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Woman’s Page.
CONDUCTED BY EDNA CAIN.
o .
“MAYBE A SERMON—
MAYBE A SONG.”
On several occasions people have
asked me why I did not write poetry
and I would smile deprccatingly and
try to look as if I could write it if I
only cared to. To tell the truth I felt
flattered, sc miserably weak is human
ity, and was unwilling to admit that
the Muse ami I were not on harmoni
ous terms. Tiiis was the beginning,
and finally I even deceived myself with
the notion that I could if I would.
After this the undoing of my puffed up
pride only awaited an opportunity, and
it came shortly on a rainy day. lam
foolishly fond of rainy days, and when
they come with their gray mist and
soft monotonous patter on the roost,
“I betake myself to thinking,
Fancy unto fancy linking.”
It was on one of these adorable days
that I wrote my first poem. I assure
you I felt myself a seer and a prophet,
and—after half an hour of laborious
effort—the following ‘‘little thing
dashed off in an idle moment,” was
completed:
A Voice in the Rain.
() summer rain! <) sobbing rain!
What grief has crept from its dim lair,
And seeks to find a voice in thine—
Whose burden thou must bear?
The sun is wrapt in clouds of gray,
The earth lies still and cold;
My fancies wander through thy mist
Forlorn as sheep without thy fold.
() summer rain! O sobbing rain!
Methinks thy voice of woe
Is that of souls whose tarnished scrolls
Os deeds hath brought them low.
Their summer days are sad and gray,
Their mist wrapt sun is cold;
They’re doomed to wander here always,
Forlorn as sheep without the fold,
And, making moan in undertone,
1 hear thy voice in thine
O summer rain! O sobbing rain!
1 feel their grief is mine.
With a show of carelessness, but
with much inward anxiety, I showed
it to the senior editor. Much to my
disgust he received it in a most matter
of fact way; I remembered afterwards
that, as an editor he was not wholly un
accustomed to—poems. Then he told
me he thought the little child of my
brain very pretty, and all that, but
didn’t 1 think it limped rather pain
fully? I said I didn't. Then he point
ed oat to me wheiein its feet failed to
match, and said he didn't think it
would ever get into print on such feet.
(But you see it has.) 1 suppose he
was right about its miserable feet but
1 wasn't the one to admit it, so the
poem formed the subject for that day's
dinner table argument. Suppose its
feet are deformed, said I, as I warmed
up to the subject, it has got a thought
in its head. People who merely want
jingling rhymes will read Mother
Goose. But I believe they will appre
ciate the beautiful thought in this too
much to criticise any discrepancy in
the wording, said 1, waving my fork
defiantly. (You must really pardon
me for insisting on the beauty of the
thought in that poem. But a man of
very superior judgment in such mat
ters —not the senior editor—has told
me it was beautiful, aud in all modesty
1 agree with him.)
But the senior editor could not see
it, and insisted flippantly that the poem
would never have a walk over in pub
lic opinion unless its shortage in feet
could be reduced. My assurance was
oozing and my soup was growing eold
on account of the heated argument,
but I determined to try one more
grand stand play in hopes of making a
“touch down.” (A man spent a whole
afternoon explaining the technical
terms of foot ball and base ball to me;
I know he will feel it was time well
spent when he secs that.) So I grew
figurative in my eloquence. Why the
poem is like a deformed man at a din
ner table, said 1. his brilliant thought
and ready wit so charms the guests
that they never notice his poor, twisted
feet, even when he is wheeled away
from the festive board in a—“waste
basket,” softly murmured the s. e. aud
then 1 wilted aud fell into the soup,
which was quite cold by this time.
Aspiring poets have found this world
a cold, damp place long before 1 made
the discovery. And the tender buds
of “genius'' (tender cabbage heads, as
the s. e. would say) are constantly be
ins served up in the soup by these
terrible critics.
