The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1881-04-28
Life and Death in a Great City.

The most Striking feature OF new 4orR
life, perhaps, is the utter lack of social
sympathy and intercourse. Persons live
for years in street without knowing the
names even of their neighbors, and think
little more of visiting each other merely
through neighborly instinct, than you
would of calling on the transient who oc-
cupied the room next to you at hotel.
There is not trace of the fellowship and
sympathy that dwellers in smaller cities
are accustomed to. Of course, this has
its advantages, in that it gives every one
perfect independence of action and es.
tablishes the police and health officers as
about the only censors of social. conduct
or individual behavior, and enables one
10 live in perfect quiet and seclusion, if
| it is desired. But it seems to me that it
tends to sel6shness, coldness and loreless-
ness. Just next door to where am 10.
Gated, for instance, I saw yesterday q
little coffin taken in at the door. No ono
in the house in which I live knows the
names of the next door neighbors. In
quiry developed the belief that a bright
eyed little boy, who had been missed from
the sidewalk and the little yard for few
days, was dead, and that the coffin was
intended for him. But none of us were
permitted to offer sympathy or assistance
in that house of mourning. We had
nothing to do but to look out of the win
dow upon a velocipede standing idle in
the yard, and boys dog wandering
aimlessly about. And yet we knew that
little child was dead in the adjoining
house-that little form was lying still
and pulseless in a cofin-a mothers heart
was breaking in that silent and desolate
house. Ofcou1se, any interference might
have been worse than useless, but it
seemed strange to people coming from a
town where the death Of a little child
started the tears in hundreds of eyes, and
wrapped the bereaved family in heartfelt
and universal sympathy, that it should be
made so much matter of fact. There
were no friends who called at the house
that could be noticed. The little coffin
was taken to the door-the door opened
the casket was passed in-the messen-
ger departed-the street cars swept noisi.
ly blythe newsboys cried the evening
papers-the rag.picker passed in the al
leyway without lifting his eyes-the door
closed-tho parents were left alone with
the dead.
To-day, Sunday, the funeral took place.
There was the same dearth of sympathy
and tenderness that We had noted before.
There were dozen persons present, but
the most of them had the formal look of
mere acquantances. The little coffin vas
put in carriage and the procession
trotted off briskly to the cemetery. In
an hour or two one carriage returned
bearing the parents and little sister of
the dead boy. They got out of the car
riage, the door was opened by servant
and they went in alone with their grief,
to master it as best they could. Ofcourse
this is the custom of the cities and of
city people. They doubtless feel as
deeply and are as full of tenderness and
sympathy as provincial, but the death of
that little child, the desolation of the
house in which the corpse was laid, and
the stiff formality of the funeral, has sad
dened little colony of Georgians this
Sunday afternoon, and sent their hearts
wistfully back to Georgia with its warm
sympathies, its affectionate friends and
its impulsive kindness. I hope never to
see Atlanta grow so large that a misfor-
tune to any one of its citizens will not kin
die regrets in the hearts of the people,
and bereavement not be tempered by
common friendliness and sympathy.-H.
w. G., in Atk7nta Constitution.