The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1913-03-13
Letter from Old Timer.


Wanderers Rest, March 10.-The
third crop of violets this year are
smiling up and seeming to say, cheer
up, good times are coming, listen at
the mocking bird, he too is happy,
and the roses have the soft tinge of
love on her cheeks and the sweet
smell of nectar from her heart, while
the spirea and the verbena wave
their heads in the breeze, all smiles,
in full bloom, and over there in that
vase sets miss geranium laughing,
for she, too, boasts of her flowers Of
delicate pink. Cheer up, for life and
beauty are here and will be for long
time to come. Then the cabbage,
how they grow, and the seeds all up
to fine stand, even the tomatoes
not killed by the high wind of last
week; Their the oats, what harvest
in sight, hundreds of acres to be ready
for the harvest in eighty days, while
the fields are turned or being turned
deeper and better than ever before,
all point to a better time to come If
only too much cotton is not planted.
Not far away is young man and
his charming wife and little babe,
these two have been planning not to
leave the farm but to improve and
beautify the home and grounds, SOW
the garden and look after chickens.
turkeys, pigs, and COWS; these plans
have matured and workmen are now
putting up a house to be the future
home of these young people who have
cast their lot here where success will
crown their efforts. This to an old
mans notion is a wise choice, for
here is room for many more, but how
few seem to want the farm, where
the birds sing and the cricket chirps,
and when in only few short years
the so-called drudgery of the past will
be gone and the click of machines
guided by human brains will largely
take the place of an old mule prod
ded on, hitched to a shaky Georgia
plow stock, both held by human mus
Gle, and weary steps taken to keep
the mule and plow going, yes, rosy
future is in sight to the young men
and women who stay on the farm.
How lonely is the old farmer whose
children all leave the home-nest and
to distant cities and towns seek for
tune, fame and pleasure and wind up
in the end with a sigh, oh! the old
farm days were my best. Only a few
days ago an old farmer received a
letter from one of his daughters from
a far Northern city telling of the
grand sights and places, seeing NOV
ing pictures that talked and grand
music and singing listened to in the
theatres there, and the beauties of the
White House washington, when on
ly the day after from son who was
in deep trouble, only married few
days, his bride sinking under the
dread pneumonia, case pronounced
hopeless by the physicians, but would
write each day to tell how she was
Then letter written week later,
post marked in a Northwestern
State, received, and to the young
bride of week taken to her old
home for burial, this boy stricken
with grief, made the old man exclaim
with his boy, what fate leads me hith-
er; this is tragedy to his mind, but
common, too common in the lives
of men, still the boy remembers the
old folks at home and the farm where
he roamed the fields and forest and
caught fish out of the brook, scenes
so familiar, yet so far away, and while
he had new found friends who did all
that could be done to save his bride
and console his grief; still he writes,
we may never meet on the old farm
again but will across the river. After
all where is better than the old farm
and what memory is sweeter than
home. sweet home of my childhood
days. OLD TIMER.
VIM. III. Lewis Resigns.