The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1898-08-10

8 DA.Veteran .called:to'see me yester-
day. He was not so very old, but was
gray and bent and tired. He had
been to the great reunion and was on
his. way back to Mississippi. i
stopped over day to see you, he
said, sand to revisit the place where
Twas born, but I couldn't find it and
am very tired, for l have been tramp
ing over the hills and valleys above
here nearly all day." The old man
famed himself with his hat and look
ed sad and disappointed. I learned
from him that he was born somewhere
between here and old Cassville and
his mother boarded some of the hands
who were at work building the State
railroad and there was spring not
far from their humble home. 81
thought" said he, ''that I could find
the spring and the branch and the
walnut tree and blackberry patch, but
[ walked and walked and nothing
: looked natural. Seemed to me that
everything has changed and shrunk
up. The bills have washed down and
the branches nearly dried up and
nobody could tell me anything. You
see, we left here away back in the
forties, when I was a lad, and there is
a new set of people, but / thought l
would find somebody or something
that I remembered. (" The old man
looked away off and sighed. OF
course we were sorry for him, and
tried to cheer him up. / asked him
about the Hoopers and Trips and
Akin and Underwood and Latimers
and Arthur Hare, but he dident re-
member them. He was poor boy
and mixed with poor boys and they
had grown up and gone west, too.
How the old people do yearn for the
friends and the scenes Of their youth!
After fifty years absence from his
native State, Judge Warner, our hon
ored Chief Justice, had this yearning
to come over to hira and he, too, re-
iisited his boyhood' home in Massa-
chusetts. He went with fond expec-
tation and came back sad and disap-
pointed. "My relatives were all dead
or gone away" he said. II found
but one man who remembered me, and
he was blind and in the poor house.
The hills where I used to pick blue
berries had been cleared and we're not
SO large OF SO high. The little
branches where I 6shed for minnows
had all been ditched and were bridged
where they crossed the highways.
Everything was strange and l took no
comfort and have come back to good
old Georgia, my adopted mother, and
here I will stay until die and I wish
to be buried in her friendly bosom. !"
Life seems to be but circle, and
we would all go back to the starting
point if we could. The startled hare
when pursued by the hounds speeds
straight forward for time, but after
a mile or two begins to bend its
course, and keeps on curving until it
comes painting on the home stretch to
its familiar nesting place. And the
pioneers tell us that whep hunter
gets lost in the forest on cloudy day
and tries to make bee line for home,
he makes curve unconsciously and
gets back to his starting point. Shake
speare says that old age is but second
childhood, and SO the older we grow
the more affection we have for chill
.dren and their innocent sports and
pleasures. How fondly our minds and
memories live over again the little
plays of blind mans buff, milybright,
hide and seek, trimble-toe, club-hst,
hide the switch, craney crow and many
~others. How we admire their happy
laughs and growing faces as we draw
near to them now. No wonder that
George Frances Train in his gloomy
moods wandered to the park and drew
as many children to him as he could
and played with them on the lawn.
But time shrinks more than nature.
The world is not SO big nor the trees
SO high as when we were children;
but year is not half so long-not a
tenth part 50 long-as it used to be.
The days were never too long then,
for they were happy; but it seemed
like lifetime from Christmas to
Christmas. Children are the sweetest
part Of this great big world. Not
long ago a cynical friend who has none
said they were an expensive luxury: