The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1884-06-19
aaaersoa gntslliaeuees.
BILL ARP.
Rum,natious of the Georgia Philosophe,
atlanta Contribution.

RumInatiops OF the Georgia Philosopher
atlanta C5n.taution.
The harvest has begun. The harves
sun is shining by day and the moon b.
night. Our Burt oats that were sowed II
March have come in ahead of tie wheat
and are now falling before the cradl
blade. 1t is q charming scene. Thu
good old fashioned way is not bad way
after all. Pve got reaper, and shall ust
it in the low grounds on the wheat, bu
the everlasting rains this spring made
too many little ruts and furrows on the
upland, and the cradles are better. The
machine jolts and bumps around SO that
Ralph could hardly keep his seat. Ru,
the oats are good. have never seen g
better upland crop. Carl and Jessie fol.
low along in the wake Of the Graders and
tieup their little bundles, and when they
get tired of that they pile them into doz.
ems and set them up into shocks, and are
proud of their work. What pity it is
that We can't all make play Of our work.
How fond the children are of trying TO
do grown folks' work. Carl wants q lit.
tie cradle to reap with, and thinks he
could do itsplendid, but it most kills him
to take bucket of water to the field,
That sore on his foot where he snagged
it on nail hurts awful bad then, and he
limps all the way TO the spring and back,
but he can trot to the deWberry patch or
the mulberry tree as lively and gay as q
colt in the meadow. Grown folks are
that way too. I've known some mighty
nice girls TO get tired and most broke
down cleaning up the house, and cook
ing, and sewing. and the like. but they
could wake up to the music that night
and dance till the rooster crowed for
morning. We can all do what we want
TO &c, and we go at it with aiacri.y. Il
is easier 10 go to picnic than it is to
church. But labor and toll has sweet
reward. We will never reap il we do not
SOW. The harvest that il now at hand ia
one OF the great lessons Of life, for our
lifo is like field and our years like the
acres. and our months and weeks and
days and,fnibntes ere the roods and rods
ans yards and fee: which snhdiyide the
whole. Some portions are well sown and
tended and some are not, but good man
VIII make an average crop. We may
fail here and fall there, and have our lit.
tie sins and weaknesses, but at the last
man must be measured by his average
crop. Character is not made or lost ia
day or week, but it takes life and we
can never write true epitaph until the
life is closed and we write II on the tomb.
But few days ago the fields were beau.
lifu!ly green, and the grain bent it's proud
head gracefully before the gentle breeze
and seemed conscious OF its life and
health and consequence. 1t reminded me
OF man in his prime moving to and fro
upon tho earth acquiring wealth or fame
or pleasure, and all unmindfuI of the
reaper. But soon he ripens and munt
fall and make way for another crop. If
the proud head has borne fruit, golden
iruit, 1t IS well, and his mission 10 lifo is
accomplished, but if clogged and tangled
ana corrupted with cheat and cookie and
smut and rust and brambles the crop is
failure and ought to have been cut down
while it was green.
helping Mrs. Arp to take up her carpets
Tor the GUNNER. Tho hay and dust that
was under had TO be swept up ever so
gently-yes, gently-that was the word
',she naed-"gently, now, William YOU
are raising the dust, and it will be all
,oyer the house. Don't be In such bur.
ry-gently." got 1t all up after fash-
ion and put out Of the window in the
wheelbarrow, and put the carpets on the
fence ready for beating, and then took
her long handled broom and swept the
walls, and the ceiling. and the corners.
and behind the pictures, and then ouv
chunk Of 8 as.keg brought .sgater and
washed up the floors, and the girls
worked on the bedsteads with keresine
and turpentine and corrosva sublimate
and rat poison and dnmnation powder,
and ] don't know what all, and this
!nprniRg Taeu ny wifa was making IN
her bed and lifted up che corner Of tho
mattress and discovered one of the big.
gest, latest ones you ever aaw, aud her
heart sank down within her and she re-.
clined on "a chair in dispair. was sorry
for her, I was, for the pesky varmints are
her eternal horror, and if was rich I
would build her bran new house and
III at with bran new furniture, all made
of china wood or, camphor wood. I care
nothing about these silent perambulators
myself, and 1t has been hinted to me on
more than one occasion that It is because
em tough and old and alligatorish.
which IL rerkon is 30, though, do know
some women who are no spring chickens
themselves. But ] do suffer from the
varmints anyhow, and have my sleep
broken, for sometimes !, have to get up
in the night and help search for them:
and when found I assume theatrical
attitude and exClaim in the beautiful
language Of Mr. Shakespeare: "IIow now.
ye secret, dark and midnight hagsi What
is IL ye do2" -
Well, I took Mrs. Arp down in tho low
land wheat this evening, where it' is
thick aud green and tall, and explained
to her all about wheat being first In tho
boot and then in the milk and then In
the dough, and as we walked along in
.later furraW !, said that it reminded ma
of the old song Of Coming Through the
Rse,R that would fchangeIit o lit.le5npd
say:
III beey meet body coming through the wheat,
And bsdy SisS body, wonldn'titbe sweetr'
And she smiled dnd said the rye of The
poet was not field bnt n rocky brunch
named Rye, and the tlaSsteiRas ,tsading
through 1t when her lover met her on tho |
rocks and kissed her. sg that Knocked
all tho poetry out of the 2ildhtion !9and i
said no more ona the subject hut ! Rysd
seen the day when that vhe9t feldwopld
have been as' good q place 16r The abdsi;
ness as branch, and II anything Beteeifss
While we aauntered along Geld Bob sWhites !
aS ass1'pg e hIs lSSSisg nate aa "
when we used to follow, tiieseap parsin tlia
field and get the partridge eggs from the. !.
nests and have q big frosic over tham
when they were boiled, and how We
caught the, young rabbits in their nesp,,
and how, everything. Yves SO fresh aud
bright and rosy, and now how serious
and earnest everything had become.
Such is life and we cannot help Il, and I
don't want a6s hslR it.s No matter how