Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-09-29
THIS AND THAT
BY CHARLES E. TRACEWELL.

old house. old negro man, gentle old
horse. And 1 see myself following
the furrow behind the plow. STOPPING
every now and then to pick up the
bits of broken pink and blue china
turned up by the plowshare, mute
reminders of the past. How impossi-
bio it is for even a broken cup or
saucer to stay buried. l can now
feel the fresh warm and moist earth
on my feet and smell the fragrance
of it and the blossoming fruit trees.
| Also 7 do smell the sweating old
| horse that my ancestry makes 1t i'm.
class with pleasant odors.
And how / wondered about these
| old bits Of broken china. 1t had the
| air of mystery. There was never
enough to satisfy. either in the pat
| tern or form. This little piece might
| have been cup, but then it might
also have been a sugar bowl. If the
| tiny piece were 50 beautiful, what
must not have been the whole?
Surely when as many years have
| passed the child of today there will
not he one to sit and write you OF
| the happy memories Of the 10-cent
store toys, of the s10-store toys, for
| that matter. Write because they
H..
| like the broken china, will not stay
buried.
| and now come the roses, along the
walks, the fence and beside the garden
gate. One the ancestor of the present
American Beauty tat least it was good
| enough to be the ancestor of any mod
ern rose). with it's great cherry-colored
petals and lovely stamens and often
| as large as n saucer when full blown.
BY the garden gate was the thorny
microphelia, with its creamy, waxlike
petals and glossy, green foliage.
with all this comes the thought of
| the liberty Of body. mind and soul
| that was ours-fOr / must tell you
| that j was not the only member of
| that family. But such liberty! We
seemed never to have asked permits
sion to do anything. Yet / can't re-
call that the privilege was ever much
abused. But there was instruction in
| the simple virtues.
| "One of my chief joys was to go
| into the garden in the early morning
when the dew was still heavy on all
| the vegetation, and pick the morning
| glories. the blossoms with. the pastel
colors, stacking them OH upon the
other to represent lovely ladies In
hoopskirts after the fashion of those
In Godey's fashion books. piles OF
which were in the garnet for enter
tainment on rainy days. What a
breakfast table it was with a morning
glory lady beside each plate and a
bowl Of the graceful, tumbling vines
in the center.
Not the least but perhaps the very
best memory of all is of the family cat
and dog, which accompanied me, and
as l stood on tiptoe to reach the big
| gest and best of the blossoms, these
companions, each with wet fur rub
bling against my bare legs, or else
almost pushing me over in sheer de
light that morning was come and the
household going about it's daily duties
and they alive-just living and being
a part of things as they were. Pres
emily we three would emerge from
this bower drenched with the dew
Maybe it was the call to breakfast OF
merely new inclination-the house
the orchard or the barn-such was the
liberty of the days and hours.
l said in the beginning that had been
a teacher, and count it as my great
est privilege. This was where the
blue hills met the sky in the west
So much part Of our lives were the
| gorgeous Sunrises and sunsets that
they were expected as were breakfast
and supper. In the beginning of each
new school term we learned and otter
said in concert Emily Dickinson's
The Sum- These days, wher
the sun at rising and setting does its
best to make us stop, look and listen
if with your magic manipulation OF
words you give the readers Of The
Star an opportunity to see it as these
boys and girls of mine have ever since
done, you will make them debtors tc
you in still one more way. Very truly
+. w. W."