much love to give you a Roman helmet - when can we get together

26th April 2005 - 06:35:21 PM

13293 :

here's a picture of me giving some random guy at a dumpster party a roman helmet http://www.saphyne.com/images/Stockwood_02/SW04_RomanWarHelmet.JPG

26th April 2005 - 07:22:09 PM

13294 : Little Jaylin

Hello!

I am a big fan of your old show.I wacth it every morning at 7:00 and 7:30.I reallt want to meet Mark-Paul
Goselaar.I bet his is as old as my father which is 34 right now.I am 10 years old. Bye!!

26th April 2005 - 07:49:17 PM

13295 :

ryan d'cunha is mr tuttle's long lost son

26th April 2005 - 09:57:36 PM

13296 : Proclamation from the Royal Palace

We;;.ahrm oh shit, stoned again...and so you are being very spiteful...filled with spite, and sprite deight. Drink on, hogshead!
They once called Mary Mount "the girl in the powdereed toilet seat"...and damned if she didn't win the BIG award of just how many dildos, all signed by the stars. One actually said: looking for a daddy who would take care of me much longer than forever...

26th April 2005 - 11:26:45 PM

13297 : -

26th April 2005 - 11:42:16 PM

13298 : Gone With the Wind

Title: GONE WITH THE WIND
Author: Margaret Mitchell (1900-1949)

PART ONE

CHAPTER I

Scarlett O'Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when
caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were. In her face were
too sharply blended the delicate features of her mother, a Coast
aristocrat of French descent, and the heavy ones of her florid
Irish father. But it was an arresting face, pointed of chin,
square of jaw. Her eyes were pale green without a touch of hazel,
starred with bristly black lashes and slightly tilted at the ends.
Above them, her thick black brows slanted upward, cutting a
startling oblique line in her magnolia-white skin--that skin so
prized by Southern women and so carefully guarded with bonnets,
veils and mittens against hot Georgia suns.

Seated with Stuart and Brent Tarleton in the cool shade of the
porch of Tara, her father's plantation, that bright April
afternoon of 1861, she made a pretty picture. Her new green
flowered-muslin dress spread its twelve yards of billowing
material over her hoops and exactly matched the flat-heeled green
morocco slippers her father had recently brought her from Atlanta.
The dress set off to perfection the seventeen-inch waist, the
smallest in three counties, and the tightly fitting basque showed
breasts well matured for her sixteen years. But for all the
modesty of her spreading skirts, the demureness of hair netted
smoothly into a chignon and the quietness of small white hands
folded in her lap, her true self was poorly concealed. The green
eyes in the carefully sweet face were turbulent, willful, lusty
with life, distinctly at variance with her decorous demeanor.
Her manners had been imposed upon her by her mother's gentle
admonitions and the sterner discipline of her mammy; her eyes were
her own.

On either side of her, the twins lounged easily in their chairs,
squinting at the sunlight through tall mint-garnished glasses as
they laughed and talked, their long legs, booted to the knee and
thick with saddle muscles, crossed negligently. Nineteen years
old, six feet two inches tall, long of bone and hard of muscle,
with sunburned faces and deep auburn hair, their eyes merry and
arrogant, their bodies clothed in identical blue coats and
mustard-colored breeches, they were as much alike as two bolls of
cotton.

Outside, the late afternoon sun slanted down in the yard, throwing
into gleaming brightness the dogwood trees that were solid masses
of white blossoms against the background of new green. The twins'
horses were hitched in the driveway, big animals, red as their
masters' hair; and around the horses' legs quarreled the pack of
lean, nervous possum hounds that accompanied Stuart and Brent
wherever they went. A little aloof, as became an aristocrat, lay
a black-spotted carriage dog, muzzle on paws, patiently waiting
for the boys to go home to supper.

Between the hounds and the horses and the twins there was a
kinship deeper than that of their constant companionship. They
were all healthy, thoughtless young animals, sleek, graceful,
high-spirited, the boys as mettlesome as the horses they rode,
mettlesome and dangerous but, withal, sweet-tempered to those who
knew how to handle them.

Although born to the ease of plantation life, waited on hand and
foot since infancy, the faces of the three on the porch were
neither slack nor soft. They had the vigor and alertness of
country people who have spent all their lives in the open and
troubled their heads very little with dull things in books. Life
in the north Georgia county of Clayton was still new and,
according to the standards of Augusta, Savannah and Charleston, a
little crude. The more sedate and older sections of the South
looked down their noses at the up-country Georgians, but here in
north Georgia, a lack of the niceties of classical education
carried no shame, provided a man was smart in the things that
mattered. And raising good cotton, riding well, shooting
straight, dancing lightly, squiring the ladies with elegance and
carrying one's liquor like a gentleman were the things that
mattered.

In these accomplishments the twins excelled, and they were equally
outstanding in their notorious inability to learn anything
contained between the covers of books. Their family had more
money, more horses, more slaves than any one else in the County,
but the boys had less grammar than most of their poor Cracker
neighbors.

It was for this precise reason that Stuart and Brent were idling
on the porch of Tara this April afternoon. They had just been
expelled from the University of Georgia, the fourth university
that had thrown them out in two years; and their older brothers,
Tom and Boyd, had come home with them, because they refused to
remain at an institution where the twins were not welcome. Stuart
and Brent considered their latest expulsion a fine joke, and
Scarlett, who had not willingly opened a book since leaving the
Fayetteville Female Academy the year before, thought it just as
amusing as they did.

"I know you two don't care about being expelled, or Tom either,"
she said. "But what about Boyd? He's kind of set on getting an
education, and you two have pulled him out of the University of
Virginia and Alabama and South Carolina and now Georgia. He'll
never get finished at this rate."

"Oh, he can read law in Judge Parmalee's office over in
Fayetteville," answered Brent carelessly. "Besides, it don't
matter much. We'd have had to come home before the term was out
anyway."

"Why?"

"The war, goose! The war's going to start any day, and you don't
suppose any of us would stay in college with a war going on, do
you?"

"You know there isn't going to be any war," said Scarlett, bored.
"It's all just talk. Why, Ashley Wilkes and his father told Pa
just last week that our commissioners in Washington would come
to--to--an--amicable agreement with Mr. Lincoln about the
Confederacy. And anyway, the Yankees are too scared of us to
fight. There won't be any war, and I'm tired of hearing about
it."

"Not going to be any war!" cried the twins indignantly, as though
they had been defrauded.

"Why, honey, of course there's going to be a war," said Stuart.
"The Yankees may be scared of us, but after the way General
Beauregard shelled them out of Fort Sumter day before yesterday,
they'll have to fight or stand branded as cowards before the whole
world. Why, the Confederacy--"

Scarlett made a mouth of bored impatience.

"If you say 'war' just once more, I'll go in the house and shut
the door. I've never gotten so tired of any one word in my life
as 'war,' unless it's 'secession.' Pa talks war morning, noon and
night, and all the gentlemen who come to see him shout about Fort
Sumter and States' Rights and Abe Lincoln till I get so bored I
could scream! And that's all the boys talk about, too, that and
their old Troop. There hasn't been any fun at any party this
spring because the boys can't talk about anything else. I'm
mighty glad Georgia waited till after Christmas before it seceded
or it would have ruined the Christmas parties, too. If you say
'war' again, I'll go in the house."

She meant what she said, for she could never long endure any
conversation of which she was not the chief subject. But she
smiled when she spoke, consciously deepening her dimple and
fluttering her bristly black lashes as swiftly as butterflies'
wings. The boys were enchanted, as she had intended them to be,
and they hastened to apologize for boring her. They thought none
the less of her for her lack of interest. Indeed, they thought
more. War was men's business, not ladies', and they took her
attitude as evidence of her femininity.

Having maneuvered them away from the boring subject of war, she
went back with interest to their immediate situation.

"What did your mother say about you two being expelled again?"

The boys looked uncomfortable, recalling their mother's conduct
three months ago when they had come home, by request, from the
University of Virginia.

"Well," said Stuart, "she hasn't had a chance to say anything yet.
Tom and us left home early this morning before she got up, and
Tom's laying out over at the Fontaines' while we came over here."

"Didn't she say anything when you got home last night?"

"We were in luck last night. Just before we got home that new
stallion Ma got in Kentucky last month was brought in, and the
place was in a stew. The big brute--he's a grand horse, Scarlett;
you must tell your pa to come over and see him right away--he'd
already bitten a hunk out of his groom on the way down here and
he'd trampled two of Ma's darkies who met the train at Jonesboro.
And just before we got home, he'd about kicked the stable down and
half-killed Strawberry, Ma's old stallion. When we got home, Ma
was out in the stable with a sackful of sugar smoothing him down
and doing it mighty well, too. The darkies were hanging from the
rafters, popeyed, they were so scared, but Ma was talking to the
horse like he was folks and he was eating out of her hand. There
ain't nobody like Ma with a horse. And when she saw us she said:
'In Heaven's name, what are you four doing home again? You're
worse than the plagues of Egypt!' And then the horse began
snorting and rearing and she said: 'Get out of here! Can't you
see he's nervous, the big darling? I'll tend to you four in the
morning!' So we went to bed, and this morning we got away before
she could catch us and left Boyd to handle her."

