Here pulsed the very life and being of the land.
Yonder great bales of cotton, yellow-white in its soiled sacking, piled
in lofty, dusty mountains, lay listening for the train that, twice a
day, ran out to the greater world. Round about, tied to the well-gnawed
hitching rails, were rows of mules--mules with back cloths; mules with
saddles; mules hitched to long wagons, buggies, and rickety gigs; mules
munching golden ears of corn, and mules drooping their heads in
sorrowful memory of better days.
Beyond the cotton warehouse smoked the chimneys of the seed-mill and the
cotton-gin; a red livery-stable faced them and all about three sides of
the square ran stores; big stores and small wide-windowed, narrow
stores. Some had old steps above the worn clay side-walks, and some were
flush with the ground. All had a general sense of dilapidation--save
one, the largest and most imposing, a three-story brick. This was
Caldwell's "Emporium"; and here Bles stopped and Miss Taylor entered.
Mr. Caldwell himself hurried forward; and the whole store, clerks and
customers, stood at attention, for Miss Taylor was yet new to the
county.
She bought a few trifles and then approached her main business.
"My brother wants some information about the county, Mr. Caldwell, and I
am only a teacher, and do not know much about conditions here.
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