Doubtless you will think, even hope,
that this ends ray poetical experiences,
but it doesn’t. Next to rainy days I
love sunshiny ones, and on a dreamy j
summer day I again felt the Muse .
moving my soul, or thought I did, and
my second poem begun—
‘•The hills that rise across the way,
Are soft with summer’s purple haze,”
Just then a Person sitting in the
room inquired if I had sent the girl to
town for a roast for dinner. I said I
had, and made a great bustle with my
paper and pencil to call the Person's
attention to the fact that I was very
busy. The Person calmly went on to
say that the girl certainly wasn’t as
as careful as she might be in cooking;
the fragments of the last roast had
been given to the kittens when a real
savin’ cook would have made them
into hash. Hash!—l tore my hair at
this, and crash! mash! dash! danced
through my brain. Then the innocent
Person grew silent and I added two
more lines to the poem:
“Their tops the bending rainbows kiss,
They seem a fairer land than this,”
And then a giuff “hello!” was heard
at the back gate aud, as the girl had
gone after the roast, I had to go see
who it was. I went, softly repeating
my lines, to find a man with potatoes
to sell. I asked the price, and when
he answered, instead of telling him
whether 1 wanted any, or not, I went
on abstractedly, with another line:
“Where lies our”—
Much to my surprise the man said
snappishly that he’d never been ac
cused of lying about prices before, and
he guessed I needn’t take ’em unless
I wanted to, and drove off; and I went
back and wrote down:
“Where lies our lowly valley ways.”
Then the Person asked me if I really
thought Airs. Cumso did shut her hus
band out of the house when he return
ed from the lodge the other night?
Now, in ordinary moods, I am rather
patient but my sense of the fitness of
things is outraged at the notion of
combining poetry and potatoes, dreamy
mists and matrimonial fogs. I set
the paper weight on the poem with a
bang! and got up, saying in a very soft
voice that I didn’t know, but if the
story were true I wished T had been
Mr. Cumso. I’d so enjoy being shut
out of the house where I couldn't see
anybody for a few days. The Person
looked up in mild surprise and wanted
to know—but I tied. I couldn't trust
myself with that gentle creature any
longer.
So those are a few of the rea
sons why I don’t write poetry; why
there is no “poet at the breakfast ta
ble” in our house. Only another
“mute inglorious Milton,” a frozen
current of genial soul as a monument
to one of the might have beens. Drop
a tear and let us turn the page.
Grades In Deportment.
May King 100, Lucy Street 100,
Julia King 100, Kitty Henry 99,
Lucile Roan 99, Annie Bell Roan
100, Daisy Kellett 99, Mary Milli
can 96. Bertha Roan 97, Annie
Thurston 100, Kate Cain 100, Mat
tie M ilson 100, Flossy Turner 96,
Annie Wheeler 96, Minnie Henry
100, Annie Mallett 100, Tennie
Mallett 100, May Evins 99, Maud
Sewell 100, Mattie Nelson SO, Ana
Bryan 99, Ella Millican 100, Annie
Cleghorn 98, Imo Dalton 100, Pearl
Dalton 99, Carry Roan 96, Ethel
Dunn 98, Mary Wilson 100, Lena
Dalton 100 ; Mary Hollis 99, Josie
Nelson 80, Effie Rhinehart 100,
Roxey Harris 99, Loula Jenkins
98, Lou Wilbanks 97, Janie Mor
-1 ton 100.
Head Marks. Daisy Kellet 1,
Imo Dalton 1, Ella Millican 2,
j Annie Cleghorn 1, Annie Bell Roan
1. Whit Henry 1, Litle Wilson 1,
Bertha Roan 1.
Nature dispenses blessings and
misfortunes very evenly’. South
Carolina has Tillman and she also
has a new kind of millet which is
like a mantle of charity. The seed
is ground into flour which is es
pecially adapted for batter-cakes:
the juice makes a very fine syrup
and there is a substance in the
I roots which is a fair substitute for
Jersey butter. It really means
something to be “in clover” in
South Carolina.
RACCOON MILLS.
The protracted meeting at this ,
place closed last Sunday night with
two accessions to the church. Wo
had some fine sermons during the
meeting. The people here regret
very much to give Mr. Rosser up,
but we hope to get another good
preacher in return.
Miss Ada Horn, of this place,
and Mr. Albert Bagly, of Alabama,
were married in the public road
about one mile from here last Sun
day. I did not learn who married ;
them.
Misses Carrie Agnew and Mattie ;
Wyatt spent last Tuesday inj
Rome.
