Newspaper Page Text
TOIF
JtX u JjLL Jx o xx Uxl JJk
T. L. MITCHELL, Publisher.
Vol. 6—No. 8.
For Woman’s Work.
“ZSEZOLA.”
BY JENNIE GERALD.
[Note.]—
I have taken the liberty, in writing this
historical romance, of weaving into it the
names of historical characters, some of
whom may be living at this time. Should
this happen to meet the eye ot any of these,
I beg indulgence for all discrepancies. I
know nothing of General McClellan’s fam
ily, save what I have gleaned from history.
I have suited the character to the plot,
and not the plot to the character. The
war features are culled from printed ac
counts, and from conversations with an
officer who was engaged in them.
I know nothing of the dialect of the
people originally settling in North Caro
lina except what I have learned from Miss
Craddock’s works, and I have probably
conglomerated with it the localisms of the
common folk of my own state.
Jennie Gerald.
Picturesque Eseeola, hiding
among the mountains of North
Carolina, beholds her beauty re
flected in the pure river bearing
her name, as she reclires con
fidingly in her rustic beauty
against the venerable bosom of
her majestic mountains, her dense
forests standing in primitive
beauty before her, as if to guard
her from the confusion of the
world.
“The primal curse
Fell, it is true, upon the unsinning
earth,
But not in vengeance. Misery wed
To guilt. And hence these shades
are still the abodes
Os undissembled gladness.”
During the early part of the
late war, a lover of the pictur
esque, the huntsman or geolo
gist who penetrated into this
rural quietude, grew familiar
with the log cabin on the side of
the mountain overlooking Esee
ola, enclosed by a lichen-grown
rail fence, with its garden plat
and tobacco patch near by. Here
the traveller loitered to partake
of some of the delicious finny
tribe which Mr. Peter Green had hooked
(as this gentleman was pleased to express
it) from Eseeola River, or perchance it
might be her wild-duck or the graceful
deer that hid in the depths of her forests.
And how nicely Polly, Peter’s excellent
help-meet, could prepare the game which
lucky Peter often brought home after a
day’s hunt, or a day’s fishing 1 She cooked
them over a log fire, in three-legged pots
with great iron tops, over which she lav
ishly distributed glowing coals. In this
interesting occupation she was assisted by
Daphnie Ann, the orphan child of a sister,
that she had taken to raise. * * * *
October, 1863. The declining sun looked
like a huge ball of fire rolling down the
mountain side. Daphnie Ann was milk
ing “Spotted” just outside the gate under
a large cherry tree, blushing with its lus
cious fruit, while “Spotted” munched the
new-mown hay placed before her, and
Daphnie Ann drew great streams of milk
into the little gourd sne held, which, when
filled, was emptied into the wooden pail at
her side. Mrs. Green was in the cabin
busily engaged in preparing the fish to fry,
and now and then looked into the great
oven where the bread was baking, or put
new coals on the potatoes buried in the
ashes. Going to the door, she called to
her husband, who was in the garden, “ter
cum an’ git er pale uv watur.” A spring
gurgling merrily in a cleft of rocks near
by, furnished water for the little household.
Here, on warm summer days, the tins of milk
and butter were placed to keep cool.
Here the lazy dragon fly sought her prey,
snakes glided among the ferns, pebblesand
water-lilies, and if the milk was left un
covered, were sure to drink it. (I have
been told by those who have had dairy ex
perience, that this often happens.)
Peter filled the bucket from the crystal
spring, and just as he turned to leave, he
“TO GUIDE, TO CHEER, TO SAVE, TO BLESS-THIS IS WOMAN’S WORK.”
ATHENS, GEORGIA, AUGUST, 1893.
espied a horse-man coming up the moun
tain bridle-path. Daphnie Ann, who had
finished milking, had also caught a glimpse
of the coming stranger, and had hastened
to tell her aunt. A stranger was always
full of interest for this simple minded
folk—a pleasant break in the monotony of
rural life. Mrs. Green, screening her eyes
with her hand, watched the coming horse
man.
