The Houma courier. (Houma, La.) 1878-1939, 1897-09-04
POOR STREET LIGHTS.
Suggest to Bill Arp Possibilities
Of Bottling lightning Bugs
southern Philosopher the
Heated Spell and Drought-suf-
fering OF the Poor and
Their Hope.

I wonder If there is a town or city
In the world whose gaslight and water
works satisfy the people. know that
1t il chronic 70 complain of corpora
tions. but / am obliged to consider my
self an injured person. Almost every
might l have to go downtown to help
nurse and comfort a little sick child
who is very dear to me, and, although
the street has a gaslight, I collide with
something or somebody or fall into a
ditch every dark night I travel. Iran
against o big fat negro woman the
other night, and she used disrespect-
full language at me. Last night 1 had
in my hand a bucket Of blackberries
that my daughter gave me, and l fell
over q stepping stone and split them
all and skinned my aged shins and
dropped my cane, and it took me some
time to find it. I've a good notion to
bring suit for damages and have a, re-
ceiver appointed. That so-called gas
light does not throw it's effulgent rays
a hundred feet, and is not lighted more
than half the time, and, now that light
ming hugs have come again, 1 think the
company ought to catch some and put
them in a bottle and do away with the
gas. But I don't see any sense in hav-
ing gas with the lamp posts a quarter
of a mile apart. We don't want to car
ry lanterns and pay for gas, too. That's
all I've got to say about this gas bust
ness, and my folks have limited that
the fault is more in my eyes and my
legs than in the dim, religious light,
but I know better. 1 am not on the
superannuated list by a good deal. I
work every day in my garden and get
all in a sweat of perspiration, and then
clean up and feel good and honest. The
long drought hurt me pretty bad, but
the garden survived it, and now we have
vegetables abundant. The waterworks
man never caught me stealing more
than my share of water but once, and
he didn't make much of a fuss about it.
He is a very c~onsiderate man. Up north
the companies put meters at every con-
sumer's residence and he pays for what
he uses, but we have got more water
here than the town can use, and don't
have to be stingy. What a blessed thing
Il isl Water, plenty Of water! Water
in the kitchen and at the back door
and in the front yard and the garden,
beside a bathtub upstairs and down
stairs. Pure water, fresh from a big
spring that gushes from the hillside.
No river nor pond nor reservoir nor
fltering machines nor microbes nor
bacilli. No well rope to break nor wind
lass to get loose and knock one of the,
children in the head. No cleaning out
and finding dead chickens that we had
been drinking on. The fact is, 1 never
knew the comfort of water, abundant
water. until we planted our waterworks
in Cartersville. Strange to say, they
never came until we abolished whisky
that is, the saloons. A great English
poet and jurist says: "Its cool refresh
ment drained by fevered lips gives
pleasure more exquisite than nectarean
juice" and C~oleridge's sum of human
agony was to have
Water, water everywhere,
But not a drop to drink"
During the late long heated term in
June it was alarming to read from the
weather bureau that the world was
slowly but surely drying up, and the
rainfall was decreasing every year.
What an awful calamity is to come to
somebody some timel God rapt-tRa