Keowee courier. [volume] (Pickens Court House, S.C.) 1849-current, 1914-02-11
II j. i i Il i i !. ]. il j. !.
!. BACK AGAIN AT J.
!. 1.-THE OAKS" !.
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KCOweC Courier: 1t has been a long
time since | have written a letter TO
your paper, and as | am spending the
day at "Thc Oaks" ! will write as
feel.
This is where | first saw the light
Of day, and where | was raised: this
is where my mother first taught me
how to pray and father first set me
the example of GOdliress; this is
where | remember my first Christ
mas and Santa Claus. While wander
ing here and there over the many
places where We all once roamed and
rompcd, occasionally | would stop
and let memory run back to child
hood and boyhood days, playing
among the willows as the COWS came
home from the meadow, and sporting
with the little fish and frogs in the
stream, and where we would stroll
through the thicket, listening to the
musical murmur of the bees and the
harmonious twitter Of the birds and
the song Of the little brook. | stood
on the bank of the ruShy pond, hard
by The Oaks, where | used to listen
to the whip-poor-will as he sent out
his keen, mellow notes upon the
night air, mingling with the bass
Nol|SS VI tic DlS green lloSS. 30
MANY happy associations cluster
about those good old days, and the
dear friends who have long since
gone to the Great Beyond. The
stately oaks that once shaded me
from the heat still stand as sentincs
of the past. All these things call up
untold melody-the sound of we'll
known footsteps, the suggestion of
boyhood and girlhOod days, and the
shadow Of tender sorrows, and the
reflections Of ten thousand fond mem
Ories; the school days and thcir
trials, the boyish struggle with hard
problemS-all of which ask remem-
brance.
These things arc but memories now
dreams Of the paSt-but they are
BRIGHT deans. The effects of the
tooth Of true and the finger of decay
are seen aNd felt at the dear old
home. whore thirteen chil'"en were
rcarcd--nine sons and four daught-
Crs. But in 1861 the blighting hand
Of war spread its cold fingers cover
this fair land and stirred upk the
eagles nest at The Oaks, and as the
bugler sounded the alarm nine broth
ers from The Oaks answered the call
Three were left ON the battleficld
three were wounded twice each and
three went through without being
bled, and those three died in 1912.
There are three brothers living and
"c live ir three different States.
ai'o have two living sisters.
A mans hone is where he places
his shingle and bakcs his bread, but
| still call the place of my birth
home. | love the house, with its hal
hDl
| tiOns; | love every nail in the walls;
| love every tree, shrub and flower
and blade of grass that grows there
in field and forest-yes, | still call
the dear old place home. HowIsweet
is that word-wh..t beautiful asso-
Citations cluster there! That word
quickens the pulse, we ms the feart,
stirs the soul to it's depths; HH3sus-
| tainS the sailor on his midnight
watch; it inspires the soldier With
courage on the battlefield, and i'm
parts endurance to the worn-down
sons of toll The very word seems
| to rise and sparkle, and weep and
whisper, and thunder and pray. 1t
twinkleS like a star, springs mp like
| a fountain, thrills like a song; it
leaps like a flame, glows like a sun
| set, and sings like an angel
While at The Oaks | was greatly
| surprised at the Southern mocking
bird, swinging high up in the hick-
ory tree by the front gate. piping his
sweetest carols Of welcome to me as
he used to sing in the antc-bellum
days as ! worked in the cotton and
the cane. SO | stopped to listen to
the mockingbird" sing in January;
and his sweet notes so beautifully
translate and portray, by day and by
night, the mysteries of human senti-
ment-its joys, its hopes, its bright
aspirations, it's sorrows and its mis-
erieS-in tuneful melody And while
there, listening to the song Of this
bird in gray, a tear won 4 fail, but
there is a SacredneSS in te. rs; there
is also a pleasure in tears -&n awful
pleasure. They are not marks Of
weakness, but of power.
Mr.. Editor, give my love TO the
people Of Oconee. | wish for them
all the success, and ali the happiness,
and all the sweetness that this year
Of Grace 1914 can bring.
j. Russell Wright.
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