"Do you suppose she'll hit Boyd?" Scarlett, like the rest of the
County, could never get used to the way small Mrs. Tarleton
bullied her grown sons and laid her riding crop on their backs if
the occasion seemed to warrant it.

Beatrice Tarleton was a busy woman, having on her hands not only a
large cotton plantation, a hundred negroes and eight children, but
the largest horse-breeding farm in the state as well. She was
hot-tempered and easily plagued by the frequent scrapes of her
four sons, and while no one was permitted to whip a horse or a
slave, she felt that a lick now and then didn't do the boys any
harm.

"Of course she won't hit Boyd. She never did beat Boyd much
because he's the oldest and besides he's the runt of the litter,"
said Stuart, proud of his six feet two. "That's why we left him
at home to explain things to her. God'lmighty, Ma ought to stop
licking us! We're nineteen and Tom's twenty-one, and she acts
like we're six years old."

"Will your mother ride the new horse to the Wilkes barbecue
tomorrow?"

"She wants to, but Pa says he's too dangerous. And, anyway, the
girls won't let her. They said they were going to have her go to
one party at least like a lady, riding in the carriage."

"I hope it doesn't rain tomorrow," said Scarlett. "It's rained
nearly every day for a week. There's nothing worse than a
barbecue turned into an indoor picnic."

"Oh, it'll be clear tomorrow and hot as June," said Stuart.
"Look at that sunset. I never saw one redder. You can always
tell weather by sunsets."

They looked out across the endless acres of Gerald O'Hara's newly
plowed cotton fields toward the red horizon. Now that the sun was
setting in a welter of crimson behind the hills across the Flint
River, the warmth of the April day was ebbing into a faint but
balmy chill.

Spring had come early that year, with warm quick rains and sudden
frothing of pink peach blossoms and dogwood dappling with white
stars the dark river swamp and far-off hills. Already the plowing
was nearly finished, and the bloody glory of the sunset colored
the fresh-cut furrows of red Georgia clay to even redder hues.
The moist hungry earth, waiting upturned for the cotton seeds,
showed pinkish on the sandy tops of furrows, vermilion and scarlet
and maroon where shadows lay along the sides of the trenches. The
whitewashed brick plantation house seemed an island set in a wild
red sea, a sea of spiraling, curving, crescent billows petrified
suddenly at the moment when the pink-tipped waves were breaking
into surf. For here were no long, straight furrows, such as could
be seen in the yellow clay fields of the flat middle Georgia
country or in the lush black earth of the coastal plantations.
The rolling foothill country of north Georgia was plowed in a
million curves to keep the rich earth from washing down into the
river bottoms.

It was a savagely red land, blood-colored after rains, brick dust
in droughts, the best cotton land in the world. It was a pleasant
land of white houses, peaceful plowed fields and sluggish yellow
rivers, but a land of contrasts, of brightest sun glare and
densest shade. The plantation clearings and miles of cotton
fields smiled up to a warm sun, placid, complacent. At their
edges rose the virgin forests, dark and cool even in the hottest
noons, mysterious, a little sinister, the soughing pines seeming
to wait with an age-old patience, to threaten with soft sighs:
"Be careful! Be careful! We had you once. We can take you back
again."

To the ears of the three on the porch came the sounds of hooves,
the jingling of harness chains and the shrill careless laughter
of negro voices, as the field hands and mules came in from the
fields. From within the house floated the soft voice of
Scarlett's mother, Ellen O'Hara, as she called to the little black
girl who carried her basket of keys. The high-pitched, childish
voice answered "Yas'm," and there were sounds of footsteps going
out the back way toward the smokehouse where Ellen would ration
out the food to the home-coming hands. There was the click of
china and the rattle of silver as Pork, the valet-butler of Tara,
laid the table for supper.

At these last sounds, the twins realized it was time they were
starting home. But they were loath to face their mother and they
lingered on the porch of Tara, momentarily expecting Scarlett to
give them an invitation to supper.

"Look, Scarlett. About tomorrow," said Brent. "Just because
we've been away and didn't know about the barbecue and the ball,
that's no reason why we shouldn't get plenty of dances tomorrow
night. You haven't promised them all, have you?"

"Well, I have! How did I know you all would be home? I couldn't
risk being a wallflower just waiting on you two."

"You a wallflower!" The boys laughed uproariously.

"Look, honey. You've got to give me the first waltz and Stu the
last one and you've got to eat supper with us. We'll sit on the
stair landing like we did at the last ball and get Mammy Jincy to
come tell our fortunes again."

"I don't like Mammy Jincy's fortunes. You know she said I was
going to marry a gentleman with jet-black hair and a long black
mustache, and I don't like black-haired gentlemen."

"You like 'em red-headed, don't you, honey?" grinned Brent. "Now,
come on, promise us all the waltzes and the supper."

"If you'll promise, we'll tell you a secret," said Stuart.

"What?" cried Scarlett, alert as a child at the word.

"Is it what we heard yesterday in Atlanta, Stu? If it is, you
know we promised not to tell."

"Well, Miss Pitty told us."

"Miss Who?"

"You know, Ashley Wilkes' cousin who lives in Atlanta, Miss
Pittypat Hamilton--Charles and Melanie Hamilton's aunt."

"I do, and a sillier old lady I never met in all my life."

"Well, when we were in Atlanta yesterday, waiting for the home
train, her carriage went by the depot and she stopped and talked
to us, and she told us there was going to be an engagement
announced tomorrow night at the Wilkes ball."

"Oh. I know about that," said Scarlett in disappointment. "That
silly nephew of hers, Charlie Hamilton, and Honey Wilkes.
Everybody's known for years that they'd get married some time,
even if he did seem kind of lukewarm about it."

"Do you think he's silly?" questioned Brent. "Last Christmas you
sure let him buzz round you plenty."

"I couldn't help him buzzing," Scarlett shrugged negligently. "I
think he's an awful sissy."

"Besides, it isn't his engagement that's going to be announced,"
said Stuart triumphantly. "It's Ashley's to Charlie's sister,
Miss Melanie!"

Scarlett's face did not change but her lips went white--like a
person who has received a stunning blow without warning and who,
in the first moments of shock, does not realize what has happened.
So still was her face as she stared at Stuart that he, never
analytic, took it for granted that she was merely surprised and
very interested.

"Miss Pitty told us they hadn't intended announcing it till next
year, because Miss Melly hasn't been very well; but with all the
war talk going around, everybody in both families thought it would
be better to get married soon. So it's to be announced tomorrow
night at the supper intermission. Now, Scarlett, we've told you
the secret, so you've got to promise to eat supper with us."

"Of course I will," Scarlett said automatically.

"And all the waltzes?"

"All."

"You're sweet! I'll bet the other boys will be hopping mad."

"Let 'em be mad," said Brent. "We two can handle 'em. Look,
Scarlett. Sit with us at the barbecue in the morning."

"What?"

Stuart repeated his request.

"Of course."

The twins looked at each other jubilantly but with some surprise.
Although they considered themselves Scarlett's favored suitors,
they had never before gained tokens of this favor so easily.
Usually she made them beg and plead, while she put them off,
refusing to give a Yes or No answer, laughing if they sulked,
growing cool if they became angry. And here she had practically
promised them the whole of tomorrow--seats by her at the barbecue,
all the waltzes (and they'd see to it that the dances were all
waltzes!) and the supper intermission. This was worth getting
expelled from the university.

Filled with new enthusiasm by their success, they lingered on,
talking about the barbecue and the ball and Ashley Wilkes and
Melanie Hamilton, interrupting each other, making jokes and
laughing at them, hinting broadly for invitations to supper. Some
time had passed before they realized that Scarlett was having very
little to say. The atmosphere had somehow changed. Just how, the
twins did not know, but the fine glow had gone out of the
afternoon. Scarlett seemed to be paying little attention to what
they said, although she made the correct answers. Sensing
something they could not understand, baffled and annoyed by it,
the twins struggled along for a while, and then rose reluctantly,
looking at their watches.

The sun was low across the new-plowed fields and the tall woods
across the river were looming blackly in silhouette. Chimney
swallows were darting swiftly across the yard, and chickens, ducks
and turkeys were waddling and strutting and straggling in from the
fields.

Stuart bellowed: "Jeems!" And after an interval a tall black boy
of their own age ran breathlessly around the house and out toward
the tethered horses. Jeems was their body servant and, like the
dogs, accompanied them everywhere. He had been their childhood
playmate and had been given to the twins for their own on their
tenth birthday. At the sight of him, the Tarleton hounds rose up
out of the red dust and stood waiting expectantly for their
masters. The boys bowed, shook hands and told Scarlett they'd be
over at the Wilkeses' early in the morning, waiting for her. Then
they were off down the walk at a rush, mounted their horses and,
followed by Jeems, went down the avenue of cedars at a gallop,
waving their hats and yelling back to her.

When they had rounded the curve of the dusty road that hid them
from Tara, Brent drew his horse to a stop under a clump of
dogwood. Stuart halted, too, and the darky boy pulled up a few
paces behind them. The horses, feeling slack reins, stretched
down their necks to crop the tender spring grass, and the patient
hounds lay down again in the soft red dust and looked up longingly
at the chimney swallows circling in the gathering dusk. Brent's
wide ingenuous face was puzzled and mildly indignant.

