The county record. [volume] (Kingstree, S.C.) 1885-1975, 1903-03-05
BILL ARP.
From The Atlanta Csnstitution.
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Rrom The Atlanta Constitution.
My wife reads the papers more or
less every day and keeps up with the
sensations. Most of the time she sits
In her accustomed corner and plies
ner needle and thread, making little
garments for her grand children, or
new covers for the cushions or mend
ing undcrclothes Or darning stockings
o; something. When she gets tired she
walks in the garden or goes down to
see Jessie and the children. She went
to town yesterday and bought some
thread and some toilet soap and got
weighed and asked the family all
around to guess how much and one
guessed it, exactly one hundred and
fifty pounds. She asked me to guess,
but | said no-she had had her way
so often and so long that l couldn't
come near 1t and she shook her fist at
me. Good gracious! when married
her she didn't weigh a hundred and
wore number two shoes and stepped
like a deer. "Tempus fugit." next weei
will be the fifty-fourth anniversary OF
our wedding day, ffty-four-the tails
manic number made up Of mines or It's
multiple, as 8, 6, 9, 1S, q, 54-3 ard s
are 9, l and 8 are 9, 2 and are 3, 5
and are 9, And soon our birthdays
will come along again, the fret and
fifteenth Of June, and time keeps roll
ing on.
Ny wife was reading the paper and
suddenly stopped and spoke to me,
saying: "Well, isn't it about time to
quit writing about the negro? why
so?" said /. why, don't you see that
the whole business Of the race prob.
lem was settled in Atlanta last Sun.
day? The mayor and the preachers,
black and white, all made speeches,
and seemed to agree and everything
is harmonious. So II was you would
write about something else. Take up
George Washington for change and
let Booker go dead.'
Well, they did play on the harmoni'
can right smart and l hope the prob.
lem will take a rest, for everybody is
tired of it. Even Crumpacker Is tired,
and now says the negro must work out
his own salvation. That's all right
When they call of the dogs, I'll quit
They. are waxing up to the true char
acter Of the negro. A Chicago man
who has been visiting the prisons says
there are about forty-six thousand ne
g1oes in that city, which Is about two
per cent Of the population and that
the prison records as shown him by
wardens, show the negroes to be thirty
per cent of all the criminals confined,
and that the negro quarter Of the city
Is the rendezvous and the refuge OF
nearly all the white burglars and
thieves that infest the city.
But that's none Of my business, as
my wife says. Chicago needs them for
municipal politics. But have quit
Let the negro go along and evolute, as
CrumpackSr says. / had rather look
out of my window and see two little
girls coming up the walk hand in hand
to see me than to write about anything
And the little boy Is coming, too. HiHs
nurse Is rolling him In his carriage
and he will run to me as soon as he
gets in the room, and will nestle on
my knees and say his little words, and
my greatest comfort Is that all OF
them love me and won't 90 home
without kissing me sweet goodby.
That nurse is q copper r-colored girl
about twelve years old, and she loves
that baby and watches him as care
fully as mother. She Is the daughter
Of our sexton, who is the janitor Of the
public school. He and his good wife
are exceptions to all the fratilties Of
the race, and so are their children. II
there were many like them there
would be no race problem. Those
three little children come to see me
every day and make me to forget my
self and my long illness, and find my.
self whispering, Suffer little children
to come unto me-" "And little child
shall lead them" What a pity they
have to grow up and lose their inno-
cence and see grief and trouble. How
sweetly sad are the memories of our
youth.
One poet says:
Oh! would were a boy again,
When life seemed formed Of sunny
! years,
And all the heart then knew Of pain
Was wept away in transient tears.
And another says:
I remember, remember, the houss
where was born,
The little window where the sun came
peeping in at morn.
| It never rose a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long q day,
But now l often wish the night
Had borne my breath away.
And 80 do I remember the little
window and the long happy days, but
/ have never wished that had died In
! childhood, nor do l wish to die now.
| wish to live for the sake Of these same
grandchildren. for know I can do
something to guide and comfort them
along the journey Of life, and they
wound miss me. A child without a
grandpa and grandma has not had Its
share Of happiness.