“Lordy Messy I he mus be one uv thim
fine gentlemans as cum hyar that time an’
made sich a miration uver our river and
trees; don’t you ’member, Daphnie Ann?
he made a pictur uv ’em.” By this
time Peter had reached the door, and just
behind him came the stranger. His mili
tary bearing bespoke the soldier, his suit
of gray, the Confederate, and Mr. Peter
readily concluded that it was one of Gen
eral Bragg’s men, who were at that time
at Chattanooga. Mr. Green had learned
if
wMK
For Woman’s Work. J ‘
THE UNFINISHED PICTURE. . V*
In the cool of the curtained studio .. »<"/ M
The lonely easel stands. get
Like a faithful servant waiting true 3wSß»' , w'WfX'
To his lord in foreign lands, * L/ffiSlnaF
The palette spread with colors bold
For tones that were never blent, war ySreßjoilk
Awaits the slender-handed hold
Os him who came and went. rk "
For, the master-piece of all his work . wWA ’ •
The artist left undone:
Gray cobwebs o’er the canvas lurk,
Craft spiders o’er it run.
The gloomy mist, the stormy sea,
The fishers want not much
Save here a brush-stroke bold and free,
And there a subtle touch.
sufficient from travellers who sometimes
passed through this wild domain, to know
that there was a great war being fought
somewhere beyond the Smoky Mountains,
and he had been told that men shot each
other just as he shot deer, and he shud
dered, and wondered in his simplicity how
such things could be.
.Who has beheld the innocence of ig
norance in poverty, but has felt that
it would be almost a sin to enlighten ? In
this rural home ambition had not entered ;
knowledge, the enlightener of mankind,
had passed them by. We have a picture
here of ideal animal life, knowing just
enough to provide for the few wants of
their nature. With knowledge comes a
desire for a betterment of our position in life
and if the nature to which the desire comes
is not noble, and the desideratum cannot
be obtained by honorable means, how
often the dishonorable is resorted to I
Knowledge increases desire; desire leads
into temptation. Oh, philosphersl oh,
teachers ! bring not your learning eave it be
accompanied with knowledge of Him who
is able to succor them that are tempted.
The soldier drew near, “Heigh-ho, good
sir! can you give me food and shelter for
the night? lam weary, having ridden
since daylight without refreshment for
myself or horse, and I ,am a stranger in
your beauti r ul country.”
‘‘Yer welcum ter sich ez I kin giv’ yer,
sir; Polly is jez fryin’ ez nice trout ez yer
ever see, which I hooked frum our Eseeola
river, and with her nice hoecake and
taters, makes a nice meal fer a hungry,
wayfarin’man, ez yer seems ter be, an’
thurs nota nurther in this whole kuntry kin
giv’ sich milk ez Spotted. Light, git
off’n yer hoss, an’ kem along in then house;
lerame take yer hoss, I’ll giv’ him sum uv
our new cut hay; Polly, mek this soljier
gentleman comfortable, an’ see that he gits
a nice supper.”
Captain Mortimer Lynne was one of the
brave army of General Bragg, near Chat
tanooga. He was known among the men
as “daring Captain Lynne,” but his bravery
was only commensurate with his goodness.
After the Battle of Chickamauga,,he was
among other kind hearts to straighten the
limbs of the dead with a touch like the
gentleness of a woman. He had words of
consolation for the dying, and little did it
matter to him on the battlefield whether
In the gloom of the curtained studio—
While thefaithful easel stands
Like a lonely critic, old and slow,
With his last gem in his hands--
It waits, with undreamed memories rife,
And the dust of years grown thick,
A type of the artist’s glad, brief life—
Snuffed ere a half-burned wick.