"Look," he said. "Don't it look to you like she would of asked us
to stay for supper?"

"I thought she would," said Stuart. "I kept waiting for her to do
it, but she didn't. What do you make of it?"

"I don't make anything of it. But it just looks to me like she
might of. After all, it's our first day home and she hasn't seen
us in quite a spell. And we had lots more things to tell her."

"It looked to me like she was mighty glad to see us when we came."

"I thought so, too."

"And then, about a half-hour ago, she got kind of quiet, like she
had a headache."

"I noticed that but I didn't pay it any mind then. What do you
suppose ailed her?"

"I dunno. Do you suppose we said something that made her mad?"

They both thought for a minute.

"I can't think of anything. Besides, when Scarlett gets mad,
everybody knows it. She don't hold herself in like some girls
do."

"Yes, that's what I like about her. She don't go around being
cold and hateful when she's mad--she tells you about it. But it
was something we did or said that made her shut up talking and
look sort of sick. I could swear she was glad to see us when we
came and was aiming to ask us to supper."

"You don't suppose it's because we got expelled?"

"Hell, no! Don't be a fool. She laughed like everything when we
told her about it. And besides Scarlett don't set any more store
by book learning than we do."

Brent turned in the saddle and called to the negro groom.

"Jeems!"

"Suh?"

"You heard what we were talking to Miss Scarlett about?"

"Nawsuh, Mist' Brent! Huccome you think Ah be spyin' on w'ite
folks?"

"Spying, my God! You darkies know everything that goes on. Why,
you liar, I saw you with my own eyes sidle round the corner of the
porch and squat in the cape jessamine bush by the wall. Now, did
you hear us say anything that might have made Miss Scarlett mad--
or hurt her feelings?"

Thus appealed to, Jeems gave up further pretense of not having
overheard the conversation and furrowed his black brow.

"Nawsuh, Ah din' notice y'all say anything ter mek her mad. Look
ter me lak she sho glad ter see you an' sho had missed you, an'
she cheep along happy as a bird, tell 'bout de time y'all got ter
talkin' 'bout Mist' Ashley an' Miss Melly Hamilton gittin'
mah'ied. Den she quiet down lak a bird w'en de hawk fly ober."

The twins looked at each other and nodded, but without comprehension.

"Jeems is right. But I don't see why," said Stuart. "My Lord!
Ashley don't mean anything to her, 'cept a friend. She's not
crazy about him. It's us she's crazy about."

Brent nodded an agreement.

"But do you suppose," he said, "that maybe Ashley hadn't told her
he was going to announce it tomorrow night and she was mad at him
for not telling her, an old friend, before he told everybody else?
Girls set a big store on knowing such things first."

"Well, maybe. But what if he hadn't told her it was tomorrow? It
was supposed to be a secret and a surprise, and a man's got a
right to keep his own engagement quiet, hasn't he? We wouldn't
have known it if Miss Melly's aunt hadn't let it out. But
Scarlett must have known he was going to marry Miss Melly
sometime. Why, we've known it for years. The Wilkes and
Hamiltons always marry their own cousins. Everybody knew he'd
probably marry her some day, just like Honey Wilkes is going to
marry Miss Melly's brother, Charles."

"Well, I give it up. But I'm sorry she didn't ask us to supper.
I swear I don't want to go home and listen to Ma take on about us
being expelled. It isn't as if this was the first time."

"Maybe Boyd will have smoothed her down by now. You know what a
slick talker that little varmint is. You know he always can
smooth her down."

"Yes, he can do it, but it takes Boyd time. He has to talk around
in circles till Ma gets so confused that she gives up and tells
him to save his voice for his law practice. But he ain't had time
to get good started yet. Why, I'll bet you Ma is still so excited
about the new horse that she'll never even realize we're home
again till she sits down to supper tonight and sees Boyd. And
before supper is over she'll be going strong and breathing fire.
And it'll be ten o'clock before Boyd gets a chance to tell her
that it wouldn't have been honorable for any of us to stay in
college after the way the Chancellor talked to you and me. And
it'll be midnight before he gets her turned around to where she's
so mad at the Chancellor she'll be asking Boyd why he didn't shoot
him. No, we can't go home till after midnight."

The twins looked at each other glumly. They were completely
fearless of wild horses, shooting affrays and the indignation of
their neighbors, but they had a wholesome fear of their red-haired
mother's outspoken remarks and the riding crop that she did not
scruple to lay across their breeches.

"Well, look," said Brent. "Let's go over to the Wilkes. Ashley
and the girls'll be glad to have us for supper."

Stuart looked a little discomforted.

"No, don't let's go there. They'll be in a stew getting ready for
the barbecue tomorrow and besides--"

"Oh, I forgot about that," said Brent hastily. "No, don't let's
go there."

They clucked to their horses and rode along in silence for a
while, a flush of embarrassment on Stuart's brown cheeks. Until
the previous summer, Stuart had courted India Wilkes with the
approbation of both families and the entire County. The County
felt that perhaps the cool and contained India Wilkes would have a
quieting effect on him. They fervently hoped so, at any rate.
And Stuart might have made the match, but Brent had not been
satisfied. Brent liked India but he thought her mighty plain and
tame, and he simply could not fall in love with her himself to
keep Stuart company. That was the first time the twins' interest
had ever diverged, and Brent was resentful of his brother's
attentions to a girl who seemed to him not at all remarkable.

Then, last summer at a political speaking in a grove of oak trees
at Jonesboro, they both suddenly became aware of Scarlett O'Hara.
They had known her for years, and, since their childhood, she had
been a favorite playmate, for she could ride horses and climb
trees almost as well as they. But now to their amazement she had
become a grown-up young lady and quite the most charming one in
all the world.

They noticed for the first time how her green eyes danced, how
deep her dimples were when she laughed, how tiny her hands and
feet and what a small waist she had. Their clever remarks sent
her into merry peals of laughter and, inspired by the thought that
she considered them a remarkable pair, they fairly outdid
themselves.

It was a memorable day in the life of the twins. Thereafter, when
they talked it over, they always wondered just why they had failed
to notice Scarlett's charms before. They never arrived at the
correct answer, which was that Scarlett on that day had decided to
make them notice. She was constitutionally unable to endure any
man being in love with any woman not herself, and the sight of
India Wilkes and Stuart at the speaking had been too much for her
predatory nature. Not content with Stuart alone, she had set her
cap for Brent as well, and with a thoroughness that overwhelmed
the two of them.

Now they were both in love with her, and India Wilkes and Letty
Munroe, from Lovejoy, whom Brent had been half-heartedly courting,
were far in the back of their minds. Just what the loser would
do, should Scarlett accept either one of them, the twins did not
ask. They would cross that bridge when they came to it. For the
present they were quite satisfied to be in accord again about one
girl, for they had no jealousies between them. It was a situation
which interested the neighbors and annoyed their mother, who had
no liking for Scarlett.

"It will serve you right if that sly piece does accept one of
you," she said. "Or maybe she'll accept both of you, and then
you'll have to move to Utah, if the Mormons'll have you--which I
doubt. . . . All that bothers me is that some one of these days
you're both going to get lickered up and jealous of each other
about that two-faced, little, green-eyed baggage, and you'll shoot
each other. But that might not be a bad idea either."

Since the day of the speaking, Stuart had been uncomfortable in
India's presence. Not that India ever reproached him or even
indicated by look or gesture that she was aware of his abruptly
changed allegiance. She was too much of a lady. But Stuart felt
guilty and ill at ease with her. He knew he had made India love
him and he knew that she still loved him and, deep in his heart,
he had the feeling that he had not played the gentleman. He still
liked her tremendously and respected her for her cool good
breeding, her book learning and all the sterling qualities she
possessed. But, damn it, she was just so pallid and uninteresting
and always the same, beside Scarlett's bright and changeable
charm. You always knew where you stood with India and you never
had the slightest notion with Scarlett. That was enough to drive
a man to distraction, but it had its charm.

"Well, let's go over to Cade Calvert's and have supper. Scarlett
said Cathleen was home from Charleston. Maybe she'll have some
news about Fort Sumter that we haven't heard."

"Not Cathleen. I'll lay you two to one she didn't even know the
fort was out there in the harbor, much less that it was full of
Yankees until we shelled them out. All she'll know about is the
balls she went to and the beaux she collected."

"Well, it's fun to hear her gabble. And it'll be somewhere to
hide out till Ma has gone to bed."

"Well, hell! I like Cathleen and she is fun and I'd like to hear
about Caro Rhett and the rest of the Charleston folks; but I'm
damned if I can stand sitting through another meal with that
Yankee stepmother of hers."

"Don't be too hard on her, Stuart. She means well."

"I'm not being hard on her. I feel sorry for her, but I don't
like people I've got to feel sorry for. And she fusses around so
much, trying to do the right thing and make you feel at home, that
she always manages to say and do just exactly the wrong thing.
She gives me the fidgets! And she thinks Southerners are wild
barbarians. She even told Ma so. She's afraid of Southerners.
Whenever we're there she always looks scared to death. She
reminds me of a skinny hen perched on a chair, her eyes kind of
bright and blank and scared, all ready to flap and squawk at the
slightest move anybody makes."

