The Birmingham age-herald., 1917-10-31

| Springville. 1 I was invited up to visit the saints
 and speak to them. The morning and
 evening services were held at the First
 Baptist church, which is over 100 years
 old, not the present church building, but | the original organization.
 1 I spoke in the morning on food conser- vation, and at night on the need of prayer for American arms as outlined in the Presidents proclamation. The Pres byterians and Methodsts joined in the service, and 1t was great privilege to , speak to so cultured an audience. The only thing I did not like about the visit was the necessity of having to get up before day to catch train. l boarded the local at a. m, and arrived at ! Springville before 1t was hardly light enough to read the paper The train
 took sidetrack. as there was a freight wreck ahead.
 I walked up to the hotel and got an early breakfast, as it was a glorious day, and wanted to take a stroll through the little village before it was astir. I walked to the end of the prin- cipal street, which just keeps on going as
 a road to Birmingham. Then cut down a side street and near the water tank found the fast New York flyer tied up.
 
 I walked up the track and found Otto Marx standing outside the car. He said it was the first time he had taken the Alabama Great Southern for New York since he was boy, but that he wanted to go through the beautiful east Tennessee country. We stood and talked for an hour. Otto Is always interesting. He had bought Ambassador Gerard s book and one of Wells latest to read on the train. I soon found that he was a simon-pure American.
 From the war we began to talk about there was no more beautiful spot in the land; that once 1t had been his ambition to get up tract of land of at least 10,-
 900 acres for an estate as he had walked
 and hunted all over 1t, and had been fired with desire to make 1t his homo.
 He told of eome lovely locations that he had cast his eye upon, of one spe-
 cially beautiful spot that he had hoped to build on. He got quite enthusiastic In his memories. Just then the whistle
 blew, and he jumped aboard. saying: Alas, few of our dreams are ever realized.'
 I then went to the big spring, from which Springville gets it's name. It is truly wonderful spring, and deserves to have town spring up about it and take its name from it's location. Few things are more pleasing and restful than a body of clear water. was all alone
 as wandered around the edges of the spring watching the lazy carp swimming toward me in the hope of being fed. They say they keep the spring clean, but about week ago some party or par
 ties slipped in with seine and came near cleaning them out.
 I lived in east Tennessee for a year, and got the mountaineer's love of the hills in my veins, and I will never be content any more to live in the lowlands. Springville is in a valley, but on either side are the beautiful wooded hills. l strolled quietly through the sleeping vil- lage looking at the chickens, the cows, the hogs, the dogs. Evidently there is good bird shooting near, for saw at least a half dozen pointers. and know there Is at least one man in the town who loves to hunt possums, for I came lacross hound that looked as if he knew that 'possum were ripe, and wished that someone would take him out on a hunt.
 After dinner walked up on the top or
 a high hill. which commands view of
 the surrounding country. It is the bury ing ground of the village. I am no
 hurry to be put away, but it seems to me that when the hour comes 1t would be a comfort to know that would rest out under the blue of Gods heaven. l looked at some of the tombs. Many of them were modern and costly, but the rough stones taken out of the hills and
 rudely carved by loving. but inexpe- renced hands. saw an old one stating
 that the one who rested beneath it was
 born in 1796, having seen the light of day in the eighteenth century. took off my hat to a pioneer whose memory no
 doubt went back to the time when In- dians roamed all about what Is now springville, and had their huts by the
 sweet waters of the big spring. I came down and sat on the hotel porch and watched a continual procession of automobiles filled with Birmingham people, Finally a kind physician came along with his car and invited me to
 drive over to St. Clair Springs, which l did, passing W. D. Smiths beautiful
 farm. About tho first thing was asked by the Springville people was "Do you know MT. Smith of Birmingham ?" They all voted him good fellow. and I told them I had known him from his youth up I do not know whether "Quack' even tries to make money by
 farming. but from all accounts I gath
 cred he at least dresses the part. and
 goes about in overalls making big blufr
 at being a re-enough-to-goodness real
 hayseed.
 A summer resort when the people have
 fled back to the city Is about as full