The Durham recorder. [volume] (Durham, N.C.) 1879-19??, 1889-09-11
He LOVED THE FARM.
1T LOOKS THE SAME AS 1T
DID TW ENTY YEARS AGO.
A Walk Through the Old Fields
After Twenty Years of City
iife Bright Eyes Pleas
ant Memories.

f 4hiltF ANsuty ttafS vi sIty
life Bright Eyes Pleas
ant Memories.
New York Star. "a~
| took a walk through the old
fields the other day. They still lie
around my fathers old house and
barn. in the same dress they wore
twenty years ago. The memories
they brought back were a cross be-
tween the sad and the curious. IL
j. now twenty years since | left
Them to seek my fortune in the city.
! am seeking it still. But | am not
going to tell the world about those
memories. They are my own, and |
won't divide them with anybody.
No. but don'task me. won't doit.
As to the fields themselves, the
case is different. OF course, even
they are sacred to me-bnt | can't
draw a green banize screen over
them to bid them from everybody.
Iiut take notice; would draw that
baIze if could, aud then tell you
Just nothing at all. But the thing
Is out, aud ! might as we'll tell you,
my fastidious friend, something
about the place where | played as a
child. and was a. a child. Wish |
could have remained one, did you
say? Well, YES. ........
II there is anything good about
me, it is tn little thinking | do
about my childhood aud its country
home. Our Saxon ancestors thought
a great deal about their birthplaces.
They called it patriotism; but the
meaning 81 the word has changed.
II wouldn't iit my memories Of NV
old fathers farm at all.
II smacks too much Of elections
riots now, aud Of fights at political
meetings. There was never fight
on those old hills, save between the
different classes Of my mothers
poultry, and then the rest Of the
chickens didn't take it up nor make
political capital Of il, nor start a re-
port that the other fellows came on
pnrpose to break up the meeting.
No, remember my fathers old
fields ON a very different footing.
They slope down from the sunrise
just as they used to. They stretch
quietly away between those same
woods to.day-in drizzling rain, on
murky, lowering days, in harvest
time, with bees humming over their
cushion Of sweet clover Just a. they
did twenty years ago, and quiet as a
picture And the profoundest peace
hovers over them yet, as deep as the
quiet Of a country Sabbath, when
We played among their dandeliOns.
The tat pasture fields lies upon
the hin. and the orchard is above
the house, but the old apple trees
are knotty and crumped, like old
men and women. and SOME Of them
are gone altogether, leaving an awk-
ward little vacancy in the rows. But
below the house the old country
road winds around the hill, with its
stony bed aud red clay banks, just a.
when | was a boy. Once a year il
used 10 put on anew face. That was
when the Oyerseer came with his
men and worked" il. But road
working was different then, my
learned friend. The men pulled
the stones out of the road one sea.
son aud put them back the next.
That all changed. YOU know. Down
below this road our old farm had
several pleasant fields, stretching
iuwn 10 the "run" that coursed
along the lower side Of the place.
That brook was the ",liv ding line
between ours and our next neigh
bnrs farm. Most Of the trees that
skirted il are there vet, specially the
willows, but noticed the old oaks
aud elms are gong like the apple
trees above The house. But The
yiolels still grow along the banks,
J aud there il still a faint tracing Of