The Greenville times. [volume] (Greenville, Miss.) 1868-1917, 1898-11-19
FLEETlNG TIME.

ihot EllNdN evening inc Old
familiar whistle of the Pargoud,
which we have heard in these
bends for the past thirty years,
awakened the echoes of Providence
and we hurried to the landing to
find there the new steamer Chal-
mette, with bright red chimneys,
and Capt. Mike Carbine in com
mand. Lake Providence Banner.
| The awakening Of the echoes
is as nothing, compared with the
memories that this once familiar
sound arouses. Speaking to the
old citizens of the bends of the
loved ones who are gone, of the
changes so charged for them with
regrets and sorrows, it sounds as
the very knell of the old times
with which that once famous
steamer was so closely identified.
1t speaks in n language which they
alone can understand. If inter
preted to the young generation it
would seem to say
"Wc hear voice you cannot hear
Which says we cannot stay.
We see hand you may not see
Which beckons US away
-Vicksburg Herald,
The above melancholy little
"mcmcnto morio will awaken a
responsive echo in the heart Of
many reader of The TINES:
Who is there, who lived in Green
vile twenty years ago, and does
not remember the thrilling silver
toned whistle of the Pargoud.
Her regular Sunday morning adj
vent was the public event of the
week, and her melodipus call was
the signal for the asscmblage of
half the population at the wharf,
She brought news from the out
side world: friends from all the
country between Grcenville and
New Orleans; oysers, oranges,
celery and fish for the Sunday
dinner, and stood to theremote and
isolated community as the repre-
sentative of civilization and tho
great world beyond them. The
officers of the Pargoud in those
days were lions. Every man and
woman was their friend, and al
invitation to stay and dine on
board, or 60 with the Captain up
the river to Argyle or Luna was
an honor to be envied and boasted
of. In those days when men went
to church in Greenville they sat
near the door, in order to slip out
deftly when the Pargoud whistled'
When ladies visited the Pargoud
they donned their most fashion
able array. The arrival of the
boat was social function, and its
saloon a scene of beauty and ele-
pance. Other boats were on the
river-hundreds of them, but the
Pargound stood alone in the love of
theIpublic. The man or woman with
any pretention to fashion travelled
onlyon thePargoud, even if it meant
a weeks waiting for her day, 10
the planter her coming meant the
Joyful receipt of cheering ac-
counts of sales from his commits
sion merchant. To the careful
bousekeeper it meant all sorts OF
deIicacies for the table, obtalnable
only by boat, and gladly bought
at prices that it is appalling to
remember. 10 little children,
even, the Pargoud was synony-
nous with rare fruits, wonderful
candies, and the excitement that
is so dear to children of both a
lesser and a larger growth.
The good old times are gone
The white, high breasted steam
boats no longer sweep maiesticalIy
up the food. The long, melo-
dious silver triIling of the Pargoud
has given place to the demonlac
shrek of the locomotive. Black
and busy railroad engines rush
hourly to and fro, with their
"Kettle of steam,
Huzzin' an main the blessed heIds
With the DEVILS own team
There are oysters and celery,hSb
and tropic fruits at every stand
and restaurant in the city. News
comes every few hours from the
four quarters of the earth The
cotton planter is no longer eager
to receive his accounts of sales at !
cents. The old times are gone
-