Thursday, April 29, 1926
He maketh me to lie down in pastures of tender grass; he leadeth me beside the waters of quietness.
Last week, winter broke. The ancients used to divide the year into hot and cold periods for the temperate zone and fixed the time between the 23rd day of April and the 23rd day of October as the warm time and the rest of it is cold. The winter that most of us have survived ran true to this schedule. There was a 12-inch snow on the 22nd of October and an 8-inch snow on the 19th of April, with no letting up for even one day between those dates.
Around our town, winter hoists the white flag of truce usually about the first of April. On the hills, the service trees are used for this purpose but this year there is no sign of surrender at the last of April, but any day now they may be expected.
There was a good deal of discussion last week as to the relative merits of town and country life. There is a vast unrest in the world and America is getting its full share of nervous fear that afflicts the modern man.
It is being reflected in the thought and expression of the thinkers of the county, the people of the United States have gotten richer than it was ever thought that any people could.
Therefore, we are having new problems to work out and do not have the benefit of the research of historians to guide us, for there are no precedents. There is an international side to it too. The outside world is more or less envious and jealous of us and looks upon us as a rich country, a good deal as did the lean and hungry Israelites upon the land of Canaan.
Every thoughtful man and woman imbues with a love of America and a humble and a contrite heart should pray without ceasing that the Lord will bless America with a continuation of the friendship of Great Britain. Without it, we would be in great danger.
I feel like that colored minister who prayed that the nation be saved from the power of the modern jackass.
For a long time they could not figure out what his figure of speech meant, but it seems that at some time or other in the chancelleries of his church, some classic brother had prayed to be delivered from a modern Ajax, who had threatened to move the world, or some such thing. I am not sure but that my colored friend had the best illustration after all, for I could name you two or three modern jackasses that have been given too much power.
But I am not so much concerned about foreign affairs. It is a fact that foreign countries hired some money from us and a loan oft loses both itself and a friend…
HOG CALLING CONTEST
One of the features of the 1926 Fair will be a hog calling contest. Liberal prizes will be awarded for all winners in this class. Judges will adhere strictly to the score card in awarding prizes.
Score card: volume, 15 percent
Selection of words, 30 percent
Technique, 20 percent
Voice control, 25 percent
Sincerity, 10 percent
Applicants should choose a spot for rehearsal where they will not disturb their neighbor’s hogs. Cuss words will be barred. Contestants may use cotton in their ears.
This contest is also open to ladies.
GONE HOME
Virginia Lee, little child of Mr. and Mrs. John Rider, of Frost, died on the morning of April 4, 1926, aged seven months and a few days.
Weep not, father and mother, the little babe has only gone on to the starry land to bloom, and is watching for you to come, “We can go to it – but it shall not return to us.”
The poet has sweetly described the departure of a little child basking in the heavenly sunlight.
“Sweet little darling, light of the home, looking for someone beckoning, come,
Bright as a sunbeam, pure as the dew
Anxiously looking, father, mother, for you.”
The funeral service and burial took place Tuesday evening at the home.
BACK TO THE MOUNTAINS
I’m going back to the hills today,
Back where they stretch for miles away
Beneath those sunny southern skies
That over them in beauty lies,
Back where I dreamed my youth away,
As nature held me in her sway,
Back to the hills.
I’m going back to the hills today,
To hear again the wild bird’s lay.
And watch the winding river flow,
And linger where the violets grow;
And where the twilight shadows fall
I’ll hear the whip-po-wills’ low call,
Those evening stars again I’ll see,
Their radiant beams are charming me
Back to the hills.
I’m going back to the hills today,
Going back to the hills to stay,
Take up the thread of life again
And live it as it should have been;
I’ll know the joys my childhood knew
They’ve followed me the long years thru’.
I’ll tread the paths in youth I trod
I’m going back to home and God,
Back to the hills.
Dedicated to Miss Betsy Price ~
by Erle Smith
