The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1908-05-30
Sundays in
the Country

On Saturdays the road that led past
our place was fairly lively with teams
and riders going to town, and occa-
sionally a lone pedestrian could be
seen cutting across the fields, bound
for the county seat. The usual work
went on in the fields, and late in the
afternoon and on until midnight the
home-returning vehicles and horses
ratified or galloped by us. But when
Sunday morning came there was
sharp and clear demarcation between
work and rest. No longer the men
could be seen following the plows, cul-
tivating corn, working with the
thrashers or reapers. or shocking"
corn with the wagons slowly filling to-
ward the side-board.
There was wide silence over the
fields. An ebb In the tide of affairs;
lull in the round of rural industry.
The wood had been carried in Satur-
day night, and even the smoke from
the kitchen chimneys seemed to crawl
out stealthily and creep away unob-
trusively, as il fearing to stain the
blue vaults of Sabbath stiffness
Chores" appeared to have been done
before daybreak, for you rarely found
farmer about his barn on Sundays
until the time came for going to
church.
1t was a peculiar sensation to really
abide in community where Sunday
meant something in the way of old
fashioned peace and quiet. The bells
on top of the smokehouses, which
were accustomed to clang out regular
ly at half-past eleven. calling the men
In to dinner from the fields. hung mo-
tionless now, unless possibly set in
motion by the hands of some wander
ing child. Teams went by with the
usual cargo Of church-goers, filed with
men, women and children, all dressed
In their best, and all. except the
horses. enjoying the respite from daily
cares.
If you went to a farmhouse you
would nearly always find the people
gone, and almost invariably to church !
In town, hitching-racks were lined |
with farm wagons. and every hitching- |
post was occupied by either team or
a saddle-horse. Church windows were |
open everywhere in the summer time,
and even on into the fall, and echoes |
Of old hymns and sweet young child |
ish voices foated out on the mild SUM- |
laden air.
In the earlier part of the day there |
had been long and dangerous pealing |
ot,f rvcr the tome of tha houea. ood Il
from the country steeples the bells
had sent brassy or iron messages to
the farmers dwellings; but later the
churches had hived in their environ
ment the greater part of the communi-
ty, and the drone of voices or the |
sound of a preachers information was
all that could be heard from the out
SIDE
Sometimes, along the country roads,
would come a cavalcade with the toss
ing plumes and mourning cortege
that told of the transformation from
the uncertainties of life to the endur-
ing peace Of the beyond. A funeral in
the country was in some respects
sharply distinguished from one In. the
city. In the country. the women
mostly stayed in the church, together
with the immediate relatives of the
departed. There they remained
through the services, joining in the
hymns, and listening to the funeral
sermon. But the friends and neigh
bors of the deceased very often gath
cred under adjacent trees and visit
ed" among themselves. talking over
the life and character Of the dead,
and indulging In "reminiscences of old
times In the settlement. Particularly
was this the case If the deceased was
an old settler, or the wife of an old
settler. In that event the attendance
would be from far-distant points, and
even the editors of the town papers
would come. Old men would gather
in the shade of oaks and hickories and
tell Of the days when the country was
one unbroken mass of heavy timber,
and when they rode on horseback so
miles for salt.
Young men and boys would appeal
to these veterans for confirmation in
regard to some legend which had been
part of the life history of the lost one,
and general historical survey of the
past would be the result Of the outside
assemblage.
We'll. reckon Uncle Billy knows
all about it now" would remark some
whiskered six-footer.
Yes" would be the assent from an
,ther, biting into a red-cheeked apple
Ind munching away with subdued sat
sfaction. Uncle Billy was right smart
II man In his day. rickolect when | I
he first came over from Big Bend;
her wuzn't more n dozen people at
he Bend. an Billy said they wuz too
hick Their fer him; he clar'd that forty
vher the ole log house stood that he s
IL married in. an he fenced her 18th /.
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