"Well, you can't blame her. You did shoot Cade in the leg."

"Well, I was lickered up or I wouldn't have done it," said Stuart.
"And Cade never had any hard feelings. Neither did Cathleen or
Raiford or Mr. Calvert. It was just that Yankee stepmother who
squalled and said I was a wild barbarian and decent people weren't
safe around uncivilized Southerners."

"Well, you can't blame her. She's a Yankee and ain't got very
good manners; and, after all, you did shoot him and he is her
stepson."

"Well, hell! That's no excuse for insulting me! You are Ma's own
blood son, but did she take on that time Tony Fontaine shot you in
the leg? No, she just sent for old Doc Fontaine to dress it and
asked the doctor what ailed Tony's aim. Said she guessed licker
was spoiling his marksmanship. Remember how mad that made Tony?"

Both boys yelled with laughter.

"Ma's a card!" said Brent with loving approval. "You can always
count on her to do the right thing and not embarrass you in front
of folks."

"Yes, but she's mighty liable to talk embarrassing in front of
Father and the girls when we get home tonight," said Stuart
gloomily. "Look, Brent. I guess this means we don't go to
Europe. You know Mother said if we got expelled from another
college we couldn't have our Grand Tour."

"Well, hell! We don't care, do we? What is there to see in
Europe? I'll bet those foreigners can't show us a thing we
haven't got right here in Georgia. I'll bet their horses aren't
as fast or their girls as pretty, and I know damn well they
haven't got any rye whisky that can touch Father's."

"Ashley Wilkes said they had an awful lot of scenery and music.
Ashley liked Europe. He's always talking about it."

"Well--you know how the Wilkes are. They are kind of queer about
music and books and scenery. Mother says it's because their
grandfather came from Virginia. She says Virginians set quite a
store by such things."

"They can have 'em. Give me a good horse to ride and some good
licker to drink and a good girl to court and a bad girl to have
fun with and anybody can have their Europe. . . . What do we care
about missing the Tour? Suppose we were in Europe now, with the
war coming on? We couldn't get home soon enough. I'd heap rather
go to a war than go to Europe."

"So would I, any day. . . . Look, Brent! I know where we can go
for supper. Let's ride across the swamp to Abel Wynder's place
and tell him we're all four home again and ready for drill."

"That's an idea!" cried Brent with enthusiasm. "And we can hear
all the news of the Troop and find out what color they finally
decided on for the uniforms."

"If it's Zouave, I'm damned if I'll go in the troop. I'd feel
like a sissy in those baggy red pants. They look like ladies' red
flannel drawers to me."

"Is y'all aimin' ter go ter Mist' Wynder's? 'Cause ef you is, you
ain' gwine git much supper," said Jeems. "Dey cook done died, an'
dey ain' bought a new one. Dey got a fe'el han' cookin', an' de
niggers tells me she is de wustest cook in de state."

"Good God! Why don't they buy another cook?"

"Huccome po' w'ite trash buy any niggers? Dey ain' never owned
mo'n fo' at de mostes'."

There was frank contempt in Jeems' voice. His own social status
was assured because the Tarletons owned a hundred negroes and,
like all slaves of large planters, he looked down on small farmers
whose slaves were few.

"I'm going to beat your hide off for that," cried Stuart fiercely.
Don't you call Abel Wynder 'po' white.' Sure he's poor, but he
ain't trash; and I'm damned if I'll have any man, darky or white,
throwing off on him. There ain't a better man in this County, or
why else did the Troop elect him lieutenant?"

"Ah ain' never figgered dat out, mahseff," replied Jeems,
undisturbed by his master's scowl. "Look ter me lak dey'd 'lect
all de awficers frum rich gempmum, 'stead of swamp trash."

"He ain't trash! Do you mean to compare him with real white trash
like the Slatterys? Able just ain't rich. He's a small farmer,
not a big planter, and if the boys thought enough of him to elect
him lieutenant, then it's not for any darky to talk impudent about
him. The Troop knows what it's doing."

The troop of cavalry had been organized three months before, the
very day that Georgia seceded from the Union, and since then the
recruits had been whistling for war. The outfit was as yet
unnamed, though not for want of suggestions. Everyone had his own
idea on that subject and was loath to relinquish it, just as
everyone had ideas about the color and cut of the uniforms.
"Clayton Wild Cats," "Fire Eaters," "North Georgia Hussars,"
"Zouaves," "The Inland Rifles" (although the Troop was to be armed
with pistols, sabers and bowie knives, and not with rifles), "The
Clayton Grays," "The Blood and Thunderers," "The Rough and
Readys," all had their adherents. Until matters were settled,
everyone referred to the organization as the Troop and, despite
the high-sounding name finally adopted, they were known to the end
of their usefulness simply as "The Troop."

The officers were elected by the members, for no one in the County
had had any military experience except a few veterans of the
Mexican and Seminole wars and, besides, the Troop would have
scorned a veteran as a leader if they had not personally liked him
and trusted him. Everyone liked the four Tarleton boys and the
three Fontaines, but regretfully refused to elect them, because
the Tarletons got lickered up too quickly and liked to skylark,
and the Fontaines had such quick, murderous tempers. Ashley
Wilkes was elected captain, because he was the best rider in the
County and because his cool head was counted on to keep some
semblance of order. Raiford Calvert was made first lieutenant,
because everybody liked Raif, and Able Wynder, son of a swamp
trapper, himself a small farmer, was elected second lieutenant.

Abel was a shrewd, grave giant, illiterate, kind of heart, older
than the other boys and with as good or better manners in the
presence of ladies. There was little snobbery in the Troop. Too
many of their fathers and grandfathers had come up to wealth from
the small farmer class for that. Moreover, Able was the best shot
in the Troop, a real sharpshooter who could pick out the eye of a
squirrel at seventy-five yards, and, too, he knew all about living
outdoors, building fires in the rain, tracking animals and finding
water. The Troop bowed to real worth and moreover, because they
liked him, they made him an officer. He bore the honor gravely
and with no untoward conceit, as though it were only his due. But
the planters' ladies and the planters' slaves could not overlook
the fact that he was not born a gentleman, even if their men folks
could.

In the beginning, the Troop had been recruited exclusively from
the sons of planters, a gentleman's outfit, each man supplying his
own horse, arms, equipment, uniform and body servant. But rich
planters were few in the young county of Clayton, and, in order to
muster a full-strength troop, it had been necessary to raise more
recruits among the sons of small farmers, hunters in the
backwoods, swamp trappers, Crackers and, in a very few cases, even
poor whites, if they were above the average of their class.

These latter young men were as anxious to fight the Yankees,
should war come, as were their richer neighbors; but the delicate
question of money arose. Few small farmers owned horses. They
carried on their farm operations with mules and they had no
surplus of these, seldom more than four. The mules could not be
spared to go off to war, even if they had been acceptable for the
Troop, which they emphatically were not. As for the poor whites,
they considered themselves well off if they owned one mule. The
backwoods folks and the swamp dwellers owned neither horses nor
mules. They lived entirely off the produce of their lands and the
game in the swamp, conducting their business generally by the
barter system and seldom seeing five dollars in cash a year, and
horses and uniforms were out of their reach. But they were as
fiercely proud in their poverty as the planters were in their
wealth, and they would accept nothing that smacked of charity from
their rich neighbors. So, to save the feelings of all and to
bring the Troop up to full strength, Scarlett's father, John
Wilkes, Buck Munroe, Jim Tarleton, Hugh Calvert, in fact every
large planter in the County with the one exception of Angus
MacIntosh, had contributed money to completely outfit the Troop,
horse and man. The upshot of the matter was that every planter
agreed to pay for equipping his own sons and a certain number of
the others, but the manner of handling the arrangements was such
that the less wealthy members of the outfit could accept horses
and uniforms without offense to their honor.

The Troop met twice a week in Jonesboro to drill and to pray for
the war to begin. Arrangements had not yet been completed for
obtaining the full quota of horses, but those who had horses
performed what they imagined to be cavalry maneuvers in the field
behind the courthouse, kicked up a great deal of dust, yelled
themselves hoarse and waved the Revolutionary-war swords that had
been taken down from parlor walls. Those who, as yet, had no
horses sat on the curb in front of Bullard's store and watched
their mounted comrades, chewed tobacco and told yarns. Or else
engaged in shooting matches. There was no need to teach any of
the men to shoot. Most Southerners were born with guns in their
hands, and lives spent in hunting had made marksmen of them all.

From planters' homes and swamp cabins, a varied array of firearms
came to each muster. There were long squirrel guns that had been
new when first the Alleghenies were crossed, old muzzle-loaders
that had claimed many an Indian when Georgia was new, horse
pistols that had seen service in 1812, in the Seminole wars and in
Mexico, silver-mounted dueling pistols, pocket derringers, double-
barreled hunting pieces and handsome new rifles of English make
with shining stocks of fine wood.

