The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1893-10-18
the old house down and burn it up and
even then the servants heard the
haunts all night long. My wife has

to spirits Of unjust men not made per-
feet she is not so sure. When house
gets the name of being haunted it dis,
turbs all female serenity and so sold
out and moved to Rome, and we
hadn't been in our new abode week
before naboring woman came to see
us and said, "Folks used to say that
this house was haunted, but reckon
you amt afeerd of haunts. y
And don't you remember when mos
merism first came about and how you
and your doctor cousin, John Alex
ander used to practice on that little
monkey of niger, Tobe Russell and
could put him to sleep in a half min
ute and strsighten his arm like stick
and make him taste sugar when it was
salt, and don t you remember how we
used to take laughing gas when that
first came about and how one day Nick
Amberg took it in the street in front
of his tailor shop and got wild as a
buck and gathered his big shears and
ran Vivian Holmes into the hotel and
scared him nearly to death /? Amberg
didn't like Holmes no how, and l
always had my doubts about the gas
part of the business. Amberg was a
Norwegian and a good citizen, but he
was an awful Democrat When
Franklin Pierce was nominated for
President and the news came to our
town Amberg threw up his hat and
shouted "He is ter very man, ter pest
man of all, !" and then he whispeIed to
my father "vot did you say his name
vos." He, too, had boy named Jim,
and he always called him Yames.
And don't you remember how you
Whig boys celebrated the election of
Governor Crawford and we Democrats
stole your cannon the night before and
hid it in a swamp and you never got to
fire it nary time =? Good gracious how
mad you all got and we boys had to
sing low and deep dark, and how when
Polk was elected President we Demo
Gratis had blow out and marched all
round town that night with torches
and horns and kettle drums, and it
made you Wings so mad that you got
behind trees and fence corners and
threw old eggs and other offensive
missiles at us and there had lik to
have been general fight Wellitw
awful to lose such grand man as
Henry Clay and I don't blame you for
being desperate. wish now that he
had been elected. It takes old Father
Time to doctor up all these things and
enable us to conquer our prejudices.
But we never were at outs long, Jim,
you and I and Tom, and one day when
a boy who was bigger than me struck
me unawares and we hitched and got
down and I was the bo m dog, you
stood over us and said, Glands of
boys-let EN- fight, let EN- fight. I'll
bet on Bill if he is on the bottom 60
it my William" and this inspired me
and I turned him and mauled him in
good fashion till he hollered. When
l let him up you patted me on the
back and about then I cried little
for it was business I wasn't use to
and I couldn't suppress my feelings.
I never had but four fights in my life,
and [ am sort ashamed of them, es-
pecially the one I didn't whip. 1
wouldn t have whipped that one [ am
telling about, if you hadn't bet on me,
and I did want somebody to part us
mighty bad for awhile but they
wouldn't.
And how sweet and sad it is to re-
call the memories that cluster around
the old Fairview Church where your
folks and our folks used to go to
meeting in the old family carriages
and carry cold dinners to eat between
the morning and evening sermons.
What feast were those dinners The
chicken and the homemade sausage,
stuffed sausage in "linked sweetness
long drawn out, and the boiled eggs
for the boys and the turnover pies and
cookies for finish. How good and
solemn were old DR.. Wilson and DR..
Patterson, whose name was Jim, and
how soothing were their sermons when
they discoursed Of justification and
sanctifcation and predestination and
free will and original sin. With what
sanction from or high old Father Noel
and Father Liddell and Father Mills
used to raise the tune to Come,
Humble Sinner, in Whose Breast
and all the congregation joined in and
fairly made the old Church tremble.
That good old hymn is not in our
hymn books now and all who sang it
in the old Church are dead, nearly al,
but you and me and Tom. I remefl-
Der where our good mothers sat
yours and mine and how our good
fathers used to pass the bread and
the wine on communion days and we
boys looked on in reverential silence.
Those dear old fathers and mothers
are waiting for US, Jim-waiting for
you and me and Tom. That was a
good spring down by the poplar tree at
the foot of the hill where we learned
politeness and handed water to the
pretty girls at recess and that old
graveyard is still there "whetc the
rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep"
But everything has shrank up, jim,
old Church seems not half so large nor
the road to it half so long as when we
were boys. Our washhole in the
Maltbie branch used to seem immense
and it was like swimming the Helles-
point for US small boys to cross it, but
now it is nothing, and the Maltbie
hill is not half so long or steep. The
chestnut trees around the old school
house have all died or shortened down.
"J used to think their highest tops
Were close against the sky
But now 'tis little joy
To know that I'm further OFF from Heaven
Than when t was a boy"
How much of history is unwritten,
Jim, and world of talk we could
have, you and l and Tom. The friend
who wrote you up did it we'll and
kindly, but it was only your mature
life, your contact with a hard world
and your successes. The dearest,
sweetest, holiest part he left un-
touched. Your friend,
BILL ARP.
S100 Raword 91OO