McNairy County independent. (Selmer, McNairy County, Tenn.) 1902-1969, 1916-06-16

come, One in particular used to
strike very forcibly. 1t declared that
nothing could bribe approaching
death from glittering roofs and
downy bed" Another pictured the
end of sinners: "On slippery rocks I
see them stand, while fiery pillows
ro-o-o-o-l-l-l below" A magnificent
composition beginning: "The trumpet,
the trumpet the dead have all
heard" was a fayorite, and father
could sing it well. And the countless
tunes | have heard since cannot erase
the simple songs of piety sung by my
mother, often in her sorrow and lone
illness. when father was away and she
could not know whether his enemies,
who had not forgiven him for his war
activities, would let him come home
alive; 1T is all glory, glory, in that
heavenly land,' and 20, what must it
be to be there;" these melodies might
now be smiled at by real musicians
who did not hear her sing them to us
in those far-off days, gathered around
her knees, when the glory seemed
much nearer to US than it is now.
And sweetest of all, the lisping ac-
cents of the baby brother, Herschel,
who at three years of age was taken
from us; he gould even then follow
US in singing "lmmensity," the first
verse beginning:
t'rhere is land we have not seen,
That time shall never dare destroy;
Where mortal footstep hath not been,
Nor ear hath heard its sound of joy"
The little fellow was destined to see
it before any of US. Let US believe
that be found it as in the second
verse:
'It is region lovelier far
Than prophets tell or poets sing;
Brighter than summers beauties are,
And softer than the tints of spring."
Even in old age. my parents could
not bear to hear this sung, and could
not speak of him without tears. He
was the brightest of the family. My
father taught him Greek words, which
he could repeat perfectly, and it may
be believed that if he had lived,
Herschel would have attained re-
nown. But he also missed much sor-
row. DR.. Job Bell was our physician
then, but he himself has gone to the
home of the great Physician of all
A tender, good man he was, and we
loved him.
| have heard world-famous pian-
lists, organists, singers, and other
musicians; have listened many time
to the unrivalled music of the United
States Marine Band, playing in the
White House grounds at Washington
the highest productions Of the great
est composers, such as Beethoven,
Bach, Mendelssohn, Mozart, Verdi
and Chopin; have heard exquisite
sounds produced by various instru-
ments and by the best singers. But
never again can my being thrill in
this life, to the concord of sweet
sounds, as it did in my childhood when
i heard Uncle baltimore Sanders play
his famous fiddle, and listened to
Aunt Kate (now Mrs. Robert Lut-
.trelD strike the first notes on her
melodeon. ! would go long way to
hear again a tune like The Devils
Dream as my uncle played it. Even
his tuning up Of the instrument was
a delight, the promise Of the feast to
come; the head, with its keys, seemed
a work Of high art; the cleaning
back was Of classic beauty. theS holes
in front smiled at me. and the bow
was wand of magic. The Arkansas
Traveller and Roy's Wife were full of
dignity and fire; Pop Goes the Weazel
was charming and funny; the Drunk
ards Hiccough / thought must be
true to life, although | had never seen
a drunkard. The Devils Dream raised
me to the seventh heaven. and by the
time Buonaparte's Retreat had been
sounded, | was ready to creep into a
corner and cry. Uncle baltimore
would come sometimes with an i'm
mense turkey gobbler hanging down
his back, for he was a mighty hunter
as well as fiddler, and wild turkeys
were then plentiful; but no promise of
table glories could compare with the
joyous message contained in the sound
| of tnninn nm that wonderful fiddle 40