The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1891-09-12
COMMUNICATION.

hospitable hostesses Ia daughter of
Eve surely in innocence of her heart
asked me what title intended TO give
them. Now that was a question | had
not yet considered and so | replied it
was not decided.
Since then having slept upon it one
night and having had several hours for
reflection while pulling at the paddle
under Il burning sur along a seven
Unrestricted furnace called Bayou
Lafourche. [ have decided to not give
them any title at all.
know very well that the title is of
ten the most interesting part of q long
and p%retentious screed-tIlat the me-
teoric gentleman who al slap down a
~half-column of startling and not too
mendacious headlines to he printed
in all sorts of soaps over a very or
binary scrap of news is highly esteem-
ed by the managing editor, but | still
have left some reputation for veracity
Which ! do not choose to risk upon a
promise conveyed by a heading which
may not he fulfilled i'm the text.
For As we jog along the highway of
these columns together, | the RESPONSE
bile guide aHn liable TO turn off at any
moment down an unexpected by road
Or unknown winding lane in pursuit of
some idea entirely iIrelevantto the sub
ject for the moment in hand. Where
fore, if any headline Whatever pea
at the top of this column it is under
stood that the editor himself has plac-
ed it there and that he alone is re-
sponsible.
When we come to the August days
to the season of the dog-star red,
hamboyant, raging, when the '.grass-
hopper is a burden" and food and
clothes are a WEAKNESS to the flesh.
when every man wears that the parti-
cular hole in which a cruel end inpla-
cable fate has placed him is the hottest
and most detestable hole in the uni
verse, then there comes to us all a
yearning for other scenes, for s'green
fields and pastures new.
Some long for the peaceful farm
house where the cows with full-round-
cd rudders and sweet clover-scented
breath come lowing home as the
shadows lengthen from the west. The
thoughts of others turn wistfully to
she ~mountains-to the swelling round
ness of the Blue Ridge, the most beau.
tiful, whose billowy outline clad with
green woods of beech. and chestnut,
and oak, bisects three states-or to the
butllng plne-crowned. granite crags
of the Rockies" or to the stnpendu-
Gus basalt cliffs, and dark for bidding
canOns of the SieIras, where among
the giant redwood trees the wind from
the vast Pacific means ~eternaily.
And still others turn to the ever
heaving and tumultuous sea, dreaming
of graceful white winged yachts. of
long beach-walks on the verge of the |
breakers wash, of health and strength
IN the tonic of the bitter waters, and
each n who can, takes his joyous
way to the special para disc of his
heart only to be wofully disappointed
as to everything except the expense.
| went to the sea-shore the other
day. Thank CID I am again safely !
back under my own vine and fig tree.
/ did not go very far. A pestiferous
steamboat would have landed me at
my journeys end in three hours, and
a %sllrieking locomotive would have
whirled me W. the space in sixty
minutes, but detest a steamboat and
the time when the locomotive shall
awaken the echoes of the solitudes
that environ the Genes | have lately
visited is still in the future-a future
| hope and believe not very remote. /
With the exception of one large BAY
the route is entirely practicable even
IN SnnaIIy uaafHAr fnr - o-,.,,.
canoelst and his tiny craft, and it was
with one these ''piogues' IA #. long
and 26 in. vide that | resolved to ac-
complish as much as possible of the
voyage.
Wherefore one b~ieathless morning
in August long before the dawn. with
a small grip a long oilcloth coat, a
trusty Winchester, and a flask of mala-
rial antldote, | crept cautiously down
the muddy bank and on board my
canoe, and turning my back upon the
hole-star slipped away swiftly and
alone, southwark through the silent
night.
The silent night Silent by COM
parlson Only. 1t is true the sounds
of the day are hushed. We hear no
longer the distant wood-chopper's axe
o the %''lohoalaw" of the ploughman
in the field, stilled are the cries and
laughter of the little children, and the
voice of the anxious and care worn
housewife as she alternately coaAes and
commands, ven the full bellying sails
of the omnipresent luggers are neatly
folded along the yards, and the noisy
boatmen weary with Juggling at rope
and oar are snoring peacefully on the
matches beneath their narrow mos