Drill always ended in the saloons of Jonesboro, and by nightfall
so many fights had broken out that the officers were hard put to
ward off casualties until the Yankees could inflict them. It was
during one of these brawls that Stuart Tarleton had shot Cade
Calvert and Tony Fontaine had shot Brent. The twins had been at
home, freshly expelled from the University of Virginia, at the
time the Troop was organized and they had joined enthusiastically;
but after the shooting episode, two months ago, their mother had
packed them off to the state university, with orders to stay
there. They had sorely missed the excitement of the drills while
away, and they counted education well lost if only they could ride
and yell and shoot off rifles in the company of their friends.

"Well, let's cut across country to Abel's," suggested Brent. "We
can go through Mr. O'Hara's river bottom and the Fontaine's
pasture and get there in no time."

"We ain' gwine git nothin' ter eat 'cept possum an' greens,"
argued Jeems.

"You ain't going to get anything," grinned Stuart. "Because you
are going home and tell Ma that we won't be home for supper."

"No, Ah ain'!" cried Jeems in alarm. "No, Ah ain'! Ah doan git
no mo' fun outer havin' Miss Beetriss lay me out dan y'all does.
Fust place she'll ast me huccome Ah let y'all git expelled agin.
An' nex' thing, huccome Ah din' bring y'all home ternight so she
could lay you out. An' den she'll light on me lak a duck on a
June bug, an' fust thing Ah know Ah'll be ter blame fer it all.
Ef y'all doan tek me ter Mist' Wynder's, Ah'll lay out in de woods
all night an' maybe de patterollers git me, 'cause Ah heap ruther
de patterollers git me dan Miss Beetriss when she in a state."

The twins looked at the determined black boy in perplexity and
indignation.

"He'd be just fool enough to let the patterollers get him and that
would give Ma something else to talk about for weeks. I swear,
darkies are more trouble. Sometimes I think the Abolitionists
have got the right idea."

"Well, it wouldn't be right to make Jeems face what we don't want
to face. We'll have to take him. But, look, you impudent black
fool, if you put on any airs in front of the Wynder darkies and
hint that we all the time have fried chicken and ham, while they
don't have nothing but rabbit and possum, I'll--I'll tell Ma. And
we won't let you go to the war with us, either."

"Airs? Me put on airs fo' dem cheap niggers? Nawsuh, Ah got
better manners. Ain' Miss Beetriss taught me manners same as she
taught y'all?"

"She didn't do a very good job on any of the three of us," said
Stuart. "Come on, let's get going."

He backed his big red horse and then, putting spurs to his side,
lifted him easily over the split rail fence into the soft field of
Gerald O'Hara's plantation. Brent's horse followed and then
Jeems', with Jeems clinging to pommel and mane. Jeems did not
like to jump fences, but he had jumped higher ones than this in
order to keep up with his masters.

As they picked their way across the red furrows and down the hill
to the river bottom in the deepening dusk, Brent yelled to his
brother:

"Look, Stu! Don't it seem like to you that Scarlett WOULD have
asked us to supper?"

"I kept thinking she would," yelled Stuart. "Why do you
suppose . . ."

CHAPTER II

When the twins left Scarlett standing on the porch of Tara and the
last sound of flying hooves had died away, she went back to her
chair like a sleepwalker. Her face felt stiff as from pain and
her mouth actually hurt from having stretched it, unwillingly, in
smiles to prevent the twins from learning her secret. She sat
down wearily, tucking one foot under her, and her heart swelled up
with misery, until it felt too large for her bosom. It beat with
odd little jerks; her hands were cold, and a feeling of disaster
oppressed her. There were pain and bewilderment in her face, the
bewilderment of a pampered child who has always had her own way
for the asking and who now, for the first time, was in contact
with the unpleasantness of life.

Ashley to marry Melanie Hamilton!

Oh, it couldn't be true! The twins were mistaken. They were
playing one of their jokes on her. Ashley couldn't, couldn't be
in love with her. Nobody could, not with a mousy little person
like Melanie. Scarlett recalled with contempt Melanie's thin
childish figure, her serious heart-shaped face that was plain
almost to homeliness. And Ashley couldn't have seen her in
months. He hadn't been in Atlanta more than twice since the house
party he gave last year at Twelve Oaks. No, Ashley couldn't be in
love with Melanie, because--oh, she couldn't be mistaken!--because
he was in love with her! She, Scarlett, was the one he loved--she
knew it!

Scarlett heard Mammy's lumbering tread shaking the floor of the
hall and she hastily untucked her foot and tried to rearrange her
face in more placid lines. It would never do for Mammy to suspect
that anything was wrong. Mammy felt that she owned the O'Haras,
body and soul, that their secrets were her secrets; and even a
hint of a mystery was enough to set her upon the trail as
relentlessly as a bloodhound. Scarlett knew from experience that,
if Mammy's curiosity were not immediately satisfied, she would
take up the matter with Ellen, and then Scarlett would be forced
to reveal everything to her mother, or think up some plausible
lie.

Mammy emerged from the hall, a huge old woman with the small,
shrewd eyes of an elephant. She was shining black, pure African,
devoted to her last drop of blood to the O'Haras, Ellen's
mainstay, the despair of her three daughters, the terror of the
other house servants. Mammy was black, but her code of conduct
and her sense of pride were as high as or higher than those of her
owners. She had been raised in the bedroom of Solange Robillard,
Ellen O'Hara's mother, a dainty, cold, high-nosed French-woman,
who spared neither her children nor her servants their just
punishment for any infringement of decorum. She had been Ellen's
mammy and had come with her from Savannah to the up-country when
she married. Whom Mammy loved, she chastened. And, as her love
for Scarlett and her pride in her were enormous, the chastening
process was practically continuous.

"Is de gempmum gone? Huccome you din' ast dem ter stay fer
supper, Miss Scarlett? Ah done tole Poke ter lay two extry plates
fer dem. Whar's yo' manners?"

"Oh, I was so tired of hearing them talk about the war that I
couldn't have endured it through supper, especially with Pa
joining in and shouting about Mr. Lincoln."

"You ain' got no mo' manners dan a fe'el han', an' after Miss
Ellen an' me done labored wid you. An' hyah you is widout yo'
shawl! An' de night air fixin' ter set in! Ah done tole you an'
tole you 'bout gittin' fever frum settin' in de night air wid
nuthin' on yo' shoulders. Come on in de house, Miss Scarlett."

Scarlett turned away from Mammy with studied nonchalance, thankful
that her face had been unnoticed in Mammy's preoccupation with the
matter of the shawl.

"No, I want to sit here and watch the sunset. It's so pretty.
You run get my shawl. Please, Mammy, and I'll sit here till Pa
comes home."

"Yo' voice soun' lak you catchin' a cole," said Mammy suspiciously.

"Well, I'm not," said Scarlett impatiently. "You fetch me my
shawl."

Mammy waddled back into the hall and Scarlett heard her call
softly up the stairwell to the upstairs maid.

"You, Rosa! Drap me Miss Scarlett's shawl." Then, more loudly:
"Wuthless nigger! She ain' never whar she does nobody no good.
Now, Ah got ter climb up an' git it mahseff."

Scarlett heard the stairs groan and she got softly to her feet.
When Mammy returned she would resume her lecture on Scarlett's
breach of hospitality, and Scarlett felt that she could not endure
prating about such a trivial matter when her heart was breaking.
As she stood, hesitant, wondering where she could hide until the
ache in her breast subsided a little, a thought came to her,
bringing a small ray of hope. Her father had ridden over to
Twelve Oaks, the Wilkes plantation, that afternoon to offer to buy
Dilcey, the broad wife of his valet, Pork. Dilcey was head woman
and midwife at Twelve Oaks, and, since the marriage six months
ago, Pork had deviled his master night and day to buy Dilcey, so
the two could live on the same plantation. That afternoon,
Gerald, his resistance worn thin, had set out to make an offer for
Dilcey.

Surely, thought Scarlett, Pa will know whether this awful story is
true. Even if he hasn't actually heard anything this afternoon,
perhaps he's noticed something, sensed some excitement in the
Wilkes family. If I can just see him privately before supper,
perhaps I'll find out the truth--that it's just one of the twins'
nasty practical jokes.

It was time for Gerald's return and, if she expected to see him
alone, there was nothing for her to do except meet him where the
driveway entered the road. She went quietly down the front steps,
looking carefully over her shoulder to make sure Mammy was not
observing her from the upstairs windows. Seeing no broad black
face, turbaned in snowy white, peering disapprovingly from between
fluttering curtains, she boldly snatched up her green flowered
skirts and sped down the path toward the driveway as fast as her
small ribbon-laced slippers would carry her.

The dark cedars on either side of the graveled drive met in an
arch overhead, turning the long avenue into a dim tunnel. As soon
as she was beneath the gnarled arms of the cedars, she knew she
was safe from observation from the house and she slowed her swift
pace. She was panting, for her stays were laced too tightly to
permit much running, but she walked on as rapidly as she could.
Soon she was at the end of the driveway and out on the main road,
but she did not stop until she had rounded a curve that put a
large clump of trees between her and the house.

Flushed and breathing hard, she sat down on a stump to wait for
her father. It was past time for him to come home, but she was
glad that he was late. The delay would give her time to quiet her
breathing and calm her face so that his suspicions would not be
aroused. Every moment she expected to hear the pounding of his
horse's hooves and see him come charging up the hill at his usual
breakneck speed. But the minutes slipped by and Gerald did not
come. She looked down the road for him, the pain in her heart
swelling up again.

