The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1896-02-05
SARGE
Tells of the Return of Brown and Him.
selH.
AtLantG Constitution.

the scenes of our youth and travel
again over the roads We used to know,
but an absence Of years changes every
thing-houses new and strange people
are all along the way, but memories
we'll up till the trip is a journey Of
dreams-sweet dreams, and dreams,
dreams of regret and dreams of glad
ness; but no matter what they may
be, the mind of the old loves to dwell
upon them when some reminder re-
freshes again.
In our recent travels Brown and |
passed wei many roads that we knew
in the long ago, and turns, hills, val
leys, streams and woods brought
memories long forgot, but changes
new threw a damper over our expec-
tions at many points and kept us be-
tween a fever Of sorrow or whirl Of
pleasure, as the case might b.
Some good old log house just over
the hill would fail to appear as we had
known it and had it fixed in our minds
instead, perhaps, only an old Chin
ney place marked the spot, or else a
new house, a new people and new sur
roundings were there.
"Who lives here p Brown would
ask.
"Professor so-and-so; or DR.. so-and-
so, or Rev. so-and-so,' was often the
answer-so often, that we began to
wonder if all the common Misters Of
the world would soon be extinct and we
would live in an age of professors.
But I started out to give you some
incidents that has been reviewed in
our minds by travelling over the old
roads tha.t we used to know so well.
We had just forded the Tallapoosa
and the water was yet dripping from
the wheels as we wound up the noun
tain, when Brown pulled back the
wagon sheet and pointed to adm road
to the right that led around the noun
tain. Just where the road turned
there yet remains a board nailed to a
dead tree, and though it has many
dents from rocks and is black from
age, one can yet see the lettering
'sTo Moreland's STILL" and a dim in
dex finger points the direction.
There would not be much in this old
road and this old s~ign-board to attract
the passers at this time, but to Brown
and I there came a food Of memories
at its sight.
Old Claude Moreland used to run a
still down around the bend of the
mountain, and many has been the
time that we. have been there and trav-
eled this same dim road. It was not
a dim road in those days, for More
lands corn was rated the best in all
these mountains, and people came
from a distance and in crowds to revel
in it's mysteries and to see the sights
then common there, SUCH as shooting
for beef, turkey or 8, ing the "gander
pulled" and other such places.
OF course old Moreland made money.
He grew richer than any around him,
and be bought up all the land there
about. Besides being rich, old More
land was really a good fellow. He
stood as a clever mar and a liberal
man. He helped the schools and the
churches, and his folks went in style
and were foremost in all the move
ments of the settlement. In fact,
prosperity so smiled upon the More
lands that the mountain people thought
them blessed, and never a one but
would have been glad to have stood in
a Moreland's shoes.
So matters stood in those days, and
Moreland's children grew as the favor
ties of the mountain-Lucy as the
girl and Tom as the boy. The boy
was the oldest, and Tom Moreland, as
he was familiarly called, was rated
away ahead of any other boy Of the
same age as to sense, and as to morals
he was held up as a model. Though
raised in a stillhouse, he was never
known to have been drunk when a
man. Fathers, and even mothers,
pointed to him as argument that whis-
key should be k~ept-''let them be
around it and have it when they want
it, and they will never make drunk
ards" was common talk when people
thought of the Morelands.
When Tom had grown to be a man
his father took delight in setting him
up in business and he soon developed
good business qualities. Up to the
time that Tom was twenty-three years
Of age there had never been a suspi-
cion that he ever drank more than Q
mornings toddy-even his father and
mother were sure that he done no
more than this. The fact was that
Tom had been drinking whiskey so
long and so much of it that it made no
show upon him. He could walk
straight and talk polite when he had
enough whiskey under his vest to
make the average mountaineer as wild
as a Comanche Indian.
The first hint that Toms folks had
of his being a hard drinker-was no
hint at all, but it came like a bomb
shell crashing through the roof and
bursting upon the hearthstone.
Old Moreland, his wife and his
daughter Lucy were sitting by the fire
after supper, and the first thing they
knew the dogs began to make q great
to do, there was a lumber upon the
porch. the door crashed through and
Tom fell in the room before them with
the dogs right on top. The family
did not know it was Tom at first, for
his clothes were torn with snags and
he was bleedingf from briars and bushes
Tom had delirium tremens.
You ought to have seen that family
when they found it was their pet boy
and in this condition. They stirred
themselves, you be bound, and
soon had their whole plantation a stir
ring. They held Tom till the doctor
could come and his screams echoed
over the hills till the people wondered.
Snakes twined around him, he thought,
and he was writhing and tearing them
from around his legs and arms. How
he would scream and struggle as he
would clutch at a terrible snake just
slipping into his bosom, and demons
grinned and chains ratified all around
him.
It was a terrible night ut Moreland's
still hnt q more terrible night was vet