“The Tattler Talks.”

[An except from a much longer article covering many topics]

Uncle Morgan Gladden rests quietly in his grave. We all miss him from Cartersville. His stooping form and shambling walk and genial face could be seen on our streets almost every day as he went about, with his little companion strapped over his shoulder, discharging the duties of constable of this district. I have known him ever since I came to Cartersville. He was ever willing to do his duty, and discharged with fidelity and honesty the duties that devolved on him as constable. The young lawyers of our local bar who practiced in the Justices’ Court were his best friends. Whenever we had a paper that we wanted promptly executed, and a man who would carry out to the letter our instructions, we always hunted up Uncle Morgan. He had his faults, one of which was drinking, but I remember only a short time before he was taken sick he said to me in his peculiar and emphatic way, “Son, I have quit! Whiskey come powerful near a ruin’ me, but I have promised the old woman to quit, and I intend to do it. And now at night before we lay down, and in the mornin’ before we eat our little bite, me and the old woman has a word of prayer –and I’ll be honest with you, Will, we are happier than we ever was before.” I do not know whether he ever broke his resolution or not, but whatever his faults were, his intentions were good. I learned to have great respect for the old man and I miss him from his accustomed haunts. The old justice court room seems lonely and desolate without him. The highest tribute I can pay him is that he was honest and always tried to do his duty. I hope he rests well from the labors of a long life.

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