"Oh, it can't be true!" she thought. "Why doesn't he come?"

Her eyes followed the winding road, blood-red now after the
morning rain. In her thought she traced its course as it ran down
the hill to the sluggish Flint River, through the tangled swampy
bottoms and up the next hill to Twelve Oaks where Ashley lived.
That was all the road meant now--a road to Ashley and the
beautiful white-columned house that crowned the hill like a Greek
Temple.

"Oh, Ashley! Ashley!" she thought, and her heart beat faster.

Some of the cold sense of bewilderment and disaster that had
weighted her down since the Tarleton boys told her their gossip
was pushed into the background of her mind, and in its place crept
the fever that had possessed her for two years.

It seemed strange now that when she was growing up Ashley had
never seemed so very attractive to her. In childhood days, she
had seen him come and go and never given him a thought. But since
that day two years ago when Ashley, newly home from his three
years' Grand Tour in Europe, had called to pay his respects, she
had loved him. It was as simple as that.

She had been on the front porch and he had ridden up the long
avenue, dressed in gray broadcloth with a wide black cravat
setting off his frilled shirt to perfection. Even now, she could
recall each detail of his dress, how brightly his boots shone, the
head of a Medusa in cameo on his cravat pin, the wide Panama hat
that was instantly in his hand when he saw her. He had alighted
and tossed his bridle reins to a pickaninny and stood looking up
at her, his drowsy gray eyes wide with a smile and the sun so
bright on his blond hair that it seemed like a cap of shining
silver. And he said, "So you've grown up, Scarlett." And, coming
lightly up the steps, he had kissed her hand. And his voice! She
would never forget the leap of her heart as she heard it, as if
for the first time, drawling, resonant, musical.

She had wanted him, in that first instant, wanted him as simply
and unreasoningly as she wanted food to eat, horses to ride and a
soft bed on which to lay herself.

For two years he had squired her about the County, to balls, fish
fries, picnics and court days, never so often as the Tarleton
twins or Cade Calvert, never so importunate as the younger
Fontaine boys, but, still, never the week went by that Ashley did
not come calling at Tara.

True, he never made love to her, nor did the clear gray eyes ever
glow with that hot light Scarlett knew so well in other men. And
yet--and yet--she knew he loved her. She could not be mistaken
about it. Instinct stronger than reason and knowledge born of
experience told her that he loved her. Too often she had
surprised him when his eyes were neither drowsy nor remote, when
he looked at her with a yearning and a sadness which puzzled her.
She KNEW he loved her. Why did he not tell her so? That she
could not understand. But there were so many things about him
that she did not understand.

He was courteous always, but aloof, remote. No one could ever
tell what he was thinking about, Scarlett least of all. In a
neighborhood where everyone said exactly what he thought as soon
as he thought it, Ashley's quality of reserve was exasperating.
He was as proficient as any of the other young men in the usual
County diversions, hunting, gambling, dancing and politics, and
was the best rider of them all; but he differed from all the rest
in that these pleasant activities were not the end and aim of life
to him. And he stood alone in his interest in books and music and
his fondness for writing poetry.

Oh, why was he so handsomely blond, so courteously aloof, so
maddeningly boring with his talk about Europe and books and music
and poetry and things that interested her not at all--and yet so
desirable? Night after night, when Scarlett went to bed after
sitting on the front porch in the semi-darkness with him, she
tossed restlessly for hours and comforted herself only with the
thought that the very next time he saw her he certainly would
propose. But the next time came and went, and the result was
nothing--nothing except that the fever possessing her rose higher
and hotter.

She loved him and she wanted him and she did not understand him.
She was as forthright and simple as the winds that blew over Tara
and the yellow river that wound about it, and to the end of her
days she would never be able to understand a complexity. And now,
for the first time in her life, she was facing a complex nature.

For Ashley was born of a line of men who used their leisure for
thinking, not doing, for spinning brightly colored dreams that had
in them no touch of reality. He moved in an inner world that was
more beautiful than Georgia and came back to reality with
reluctance. He looked on people, and he neither liked nor
disliked them. He looked on life and was neither heartened nor
saddened. He accepted the universe and his place in it for what
they were and, shrugging, turned to his music and books and his
better world.

Why he should have captivated Scarlett when his mind was a
stranger to hers she did not know. The very mystery of him
excited her curiosity like a door that had neither lock nor key.
The things about him which she could not understand only made her
love him more, and his odd, restrained courtship only served to
increase her determination to have him for her own. That he would
propose some

27th April 2005 - 01:55:18 AM

13299 : maxwell nerdstrom

screech, let's watch gay porn and masturbate together

27th April 2005 - 08:02:59 AM

13300 : Indigenous&Aboriginous Solidarity worldwide

LAPON (SAAME)&SHAMAN QUOTES

**

Lapon (Sapme) atas�zleri, �zdeyi�leri ve �amanist �zl� s�zler... Turkish language version

**

Alanlarda toplat�lan y��nlar� bayraklarla avutan vicdans�z diktat�rl�kler asl�nda bir�eyi �ok iyi kuland�klar�n� bilmekteler; resmi bir ambalaj�, bayra��iii

**

Arkada�, ac�m�z� payla�abilenin niteli�idir; dost ise yaram�z� g�ren-saran kimsenin kazand�� unvand�r...

**

Arma�an vermekle doland�r�lmak akraba olgulardand�r...

**

Aslanda tan�k olunan y�ksek �zellik, ac�ndan �lse de k�pek art�� yemeyi�idir...

**

Bask� yo�unla�t�k�a devrimler yak�nla��rlar...

**

Ba�ar�s�zl�k, g��s�z insan� ��kertir; g��l� olan ki�iye ise, depreme dayan�kl�l�k test'i gibi gelir...

**

Bayraklara en �ok gereksinim duyanlar, s�r� k�lt�r�n�n �tesine ge�ememekten bunalm�� olan umars�z y��nlard�r

**

Bayraklar ve devlet adlar�, Tanr�'n�n bi�ti�i tektip g�mlek de�ildir; olu�ur-de�i�ir ge�er gider; fakat kal�c� de�erleri �retebilmi� halklar�n s�ylenceleri olur, yaz�nsal �r�nleri, �iirleri kal�r; ya�arsa bunlar ya�ar...

**

Baz� bakterilerin ila�larla uzla�ma�� ba�ard�� ortamlar saptanm��t�r fakat diktat�rlerin ayd�nlarla bar��k olma�a �al��t�klar� bir sisteme hen�z raslanmam��t�r...

**

Bilimsel geli�im a�amas�nda insanl�k emekleme evresini a�abilmi� olsayd� bayraklara da gereksinim kalmazd� tap�naklara da...

**

Bir�ok kad�n�n karakteri kedininkiyle ayn� evrimle�me a�amas�ndad�r; ikisi de gereksinimlerini giderenin kuca��ndad�r..

**

Bir d��nceyi alanlarda ba��r�rsan kitlelere ula�abilirsin; fakat, y�rekten gelen bir �efkatle �rnekleme�e �al��rsan sa��rlara da ula�abilirsin

**

Bir toplumda bir kesimin karn� doymuyorsa orada �zg�rl��n meyvelerinden s�z ederek y�netenler ya bilerek alay ediyorlar ya da t�m� resmen sahtekarlar...

**

�oban gereksinen yarat�klar�n en �ok demokratik uyumluluk g�steren cinsine s�r� deniliyor...

**

Demokratik toplumda �rnek bireyler, kar��la�t�klar� olgular�, al��lm�� kal�plar� bozmadan ele al�rlar. �st�nyeti (deha) denilen kimseler ise, ger�e�e kendileri ilerler ve onu al��lmam�� yakla��mlarla ele al�rlar...

**

Devrimi kesintiye u�ratarak uygulayanlar�n ya�amlar� kesintiye u�rat�lm��t�r...

**

Dikeni batmasayd� g�l, bu denli ciddilikle ele al�nmazd�...

**

Diktasever bir�ok s�r� san�r ki "bayraklar� bayrak yapan �st�ndeki kand�r"; oysa kan ve kin'i simgele�tiren insan, al�ak insand�r...

**

Diktat�rl�k de bir d��nce yap�s� gereksinir, fakat egemenli�i ele ge�irdikten sonra i�ler bunu.... Devrimler ise egemenli�in elde edilmesi d��ncesinden yola ��kar, uygulamal� i�leyi� g�sterirler...

**

Diktat�rl�kler, hem ya�anan d�neme hem de gelecek ku�aklara mal olurlar; devrimler ise izleyen ku�a�a...

**

Diktat�rl�klerin cezaevleri, bar�� zamanlar�nda da doludur; d��nce su�lular�yla... ��mk�, onlar� y�kacak olan ger�ek g��l� orduyu iyi tan�rlar; irfan ordusu..

**

Dili, sanat�, yaz�n� geli�mi� toplumlar daha uygar olabilselerdi AngloAmerikan s�r�ler K�z�lderilileri yok etmezler, Asya'da Ortado�u'da soyk�r�mlar y�r�tmezlerdi

**

Din, evrenin bilinen k��elerinde belirli bir delikten bakmakla yetinmektir; felsefe, de�i�ik k��elerden belirli bir deli�e bakmakla yetinmemektir

**

Dinler, insanlar� uygarla�t�rma�a yeterli birer ara� olsayd� bayraklara da gerek kalmazd� tap�naklara da...

