The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1896-06-21


the father now lie rusting in the case,
valued with caressiug tenderness By the
son. and heaven has spread purple robe
1l Fio4els, sheet em1ieIns OF peace ana
love among men, over the banks OF The
river at Sandhar Ferry.
1t was this spirit Of pride and the quick
impulse 10 resent a wrong that burned IN
the souls OF southern men, ktndnng IN
their hearts the intensified fires Of patriO-
tsm which Smouldered there Till the nrst
gun tnunderee forth from the summit OF
Sumter. and the curtain danced Up over
strife.
Finally ne came 10 the Georgia gentle
man Of the period since the close Of the
war.
Let US greet him" ne said. ION his re
turn from that war. His ragged coat OF
gray doth i'll become the man that left his
brOadclOth suit there in the old wardrobe
so long ago. He tries TO be the same how
ever, the same good gentleman ne used TO
De ~ point OF dress, so ne puts on the
DrOadclOth and has in many instances OF
reality, worn that old coat ever since. We
see him now and then to-day with II on
We see him with the advance of years
bowed by the hand Of Old Father Time,
MS hairs white with the frOsts Of age, but
we see new life seems to buoy him up
when ne puts on that old coat he wore
before the war, and the old grace comes
BACK TO him with the bow he gives US az
the gate. What sunshine in his cordialityi
What an air of genuine hospitality as he
squeezes our hand in welcome 10 his roof.
Come right in" he says, come rest in
er and talk of old times" Alas, poor old
man, he does not know as he buttons that
threadDare coat proudly around him, he
has ripped another Of its ancient seams in
the back, and in his simple innocence he
has quite forgotten that there is nothing
in the house 10 drink unless he can pre-
vail upon his good lady to indulge him
measure OF the Old fashioned drink called
cherry nectar on plantations where il now
takes the place of wine. The old home in
which he lives, once so fresh and white
EfgfnIW 81 10 oh a
what II used TO be; the paint beaten from
its outer walls by rain and the ravages Of
age. The flowers and vines which once
bloomed in the fullness Of their beautiful
in the front yard have famshed for want
of culture and died long years ago; the
Cherokee roses blossom no longer far up
the long lanes leading TO the house, save
here and there a fragment of the hedge
lifts up bud or two to deck the graves
Of its kindred flowers that bloomed in the
dear days OF the past The place looks deS-
olate. All that seems to hold up the APP
pearance OF old times are the great stall
wart oaks around, the running brook and
the lockwood hedge around the family
cemetery over on the hill.
But the spirit Of the Georgia gentle
man VIII never die. Younger generations
rise up to claim It as their heritage, and
Whatever their VOcations or wherever
their lives may be pitched this spirit VIII
predominate among the vast majority of
GeOrgians throughout all the years to
come, and will inculcate in their hearts
that love and patriotism for the mother
state as will make them ever ready to join
in the sentiment:
The red old hills Of Georgia
SO bald and bare and bleak,
Their memory fills my spirit
.a With thoughts L cannot speak.
They have no robe of verdure-
Stript naked TO the blast
And yet of all the varied earth
i love them best at last