The southern sentinel. (Winnfield, La.) 1883-1910, 1903-05-22

their innocence and see grief and
trouble. How sweetly sad are the
memories of our youth.
One poet says:
| oh! would I were boy again.
When life seemed formed of sunny years.
| And all TIE heart then knew of pain
Was wep. away in transient tears.
And another says:
| I remember, remember. the house where
/ was born.
| The little window where the sun came
peeping in at morn.
1t never rose a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day.
| But now l often wish the night
Had borne my breath away.
| And so do | remember the little win
dow and the long happy days, but
have never wished that L had died in
childhood, nor do | wish to die now.
| l wish to live for the sake of these
same grandchildren, for l know / can
do something to guide and comfort
them along the journey of life, and
they would miss me. A child without
a grandpa and grandma has not had it's
share of happiness.
Last summer the little baby boy
was sick. We feared he would die. As
he lay upon pillow in his moth
er's lap, the little four-year-old girl
went up close and whispered to her
mother: Mamma, if baby dies,
mayn't l keep him for DOLE" /
never tire of their childish talk. It
is always sincere, and that is truth,
for sincere means without wax-un.
sealed, "sine cerum"-no secrets,
open and read if you wish. 1t is
an old adage that children and
fools never ie," and this reminds
me of George Washington, who, ira
dition says, cut down cherry tree,
and when his father inquired who
did it, replied: Father, | cannot tell
a lie. did it with my little Ratchet"
l don't believe that. 1t must have
been a mighty littls tree that
a little boy could cut down with
a little Ratchet. And if he was
bad enough to do it, and knew
better, he wouldn't have made
such a sanity speech as "Fa-
Their, / cannot tell lie" My his
tory says that many of these little
stories came from the nursery. But
that he did, when yet in his teens,
undertake to mount and subdue an
unframed, blooded horse, and the
horse reared, and ran, and plunged
SO furiously that he bursted blood
vessel and fell dead with George on
top. His mother was greatly grieved,
and scolded him severely. J. never
knew until recently that he took the
smallpox on Barbados island, and was
slightly marked all his life. George
says in his letters that his negroes
gave him much trouble and great
concern, for he had to be away on
could not look after them. He inher-
i tied 140 and 600 acres of land, and his
wife $50 more and 700 acres of land,
and 1 reckon they did give him trou-
BILE. He never bought or sold any,
and set them all free In his will
Mrs. Robert E. Park, regent for
the Georgia room of the confederate
| give notice that next month (ApriD
the confederate bazar will be held
there for the benefit of the museum
and the jefferson Davis memorial
arch. Mrs. Park asks for special Geor-
gia contributions to the Georgia
room, and all the regents of the
southern states ask for help from
every man, woman and child, so that
the entire south may share in the
honor. The circular is much too long
to be appended to my letter.
And now please excuse my men,
ton of a matter personal to an old
soldier, w. F. Lee, private of com.
pany d in Hampton Legion. He has
lost his horn, large, long. beautiful
horn that while in camp below Rich
mond he dressed and polished and en-
graved with his name and wreath.
He took the horn from the head of a
Texas steer at butcher pen in the
rear of Grants army. He sent it
home in the fall of 1864 by his broth
er, who stopped over night at Column
bia, at the Wayside Home. and there
lost it. He says: "Major. am grow
ing old, awaiting the blast of the
last trump, but 1 would like to blow
my own horn once more before
die"
Do please somebody send him that
horn, c. o. D., to Piedmont, S. c.
Bill Arp, in Atlanta Constitution.