The Birmingham age-herald., 1915-11-16
AN AUTUMN DAY AT
 THE OLD HOME TOWN
B, MRS. ,. B. REID

over again and again, but courage failed
 us when we began to think of seeing the ruins-for we hear that the house piece 1 by piece. is gone. and that more than a year ago some old friends who were want to visit the spot, shocked at the ravages
 of time, overcome by memories of days that were once. stopped in the hallway, and picked up small piece of paper, on which were printed, Bleak House.
 strange coincident. it was all that was left of a home and old friends The paths were hidden with weeds and the
 trees. that were twigs, are all grown,
 and over on the roadside is a grave of a very remarkable old man, who had spent his summers at Blount and a part of his winters for the most of his life-Major Carter B. Beverly-he died at a good old l age in July, 1883, and on the fly-leaf of his prayer book he had written this message | to a friend:
 Bury me where no human foot will tread, with no stone to mark the spot; leave me to rest among the dead, nature and the birds only to know the place" And how verify he has had his wish. l About all that is left of old citizenship were Mrs. Virginia Robinson, her daugh- i ters, Miss Helen and Mrs Moore. Tney seem to have been left on the mountain to preserve the history of a different 1 day. They were among the earliest corners to Birmingham, Dr. Robinson be- l ing a physician, and their son Adrian was the first town marshal Birmingham 1 had, it was village then, too small for 1 chief of police. Adrian nursed through 1 the epidemic of cholera here in 1873, and l was killed in political riot many years ago, near Forkland, being shot from ambush, in ride through the country to protect women and children from the l ravages of a radical mob.''
 l Sunday was a day of looking back ward. out of sight of the world, with no sound to disturb the quiet except an occasional drop of nut from the tree. 1 In order to know the real truth of stories told, an old family album not out of Style) was brought out and we looked into many very dear faces agan-some ] pictures of the children that are grand
 mas today-and still further on we found the old letters, and strange how they bear upon the present times; they seem to be pointing to things that are now, and tell of unrest then among the nations who are fighting today. The following Is an extract from a let ter from Mrs. Robinsons uncle, Rev. James Sawkins, rector in the county of Dorset, England, to his nephew, Lieu tenant Sawkins, of Invalid's Island of Jersey. The letter from Frampton, Eng
 land, dated April IA, 17SS: ''When the late sudden and brisk preparations for war were gong forWard, | suppose you were soon ready to give either Monsiuer or Mynheir a proper reception. However, I believe you and your little family may
 now enjoy your sea breezes and sea pros
 poets by day and comfortably repose by
 night, without any apprehension of dis agreeable alarms. Since the French seem
 to have enough to do in their own coun-
 try, and the Dutch are once more our
 very good friends. As to the Turks.
 Russians and imperialists let them go at
 it if they are disposed, in the meanwhile
 it is to be hoped our ministry will have
 the wisdom to keep us out of the
 scrape."
 Thus we see that more than 100 years
 ago the nations anticipated the trouble
 that has come today-it is well to look
 back and know this is the same old
 world after all, those of yesterday were
 building today-and we are reaping the
 fruits of their labor, and sharing their
 anxieties-this is life's routine.
 Friends depart, and memory takes them
 To her caverns, pure and deep
 Be it weakness, it deserves some praise,
 We love the playhouse of our early days.
 The scene is touching, and the heart is
 stone,
 That feels not at that sight, and feels
 at noon.'' ss