The evening light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1881-1883, 1882-07-20
GARZA'S CROSSING.
The Philos Ophcr Seated on the Empty Keg
Dilates Upon VariOu Matters.


Southwestern Texas has its spasmodic err
ratio eras or epochs of mind. For weeks, per-
chance months, the sun shines with magni6-
cent gorgeous brlliancy. The black chyey
soil-pulverized, deodorized and deglutinized
is of veritable dusty and mercurial mix
foreground and rolled over till it is of the
consistency and palpability of the dust OF ages
"a choking, binding and incongruous houry
or corn-mealy mass. Transfers, sweet pota-
toe growers, and stockmen, great and small,
growl, snarl, and grumbe at the vaporless air
and the miniature chasms formed. A meta
morphosis comes occasionally, generally
gradually, sometimes suddenly. Clouds daily
and hourly become thicker the cool air from a
contrary direction intervenes and down comes
the rain.
Garza's crossing had its full share the other
day, and that empty beer key was wrong
spot for comfort or rather dryness-and it
goeth inside. This rain, which is sometimes
called "blessed" by the orthodox, conduces to
a species OF temporary reception at the eros
sing. Savants would call it a conversation
bummers would call it loahng, but tramps call
it legal place of refuge.
The empty beer keg breaches the subject Of
the premature death of Jack Harris. Opinions
are given freely and fearlessly, for there is
twelve miles of mud between here and Mr..
Thompson. An idea is eliminated by the key
that the professors of christianity in San An
tonic might take a hint from. A youth short
time ago periodically stopped in front of the
key. The youths duties led him to stay III
San Antonio three nights in a week. In re-
ply to the keg how he passed his time there,
he answered, "At Jack Harris's" This
young fellow, the son Of pious parents, was
in the turning point Of his life-for, good or
for evil. "What leads you there ?" inquired
the key. "you weie not brought up to that
sort of thing" "Where have to 90? How
am to pass my time?" said the boy. The
key dried up. What short of fold have you
christian shepherds got in San Antonio /?
Absolutely none. The parsons have 60.
through the influence of home missions, ETC..
luxurlant homes and living, and are
even dressed in purple. That's all right.
Everybody ought TO be comfortable. But the
end souls ought to stick to the good old book
without their gates-to the young man vacil-
lating-to the young woman who has taken the
first wrong step. One kind, loving word put
in, in its proper time and place would have
more H. rt-vitaliz'ng effect than thousand
stereotyped prayers and sermons that are
given with such medieval, clerical, and pune,
tual precision on Sundays in San Antonio.
But to the kegs text-mud. Can mud be
made the index, the medium, the basis, or cr-
teron of character? Men pass the key, with
awful muddy roads before them. They have
melons for San Antonio. They take then,
there. mud or no mud. The smile on return
ing--a sort Of a sunshine after rain. Those
are the men for the key. lis the Medina
y" tImidly asks whi,e-haired Texican.
"No ~ returns the keg. "But think will
60 back home again with my load till the
roads get BETTER" said he. Two farmers, un
daunted and undi,mayed essayed like men to
cross the Rubicon. Either their cour-
age, patience, or horses failed; for two
miles only from good road, they both un
loaded and came waddling like the key $
ducks, home again. The key criticised the
summary way in which those melons are un
loaded, and thought they ought to have been
laid size by side, Mechanically sized and
commercially graded for the benefit of the
| little boys and those odorous trampS. As it i,
now, not even a jack rabbit or Mexican buz
GARD will touch them. Human nature goe4
through the same process in the wet weather
as in the dry The mud, however, fetches a
mans nature to the front-it brings NOR
emergencies to be faced-his humanity to his
beasts to be tested, and his good will to hi,
neighbor tried. When a good man gets hone
through the mud to his loving wife and squall-
ing children. he is thankful to his Creator ,ha,
the mud wasn't five inches deeper than it was