The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1896-11-18
SARGE PLUNKETT
Pleasant Memories of the 0Iden Times.
atlanta Constitution.

as travellers having passed the desert.
A rainy day gives an old man oppor-
tunity. On such days we can relax,
rest and saunter around without folks
thinking we ought to be at work.
Brown likes the best to climb up in
the loft and lie on the hay and listen
to the rain as it patters on the boards,
but the old ginhouse is good enough
for me. Yesterday I went down and
lay on the cotton seed and listened to
| the rain as it dripped from the caves
and pattered on the roof. It sounded
| just as it used to sound and brought
up memories that are sweeter than
anything of the present can ever be-.
Who so old but what they can remem-
Der some old room, some warm bed
and some dear hand that used to tuck
the cover around the little one as no
other hand has ever tucked, and then
leave us to be sung to sleep by the
patter of the rain on the housetop.
None but the older generation can
know how sweet it was to sleep up
stairs in the old-fashioned houses and
have the rain to patter, patter, patter
all the night through. Such as this
is memory now, but old folks live in
the past, and those who laugh at such
will know some day, if they live long
enough, how foolish they were to
laugh. Every generation has its vigor
and strength and boasts of the present,
but every generation just as surely
has it's infrm step and bending age.
It will come your time to be old some
day, my young reader, and then you
will not wonder at old folks cherishing
such memories.
Anyhow, I lay upon the cotton seed
and studied undisturbed. I think I
counted every crack in the old gin
house as I lay there, and as l counted
these light places through the old
roof, I found myself taking up the
seed by the handful and letting them
pour out slowly as the metal pours
from the rocks at the miller's. AS
old as I am I would be glad to hunt
some sandy hollow and play in the
sand as we used to play. This "play-
ing miller" in the sand was one of our
childish delights and I doubt if there
was ever a happier miller than the boy
who lifted the sand and watched it
pour from his little hand. And we
built frog houses in this sand and
stretches fence around them, till I
doubt if there was ever an architect or
landscape gardener who felt prouder
Of his work than we have felt.
These memories are companions of
a. rainy day and make us better and
happier by the thoughts, but there is
something always sadly sweet in re-
membrance Of the little companions of
those happy hours. These little play
mate, could not meet us there now.
The most Of them have passed Cover
the river and the ones who still tarry
could not stoop to pat the sand on their
little feet, nor squat over the doodle
houses and call the doodles. They
are too stiff in the joints to do the
STOPPING and frisking around, and
their sights are so dim that they could
never see the little doodle even if they
Lad him in the hollow of their hand.
It may not be SO idle as some might
think to spend day once in while
in studying over these things of the
past. It will surely impress US that
every age has it's troubles, but it may
teach that many things are considered
troubles which are just the reverse.
It may impress, too, that there is no
escape from material to build these
troubles out of. Jay Gould has long
been dead, but we have Hanna. The
question of slavery has long been
settled, but we have other questions.
We used to live anxiously over the
fear of a scarcity, now we grieve over
surplus" of production, and SO it
goes, there always was and always will
be something for us to trouble over if
we hunt it up.
While in this trend, I went to work
to count the good people l know at
present. Before I had got out of my
own county I had a full hand of cotton
seed that had picked up one by one
as some good man or some good wo-
man would come to mind. One of the
noblest charities in Georgia loomed up
right here, and in connection with
that orphanage [ could count man
after man and woman after woman
whose whole desire in life seems bent
| on doing good for others. I counted
rich men of our county seat, Decatur,
who have lent their riches in giving
work to the poor, in building up edu-
cational facilities, in beautifying the
landscapes and in raising the moral
tone and giving opportunities which
can but bless the world through all the
ages.
Every day, if we will tch and
take time to think about it, We may
find things in the people around us
that will make known their true no.
bility of soul. We have had two sad
burials in the old graveyard at Deca-
tur within a few day.. Both were
little children. One of them was a
sweet little girl, of one of the most in,
Auential families of Decatur. This
little girl was burned to death. Her
clothing caught on fire while out at
play, and the manner of her death was
so sad that it naturally drew all
hearts in sympathy Of course the
standing of this family gave them the
most courteous attention, and it was
pleasing to mark the desire of all to
tighten the sorrow of the bereaved.
Such attentions might, and are, per-
haps, too often put down as the con-
sequence of prestige, but never a heart
without prejudice could have watched
the funeral of this little girl and then
have went away believing there was
nothing in it but idle vanity and
empty show. If there had been,
surely the second funeral would have
dispclled all such wickedness and
caused the most hardened wretch to
acknowledge that there was much good
in the land yet, and that many hearts
are full of sympathy without the fear
CT power or the hope Of reward.
This second funeral was that Of a
little child from the Methodist Or
phanage. The two little children
were perhaps very near the same age,
but there was very great difference
in their positions in the world, yet