Janet Bowmastkr.
the sufferer was one of his own men or an
opponent. Tall, atheletic, eagle-eyed Cap
tain Lynne—the dark, neglected beard
did not conceal the play of features which
bespoke firmness and great strength of
character. And he it is who now dismounts
his faithful horse for rest and refreshment
in Peter Green’s cabin. How welcome
this rural abode after his late excitement
and wearisome journey! What a strange
fate had led him here 1 He closed his
eyes; was it that he was trying to close the
door of memory against the roar of mus
ketry, the shout of victory, and most
horrible of all, the groans of the dying
who lay helpless in the noontide sun in
clotted blood that but a few hours previous
filled the now emaciated form with life ?
Yes, he tried to close his memory to it, but
there was a picture, do what he would,that
would thrust itself between him and his
KATE GARLAND, Editress.
50 Cts. per Year.
quiet.
Again he heard the feeble words: “Show
mercy, oh, sir, to a dying man, though
from your uniform I know you are my op
ponent. My name is Fremont, William
Fremont. After being wounded, I tried
to find a spring that I remembered seeing
somewhere in this direction, but growing
weaker and weaker, I crawled into the
shadow of this <ree where you find me. I
saw them in the distance burying our dead,
and the ambulance carrying off the
wounded, but I was concealed by the
undergrowth, and I was unable to call. I
thought I would die here with no one to car
ry a message to my loved ones; the vultures
to consume my flesh, and my bleached
bones in after years to tell that an un
known soldier perished here. But God
has sent you to me. Oh, sir, life will soon
b» over, but I learned at my mother’s knee
of the ‘Prince of Peace;’ and He hastens
to me with peace after this warfare. But
I leave my gentle Mary, my wife of three
years ; our unborn child shall never know
a father’s love. Oh, sir, this is my only re
gret.” His lips quivered, but his eyes,
which wore a look, not of this earth, be
trayed no moisture.
“Will you take a message to
my wife? She is at that weird
place, Blowing Rock, North Caro
lina, somewhere beyond the
Smoky Mountains. Tell her of
my last moments, and that I com
mend her to the keeping of Him
who is a‘husband to the widow’
and a ‘father to the fatherless.’
Our home is in New York, but she
expected to winter on the North
Carolina coast. Owing to distur
bances there, she withdrew to the
western part of the state. Will
you see that this poor body of mine
is placed beneath the e nth,and my
burial place marked, so that in
after years my child with wan
dering footsteps may stop to lin
ger by a father’s grave, and per
chance my spirit may come with
parental embrace.”
The dying soldier who had
raised himself a little while talk
ing, with the last word fell in
utter exhaustion, and scarcely had
Mortimer Lynne time to promise
that his wishes should be attended
to ere the spirit of William Fre
mont winged its flight to the pres
ence of the ‘Prince of Peace.’
And this is the strange fate that
decreed that Captain Lynne
should climb the mountain steep,
ride through the valleys, ford
swollen mountain streams and
pass over almost impassable places,
that be might carry the message
of poor William Fremont to his
widow, being granted leave of
absence for this purpose.
While the Green family were
partaking of their simple meal in
rustic fashion, Captain Lynne felt
ta«t he could testify to Peter’s as
sertion that “Polly’s hoe-cake and
taters,” with the fish, made a nice
iinealftr a wayfaring man. As he at
tetapted to give them some idea of who he
was, what he had been doing, and his pres
ent mission, their eyes dilated with amaze
ment and his conversation was frequently
interrupted with such exclamations as
“Lordy Massy!” “Du tell.”
***.♦ * • * *
A youthful theological student from a
seminary in Virginia sat on deck of one of
those handsome Hudson River steamers
that ply between New York City and Al
bany, on the 25tb. of June, 1856, looking
out cn the Palisades that seemed to say
to the water: “Thus far shalt thou come,
and no farther.” The young man was a
trifle pale, from close application to study.
On the morning ofthissame day ahandsome
military student at West Point, New
York, was sitting in the parlor of one of
those lovely West Point cottages, in con
versation with a beautiful girl. You could
tell from their striking resemblance that
they were brother and sister.
“Mary, I neglected to tell you that I am
expecting a friend from the South to-day
He is a young divine, and you must lay
aside all frivolities for a while, at least ”