Mr. J. M. Wyatt has been on the
sick list for several days. He Jias
been chilling.
Miss Ana Alexander returned
home last Saturday after a pleas
ant visit to friends and relatives
here. She was accompanied home i
by her sister Mrs. S. R. Wyatt.
Mrs. Rebecca and lona Smith,
who attended the protracted meet
ing here, have returned to their
home near Lyerly.
Dr. J. M. D. King, of Menlo came
over Saturday and left Sunday
morning for Macon to attend the
meeting of the Grand Masonic
Lodge of Georgia.
A colored woman, 91 years old,
died at her home about two miles
from here Saturday night.
Mr. Bud Garret is still confined
to his room with fever. It is hoped
that he will soon be restored to his
usual health.
Mrs. Booker is visiting friends at
Menlo this week.
The Baptists of this place have
called Rev. Mr. Starkey of Menlo,
to preach for them another year.
We think they will be well pleased
with him.
Mrs. H. C. Gilbert had snap
beans for dinner the 25th inst.
J. S. Majors, of Menlo, was over
to see his best girl across the river
Sunday. It is a good thing he
doesn’t have to pay bridge toll. If
he did it would be very expensive
for him in the run of a year.
Birdie.
In Memoriam.
The vast concourse which at
tended the funeral of Mrs. Mattie
Wyatt at Alpine church, on Oct.
1896, was a fitting and significant
tribute to her noble and beautiful
life. Habitually wearing the or
nament of a meek and quiet spirit,
Mrs. Wyatt was a model wife and
mother; a true, sympathetic and
helpful friend ; a generous, kind
and considerate neighbor, an ex
emplary, useful and happy Chris
tian character.
She was a daughter of Mr. Oliver
Alexander and was born Jan. 26,
1837. Before she was fifteen years
old she made a profession of relig
ion and united with the Pleasant
Green Presbyterian church. Two
years later she was one of the thir
ty-six original members of Alpine
church organized in May, 1853.
With this church she was connect
ed until May, 1895, when she be
came a member of Salem church
at Raccoon Mills. She was largely
instrumental in building the beau
tiful house of worship recently
erected at that place.
On July 27th, 1859, she married
Mr. Joseph M. Wyatt, who, with
her aged father, and five children —
three sons and two daughters sur
vive to mourn their loss. But
though bereft of her sweet com
panionship, tender ministries, and
loving counsels, Mrs. Wyatt’s fam
ily and friends have a rich legacy
in the abiding influence of her pre
cepts, example and prayers, as well
as in the consolation that she fell
asleep in Jesus.
“Asleep in Jesus! blessed sleep!
From which none ever wake to weep,
A calm and undisturbed repose,
Unbroken by the last of foes!’’
Her Friend.
Summerville High Scuool.
The exercises of this institution will
■ resume August 31st, 1896, under the
; management of John C. King,
Mary L. Hemphill.
Principals.
Your Guano notes and accounts were
j due on the 15th of Oct. Please call
; and pay them.
! 4t Cleghorn & Hesly.
TRION NEWS.
Miss Jennie Hatfield, 16 year old
daughter of Mrs. A. M. Hatfield, died
Friday night of consumption and was
buried Sunday afternoon at the ceme
tery, the services being conducted by
Rev. J. G. Hunt. Miss Hatfield was
a good Christian girl, taken so early in
life to a happier home. Weep not be
reaved ones your loss is her gain.
An infant of Mr. Cumming, who
lives north of Trion died Saturday
morning and was buried Sunday after
noon .
Rev. J. G. Hunt filled his appoint
ment at the Baptist church Saturday
night and Sunday, preaching au excel
lent sermon at both services.
Mr. A. S. Hamilton, Win. Penn and
Mr. Wimberly spent Sunday at Rome.
Misses Ada Murphy, Ellen and Bet
tie Penn spent Sunday at Chickamau
ga.
Mrs. Ellen Giiflith and daughter,
Miss Nettie Johnson, visited relatives
at Raccoon Sunday.
Miss Nora Westbrooks returned
Saturday evening from a weeks visit to
Rome.
Mrs. S. D. Mullinax spent Saturday
night and Sunday with relatives at
LaFayette.
