The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1874-05-07
Hard Times.

"Its mighty hard times, tell you" We
took short walk yesterday, and this was the
salutation we heard one man give another.
The speaker was a tall man, in his shirt sleeves
and a slouched hat and he stood holding in
his strong hand rope attached to the horns of
stunted juvenile steer, that, with its con-
sumptive little companion, looked as II the
rope were superAuous for there was nothing
more foreign to their thoughts or spirits than
running away. The little shambling wagon to
which the attenuated cattle were hitched,
groaned in its oilless joints under nine sticks
of green wood, unsplit because too thin. The
wood looked like English hop poles, and the
man who vowed the times were hard could
have carried the load easily. In the back part
of the wagon, secured by 8 strap, was glazed
earthen Jug with corn cob stopper, supple
mented by piece of red rag. We did not
wait to hear more of the stale platitude, but
went on the sight of such teams, such loads,
such men and such statements have become too
common to excite comment. Late IN the alter
noon we saw the team again, going home
through the mud, rain and increasing dark
ness. The driver had the glazed jug under his
head, as he lay on the two planks that formed
the wagons bed. We do not know what the
Jug contained, but whatever it was the man had
given all the contents he could, an inside pass
age. The little steers had visibly shrunken
since morning, looking, poor things, as if they
were gradually washing away, and longing TOR
the Job to be over. This man was not type
of the yeomanry of this land. Unfortunately,
it has no class corresponding to the yeoman
He was poor. ignorant whlte man. WIN a
wife and large family, NO doubt, and he lives
in wretched one-roomcd cabin, on piece of
water-washed land, unknown and uncared for,
with no impulse, and no aid to rise to a nobler
life. "Hard Times?n Who are making them?
The poor wife, with her little ones huddled
about her last night, knew what brought "hard
times" to her wretched abode, when the fam
ished brutes stopped, with hanging tongues, in
the darkness, and she heard the oaths of the
greater brute as he staggered in with the glazed
Jug in his hand. ,.,
aHard times p says the man who never did
q stroke of earnest honest work to make them
better. "Hard times" says the young man,
too proud to labor with the white hands which
he folds as he waits for chance to give him an
easy lob. "Hard times!' says the planter, as
he begs the merchant to give him time for the
food he needs, and paying 90 or lOO per cent
for his advances, he goes back over baroarous
roads to an uncomfortable home to bet his re-
naming time and credit on that game OF
chance0cotton "Hard times y cries the mer-
chant as notes fall due and not one dollar Of
the thousands owing him comes in to meet
them. :.
Yes, the times are hard, and the cause lies
at orr own door. Our merchants are the slaves
of New York, and our farmers the vassals of
the merchants. There is too little earnest
manly effort, to many of heavens blessings to
incite to persistent labor. Six months from
now will tell the story, and the farmer who
from neglect is forced then to buy, his food, de-
serves al the hard times it will be possible to
inaict.- Columbus Enquirer.