To look at this policeman of Old Massanutten you would never
surmise that he ever had a worry in all his life, but he told us
that he had one. This even to us was not an imaginary one as he
had seriously contemplated moving down in the valley some day.
He said "'a rolling stone gathers no moss,' neither does a
settin' hen grow fat, but, I'll have to find a place to set for
I'm gettin' old." We thought he had set too much already. "I'd
as leave move a thousand miles as one hundred yards. It's the
startin' I hate."
How much of what he considered his misfortune was clue to no
other than his phrase, "I hate to start." He reminded us of the
girl we saw in the valley sitting out at the front gate beneath
an elm tree, waiting for something to turn up. She had failed to
see patches of weeds in the yard and the vegetables were crying
for help, yet she heard them not. Be wary, young men, for the
person who waits for something to turn up usually finds only
creditors.
"I was born in 1871. Yes, I was born, bred and raised near
Yellow Sulphur Springs, Ohio. I ramped around thar many a day."
Looking at the flock of children who lacked many of the bare
necessities of life, we thought what the Book of Books says: "He
who careth not for his own is worse than an infidel."
Out across the valley we beheld the beautiful Blue Ridge rising
like a grand graded way. Here was displayed a panorama that of
all our Shenandoah journeys still appears as one of our most
memorable mountain scenes. At our feet lay the valley
interspersed with villages, homes and vast stretches of corn,
oats and wheat, all clothed in that blue filmy veil making all
appear like a rich garden of various emerald tints. Far away
toward the horizon rose a lovely forest-crowned ridge so
gloriously colored and luminous it seemed like the scene of a
vast painting. Out over the tremulous billowy fields of grain
and over the forest and meadow the sunlight fell in pale
spangles of light over which a few gray shadows chased one
another.
The sun was gilding the west as we started down the mountain
side. The radiant host of evergreens stood silent in bold relief
against their luminous background. High in the azure dome a few
rose-colored clouds were drifting, scarce seeming to move in the
light filled ether. Over all the vast expanse of sky a crimson
spread which was followed by pink that was quickly succeeded by
violet purple. Never had we beheld such a striking crimson sea.