Miss Mattie Espy spent several days
of last week at Summerville, the guest
of her brother-G. D. Espy.
Hon. Mr. Copeland of- .LaFayette,
addressed the people of Trion Monday
night at the hall.
Misses Alice Myers and Foy Murphy
who are attending Shorter college came
home Friday afternoon on a visit, re
turning Monday morning accompanied
by Miss Kate Myers w’ho enters as a
student at Shorter college.
Miss Kate Kellett spent Saturday
night and Sunday with relatives at this
place.
Misses Alice and Joe Mattox, Fan
nie and Molhe Rich of Summerville
were in Trion Sunday evening.
Mr. and Mrs. Lon Shamblin of La-
Fayette, visited relatives at this place
Sunday.
Mr. Scott Myers and sous of LaFay
ette, visited G. B. Myers Sunday.
Master Fred Myers, who is working
at the cotton business at Rome, spent
Saturday and Sunday at home.
TELOGA, GA,
The sick ones of our community are
all improving.
Rev. W. A. Milner filled his regular
appointment at Beersheba last Sunday.
Win. Biggers and sister, Miss May,
of near Martindale, were visiting rel
atives here Sunday.
Mrs. R. A. Watson of LaFayette,
was visiting uncle Billy Watson Sun
day.
Mr. Spergin of near Waterloo, Ala.,
passed ihiotigh our val>y last week
enroute to Tennessee to take to him
self a better half; he was happy on the
way. We wish him success.
Gus McConnell went up to Chatta
nooga last week oa business.
Jerome Clarkson and family who
have been in Texas several yea’-s pass
ed through our valley last Thursday
going to relatives in Walker county.
He came back by private conveyance
and was nearly two months coming.
Mr. J. T. McWhorter is preparing
to have his dwelling covered with tiu.
Prof. J. D. Welch will have charge
of the school here this winter. Mr.
Welch comes with a good recommen
dation as a teacher. Valley Girl.
Dallas Turner’s Catch.
The way of the transgressor is a
hard one here in Rome. With her
splendid police personele and coun
ty officials, criminals find this burg
a hard row to hoe. Yesterday a
bout noon John Davis hired a hack
man to bring him into Rome and
when nearing the city limits gave
the hackman a good pair of pants
for his fare and got out of the
hack. The hackman reported it
as a suspicious circumstance to
. the police. They traced Davis to
the Rome depot and when he spied
i them made a break, but ran into
I the arms of Deputy Sheriff’ Dallas
Turner who took him under his
shrieval wing. Davis was pardon
ed out of prison recently for killing
a boy at Trion, Ga., about twelve
years ago. Davis was taken to the
jail but released for insufficient
evidence. He had a sack clothes
■ and a slung shot.—Sunday’s Rome
Tribune.
Mr. F. M. Street died a*, his home at
Sulphur Springs last week. His son,
Mr. A. M. Street, of this place, had
been with his father several days be
fore his death and Mrs. A. M. Street,
with Joe and Lucy, left for Sulphur,
Springs Friday to be present at the
fOTeral.
LOVEMAN’S, i-l
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O
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1 D. B. LOVEM/VN CO. I
~ CHATTANOOGA. TENN.
«Ha»
WHEN IN ROME
Do As Romans Do
TRADE WITH'—.
F. J. KANE & CO.
The Largest Stock of New Goods.
The Best Assorted Stock.
Many Things Away Under Price!
All Wool Filling Jeans 12 i=2C.
9 oz “ “ “ 16c
4=4 AAA Sheetings 4 and 4 i=2C
Best 27 in Cotton Plaids 5c
$1.50 Climax Shoes at only SI.OO
Turkey Red Prints * 3 i=2c
Boys’ Knee Pants Suits 90c
Bed Blankets, only 20c
Mens’ Under Shirts 15c
Ladies’ Winter Vests 10c
These are a few of our prices and it will pay you to
look here before you buy. Come to Rome, goods
cheaper than ever before, flake our place your head=
quarters. We want to see you.
F. J. KANE & CO.,
248 Broad Street, Rome, Ga.
T. W. GH7YST/VIN,
DEALER IN =|=s-
FURNITURE
Summerville, Ga.
-’v —-o
Nice Chamber Suits
need any