The Brunswick news. [volume] (Brunswick, Ga.) 1901-1903, 1902-09-28
n Ohm P. HoUGH owned me
chair factory, and devoted his

chair factory, and devoted his
q life to the promotion of its pros
perity. He was fifty-hve years
old, square-headed and firm of lip, and
esteemed as one of the most successful
citizens Of Dorhampton. He had be-
gun life on farm, saved money until
he had sufficient to begin a small bust
ness OF chair-mending, and from the
first he had prospered. In addition
to the chair factory he possessed half
interest in the opera house, and was
one of the chief shareholders In the
Dorhampton street railroad. The name
of John Z. Hough was synonymous
with success He was man who had
made himself what he was legitimate
", before the eyes of his fellow-towns-
men; his Attainment was in measure
the towns attainment. He was re-
gpected, admired.
He lived In large white house with
a cupola, and every weekday morning
he walked to the chairfactory, situated
on the edge of Dorhampton, and
walked home at noon to his dinner.
He had wife and one child, son,
twenty-five years old, named Herbert,
whom he had sent to the best college
that his son knew Of. Mrs. Hough
was q large woman with a plain, ford
face. She would have been singled
out by a stranger from among the
women of Dorhampton as the wife of
John p. Hough.
On Sundays Mr. Hough attended
church with his wife, and after a
hearty dinner, IL the weather was fine,
he walked out alone into the country,
oftenest In the direction of Kramer's
woods, a considerable tract of timber
two miles from town. He looked about
him as lie walked: at the trees, at the
sky, at the wide meadows over which
cloud shadows swept. Once he stopped
to watch a calf frisking about ito
chirp of bird on the telegraph wire.
He stood with his head on one side.
his large hands hidden in the pockets
of his smooth gray overcoat, Reach
ing the woods, he proceeded slowly,
stopping often, and sometimes seating
himself on a log. He followed the
flicker of red squirrels tail; stopped
over pale forest flower: stroked a
cushion of delicate moss at the base
of decaying stump.
On one occasion a tree recently
fallen, engrossed his attention for n
long time. lie observed the whitening
leaves. some of them brown and brit
tie, others with a green patch of per-
sisting life Mt their base. He followed
the far sweep of the branches. and sur
his hat. Finally he seated himself on
short stump near by and took from
his pocket some sheets of notepaper.
He held a pencil tightly near the lead,
and put it frequently 10 his lips, Then,
recrossing his legs, he wrote. on the
uncertain support Of his knee;
Alas, you have fallen. o King
or the forest. No longer will ring
The song of the birds in your branches.
He ceased writing for time and
compressed his lips. He scratched out
branches and wrote over it leaves.
Then he proceeded:
The winters cold storm when II leaves
Through the forest will miss your
strong might
That resisted 1t all through the night.
Through many gale you have stood,
Proud monarch of all in the wood
But at last the buffet OF Fate
Has brought you to this fallen state.
He read over what he had written.
and resumed his contemplation of the
uprooted tree. Then he put the paper
and pencil in his pocket and walked
home, his chin sunk on his cravat.
In the evening. after his wife had
gone upstairs TO bed, be spread out the
notepaper under the sitting-room lamp
and wrote, with occasional erssures:
So man. who has riches and might.
Believes himself strong for the fight.
He has weathered the gales of life
And expects TO last ali through thC
strife.
But. alas, the time comes when he. too
viii find that his triumph is through.
And he. of whom people have thought
There was no one so powerfully
wrought,
win be swept from his place by q
breath.
The breath that we mortals call Death
! he copied the lines on . sheet OF