The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1894-09-12
LOST IN THE SWAMP.
A TRUE sToRY.
From the Christian Indcr.

North Georgia, at the foot of Sawnee
Mountain is the quiet little town Of
6. No railway whistle has
ever broken the monotony Of its peace
ful-resfulness. In fact, it has always
been farming town; many of its
citizens owning and working small
farms adjoining the town. AT the
time of our story it was new town in
all it's primitive glory.
With all the energy and activity of
growing town, it was backed up by a
fine cattle range extending for miles
in every direction.
Here lived many years ago a little
boy named Foster Smith, whose duty
it was every evening to drive up his
mothers cow. Foster owned gentle
pony and it was his greatest joy to
gallop over hills and down valleys in
search of the COWS and the farther
away she wandered, the better he liked
it.
One dark, cloudy evening, he went
as usual, to drive up his COW. Of
course there was no road through the
woods, but the forest was very open
| in those days and the trees far apart,
and the grass abundant.
On this particular evening his cow
was hard to find and nightfall found
him far from home. 1t was cloudy
| and almost before he knew it it was
dark. Every direction he would 60,
there was thick swamp before him.
He went through brush and brandt
until he was almost dragged off his
pony. he became confused and could
not tell in what direction home was.
Finally, it grew so dark he could not
see at all, and he realizsd the fact
that he was lost in the swamp and
would have to stay there all night.
He got off his pony and still holding
to the bride he sat on log all night.
He did not hitch his pony to tree
because it was dark and the pony
was all the company he had, and
if he couldn't see him he could feel
him.
He had no supper; neither had
pony. He got sleepy he would nod
and almost fall off the log, but he held
fast to the pony. 1t was long,
weary night for the little boy but
day came at last. He gladly mounted
his horse as soon as it was light and
made his way home.
When he got there they were just
starting to hunt for him his father
and some of the neighbors mounting
their horses, for the exciting news
was spread abroad that child was
lost.
His mother had spent sleepless
night; she had kept his supper wait
ing for hours and had gone to the door
and listened for his coming and won
dered why he stayed SO long. But the
next morning her grief was turned into
joy when her boy came home and the
lost was found.
How glad he was to be at home and
how good the warm breakfast tasted
| And the next night how he slept
His bed had never before seemed SO
soft and comfortable or his room so
cozy and cheerful.
Now the lesson to be learned from
this little story is the fact that we do
not know how to appreciate our bless.
ings until deprived of them. How glad
Foster would have been had he found
in his pocket as much as one cold, un-
buttered biscuit for his supper. Think
of Foster when you are disposed to
grumble at your supper, either as to
quality or quantity.
Sometimes you do not like your
room mate. Foster was so glad to
have even horse for company that he
held to him all night.
When you have to go to bed in a
room by yourself and feel afraid, think
of Foster in the dark, lonely woods
and you will be ashamed to think OF
being afraid.
TO impress this little story and its
lesson upon you, I will tell you that
this little boy was playmate and cou.
sin to Gcorgia's to-day most noted
philosopher and humorist. Now,
guess who that is. How do l know
so much about it? Foster was my
mothers little brother, and l. have
heard my grandmother tell it so often:
Twenty years after she could tell
Just what she had for supper. Now
another question. Which do you
think suffered the most that night,
Foster or his anxious mother
| Which =?