The Montgomery advertiser., 1906-03-05
THE RETURNED TROPICAL
 AND THE FAITHFUL BLACK
By wni T. sheehan.

A ily across the public square and stead fed himself with his elbows on the Court House fence. The water oaks that grew out of the grass covered lawn threw a grateful shade in the Court House yard and it's shadows fell be- yond the low fenqe that protected the lawn from the town cows. It was July day and the shade of the water oaks was grateful to man and beast It was especially grateful to the Prod | igal flushed and dizzy with whlskey. He hitched his elbows on the fence and sought to bring himself together in grave dignity. His home coming
 hadn't been all that he expected :. There had been no father and no fatted
 calf. The father had been dead 3 full twenty years He knew that He knew that 200 yards away there was
 a marble monument reareqto the mem ory of Captain Rutledge3 Atkinson of -tb Alabama Infantry. It had in- scribed on it. Seven Oaks Chancellors- vilie. Gettysburg. Lookout Mountain. Rome, Resaca and Atlanta. It had something on 1t. too. about An honest man is the noblest work of God" and another inscription that something
 about "A devoted husband and low
 ing father"
 The Prodigal hadn't expected his
 father to run forth and meet him half way. for he knew that the father had gone to take his place with the brave
 and tfue of all ages. He knew, too that the whiteness of the marble was
 marred by no inscribed lie. Under it
 was the dust of as true. as brave a
 man as ever loved or fought for his country or iabored for and protected his loved ones.
 It was mighty hard, though. for g man to come back from Texas and md everything wrong. The Prodigas mad always had bad luck. He con 'doled with himself over his bad luck as he watched the shadows play over the sand of the street. It was mighty hard. It wasn't right. Man been to Texas for fifteen years Bad luck out there. Everything went wrong Crops din't pan out. Cattle died. Bank sells mans stock and his farm. Takes ev- erything: Other people didn't have such luck
 Ife looked about the public square of Chewacla. and every object he saw reused unwelcome memories of his last youth. II was all unchanged. The old familiar stores were there, half of them of brown brick, half of them of dark, weather stained wood and all with wooden awnings From post to post of these awnings on the edge of the sidewalk ran benches, which, It being Saturday afternoon, were filled WfhtA bphltiy HSSFO1H, UTcSS6O lu DTdNG and gay colors. The sandy street, near the awnings, bore a brokon and ir- regular fringe of Chinaberry trees, stunted by the hicks and bites of the visiting stock. An awkward slow nov ing crowd moved up and down the sidewalks. with the usual preponder. ance of negroes, which marks q Sat urdays trade in an Alabama Black Belt town. Country teams, ranging from the diIapidated sulky pulled by an under fed mule, to farm OK wag- on, were scattered here and there in the sandy expanse of the square.
 The Prodigal morosely pitied himself and railed against fate. It hadn't been so many years since he cut the biggest figure in that town. When he used to dash through. the town in his light buggy behind his pair of bays, the ne- groes stopped munching cheese and crackers, and looked wide-eyed at the dashing turnout. And when he pulled up at any of the stores those cheap counter jumpers would rush out to wait on him. Oh, there was no need of money in those days, If he didn't have any all he had to do was to step into the first store and the cash would gladly be handed over. Oh, they were ready enough ito do him favor then. Of course. He was Jack Atkinson, owner of the finest plantation in Che- wacla County, and some $10,000 in the bank. He was the heir of Captain Rut- ledge Atkinson-money and plantation was his at 21 with the wide road be- fore him and no curb on his wildness.
 They all liked him then. Everybody was his friend. But 1t went so fast. The PFodigaI wrinkles his throbbing brow trying to think--trying to think where in the world 1t all went to. It melted away and then came the bad crop year. They had the sale that fall and the horses, the huggies and the plantation were all sold over his head. He remembered when the $1,500 was counted out to him at the bank and he was told that 1t was his share after all the debts had been paid.
 And since then--since that morning. when he took the train for Texas, he never had had that much money. Bad luck in Alabama, bad luck in Texas everything had to go wrong with him.
 Propped upon the fence thinking 1t all over, he looked the wreck he was
 His face told the story. It was soft, moist, sodden and scanned. The beard was uncared for, and about the mouth 1t was moist and repellant The hat was broad brimmed, but the broad brim of this hat lent no picturesque interest to the figure. It only afforded extra room for the dust and the grease spots. The clothes were cheap and manifestly old, but the owner wore them with a certain careless grace. In truth the Prodigal, wreck that he was, in his height and steadiness, bore himself with a certain assurance and authority. He had not lived down the influence of the past, for his person was reminiscenut of the debonair con- fidence of the weh-born Southerner.
 There came presently, hurrying across the sandy street, a low but squarely built negro of middle age. He
 was bringing two bundles to put in a two mule wagon with big red wheels.
 Two sleek mules were eating from