The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1894-05-09
ANDERSON, S. c., WEDNESDAY MORNING. MAY 9, 1884,

things come back (; how the words Of
the minister's voice saying "dust tt
| dust, ashes to ashes," and the drop
ping of those clods Of dirt from the
| sexton's hands upon the lid of that
coffin, and then the grating Of the
| trowel through the mortar and the
laying Of the brick; the throwing in
of the earth the patting down and
leveling off Of that grave, and cutting
away, and trimming and patting again
and leveling again, by those grave
diggers. How unconcerned they
! seemed. My anger rose up against
them for their apparent callousness Of
soul. / hated them in my heart. All
Of these things and thousands of the
other incidents Of that day remain
with me still.
I resumed my labors and life took
on another aspect. In few year.
two of my sisters married, and thus
lightened of my burdens, Ifelt almost
too free. Two sisters gone and moth
er with us no more, left vacancy in
my heart which I felt Of necessity
must be filed. Always Of a gentle
and loving disposition it was not long
before [ met one whom l thought
would fully reciprocate all Of my ten
der affections. She was of my own
station in life and was refined but
poor. My life again resumed some
thing Of that care which seemed to be
necessity to my happiness. Chill
dren came to bless our union and life
was spent in constant employment at
my work and watchfulness and care Of
my wife and little ones. At last ]
reached position Of great trust and
unremitting labor. lam almost afraid
that I performed these duties too
we'll. The place is one whichr requires
sobriety and steadfastness. It is full
of labor Of an onerous kind. The
post can not be left, the sentinel must
never sleep at his duty. The cares
which attach to it are many. Years
of training must be gone through with
to accomplish it's requirements. There
are other positions which pay better
and are more easily performed, but it
seems that this one place can never be
filled by any one else. My predeces-
sor grew old as I am doing in it's duty.
Il seems to be case Of where car
riage horse is put in tread mill be-
cause Of his strength.
My ability has been recognized by
the employers, but they always declare
that, though they wish to tighten my
labors, they can find no one else to fill
my place. The profits will not allow
Of a larger salary than that which |
am getting, which is only enough to
pay my living expenses and to keep up
my insurance upon my life.
So here I am !; my row is plowed and
up and down that row [ must go again
and again. That seems sad for a man
who has ambition burning in his
breast which fame has ever beckoned
him on to greater e1ertions and higher
purposes. Hope Of further advance.
ment is positive impossibility. |
have used every argument for the
fnrtherance of my cause, but to no
purpose; always meeting with the
answer stated.
can old dog learns no new tricks"
I am too old to enter another line Of
occupation and must perforce remain
where I am. l have struggled from
early childhood and now | am consci-
GUS that old age must soon overtake
me.
I often thought, or imagined, what
I would do if I were rich. How free
I would make myself from all care.
How happy I would be if my time
should be entirely my own and with
this longing for greater freedom l
once went home and taking the bird
cage from its nail, liberated the bird.
Out it few and scared to the topmost
limb of the tree and sang and whistled
it's little joyous song Of happiness.
Then in my heart I said, I have done
4 good act, and turning sadly away
from the window pulled down the
sash, longing that some strong hand
might liberate me as / had liberated
the bird. And chat following night
was a long and sleepless one, filled
with waking dreams and longing hopes
for the liberty which the bird had
gained. Morning came and wearily l
made ready to resume my work. l
found my way down the steps to the
window through which our pet song
ster had flown. I threw the sash up
and looked furtively to the bough
upon which had last seen that over
Joyous creature. The sun was kissing
the fresh leaves Of the trees as the
gentle breeze swayed them back and
forth. And in their verdure they
danced to the merry whistling Of the
wind. The bird was not there +; his
song was not heard. Ny sight wan
dered DER the ground and across our
little garden. The daisies and pansies
bowed their heads with merry good
morning and all the flowers seemed
happy with the kissing Of the
dew. Alas thought, the little bird
has found happier home among the
wild flowers of the fields and his fell
low companions of the air. Heis free
but I am still slave; and thinking
thus I raised my hand to lower the
sash. Surprised, almost startled l
might say, was to find that on the
frame Of the window my bird lay cold
and stiff in death.
Evidently freedom was not what
was best for the pet warbler. Itmust
have sung it's little songs Of Joyous
ness until it's throat burned and throb-
bed with the extra exertion and wish
ing for a few drops Of water to satisfy
this thirst, it knew not which way to
turn except back to it's own little
home, the cage, where every want Of
life had been satisfied. It made its
effort to return, but too late, the sash
was closed, and in its weakness OF
intellect it beat its little brains out in
it's vain endeavor against the glass.
Freedom was not what was best for it.
Freedom meant death.
Perhaps, yes, more than likely,
freedom would mean death to me.
From that day on I have never
orown diaheartened Tn nv care I