The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1878-04-18
Ny Texas Trip (continued).
BY EsTELLE vEHsE.

blowing), our iron steed emerged
from the "brush" into broad
grand prairie. Hundreds of ponies,
Spanish horses and long horned
cattle were lazily switching them
selves while feeding upon the mos
quito and prairie grasses. Now and
then a mule-eared rabbit sprang up
and of across the plains with the
speed of a greyhound. Innumer
able towns line the road; and as the
train neared Corsicana the veritable
"Mustang Gray"(?) that we have
all read of, now snow white from
old age, showed himself. His name
parted in the middle, like a New
York dandy, and flowed TO his
knees, his tail dragging at least an
inch upon the ground. Throwing
himself into a beautiful attitude,
looking at the long train with its
black smoke curling to the ground
like a great serpent IN its death
throes, he gave a snort and was OF,
with others, over the rolling prairie
like fash of light; not, however,
until l saw he bore the degrading
brand-the slave OF man. There
are no wild mustangs in that sec
tion. The brakesman calls out
"Mexia," and the car unloads half
OF it's human freight, others coming
in filing the places. SO it ever is:
'Like As plank Of driftwood,
To-sed on the watery main;
Another plank encounters,
Meets, touches, parts again.
Thus tits with men forever,
On life's unresting sea;
They meet, and greet, and sever,
Drifting eternally.'
Studying the new faces, and try
ing to dive below the seemingly
impenetrable adytum of that great
er mystery that has so puzzled
moralists and phIlosophers-the
human heart-he startles me unex-
pectedly with the cry of Bremond !
| write the word even now with
cold shudder. i am the only trav-
eler that stops of at this little town,
with its heels and elbows out, in
the bowl of the prairie.
The conductor looks at me with
a peculiar light in his cold gray
eyes, as we look at one whom we
think ought to be shut up in
lunatic asylum for the public safe
ty. "Wait here a minute" Steps
up to saloon, talks with a man in
the door in low tone, comes back,
turns key, and ushers me into a
place called by courtesy a reception
room; bowed himself out and was
gone. Ugh the smell that met me
there. Opening the door for air,
there, just across the track, the
"yellow flag" met my amazed
vision. Speaking to the man inside
the rope: "Small pox here! and al
lowing travellers without one word
of warning to stop under the very
shadow of your pest house" 1 fled
on the other side of the depot, went
into the telegraph Office TO dispatch
to my friends in Waco. Two
weather beaten, lonely detected men
sat there, aud before the message
was written another and another
came in. The first, with fevered
face and muffied throat, said TO the
last conner, doctor, / believe /
have the small pox!" "Open your
mouth (looking). Go home and go
to bed; you have" heard no
more; | ran out and with my hand
on the bolt of that dreadful smell
ing room 20, missus, don't 90
in dare, you ketch de smallpox for
shure; it broke out in dare, and de
man be dun ded, and dey dun berry
him last night, 'twixt midnight and
dayw With an appealing culver
in my voice to the old man,
"Where shall / gO2 -Four hours TO
wait for the trainF ''No where 70
90. Folks dey all run away, 'oept-
ing desc men In dare, and dem
what's got de smallpox; an l specs
dem men in dare have got 1t IN dare
closer' "Why do you stay heref
''Ise dun had de 'zease and stays 70
berry de dead, and" "Get away,
you Janus-faced spinks Of the des
ertw and / start out on the prairie
TO get away from the presence Of
human kind. There stands little
cottage with Grape on the door, and
as / wander on, turn wbicn way !
will, window blinds, doors, all shut
like the lips Of the dead. OH Lord,
my Father,
"sholter my defonceless head,
With the shadow Of Thy wing"
To die with a loathsome disease
TO be chucked into hole before
the heart is cold, and 10 stay there
until the "great last day" was the
acme Of human suffering. Is IL for
this that have escaped the storms
OF the ocean, the tcrrOrs OF the
Mammoth Cave, the frozen winds
of Canada, the perils Of Niagara,
the horrors Of Y The cold
perspiration breaks out upon my
brow, and memory drifts to Gods
Acre" in the blue misty hills Of old
Giles, with It's loved ones, its mag
nolias, its dropping roses, and its
song birds.
"All aboard for Wacor Blessed
words. Train behind time, and
swings out at lively gait--prairie
on frc--fames leaping upward 70
the darkening sky--and shepherds
gathering their hocks to the fold.
On, on we rush, great stars with