The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1910-09-28

lance n MS renowned QecldTdllOu luce
not square with the opinion Of the boy
who knows.
To the boy on the farm the coming OF
fall brings with it joys and pleasures
galore, a season chuck full Of things dear
to his heart. You remember when you
we're there, there in your breech clouts OF
doe skin and cloth "galluses," when the
| sun could not rise too soon or set too late.
You remember where the muscadine vines
used to be, even to this day, and how the
| big black luscious balls, to your taste,
| rivaled the more aristocratic scuppernone.
It was away off in the big woods or on
some ~unfrequented hedgerow that you
made your find and the black harvest was
something to gloat on in your dreams.
And the stains you put in your home
spun shirt "hulling" walnuts was a caution
! Your hands resembled those Of a bar
barian Mestizo but you didn't care. Blu
shells Of walnuts you heaped up and dried
for the coming winter days. Scalybarks
came easier, every tree was known, and
| the hickory nuts, some were big fat ones
aud some were long thin ones, some thick
hulled and some thin skinned-you knew
every tree and appraised their values.
And abont the "black halls" do you
remember them? Maybe you did not
know this dainty. II you were not ac-
quainted with it you have lived in vain to
that extent. They grew on a large bush,
almost a tree. To describe the taste OF
this dainty cannot be done, II you know 1t
you know it and II you don't you have
missed something and your past life for
several inches is positively a blank.
But they don't taste now
Like they used to somehow.
| And there were the ''red halls" which look
ed like l%ittlesapples. Some said they were
poison but they did not kill you! How
good to nibble on were they. You filled
your pockets with them, you played "hull
gull" with them, they were favorites OF
| yours and mine were these "red halls"
Out in the woods they grew, among the
oaks and hickories.
But that was not all. The persimmon
beer, made by placing the Southern Date
In a barrel over straw to strain the dregs
and mixing them with the long black
fruit Of the locust, was q drink to skoal to
the South land. Oh ye fussy yanks, ye
beer drinkers and wine bibbers of all ages
and chimes. Stop where you are and
come to the land OF the p%ersimmon, and
drink q draught Of natures brew fit for
the gods Of Olympus. Its sparkle and its
bite fingers, and as the thoughts fly back
to the keg Of persimmon beer and the inch
thick ginger cakes you swallow once,
twice, thrice!
Melancholy days! When along the
little branch the wild grapes blackened
the foliage and bowed its clusters In invi-
tation to the boy beneath. When just up
on the hill the the huckleberry bushes
awaited q hand to relieve them Of their
load! Melancholy days! The Poet was
a Pessimist.
And with all the other fruits, "possums"
rlpened and fattened and grew arrogant
and careless. call things that are, are
with more spirit chased than enjoyed
land well it Is or else the obstacles Of the
"possum" caught would prove too much
for the buoyant boy nature. You remem-
Der it all, the "fat pine" which you carried
and the sundry blisters on your hands
made by hot drops Of pitch in moments OF
your excited inadvertency, how old
"Bloooh' and 'Dinah" made the welkin
ring as they whitfield the passing OF a
m%arsuplal, and how they changed their
barks to two notes lower as sitting on
their launches they bespoke Of the
"possum" above in the tree. And then
came the exciting moment OF shining his
eyes." Flarlng the pine torch behind you
you squinted thru the foliage to the two
bright spots which gave Mr.. Opossum
away and brought to light his hiding
place. Exhilerating, exciting, great fun
1t was to the boy in doe skin" and cloth
"galluses" to cut down the tree and allow
"Blooch" and "Dlnah" to drag the quarry,
fat and round and gray, into the open
There he held him high by his hairless
tail and appraised his weight both gross
and net, and what difference made it II
the weight appraised was n pound, two
pounds, five pounds, above the weight
real!
And tired and hungry toward the wee
hours you took your tardy footsteps to-
ward home when Unexpectedly you crossed
a potato patch. Without enquiry as to
whose it was, without asking any ones
permission, where the cracks In. the ground
showed biggest there you delved until
your load Of tubers was sufficient, nay
enough for the crowd, and to the woods
You went where some old log offered fuel
for aQuick hot fire and there beneath the
ashes you buried your forage until it was
"done." Around the fire you gathered to
crack jokes and tell good stories and-did
you chew tobacco? It "a good wasn't it.
Melancholy days?
Death Of Mr.. |. W.. Reid.
ByMlss Lille TempletOn, y