M. Arnette Bullock, October, 1924, Lumberton, N.C.
I was born and reared in Moore county; most of our ancestors are buried there; a great many of our relatives still reside there, and it is yet, to me, the garden of the world. We like to visit there now. The quiet life of the people, undisturbed by modern ‘isms, and the genteel manners of their modest children are an inspiration. These fine Scotch people are the salt of the earth, and they grow dearer each day as the years roll on away from the peaceful life that marks the peace.
I manage to keep from my mind the charms of spring and summer in Moore county, but when autumn spreads her glorious sunshine and gorgeous colors over the earth, my memory rambles over the grassy hills, and down by the sparkling streams and I become a child again, I mount my saddle horse and ride away thru the clean surfaced forests, down thru the shady lanes, “over the hills and far away.”
I hear again the sound of the woodman’s axe as he slays the forest, I hear his shout of joy and again the song of victory; I hear the low tinkle of cowbells and see the cattle grazing on the grass slopes. I hear the low hum of “Old Black Joe,” and “My Old Kentucky Home.” I look toward the fields of fleecy whiteness and there the happy old-time “slaves” catch up the refrain and it floats on and dies away in the hazy distances. I hear happy children shouting through the meadows, and over the hills clear notes of music floats from the lips of happy maidens as they go to lead home the owners of the tinkling bells. I hear again the workman’s song as he marches to his happy home. I see dark spirals of smoke rising from dozens of flues and it floats away and settles peacefully against the rim of the cloudless sky. I look toward the west and there the sun beams with a thousand rays as it bids adieu to a perfect day. The curtains of night fall silently over a brave and righteous people who work and sing and live in Moore County, the garden of the world.
--M. Arnette Bullock, Lumberton, N.C., October, 1924