Keowee courier. [volume] (Pickens Court House, S.C.) 1849-current, 1901-06-12
A CUP OF CIDER.
BY WHITE RIBBON.

thunder storm in the air. Already
over the mountains the faint rumb-
ling could be heard that child once
called "The chariots the angels 60 to
ride in, rolling aro"nd on the golden
Streets" and great black clouds
loomed up over the mountain tops.
Down in the valley the sun beat
morcilessly. 1t seemed to the man
toiling slowly down the long dusty
road that the heat rose in suffocating
waves from the very ground beneath
him.
He was an old man-old, more
through the agencies of sin and sor-
row than of the fifty years he had
seen.
Now he was hot, dirty and tired
homeless, penniless and dcscrvedly
friendless.
But shining through the eyes, half
closed against the glare of the sun
on the sand at his feet, was look of
determination altogether new to
them.
When child he used to hear his
mother say to her friends, eyes,
Jack is very good boy he is so
easily managed. When he was lit
tie he had will of his own but
have conquered it, so that now few
moments persuasion will always win
him. / have tried to teach him to
always respect other peoples wishes
instead Of his own"
Poor broken-hea woman !!
She conquered him instead of teach
ing him to conquer himself and did
not show him the line where defer
ence to our friends opinions and
weak yielding meet.
But as he raised his hat and mop
ped his face, hoping some bit of cool
air from the mountains would touch
his hot forehead, he felt that at last
there was CLEAN of hope in the
future.
The night before in the town he
was just leaving he had heard Il wo-
man lecture.
With voice and manner burning
with the love Christ gave the world,
he had heard her plead for the souls
of just such weary wretchcs as he,
and on the dirty, dusty lapel of his
old coat was pinned a tiny bow Of
white ribbon.
Stepping aside in the dust to
escape the out-reaching arms of the
blackberry bushes, he felt that, in
spite of the heat, the dust and his
weariness, it was good to live.
Over to the left, little way from
the road, stood an old farm house.
The limbs of great oak touched
the roof and cast long shadows on
the ground, weaving fantastic pat
terms on the white sand of the clean.
ly swept walk.
There was no living being in sight
save a young girl sewing by the
door, and hen with flock Of little
chickens scratching in the moist
earth in the cool shade of the well.
house.
AS the traveller turned up the path
leading to the house ne saw one Of
chickens hop up on the edge of the
horse trough and struggle for mo-
mcnt, beating the air with its little
downy wings to regain its balance,
as it was in iminent danger of taking
a bath without any preliminary ar
rangemcnts.
Back in the musty corners Of his
brain came the half formed idea that
our life was something like that
perched on the dge-somctimes we
60 one way, sometimes the other.
But it was too much trouble to pnt
it into a wcll-formcd thought, so be
thrust it aside and turned his atten-
ton to the girl.
Why, she looked likc-but what
was the use of even thinking Ii
the white ribbon had come twenty
five years sooner Now, he was not
worthy to even dream of her.
But he did dream, as he asked the
girl if he might rest a bit, and if she
would give him. something to eat or
drink.
She looked at him moment, then
went into the house, returning with
cup of cider.
The cloud had come up now and
shielded the earth from the sun.
The heralding breeze swept through
the valley tanning the barred head Of
the man as he mopped his face with
q not er-clcan handkerchief.
1t all seemed incxprcssivcly good
How fair the girl was. How deli
cious the cool draught would be.
Throwing his hat on the ground
he held out his hand to take the cup,
but started