The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1912-10-17
"Old Timer" Writes.


full. and the little girl of only two
summers plucks them by the hand
full, brings them and throws a part
of them in an old mans lap, saying
in her baby tongue: "Petty towers,
gran patsy; petty fowers.' Yes,
pretty flowers, so rich in delicate
perfume and bright looks to cheer
and bless by giving off their sweet
smelling ozone to freshen the air and
make it sweet and pure to give
health and rosy cheeks and bright
eyes to little boys and girls, and
older folks, too. Flowers every
where, in field and dell, in swamps
and hill, DER valley and plain; flow
ers, flowers, beautiful flowers, so rich
in color, varied in hue that Solomon
in all his glory was not arrayed like
one of these. Along the highways
to-day flash the bright eyed daisies
swaying in the breeze, bowing with
so much grace and beauty, bidding
a good morning to every passer by,
whether afoot or sweeping thought
lessly by in an automobile, then the
golden rod and soon the chrysan-
themums, while the rose still bursts
forth from it's bud, flower lit to
adorn natures most perfect queen.
These thoughts come crowding in
as the little child lisps flowers, pet.
ty fows, dan patsy" Bless the flow
ers, and little children, too, for this
indeed would be dreary old world
without them. Sometimes they both
ask questions none can answer and
then they, the children, break an old
mans reverie in most unexpected
way and time, climbing on his knee
as he tries to smoke his pipe and
read a chapter on the life of John
athan Edwards or Philips Brooks or
some other notable one, now trying
to entertain the little one, enjoy his
pipe, and learn lesson from some
great and good man, all three at the
same time, is something fierce, to
say the least, so now goes pipe as
the little tot makes a nab at it jab-
bering, "Me moke too, gan patsy.
Then the book, for the little two
year-old demands full attention, and
she gets it, as she catches the old
fellow by the nose, then hair, or
fastens her fingers in his mustache
with a pull, pull altogether, that
sends creep all over the anatomy,
the little wee one laughing in glee
at the contortions of his face until
he vows to cut that mustache off,
then suddenly remembers committing
the rash act once only to be laughed
at by all who saw him, and it so
changed his looks that his old horse
ran snorting away from him, "Old
Brindle,'' the COW, bowed up her
neck and blowed and beloved, so
now the old man sits wondering and
at sea how to save that patch of hair
on his upper lip and play with the
children. The problem is a great
one, and some day it may be solved,
who knows?
Any way, the home that has no lit
tie tots, no flowers to adorn and
brighten that home, is a most DESC
late place, to say the least, even II
some quiet moment is lost, and lit
tie sleep, too, by the childish prank
or the cry of pain or hunger or want
of water makes Mr.. Old Boy cuss the
kid as he raves at the prank of over
flowing good feeling or fails to know
how to alleviate the unrest of the
little one. Then, too, he drawls:
"'Tain't " no use to have flowers
around, fur it takes time and mighty
hard work, and I do enough of that,
Heaven knows" when to come to
SCTdlSuC LIulu, ulOlS I1du uc1l IhS
time is spent talking politics of an
uncertain quality and the other half
trying to find job, hoping not to
find it.
So let US throw off this yoke that
binds so hard, for soon is the time to
rlant flowers. Let every home in the
country have them, and don't leave
all for ma and the girls, but rise a
little earlier or work the flowers
while we rest, and then country life
will brighten, JOY will take the place
of a howl, and if money is lacking,
still life and beauty will be ours, and
this is more perhaps than gold can
buy. OLD TIMER.
Tho nootinp at the RaDtiSt church