The Hartford herald. [volume] (Hartford, Ky.) 1875-1926, 1885-07-22
Index of Our Pride and Prosperity.

index or Our Pride and Prosperity.
BY DOOZENBERRY.
am not an alarmist. | have no
desire to render any mortal on earth
unhappy. l love the people of Hart
ford aud would not give them needless
pain, but | fear the beauty of our town
Is passing away all too soon this season.
The finger Of decay has already touched
our chief glory. fear there is a grub
at the root OF our beautiful pet flower,
and our modest little doggie fennel,
(call me pet names), il dying, slowly
dying, and | am sad, oh 10 sad
For years the dear, sweet little dog,
gle fennel has grown and blossomed in
our midst-no one daring to modest or
make il afraid-until we have come to
cherish II above the joys of home or
love of family. Its sweet fragrance IL
borne into our homes upon the zephyrs
of eventide, and its brilliant flower il a
Hartford. Our hearts best affections
Irvine about it, and to rob the average
Hartford citizen of the joy he feels at
the first budding of his gentle doegie,
fennel, would be like tearing the Swiss
from his mountain home, or the babe
from the arms of its mother, for, as the
heart of Erin's son turns with longing
TO the isle where grows the little green
shamrock, so will the children Of this
goodly town ever turn to the spot
where the doggie-fe nnel grows to hide
the oyster cans and old boots Of an en-
terprising ancestry.
/ tell you. thoughts like these touch
the tenderest emotions Of the human
heart, and make a man cry like baby.
To some this may seem weak, but il
you were to think of how many gen
erations this tender little flower has
been with US, how it has come with
each return of early spring, how it has
stood by us amid all our troubles and
trials, through the long summer, how
carefully we have cherished il and
never, never mOlested it, but encOur-
aged il to grow close to the front fence,
all over the back yard, calf lot and nine
tenths of the garden--how carefully
We have picked our steps along the
narrow walk, through its pillows OF
blossoms, from the front gate way out
to the middle Of the street twenty
times a day, without treading upon a
single stalk, you would cry too. You
couldn't help it. And ,when l remem-
Der that through all the ages past, there
has never been town trustee, howe'er
audacious or daring he may have been,
who ever found it i'm his heart to direct
one ruthless hand to sever = single
tendril. And think of the long sum-
mer days that he has followed the
shade Of the house around as he sat and
contentedly gazed athwart the fennel
in its prime. blubber right out, be.
trustee he is so good, and so energetic
and has 30 much town pride, and 80
much enterprise that l can't help but
admire him. Besides, l think he is
harmless, In fact l know he il, for the
little doggie-fennel in It's glory stands
monument to- his sublime harmless,
ness.
The town trustee sees that the fennel
is a prominent feature that marks the
progress of our town and he calmly
lets II alone. lie knows that If ii was
not for it, strangers would be forever
asking us how we are getting along.
As it is, they know without asking
the doggie.fennel speaks for itself, or
rather for us. There never was but one
stranger who visited us in the balmy
summer time, who asked us how
we were getting along. He wasn't q
natural born fool, but the poor man
was stone blind. But | must stop, i
can't write any more, the subject un-
mans me, and the scalding tears blind
me. If the grub gets the better of the
fennel, our glory and pride is gone
forever and We are lost. But 50 be it,
I'll have the consciousness of having
done my duty in this note Of warning
but II the fennel gets the better of the
grub, the abiding faith l have in the
taste and town pride of my people tells
me that
wave,
Ger the land Of the free and the home of the
| brave"