Mississippi leader. (Jackson, Miss.) 1892-1895, 1895-04-09
ARP AT HOME.
Welcomed by Children, Grandchil-
dren, Neighbors and Friends
Home the Beet Place In the world-Soms
Incidents OF the Return Journey.
The Blasted Orange Groves and
Deserted Depots.

From Oakland to Sanford and from
Sanford to Palatka the traveller passes
through what was a few months ago the
finest orange country in Florida. Now
there Is no picture of winter that looks
more desolate than the groves along these
railroad lines. On acres and acres OF
large, shapely trees not green leaf is to
be seen. They seem to be dead, utterly
dead, and we noticed that in some places
the trees had been cut down and burned
and the ground was being prepared for
so nething else. The little depots seem
deserted, the packing-houses closed, the
sawmills silent and the whole country
looked like Sunday. From all l could
learn there is the same desOlation across
all that portion of the State north Of
Ocala. In the Tampa region it is not
SO bad. Many groves have escaped with
only the small branches killed. The
trunks and larger limbs will put out
again. We watched my daughters grove
(she has one tree) with anxious interest.
1t was quite large one that she pur-
chased last fall and had transplanted to
her front yard. 1t had over a thousand
oranges on it, but of course the top had to
be all cut off and only the trunk and
the stumps of four branches were left.
Since the last freeze that tree has put
out numerous tiny shoots and bids fair
to clothe itself with evergreen before the
summer has passed.
When we reached Jacksonville we were
ushered into the beautiful and spacious
depot that is now finished and COM
plete in all its departments. We had four
hours there and were entertained in
studying the travellers who come and CO.
AS l walked around l observed a man
and two ladies take seats in the gentle
mans waiting-room. and as they seemed
in strange place l venture2 to point out
to them the ladies' room that was more
comfortable. The ladies seemed CRATE
full for the information, but the dog of a
man said, "Well, / guess we can take
care of ourselves" His tone of voice
made me mad, but didn't say anything.
Thinks l to myself, I'll tend to my own
business after this and you may sit where
you dogon please. Soon we boarded the
sleeper for Atlanta by the Waycross and
Triton route. There was q sorrowful-
looking man and woman nearby us and a
little tot of a child was with them. My
wife always notices children, and soon
she was petting this little one as it
cruised around. OF course, that got up a
conversation with the woman.
'Is this your child?' she said. "No,"
said the sorrowful woman, 'it is my
grandchild. Its mother is in the baggage
car in a coffin. We are going back to
our home in Michigan. My poor daugh-
ter had pneumonia and the doctor said
she must go to Florida, but another Bit
ter spell came ON the way and she died
soon after we reached Ozona." What a
sad journey was there. Soon the porter
called to make up the berths and while he
was at it my wife told him to place her
pillow toward the locomotive. What
for said /. 81 always sleep the other
way" 81 do not" she said, very emphat-
ically. ''They carry the dead to their
graves feet foremost, and 1 am supersti-
tious, you know - l surrendered, Of
courseI always do. But when we
reached Waycross she was asleep and
our sleeper was run round on Y and
reversed and away we sped feet foremost
toward Triton. After awhile she
awakened and pushed aside the curtain
to see the moon that was shining brightly.
1t had got over on the other side and the
trees and telegraph poles were all going
the wrong way. She was perplexed and
wondered. She endured it for awhile and
concluded that she was either crazy or we
were backing toward Jacksonville. She
reached over to my berth and called me:
civilian, William" what is it?" said
/. what is the matter? What are we
backing toward Jacksonville forT she
said. The trees are all going the wrong
way and l am riding feet foremost"
"Oh, yes" said /. I'VE are not backing,
we turned around on the Y at Waycross."
"Well, / declare l never was SO troubled
in all my life" She laid down satisfied
and never changed her pillows to the
other end. for told her l reckoned We
would turn again at Triton. We came
through without bauble and were re-
ceived at the depot by children and grand
children and friends. The weather 10
wet but not cold. The difference is in
the muddy ground we have to walk upon
the wet shoes and damp feet. In Flor
ida the walking is good all the time, for
the rain sinks down in the sand and the
surface dries in few minutes. 1t is like
walking on a velvet carpet-neither man
nor beast nor wheel makes any noise. A
robber could step up behind and sandbas
yo1 and take your money before you
knew it. "Laddie." our faithful dog, was
not at home when we got there, but
he came soon sfter and jumped all over
use and licked our faces and whined for
joy The peafowls came struttina
around. Old Aunt Ann was around and
the house and yard were in order and
coal fire in the CRATE. Once more we are
in our accustomed corners, where we can
look out upon the garden and see the
steeples of the churches. Home is the
best place in the wide world, and the
older we grow the better it is. My wife
went to the piano last night and surprised
US with her sweet old-fashioned songs
such as 'Home, Sweet Home" How
Dear to My Heart Are the Scenes Of
My Childhood" when You and / Were
Young, Maggie" Flow Gently, Sweet
Alton" and Sweet Vale of Avoca."
There are yet no songs eweeter than
these to my old-fashioned ears. New
songs like new novels come and go and
pass away, but the old ones still linger In
our memories. Old prose and old poetry
is the best. but this generation does no,
read it. The classics are almost un.
known, but "Trilby" is the great sensa-
ton. "Trilby," a story that is beauti-
fully written. but is utterly improbable
and impossible and has both a social and
religious immortality. / was lamenting
the decay of old-tirae literature when ]
read my last letter in your paper and
saw where the typo had made such Q
blunder in setting those beautiful lines
beginning:
"count that day lost whose low descend
ing sun
Views from thy hand no worthy action
done"
1t was printed Cant that day last.
Well. no; should say 1t couldn't last.
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