The comet. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1877-1882, 1879-03-22
SOUTHERN KINDS COUNTY.
the VENERABLE OLD TOWN Or
RAYMOND.
a Touching Episode OF the Late Epi-
Oemlc.
CRYSTAL sparSos, March 18th, 1879.

week through the southern part OF Hinds
county, perhaps some of my Iotnngs by
the wavside may interest portion, at least,
of THE COMET readers. From County
line Church my route lay to the north
westward, toward the ancient and once
furnishing town of Raymond, but
now, alas, like many of her sisters,
she has fallen from the proud position
she once occupied and few stores dong
a comparatively small business, together
with three or four tradesmen's shops, con-
stitute her commercial prosperity; and
were il not for her court house and jail a
very few short years would seal her fate,
and count her as of the past Oh, once
proud town, well do l remember thee in
ante-hellum days, before the iron heel OF
time, the desolation of war, and the ener-
waiting influence of political tyranny had
doomed thee to thy present state. look
upon thy stately mansions, with moss grown
roofs. surrounded with dilapidated and
tumble down palings Drowned and weather
beaten by age, long unused to the painter
brush the grand old shade trees now
fast going to decay then visit the grave
yard, and read upon the tombstones the
names of those that were, when raymond
was herself. and finish with the exclama>
ton I: 'How are the mighty fallen u
Want of time only prevented me from VS.
iting the Office of the Gazette and grasplng
the friendly hand Of the veteran "Uncle
George
From Raymond l travelled Westward,
visiting the battlefield CT Bakers Creek,
bringing wildly back to mind many remln-
isceuces of the days that tried mems souls
All along my route I found the farmers
busily engaged ploughing and planting.
The weather was beautiful and all nature
looked gay. On the top of a little knoll
situated on what is known as the Mission
arv r Dad, drew rein i'll front of little
log cabin, dismounted, tied my horse and
entered the door yard which is enclosed by
a rough paling fence the place is deserted,
yet bears sad history, which will relate
as told me by lady residing in the neigh
borhood: Charles Muller, an honest, hard
working German, for some years resident
in the vicinity, accumulated little money
by his industry and frH8ality, married
a very estimable American lady by the
name of Harrison. Their union was
blessed with two pretty children, little girl
of six years, and bright cherub boy of
two years. They were their parents idols.
Two years ago Muller purchased tract of
land and built the little log cabin upon it,
into which he moved his little family, and
commenced life anew. working for himself
on his own domain. Everything promised
a happy future; and at evening after a hard
davis work on his new farm he returned
home to fold his wife to his bosom, and
take his two darlings on his knees, while
she prepared his supper, He truly thought
how transitory are human hopes-its joys
are myths, its anticipations feoting shadows.
The destroyer came. The saffron scourge,
followed by the sable plumed messenger,
Swallowed the land and visited the homes of
rich and poor alike. Nor did our little log
cabin escape. The little boy sickened and
died, and was buried in the yard at the left
hand side of the walk, and about halfway
between the gate and house. The little girl
soon followed her baby brother and was
buried by his side. Three days after that
devoted mother had closed the eyes of her
irst-born, she too sickened and died, and |
was laid beside her children. And the hus-
band and father; what became of him
the victim of a worse fate. He became
maniac He enclosed the three precious
graves with small fence, planted some
lowers and cedars on them-and Disappear
I'd, leaving his farm, with good crops I'M
gathered. Whittier he went he seemed not |
to care, and his Whereabouts viii, perhaps,
always remain a mystery. |
entered the house the doors were beth
open, aud the furniture had been removed. |
Several remnants of wearing apparel lay |
scattered about the Aoor, Or hung upon the /
wall. A small rag doll, and bruised tin
whistle lay upon the floor. A few walls of |
still remained upon a corner
ihelf, and Just outside the door was childs
playhouse, containing miniature shelves,
With scraps of broken crockery.
1 stood beside the enclosure, and looked
over on the graves six branches of white |
lilies, in full blOOm-two at each grave
lodded their plumcd heads above the re-
mains of all that was dear to Charles Mul- |
Ter. The winds sighed lonely requiem as
it swept through the pines which surround
ed the place, while mounted my horse and !
left the spot,
Passing through Auburn, the ''loveliest
village of the plain, which by the way.
ooks even more deserted than Goldsmith
describes if, l visited the Morrison neig6C
whore spent the night. Early
text morning, was in the saddle, striking
mt for fourteen mile creek.
visited several fine plantations, and saw
he pillow everywhere in motion. At the
louse of the Life James Fairchild-which.
" the way, was the headquarters of Gen.
irant at the battle of Raymond-I was
hown some Of the finest specimens Of or
amertsl hair work I ever saw. The Mis-
rs FairchiId were the artists. wreaths Of
overs done in human hair, equaling in
e uiy nature itself, beside very many ex-
.uisits designs Of hair jevelry which should
My b. seen TO be appreciated.
Passing through Dry Grove, I returned