Oxford Democrat., 1908-02-11
.A Dream Of the past.

In looking backward 1t has all the
semblance Of dream. It comes back to
me in all Its vividness tonight, that early
) April morning when started out to seek
. my fortune In the great Southwest, and
, the disastrous results of that seeking.
That one long year of languishing In
an uncongenial cline! Too proud to re-
. turn when return was possible. The
long closed passages of that wonderful
and peculiar dream open up to me, one
, by one, as / sit and muse in the gather
ing twilight of this chill December day.
After the hills Of my nativity had
been hidden by other hills, recall moth
; ing that was particularly noticeable and
grand until l stood, an enchanted youth,
In Portland harbor, and for the first
time looked out upon the sea. It's vast
ness filed my soul completely. think
that my mind has not shrunk to it's
earlier proportions since that first
glimpse of the vasty deep.
Took passage on the U. S. mail packet
Chesapeake, that piled between Port
land and New York city in those days.
Out on the ocean sailing! Jolly, isn't it ?
Only that heaviness that clogs your in
teInal contrivances, and will neither
come up nor 20 down, will neither sink
nor swim, detracts largely from your
jollity. You also have an abiding con-
viction that He who made the sea, who
comprehended the dust of the earth in a
measure, weighed the mountains in
scales and the hills in balance, has you
cornered where you can't run. This,
also, curbs your jollity slightly. Should
the bottom OF the frail tub drop out
why, there you are, floating sucker
pot, defunct meandering mariner, for
ever on the 60, rare and peculiar
specimen from the greatest chow on
EARTH" passing in eternal review before
the fish-eyed monsters of the deep.
You are on the ragged edge, over hor-
rible hole, and the determination flames
up within you that, if permitted to set
your youthful brogans" on solid soil,
from that time forth you will foot it in
ways that are clean. You feel that you
would pay boot for "dry DEATH"
At 8 o'clock A. NJ, through dense
forest of shipping, we steamed into New
York harbor after two nights and day
on the deep. Such proceeding differs
entirely from the school-boy act of pol
ing your raft through cat-tails up the
diminutive bay that makes out of Glow
ellis Brook" But for downright COM
fort give me the raft, the cat-tails, the
little cove and the wonderful brook of
my childhood.
That morning brought to me the first
glimpse of poverty and dirt, in the form
and the performance of an old mother in
Israel industriously winging flour from
the filthy wharf to diDgy pail. To be
exact, she winged it with knife. AS
it was before the days of microbes-or
the baking cooked them into harmless
ness.
A misty, moisty, drizzly day. Didn't
give up the ship till the day was far
spent, then took hack, or rather a
hack took me, to some station some
where. In the cars at last with thank
full heart and ticket for Parkersburg.
Shall ever forget that wild night ride
of the past? that troubled dream of long
ago, with the Nightmares galloping byP
Dying for wink of sleep, but never a
wink "wank" I.
A hasty overflow from the cars at mid
night into a what-was-it. / did not
realize at the time, but now l know we
were merely crossing the Delaware-not
as Washington crossed it, but on
bridge. Tramp, tramp, tramp. Hollow
the echoes of hurrying feet. The air
was chill. The passage was dimly
lighted. On either hand, in black, these
warning words: Look Out for Pick
pockets! A new experience that pro-
duced new sensations. Had the atmos-
pbere been muggy and strongly i'm
pregnated with the fumes of burning
birthstone, it would have been easy as
sneezing to fancy that we were drawing
fearfully near the everlasting bonfire, as
Shakespeare burninglv remarks.
At the mouth of the hole were car
riages in waiting. My first entrance in
to the city of Brotherly Love differed
from that of Ben Franklin. Packed like
sardines in box looked out on broad
and brightly illuminated streets, and
that alone il my dream of Philadelphia.
On the train again, and ho! for Balti-
more. Three O'Clock in the chill, grey
morning. Bobbing for nod before a
barroom fire in Baltimore. And has it
come to this? Nodding has become a
lost art to me. Nine o'clock, and the
city of monuments is thing of the past,
and none too soon. My dream of Balti-
more left the impression forever, when
awake, that every other man you met
would esteem it privilege to cut your
throat (The murderous spirit broke
loose three Aprils later)
This train is an exasperatingly accom-
modating train, stopping at every miser-
able hovel the entire length of the
"Mother of Presidents" to let off and to
let on humanity, and wait for the hens
to lay and the chickens to hatch.
Grafton. Here / slept the sleep of
the Just, which went far toward "knit-
ting up the raveled sleeve of care"
Parkersburg. Is there anything de-
sirabe about it? Not thing as dream
of it. And this then is the Ohio, the
placid, soft Ohio. All hail, river of my
dreams and my geography. The "Swal-
low" is waiting to give me pleasure on
its bosom-tawny as the Tiber. How
gladly would / recall The oft-recurring
changes in that wonderful dream as we
went gliding down, but cannot now.
Nature was just as lavish on the Ken
lucky shore as ON the Ohio, but on the
one side was the black rot of slavery, on
the other the bloom of freedom.
Left the steamer at Maysville, KY,
on the very spot where Daniel Boone
first landed from Virginia, just SO years
before. / stood upon the green hills of
Kentucky, that overlooked the city aud
a wide expanse of as delightful scenery
as e'er the sun shone on. The grandest
feature in the landscape is the placid,
soft Ohio, moving in grand and v0iceless
majesty to the warm waters OF the Gulf.
| could but recall the words of Boone
and catch somewhat of his enthusiasm
as he stood there and viewed the land
scape DER. But he saw not the cultivat-
ed farms and the abodes of men except
with prophetic eye.
But twill never do to linger here and
break to pieces among strangers. Eight
DAYS from home with dry eyeballs, for
saken by sleep. The kith and kin are
twelve miles away on the North Fork of
the Licking River. What dead-rat
smell clings close to that same N. f.,
through evil report and through good
report. There is no dream about that.
'Tis a sober reality. Can smell it now
as snuff athwart the years.
The journey is ended Can now break
down. l broke. A ten days blank is
patched in here quite nicely. Three
months follow, repiete now with pleas
ant "reminiscences; then climatic fever
and host OF whims and fancies dancing
the Devils Dream" in a sick boy 8
brain.
October. Sitting wan and languid on
the piazza-''poarch" they call it
watching the broad, green leaves of the