The Maryville times. (Maryville, Tenn.) 1884-1944, 1899-09-23

Wultc. Inelr yell WHICH Is Stlll un-
adopted will doubtless be caution.
Columbia Tenn, 7, 1899.
To Editor of Maryville Times.
1 have written you long letter
of thanks for every copy of your
worthy paper you have so kindly
sent me but-Only in my mind.
My thanks are none the less sincere
however from the fact that serious
impediments have prevented them
from maturializeng into a sure
enough letter.
Since leaving those "Heaven kiss
ing hills" and reaching this drouth
afflicted land, with its long hot
days, brassy skies and limestone
dust, have done but little else
than try to keep cool, drink ice
water, and fight these day mosqui-
toes. Some poor mortal has been
SO tortured by this aggravating
species Of the mosquito family, az
to bestow upon it the distinctive
name of "gray devil" and we think
all who are his fellow sufferers can
sympathize with him, can compre-
hendingly indorse his appellative of
Of this class of -er-er-pests. Josh
Billing sums up his contempt of a
fly thus, ~ hate a fy-durn q fly"
How very reprehensible it is in Mr..
Billings to so lose his temper and
use such bad language just about
such a little thing as fly (Aside)
but don't it suit the mosquito to a
dot? We are all 80 constituted as
to be able to see the fitness OF
things. although we may not ap.
prove the language used to express
it. One would think from the
spleen his words reveal, that he
had had to deal with these "gray"-
er-day mosquitoes.
i What can one write about when
one has left the mountains, but
the mountains? What can one
think of but the mountains, while
one is trying to endure patiently OF
otherwise this oppressivly warn
weather? BY pleasing hallucins
ton of the mind, I am again there
among the mountains at the be-
witching hour OF rosy, dewy down
The sun is not up yet, but the birds
are, and, the valley resounds will
their sweet melodies.
, Dew drops besprinkle every lea
and blade Of grass, and hide in thu
hearts Of the flowers.
How pure the air is, and how
cool and reviving are the mornin,
breezes as they are waited down {,
US from the mountain crests, ladet
with the pungent fragrance Of tn
. pine, the beech, the laurel and tn
, chestnut.
"But who the melodies of morI
can tell? The wild brook babblin.
down the mountain side the lowin,
herd; the sheepfolds simple bell IL
tho lone valley"
And now the sun is up, and will
what radient splendor does h
| crown those rugged crags with hi
golden glory! and how the spark
ling valley smiles at his kiss!-h
Is here to stay for the long day.
In the noontide heat we long 70
: a glimpse Of the limpid brooks, tn
, cool shady ravines, the soothin
\ silence and solitude Of Nature /
n its wild granduer under the rock
= towering cliffs.
e We hear the chatter of the prt
(. vident 50 uirrel, the subdued swee
tyitter of the little "feathered fo
. esters,' and the mournful coo of tn
ring dove comes to our ear frol
the deep cool woods, and we al
startled from our reverie by th
1t brisk call of "Old-Bob- White.",
|. The cattle browse among I'll
shades on the mountain side, +,
stand knee deep in the Gle,
Is streams in the valley.
y The sun has had a long days tr
! .,o.on. Aln llr,o nl-.. nnl L. nlo.-.