Many years ago, in this wild unsettled west
Where grasses, seldom trod, grew upon earth's breast
A rippling brook flowed swiftly down
Through the canebrake, cataract bound;
The song-bird twittered and warbled low;
A rattlesnake glided and slided slow,
Out from the rift of an old fallen tree,
The wild beast awoke and wandered the lea.
A spreading forest, a tangled way,
With smiling sunbeams there to play,
Mid the jungle's rustle, where winds came to tease
The flowers and trees with a laughing breeze;
Bending blossoms faced the sun each day,
Ungathered and unnoticed, save along the way
Came an Indian maid, an Arkansas true.
Gathered and shook from the petals the dew
Thus a scene in a forest far away-
The Caucasian knew not his possession one day.
~Ella Molloy Langford,
A History of Johnson County Arkansas, The First Hundred Years, 1921
"Indian arrow-points once found by the hundreds, but now seldom chanced upon, a few fast fading chiseled markings, and a now limited number of grave mounds almost flattened by time and tide, are all the records left by a primitive people to the present habitation of this country.
|"with love and ties of human kindness..."|