The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1908-04-25

went up tnat StdIlieu s"o '
ON the hills for miles away. lax
about Freedom" shrieking when
"Kosciusko felL' it wasn't circum-
stance to the howl that infant let out
I fell off of the bed, ran down stairs
and butted myself awake against the
well. The child's mother darted out
NJ the west door and fetched up in the
screen that covered the west porch.
Baby's grandma rushed out the front
door and around the house. and then'
as a second piercing shrek went up,
thew both located the scene OF the
disturbance.
Both flew into the orchard and Lee
more was hailed in, yelling industrious
". and perfectly confident that she
had been exterminated, If not worse.
Hot applications and soothing CONVEX
sation brought Lenore- around 10
teary resignation to her trouble, but
after that she picked flowers with
rare caution and circumspection. AND
IL anything hurt her after that 1t was
| bee"
Now, of course, could have proved
a perfect alibi as to that accident, but
| the women folks sort of consulted To-
gether to one side as though they
| were going to tack the blame on me
for this misfortune. But l was so
stern and tyrannical that they "dasn't
try 1t on. l wouldn't have stood Tor
It! A man must be firm and cour-
ageous in his own family part OF the
time. at least. But l could see that
IL I had not been determined, would
have had this bee business charged
up against me just like the plover
mishap was, so l took steps to fend
1t of before it got started.
To tell the truth, when / heard the
first veil, / thought that some of the
old chiefs of the cairns on the Illinois
river bluffs near by had "riz," and
were scalping white settlers. re-
membered my first bee when 1 was
small boy, but it was of the gold-bar-
red or humble" variety. l was help
ing rob its nest when 1t came at me
: like a furry bullet and lodged against
my left cheek. When 1t broke away
my cheek swelled up like soap-bub'
Bile. and that was my last investiga
ton as to the habits and honey Of the
bumblebee.
{ There was no birds song that sound
/. ed as sweet as the baby's voice sound
u ing among the grasses and leaves;
there was nothing like her face, flush
ed with the sunshine, her hands hold
ing a posy of dropping wild-fowers
). there was no ripple of the water Owe
= gravelly shadows that held anything
/, half so liquid as her laugh; even he
:. tears were mere April interludes u
" the happiness in which she found heI
:. self
= And all the time / could see tn
= pinched childish faces in the smok
- and CRIME of the city we had left an
!. my heart ached for them.
- There is no place like the country t
- bring a child up in, and when the
- miss this experience, they have misse
= a rare part of their lives. They hav
lost the echoes in the song that natur
= sings, and that loss is irremediabl
n and poignant, for that song Is tn
n song of songs.
10 MANY reeds grow together by tn
I'd river, and men tread them at will an
er none is the worse. But in one rec
n of a million song is hidden, and ii
a. man breaks that reed in twain |
re shall miss the music often and lon
Yea, all the days of his life"
he The tragedy of it all is that 1t mu
| 4 IL, <hof CHI fool fb
ad awakening and unfolding of the my
CHI teries of outdoors, and hear the mus
* and see the pictures that sun al
he wind and cloud spread on the canv
to of the seasons. If you walt UNI
he manhood and womanhood, you are t
re late. The joy that passeth undo
ad standing cannot be yours. Nature
ne. lovers must WOO her early. even
he children, to be admitted to her inmc
nd sanctuaries.
a And so our little girl played In t
Id meadows and pastures, entered In
the life about her as part Of its moo
an and complexities, and as she grew
ov- into its blossoms and branches, !
wn music and it's silences. there gr'
uSt in her childish brain ana neart q 10
ing for the open which would not be
lily MED, even though 1t could scarce
lad be called a definite understand
vas with the warp and wool Of the 8
mt sons.
aer She ran wild with the sun and Wi
u' careless of her abandoned toys, he
ior less Of the transition from the sno
me of Mays apple blossoms to the sno
SIC of December's whirling drifts. Ei
On change was Joy to her; each m
,ps terry of the nights and days perpe
al delight. And wrapped In tn
81. childish dreams she lost sight OF
INC passing of time and remained b'
IN to the last, as much of frstling
nen the unfolding of nature as the rob
way eod1l;po that looked wide-eyed III