The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1910-08-25
"OLD TIMER" WRITES.
The Weather is Hot but the Crops
are Growing Right Along.

Wanderers Rest, August 16.-
How hard is life to an old farmer now.
Hot, hot Is not the name for it, and
were it not for soft breeze to fan
his cheeks now and then he would
feel like hot potatoes, small ones at
that, as he goes to the field where
hte hands are pulling fodder, or pick
ing peas, or cutting wood, the same
sad strain of woe comes from all.
Gap, quite hot and as the old man
wipes the perspiration from his face
on his shirt sleeve, lifts his hat to
ventilate his head, a head that is
so heated it feels at least three
sizes too big for his hat, he tries
to smile, but only try. Says a
few words Of cheer to them and goes
to the next, not song Of bird to
tighten the burden of his soul nor a
breeze to cool his furrowed face and
the sunbeams dancing to the tune
of one hundred or more degrees, his
spirit broken by the intense heat of
these dog-days, he happens to re-
member the promised time when
there shall not be any heat or any
cold. Then from this reverie he
awakes to see the fields green and
the leaves upturned to the sun, the
cotton blooms converting the fields
in one vast flower garden, and a
partridge calling to his mate Bob
White" the locust singing his long
but unpleasant song, the old man
stops in that same hot sun, sees so
much beauty, the heat Is forgotten,
he hastens to his home, a much cooler
man, and there the verbena, a few
roses, the dahlias, lilies, all meet his
gaze with a smile and proclaims a
welcome for him found no where
else, then, is he calm and serene,
hunts his favorite old chair, lights
his pipe of peace. Still he ruminates
and as the days that are past come
again he remembers hotter spells and
poorer crops and far more sickness.
So all is well and no prospect for a
famine in the land, and it takes hot
sun to mature the crops, and tint
the peel of the luscious peach, and the
health giving apple and ripen the
watermelon, that is so crisp and red
and melting, as the old man puts a
spoonful of the high priced fruit in
his mouth. So every season has its
delights. Soon the heat will be over,
the harvest will come, and the old
mans sadness will be turned into
Joy. The barns all full, the hard
ships of the year forgotten, new
plans made for the next crop. Xmas
will come and around the cheerful
fires will youth and beauty, and little
boys and girls, the old man with his
fiddle have mirth, music, laughter
and songs, and the madam will look
on in dismay and ask the happy,
light hearted old fellow if he has
lost his mind, much to the amuse-
ment of the bright-eyed lasses who
hear it.
Thus it has been, SO it will be,
and there is Joy to the man that
sees it, for all nature sings and pro-
claims it everywhere. Yes, soon cool
nights and pleasant days will come,
and with them the little violet with
blue eyes and bright smiles will give
charm and welcome no other fow-
er gives, and the mocking bird will
sing his sweet song and the dog-days
of 1910 will be only a memory.
Every season has its duties as well
as charm, now is the time to prepare
the land and SOW turnips and ruta-
bagas, to get stand prepare the
land thoroughly, SOW the seed In a
furrow three or four inches deep,
cover them lightly and walk on the
seed, taking care to press the soil
from one end of row to other. The
sun will not kill the tender plants,
and having moist soil will grow much
nicer. Gradually fill the furrow as
the plants grow and crop is as
sured.
Cotton is beginning to open in
early planted fields, but will be late
as well as a short crop. For all that,
some fine fields of cotton are to be
seen.
Rev. E. A. Wilkes preached a fine
sermon at White Point school house
on Tuesday evening Of last week.
Much food for thought in it.
Some of the young folks took in
the Crocketville picnic and ball. A
varied experience reported.
Several folks from this community
are attending the protracted meeting
at Saltkeatchie church, near Ul-