The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 18??-1935, 1897-04-23
NEWS FROM CHATTERTOWN.
HELENE Maury Writes to Her Sister in
Arcadia,
In a Reminiscent Wen, About the Scene,
and Sports of Childhood, and
Old Fashioned Things.
CHATTERTowN, Gossip County, /
Tam ADril 10 1897 [

tuu.s "A pm lOJls
SISTER MINE The days have been
heightened into years, time has short
ened, as it always seems to people of the
"sere and yellow leaf" stage dow be it
spoken), since have written YOU one
line of remembrance. So / shall make
amends by telling you now and then
my thoughts, feelings and desires, if it
please you.
Far away in the dimmest of distances,
like unto the tleeting mirage of the
heated sands, seems our childhood days
and as we go the downward way of life,
do not our thoughts turn backward to
those happy hours, when our dear
mother would so often say, "children,
you are eating your white bread?' We
wondered then what she meant; yet, in
innocent enjoyment of all that pertains
to childhood, we failed to understand.
NOw we know; do we not? Many dark
loaves have been our food, and bitter
has been the digestion: yet probably no
more than was good for us, for Unto
each life some rain must fall" Sister
mine, put on your shrinking cap" and
see if you can recall these pictures. OF
course much has faded from our mind,
yet enough remains to cast its roseate
flush over all else.
That "plum nursery" as it was called,
where you and when small girls, with
cushions and shawls Struggled from
mothers wardrobe, would sit and swing
half day in the tops of the crooked
trees, imagining in our foolish little
hearts that we were fine ladies dressed
in the height of fashion, and were rid
ing i'm a handsome carriage, bowling to
imaginary friends, who envied us as we
passed them by.
BY the way, do you remember the old
! fashioned carriages that were used in
| those days? | shall never forget the
time some of our rich relatives came to
visit us, from Envytown. You remem
Der they came "through the country" in
their own beautiful carriage, with seats
covered with red leather, and a long
! flight of steps that could be folded and
| put away in some snug corner, that was
great mystery to us. Oh! but didn't
we revel in that numbering old vehicle
and now, between you and me, sister
dear, still have foolish fondness fol-
carriage with steps. Our own ba
rouche was lined with dark blue anC
our pair of horses were "claybanks"
but that was long after the red coach
experience | guess we might call tina
a red leather day.
Imagination! Oh, the power of imagi
nation! | think it one of the purest de
lights of a child's life! II covers every
thing with all that can be desired. Al
the affectionate ivy enfOlds the rugged
stone, sOftening, identifying and hiding
all rough places, so the imagination
weaveS its web in such dazzling colOr
that everything is tinted with hues o
the rainbow to the young,
What, but this same Imagination
could have made us so enjoy the Ions
ride from school through the rain anC
wind, with our hair flying in the ut
most disorder to keep from the sup
posed drenching, when to an older heaC
our horses were planks, with one enC
on the fence and the other on tn
ground, and the gallop through tn,
storm was the work of this same de
lightful "tend like?" Oh, but it wa
lovely then! We hated for night t.
come, because it cut short our pleasure
of the day that seemed to have wings
1t came to an end so soon. And whei
winter came on and the misty snow
dropped ever so shyly at first as if no
to surprise the warm bosom of old earth
we would say, "the old woman is pick
ing her geese;" and when, by and by
the earth would be covered with love
ly mantle of flakes, we would ransacI
the closets for papa's old boots, an
putting them on, go crunching through
its frozen pillows and gather the lonj
icicles that hung in glistening profu
sion from those same plum trees.
The grand sleigh rides back of tn
smoke-house, where we would spin lik
tops down the streets of the city, wit
horses prancing and sleigh-bell jing
ling, singing merrily,
"Tingle, Jingle, clear the way,
IT'S a merry, merry, dayw
When, as a matter of fact, the smoke
house was the only real thing; tn
"street' was a hill about thirty fee
long, the "sleigh" an old broken char
and the "merry bells" a cracked COW
bell, fished from an ash heap, while Ii
tie brother, Juggling up hill with tn
sleigh" was only too glad to represer
the "prancing horses" How small
/ thing it takes to make a child happy
J But, have spun my "reminiscences tC
= long, and will close, promising to writ
again of those sweet old times, that ma
seem airy nothings to others, but M
? so TO you nor to
Your loving sister,
: HELENE MAURY.