**

"Dostum kalmad�" demek de bir ba�lang��t�r; kendi kendinle dost olma�a ba�lay��...

**

D�nyada a�l�k ve yoksulluk olmasayd� da yine bir�ok ba�kald�r� ve devrim ya�anacakt�; yoksulluk ve a�l�k, haks�zl�klar�n tamam� de�il yaln�zca birer par�as� olduklar�ndan...

**

D�nyada en g��l� �aman, anamd�r; babam� adam etme�i ba�aran insand�r...

**

D��nce �zg�rl�� tan�mayanlara �zg�rl�k tan�yan bir sistemde k�peklerin tasmayla dola�t�r�lmas� anormaldir...

**

Erkekler kad�nlar� olduklar� gibi benimseyebilseler, yery�z�nde a�k tan�nmam�� olurdu...

**

Feodal tarihte hanedanl�klar, kom�ular�n�n asker say�lar�ndan �ok, farkl� d��nce sistemlerinden korkmu�lard�r.

**

Ge�mi�i ne denli kahramanl�klarla dolu olursa olsun, bir tek r��vet, bir tek i�kence olay� bile bir devletin ay�pl� say�lmas�na yeter; t�pk� �mr�nce bekaretini kroumakla �v�nen birinin sonunda kendini bir kez bile pazarlamas�yla namussuz nitemini almas� gibi...

**

Gizli kalm�� yetenekler, toprak y�zeyini delememi� tohumlar gibidir; g�brelikten ba�ka i�levi olmaz...

**

G�l�n dikenle bir al�p veremedi�i yok; insan �yle adland�rm��; g�l m� "gel de b�yle nitelendir" diye �a�r� yay�nlam��!

**

G�nah i�lemekten korkan insan ger�ekte bunu ne dindar oldu�undan yapar ne de korkak; merhamet duygusu geli�mi� oldu�undan

**

Hatalar�n� g�rme�e ba�layan kimse, ��rencilikten ��retmenlik a�amas�na ge�iyor demektir...

**

Hayvanlardan baz�lar� birbirini bir bi�imde yan�ltabilirler; insan, binbir bi�imde...

**

Her �e�it hayvan�n her �e�it ac�ya al��mad�� saptanm��t�r; en karaktersizi insan, al��m��t�r...

**

Her evlilik a�ka dayansayd� evlendirme dairelerinde gerek kalmazd�

**

HERODOT'lar ilk ve ve saf demokrasilerde, alanlarda �iir okurlar "tuluat" sergilerlerd; �a��m�zda savc�l�klarda konakl�yorlar (!); alanlarda ise histerik kitleler hayk�r�yorlar, kapka��lar ba�rol oynuyorlar; nefretle g�z�d�nm��erlerin elinden istikbaleri al�nm�� bayrak tutturulmu�, b��re b��re bayrak sall�yorlar; ��nk�, diyalektik yasad�r, ��r�yen kapitalist sistemler sallant�dalar...

**
Hi�kimseye g�venmeyen insandan dost olmaz, kendine bile...

**

��tenlik (samimilik) ve patavats�zl�k (laubalilik) akraba tav�rlard�r

**

�ftira eylemini basite indirgemeyin; insanl�ktan nefret eden kimi geleneksel fanatik s�r�ler, �rne�in Yahudiler onu kalsik bir silah olarak kullan�rlar; hatta, bu eylemi end�striye d�n��t�rm��lerdir...

**

�lk bak��lta a�k olanakl�d�r; gelgelelim, bu i�e �teki duyular�n, �rne�in kulaklar�n sonradan ne renk oy verecekler...

**

�nsan� da kafese koymu�lar; "Ah, bir �zg�r b�rak�lsam, ne bi�im u�ar�m!" sanm��...

**

�nsan� s�r�le�tirip s�m�rmek a�a��l�k bir davran�� olmasayd�, krallar�n taht�n� y�kse�e kurma gereksinimi duyulmazd�...

**

�nsan, �ieetle ��z�mlenebilecek �eyin de sevgiyle ��z�mlenebilece�ini alg�lad�� oranda insand�r; uygulayabildi�i �l��de uygar insand�r

**

�sve�'e, g�neye indik�e �aman "Ne al�ak �lke, ne aymazlar" dedi... Duydu ki, k��k tepelere da� diyorlard�...

**

�sve�'i al�ak bir �lke olarak tan�d�m; k��k tepelere da� diyorlar bug�n bile..

**

�yi y�netimler, sa�l�kl� beden gibidirler; organlar� normal i�liyorsa tart��ma g�ndemi d��nda bulunurlar...

**

�yilik yapan insan senden g��l�yse o iyili�i bir bor� gibi g�rme�e �al��; ilk f�rsatta �demezsen faizi daha pahal�ya gelebilir...

**

Kadere inanmak h�ner de�ildir; �yle bir�ey ger�ekle�tir ki, ona inananlar bile sana inanma�a ba�las�n!...

**

Kal�c� k�lt�rel de�erler yaratamayan s�r�ler, bayraklara sar�l�rlar; ayplar� giderirken �rt�necek daha resmi bir ara� bulamayan bu zavall�lar bir s�re b�yle oyalan�r, tarih sahnesinde kendilerini avutarak sal�n�rlar..

**

Kan�t yetersizli�inden aklanm�� bir�ok su�luyla ilgili ortak �zellik, su�u hesapl�ca becermek de�il nerede susulaca��n� becermektir

**

Karaktersiz adam, ruhsuz iskelettir

**

Kedinin bir�ok canl�dan �st�n yan�, neyin pe�inden ko�aca��n� teredd�ts�z bilmesidir..

**

Kendini hatas�z g�ren kimseden uzak durmal�; her an onar�lmaz bir hata i�leyebilir...

**

Kendiyle sava�ma�� g�ze alamayan a�k� denemesin!

**

Korkuya dayal� devlet yap�s�, kat�la�t�k�a totaliterle�ir; korkudan soyutland�k�a �eteler ye�erir... Bimem ki; bilime, bilince, humanist sorumlulu�a dayal� bir sosyal model ka� y�zy�l sonra ger�ekle�ir...

**

Korkuya dayal� toplumlardan erdemli insanlar�n ��kmas� raslant�d�r...

**

Korkuyla b�y�t�len �ocuklar b�y�d�klerinde b�y�k olas�l�kla b�y�k yalanc�lar olurlar...

**

K�t� bir insan�n da bazan parlak ahlaksal s�ylev �ekti�i, melek y�zl� bir yamyam�n insan yedi�i, resmen �etele�en y�netimlerin ku�aklar�n kan�na girdi�i durumlar g�zlemlenmi�tir; �rne�in TurCIA adl� bir �lkede Kanem EFREN ad�ndaki cunta eleba��s�, bir ku�a��n kan� bula�m�� elleriyle resim yapar; s�zde insan haklar�ndan sorumlu bakanlar da gelip hem onun kirli ellerini yalar hem de o kan kokan tablolardan sat�n al�rlar..

**

K�t� erkekten iyi koca olabilirse bakire kz�dan da ana olur

**

K�t� insan, yaln�zca k�t�l�k yapan kimse de�ildir; hi�bir �ey yapmayan merhametsiz insan da k�t�d�r...

**

Kumar ile fanatik mezhepler, akraba olgulard�r

**

Ku�ku, bilimlerin anas�d�r; s�rekli ku�kuyla ya�ayan, anas�n�n da ba��na belad�r...

**

K�lt�rel zenginlikler �retemeyen ve s�r� anlay��ndan �te gidemeyen kitleler genellikle bir kanl� k�l�� ve bir kanl� bayra�a sar�larak g�d�l�rler

**

Ozanlar� azalan toplumlar, ay�rd�nda olmaks�z�n k�relen ve d�� g�remeyen yarat�klara d�n��rler..

**

�� almak bir sanat say�lsayd�, �ncelikle bir�ok kad�n�n yontular� (heykelleri) dikilirdi...

**

"Para her�eyden g��l�d�r" diyen kimseden uzak dur, ��nk� her an herhangi bir g�� u�runa kiralanabilir

**

R�tbelileri alk��latmak, su�ortakl��n� kurug�r�lt�ye getirip legalle�tirmek; kamu vicdan�n� kamuya bo�azlatmak g�d�s�nden kaynaklan�r

**

Safdilli s�r�ler san�r ki "bayraklar� bayrak yapan �st�ndeki kand�r"; oysa, kans�z-kinsiz birlikteli�i ba�aran, uygar insand�r

**

Sava�larda ve ma�larda utkusuna g�venemeyen tarafta daha �ok y�kselir bayraklar, daha histerik bi�imde dalgalan�r; ��nk�, ��z�ms�z depresyonlara sunulacak daha ucuz uyu�turucu bulmak zordur

**

Se�menler ger�ekten se�me sezginli�ine eri�ebilmi� olsalard� se�kin bir demokrasiye eri�ebilirdik

**

Sevi (a�k) erke�in bulu�udur; ac� �ekmesi, denkleminin kad�nda kald��n� sanmas�ndand�r...

