The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1902-06-19

SAOuAu see tl1ugS 5LQaCs would make me
want to ''speak my mind'' and SO it is
better that we are refused. II should
not enjoy seeing those children just out
OF kindergarten working in that dusky
mill this warm day. Massachusetts,
the state that PIRATES so much'about the
oppressed negro, produced the men
and the money which run. this mill.
Everywhere as we looked out of our car
windows we saw negro children play
ing happily in the dirt, but white
children have to work. Let me kindly
ask the northener not to talk on the
negro question until he has lived in
the South at least a year. Much good
work is being done here though.
There is country school of two de-
partments and missionary, Miss
House, has Kindergarten and night
school. -. T.. ~ -"
We walk slowly back to the car in
order to have time to admire the view
OF Huntsville nearly three miles away.
Truly its natural advantages are won
derful, and how snugly it nestles in it's
tree covered valley beneath the pro-
tecting shadow of Monte Sano. Half a
mile down the track we stop at West
Huntsville. Here are located a furni-
ture factory and a knitting mill, with
its cottages, few stores and some
quite pretty residences, also another
cotton mill.
Crossing the track and going east
for short distance, we come to l.
still another cotton mill village, our
latest. This mill is also running over
time to-day, so we will ask the man
who is so busy whiting snuff sticks
(for family use only something about
the musical condition of this commun-
ity, for I'll wager he plays the violin.
The fact that his being out of the mill
shows his children are earning his liv-
ing, and he is either ''fddler'' or a
preacher. AS we approach him his
wife appears and settles herself on the
steps. To our query he replies
"Ther hahn much music nor eddi-
cation round here nohow. Guess I'm
the only one who plays violin. I'VE
were sure of it, These folks most all
country folks and they don't seem to
care for eddication. My gals work in
the mill and every one of 'em can read
and WRITE"
At this his better half signifed her
approval OF his remarks by performing
one OF those unerring feats of hitting
distant target with the accumulation
of previous dip" But we must
leave this interesting pair and follow
this cinder path across this hollow to
the L---platform, for the car is
coming rapidly across the hill. AS
we go back to town we can get good
view of the old military academy,
which was once thriving school; it
is still owned by the government but is
taken care of by mice and rats mostly.
We have seen only the darker side
of Huntsville, but feel sure that you
must have heard much of the other
side, so it would be retelling an old
story to talk of that; nevertheless we
will leave the car at the Square and
see some of the old part of town.
Here is the Episcopal church, sur
rounded by a beautifully kept lawn,
we'll shaded with trees, and the eye of
the artist brightens as he notices how
much of this building the ivy claims,
the dark green of it's leaves mingling
with the grey stone of the building, all
tending to make restful picture.
A block further on is the home of
Miss Howard Weeden, Huntsville's
loved authoress, who has written "Ban-
danna Ballads" and as we look at the
whitewashed brick walls we wonder
how much of romance they have seen,
even the Grape Myrtle with its masses
of pink blossoms, showing sharply
against the white walls, seems to be-
long to more romantic and chivalrous
days than these.
From here we can see the building
in which Miss Huse is conducting her
first very successful years work in
Huntsville. Now we will turn down
A. avenue, but before we do, let
US stand in the shade of this magnolia,
with its white buds promising abun-
dant bloom, and admire these beauti-
tul old residences set far back from the
street, the porches protected by i'm
mense pillars. To our left is what was
once terraced garden, and on the
hill stands one of the rambling
Southern homes, which bespeaks
plenty and hospitality. In the old
garden now left to run wild are pieces
of statuary brought here long before
the railroad came, and as we gaze we
begin to realize what a naradise this