The Old Carryall

It’s alone in the dark of the old wagon shed
Where spider webs swing from the beams overhead,
And the sun siftin’ in through the dirt and the mold
Of the window’s dim pane, specks it over with gold.

Its curtains are tattered, its cushions are worn;
It’s kind of a ghost of a carriage forlorn,
And the dust from the roof settles down like a pall
On the sorrowing shape of the old carryall.

It was built long ago, when the world seemed to be
A heaven just made for Mary and me;
And my mind wanders back to that first happy ride,
When she sat beside me, my beautiful bride.

Ah! those were the days when the village was new
And folks tried to live as God meant ’em to do;
There was many a huskin’ an’ quiltin’ an’ ball,
That we drove to and back in the old carryall.

And here in the paint are the marks of the feet
Where a little form climbed to the high-fashioned seat;
And soft baby fingers them curtains have swung,
And a curly head’s nestled the cushions among.

And then came the gloom of that black, bitter day,
When “Thy will be done” looked wicked to say,
As we drove to the grave, while the rain seemed to fall
Like tears of the sky on the old carryall.

It has served us through sunshine as well as through cloud,
Through fun’rals an’ weddin’s – from bride wreath to shroud;
It’s old and it’s rusty, it’s shaky and lame.
But I love every jint of its rickety frame.

Now it’s restin’ at last, for its race has been run;
It’s lived out its life and its work was well done;
And I hope in my soul at the last trumpet’s call
I’ll have done mine as well as the old carryall.

The Beautiful Isle
By Bayard Taylor

There’s a beautiful Isle In the River of Time,
Where the softest of echoes are playing;
The air is as sweet as some musical chime
Or, the fragrant breath of some tropical
It is there memory dwells with her pale clime,
When June, with her roses is straying, golden hue,

And the music forever is flowing,
And the half murmured tones that come trembling through
Strangely sadden the heart, and yet sweeten it, too.
Like the south wind o’er waters when blowing.

There are shadowy halls in that fairy-like Isle,
Where pictures of beauty are gleaming;
But the light of their eyes, and their sweet sunny smile,
Only flash round the heart with a wildering wile,
Then leave us to know we’re but dreaming.

The name of this Isle is the Beautiful Past,
And we bury our treasures all there.
There are beings of beauty too lovely to last,
There are bosoms of snow, with the dust o’er them cast;
There are tresses and ringlets of hair.

There are snatches of song only memory sings,
And the words of a dear mother’s prayer;
There are harps, long unswept; there are lutes without strings.
There are flowers, all faded, and letters and rings,
Hallowed tokens, that love used to wear.

E’en the dead, the bright, beautiful dead, there arise,
With their soft flowing tresses of gold;
Though their voices are hushed and o’er their sweet eyes
The unbroken signet of silence now lies,
They are with us again, as of old.

In the stillness of night hands beckon us on,
And oft with a joy that’s a pain,
We delight to turn back, and in wandering there,
Through the shadowy halls of that island so fair
To behold our lost treasures again.

Sent in by Dovie Lewis, Route 1, Prairie Grove, Ark.

From the Reverse Side of the Clipping:


Freeport, Brazoria Co., Texas, Aug. 5 –
Miss Doralee Hill, 21 years old; Hesse
Hardcastle, 10 years old, and Raymond
Hardcastle, 8 years old, were drowned at
the mouth of the Bernard River at 10
o’clock this morning.

Mrs. Hardcastle and Miss Hill attempted
to save the two boys, when Miss Hill
was lost with them. Her body has been
recovered, but search is still being made
for those of the two boys.

The accident happened about forty minutes
after their arrival on the beach.
They lived in Humble, but had been visiting
in West Columbia.


Sherman, Texas, Aug 4. – A committee
from the Denison Trades Council met
with members of the Sherman Trades
Council at its regular weekly meeting
Wednesday evening and extended an
invitation through the central labor body
for members of organized crafts in Sherman
to join with Denison in the observance
of Labor Day in Denison Sept. 5
and 6.

Members of the Denison committee,
including Herman Ketchel, D. C. Moore
and Mr. Martin of the railway carmen,
said that plans were being made for
observing a two-day celebration in Denison
this year. The second day, Tuesday,
has been set aside as Farm-Labor Union
Day, and hundreds of members of this
newest labor organization from not only
North Texas but Southern Oklahoma are
expected to be present. The State president
of the Oklahoma organization will
be present and deliver an address. W. F.
Fitzwater, the national president, of Bonham,
will speak the first day, as will
George Slater, president of the Texas
Federation of Labor.


Fort Worth, Texas, Aug. 4. – Funeral
services for Lieutenant James Audrey
Cooper, who was killed in action over
seas, will be conducted tomorrow after
noon at 2 o’clock by the Bothwell Kane
Post of the American Legion. C. W.
Bradley, adjutant, will have charge of
the services. The Rev. E. M. Waits
president of Texas Christian University
will officiate.

The local post of the American Legion
here has announced through the adjutant
that it is prepared to conduct funerals
of former soldiers at any place within
a radius of 100 miles of Fort Worth. A
firing squad, buglers, colors and other
equipment are available at all times.


San Antonio, Teas, Aug 4. – Edward
Dwyer, distinguished San Antonio lawyer
and former Judge of the Thirty-Seventh
District Court, died today at his home
after an illness of about three months.

He was a member of an old San Antonio
family which for several generations
has been active in civic affairs.
He was the son of Joseph Dwyer and
a grandson of Edward Dwyer, who was
Mayor of San Antonio from 1844 to 1846.

Judge Dwyer was 58 years old at the
time of his death and from his youth
had been an influential figure in politics
in the city and State.

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