**

Sevi (a�k) ile nefret akraba olgulard�r; elilik, uzak akraba

**

Sevi (a�k) kendine ac�mas�zl��n s�nav�d�r...

**

Soyguncu y�neticileri ba��layan ve unutan olgunlukta toplumlar g�r�lm��t�r fakat bu �e�it y�neticilerin toplumu geri g�t�rmekten utand�klar� bir olgunluk �rne�i g�r�lmemi�tir...

**

S�ylevlere ve bayraklara sar�lan toplumlar, ulus olamalar�ndan ku�ku duyduklar�n�; k�lt�rel de�er sergileyemediklerini a��a vurmu� olurlar

**

S�rekli kazanma h�rs�, insan� ba�ar�lara ula�t�rabilir fakat mutulu�a; asla!

**

�aman, iki cins insanla ayn� gemiye binmez; d�nyay� tozpembe g�renle kapkara g�steren...

**

�amanlar, Tanr�'n�n g�ne� olabilece�ini d��nmekte hakl�yd�lar; ��nk� o, k�t�leri de ay�r�ms�z olarak ayd�nlat�yor...

**

Tanr�, �nc� ve ilericidir; en i�levsel organlar�m�z� �n yan�m�za yerle�tirmi�tir...

**

Tarihin hangi d�neminde insan kitlelerine �ok k�y�lm��sa bir�ok cellad�n ba��lanma yasalar�yla temize ��kmas� ve �niformal� katillerin r�tbesinin y�kselmesi o d�nemlere raslar

**

Tarihte kendini y�ksek g�ren ne �ok insan var; insanl��a katt�klar� yap�tlar �ok daha k�sa g�steriyorlar..

**

Tarihte nice toplum k�l��tan ge�irilmi� fakat yok edilememi�lerdir; ��nk�, kabag��, y�kma�� ba�arabilir, varolma d��ncesini de�il; �rne�in, Irak'a seksen s�per g��, yede�inde �akalllarla sald�rd�lar; Filistin'e y�llarca soyk�r�m uygulad�lar; her barbarl�� yapt�lar, egemen olamad�lar...

**

Tatl� dil y�lan� deli�inden ��karabilseydi hi�bir y�lan a�z�nda zehir ta��mazd�

**

Tilkinin a�a��l��, aslan art�� ile doymas�na kar��n ne ��k�r etmesi ne de minnet duyuyor olmas�d�r...

**

Uzun boylular�n �o�u kap�lardan ge�erlerken kafalar�n�, uzun olduklar�ndan de�il, i�ini kulanma�� savsaklad�klar�ndan dolay� �arparlar..

**

�st�nyeti (dahi) kimseler, demokratik toplumda en yumu�ak nitelemeyle "rebel/asi" vbg adland�r�l�rlar; totaliter sistemlerde daha ileri gidilir ve "ter�rist" say�labilirler; devlet ter�r�ne kurban gidebilirler...

**

Yalan ile abartma akraba kavramlard�r; ay�rd�, birincisinde karaktersizler uzmanla��r, ikincisinde d�r�st zekalar...

**

Yaln�zca kendini d��necek olan bir dost �e�idi arayan kimse yerine "hizmet�i ar�yorum" ilan� verene daha �ok sayg� duymal�!..

**

Yasay�c�lar, h�rs�z� soyan h�rs�zlar� cezadan beri (muaf) tutmal�yd�lar; bilmeden bir ��retmenlik yapma�� ba�ard�klar�ndan...

**

Yasay�c�lar, yasalara t�zecenlik g�c� kazand�rmal�lar; silahlar ne denli �ok patlarsa patlas�n, hukuk g�c�n�n sesini simgeleyenler daha bask�n d�zeyde duyulmal�lar!..

**

"Yurdum i�in verecek bir'den fazla can�m olsayd� verirdim" s�z�n� ilk sallayan Frans�z pasaportlu yahudi, yurdunda vergi ve asker ka�a��i Cezayir'e ise paral� �l�m mangas�nda kirl�k soyk�r�m eleman� olmaktan aranmaktayd�...

**

Yurtta��n� g�zeten devlet, namusunu koruma�� beceren kad�na benzer; ikisi de dile d��mezler...Tersi, yani tv'de dizi izlenir gibi s�radanla�an r��vet, bas�nda i�kence manzaralar� namussuzla�man�n belgelenmesidir.... Buna da demokrasi deniliyor fakat randevuevine oranla genelev kadar temiz...

**

Zor kullanarak da bir y�re�i kazanmak olas�d�r; hayvan y�re�i...

**

Zorla g�zellik olur olmas�na da, estetik olur; silikon tad� verir...

**

Indigenous&Aboriginous Solidarity worldwide

set-free_oppressed-Laponia@minority.org

*) GECEYARISI S�YLE��LER�///UYKUSU KA�AN �OCUKLARA �V�TLER adl� yap�tlardan al�nm��t�r... Noterlikten tescillidir... ALINITI/�ALINTI YAPILMASI DURUMUNDA �DENCE DAVASI A�ILIR, CEZAL KOVU�TURMA BA�VURUSUNDA BULUNULUR... Bilmemek �z�r de�ildir...

27th April 2005 - 08:46:56 AM

13301 : WHERE IS DUSTIN WHEN WE NEED HIM?

We;;.ahrm oh shit, stoned again...and so you are being very spiteful...filled with spite, and sprite deight. Drink on, hogshead!
They once called Mary MountMary MountMary MountMary MountMary Mount "the girl in the powdereed toilet seat"...and damned if she didn't win the BIG award of just how many dildos, all signed by the stars. One actually said: looking for a daddy who would take care of me much longer than loonny forever...than foreverthan foreverthan foreverFOR?

27th April 2005 - 09:30:39 AM

13302 : Borigines and Latter Day Dustin Saints, FUCK YES

ARE YOU A STAR, PRINCESS PEUSSIE? OR JUST ANOTHER TRAMP LIKE THAT KURT STEINBERG???

We;;.ahrm oh shit NANA NANANANA if you know what I mean,NANA NANANANA if you know what I meanNANA NANANANA if you know what I meanNANA NANANANA if you know what I mean stoned againstoned againstoned againstoned again...and so you are being very spiteful...filled with spite, and sprite deight. Drink on, hogshead! Piss in my eyes and shit on my heart.
They once called Mary MountMary MountMary MountMary MountMary Mount "the girl in the powdereed toilet seat" she might have married George Bush but he's too stupid...and damned if she didn't win the BIG award of just how many dildos, just how many dildosjust how many dildosjust how many dildosjust how many dildosall signed by the stars. One actually said: looking for a daddy who would take care of me much longer than loonny forever...than foreverthan foreverthan foreverFOR? NANA NANOOOOO!

ARE YOU A STAR, PRINCESS PEUSSIE? OR JUST ANOTHER TRAMP LIKE THAT KURT STEINBERG???

27th April 2005 - 12:36:30 PM

13303 : Unhappy faggot

This site has been ruined by that cunt Peussie and all the fucking spammers. Time was when a fag could rely on this site for some good spank fodder, perhaps in the form of a nice 'remember when...?' story - now few bother to write them because they know their stories will be buried under a ton of online casino adverts, pointless Peussie drivel or some other complete and utter shit that has no place here. You might as well close this place down.

27th April 2005 - 12:51:44 PM

13304 :

unhappy faggot - come check out this picture of myself giving a roman helmet to a dustin fan at a dumpster orgy - the woman is a Kelly (she is actually a very talented he) it was good times, if my cock were bigger the roman helmet would look much better http://www.saphyne.com/images/Stockwood_02/SW04_RomanWarHelmet.JPG

27th April 2005 - 01:12:52 PM

13305 :

________________
.(....\.........../....)
..\....\........./..../
...\....\......./..../
....\../��.l.�`\../
.../....l...l....l.(...\.
..l.....l....l...l...\...\
..l.....l��.l��.l...\...\
..\.....` �..� ........./
...\_ _ _ _ _ _/

27th April 2005 - 01:21:27 PM

13306 :

at least twyla went away... that was horrendous
the spam fuckers need to be murdered, though

27th April 2005 - 01:49:20 PM

13307 : Beelzebub

I see this guestbook book has reached page 666. HA HA HA, THE PROPHESIES HAVE BEEN FULFILLED!! NOW I, THE DARK LORD, CAN RISE TO EARTH FOR A 1000 YEARS OF FELCHING AND FISTING (mostly involving Dustin)

27th April 2005 - 01:55:41 PM

13308 : P. DePhile

Diamond, have you ever felched your own sperm out of Haley Joel Osment's puckered pooper? Has a 9-year old Catholic boy ever sprayed hot diarrhea in your eyes? Have you ever taken the anal viriginity of a young lad, and had him bleed all over your dripping chode?

[ << | < | 653 | 654 | 655 | 656 | 657 | 658 | 659 | 660 | 661 | 662 | 663 | 664 | 665 | 666 | 667 | 668 | 669 | 670 | 671 | 672 | 673 | > | >> ]

[ page load ] Completed in 0.132583 seconds.

Name :		E-mail :
Message :
entar codez: