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[For The Runny South.]
“THE LAM) WE LOVE.”
BY MRS. M. LOUISE CBOSSLEY.
[We uuderBtaml from the authoresH that the following
beautiful lines will be set to music soon by one of our
most distinguished composers. Its soul-stirring strains
cannot fail to find an echo in every Southern heart.]
What ho! though the fetters would bind her still,
And bow her bright head to the dust,
They never can crush her proud spirit and will,
Nor tarnish her honor and trust.
They never can take her from out our hearts—
We’ve shrined her “mistress" there forever;
We’ll save and we’ll right her again in time,
And never from her fortunes sever.
Three cheers! three cheers for the land that we love!
The Southron’s home, my boys;
We’ll cherish her still, thro’ good or thro’ ill—
The land we love, my boys!
And what tho’ the clouds still darken her homes,
And hushed are her pH'ans of song?
“ God and the right ” will yet give us the might
To save the laud we love from wrong.
Her star will yet rise in her beautiful skies,
With beams as clear as orient sun;
And Southrons will yet, within their glad homes,
Recount her triumphs bravely won.
CHORUS.
Then hurrah! hurrah! for the land we love—
The sweet “Sunny South,” my boys;
We’ll cling to her still, thro’ good or thro’ ill—
« The land we love, my boys!
And what of our heroes who lie ’neath the sod,
And molder on blood-bought fields?
They struck for freedom, their country and homes,
And dying, - came back on their shields.”
And as the grand years roll silently on,
We’ll wreathe their graves w’ith Southern flow'ers
The delicate hand of woman shall cull
And twine among her blooming bowers.
CHORUS.
Then here is a song for the land we love—
The Southron’s home, my boys;
We’ll cherish her still, thro’ good or thro ill—
The laud we love, my boys!
Only the brave sing the dirge of the brave—
A hireling’s p»*ans we scorn;
A Bartow and Johnson, a “Stonewall" and Lee,
We proudly though sadly may mourn.
The shades of our princely heroes who fell
Would shame all traitors here in strife;
Oh, better to die with the noble aud brave,
Than live a vile, dishonored life!
CHORUS.
Three cheers! three cheers for the laud that we love—
The Southron’s home, my boys;
We’ll strive for her still, aud with right good will—
The laud we love, my boys!
And here is a song for her beamy, blue skies—
A blessing on each sun-kissed plain,—
Her crystal-bright streams aud flower-strewn vales,
Aud all the laud from shore to main!
Her women so fair aud right loyal sous
Shall live in story aud ballad tales;
Then here’s for the laud we’ll love and we’ll cherish—
A heart aud hand that never fails!
CHORUS.
Three times three for the laud that we love!—
The Southron’s home, my boys!
Hurrah! hurrah! for the sweet “Sunny South!’’—
The laud we love, my boys!
“I wonder how much Mrs. Kendrick thinks I mother as you are. Paul,” she answered, pettishly “You may,” said Paul, pressing his lips to The aged chiefs eye was dim and he saw not
am worth?” he said to himself as they left the drawing his hand away from her head; “and her forehead and smiling faintly; “for 'twas you the trembling lip and tearful eye of his child as
store, his check in Mr. Cassidy's hand, the small you are as sentimental about her as if you were she blessed, not me.” * ' she knelt beside him and laid her soft cheek ca-
case of jewels in his own. “Ah! well,” lie her lover. What is the use of so much talking? “And I am blessed in having such a son.” ressingly against his, saying pleadingly:
mused, “Beatrice will be my own to-morrow; Why can't you board her somewhere?” said his mother fondly. “ It is" true, O. my father, that the flowers have
and when we are in our own house, we will live “ You are not in earnest, Beatrice; yon are j “Quite dramatic, upon my word !” said Beat- bloomed many times since then, but my cheek
simply, to make up for all this extravagance.” only trying to tease me,” pleaded Paul. “I rice, with a scornful laugh, *“Sorry yon haven’t is still round and tinted like the wild rose. Let
me, then, still bring yon the sparkling water
when you are weary and cheer your lonely days;
let me*abide in your wigwam, my father; I like
not to go with Wahsega now.”
At half-past eleven, Paul’s mother retired to fuss if. I refused, and tell it everywhere !” insulted me not half an hour ago!” * ' In the days of his youth and strength the old
the privacy of her own apartment, and in a few With a sharp pang, Paul gazed upon the beau- John, with unexpected delicacy, silently with- chief would not have been so easily prevailed
minutes sent a message to her son requesting tiful creature at his side. “No end of a fuss;” drew, closing the door after him. Paul noted it. upon to relinquish a favorite point; but time
his presence. He went immediately, for he had and she was speaking of his mother! He could “Insult you? Paul insult you? Oh, impos- subdues even the will; besides, if there was one
not yet learned to treat her wjth contempt. scarcely believe he heard aright; and for a mo- sible!” said his mother. * thing in all the wide world that the stern heart
“ My dear son,” she said, laying her slender, ment he felt as if he neared the fiery furnace, “Of course it is impossible for Paul—saint of the old chieftain really loved, it was his gentle
withered hand upon his chestnut curls, as he the vision of which had held him in terror for Pail—to do wrong!” sneered Beatrice. “But daughter—the last of his'line; and he would not
knelt beside her chair, “to-night ends the old an instant on his wedding-night. “She is very he did insult me? He openly refused me some send her unwillingly from him. So he only
sweet relations between us. Nay, don’t answer young,” he said to his own heart; “she does not trilling ornaments, and wanted me to return said with a sigh:
me. Another is now, as she should be, nearer know how she wounds me.” Then aloud: them even after Mr. Ball had placed them in my
and dearer to vou than I am, but ” j “My dear, my mother would die rather than hand.”
Her voice failed, tears filled her eyes; she give me one unhappy day, and she would not
bowed her head upon her son’s shoulder, and say one harsh word if she knew of your desire
softly wept. He took her upon his bosom, kiss- to live alone. You will soon love her, Beatrice;
ing and soothing her tenderly. you cannot help it, for she is so good—and like
“Dear mother,” he said, “you have not lost you, she loves me. Can you not say that you
your boy. Beatrice is so good and gentle, I am are willing for her to stay with us ? You do not
sure vou will love her, and we will be so happy! know how sad you have made me feel.”
“Mother. Mrs. Kendrick, may I ask you to
retire?” said Paul sorrowfullv.
* Be it so, then, my daughter; and may the
Great Spirit call me before the leaf shall fall
many times again.”
Two years previous to the events just related,
“ I won’t say that I am willing, for I am not,”
said Beatrice coldly; “but if she has no other
home. I suppose she will have to stay.” pie truth when I said that I could not afford
With the permission thus ungraciously given these jewels. If you will listen to me a few
Paul was forced to be content—forced to receive . moments, I will tell you how much money I
Mrs. Le Roy sat down, and again Paul knelt his gracious, stately mother, in the house he have.”
beside her, his head resting on her bosom. • He owed to her generosity, as an unwelcome guest. “I will listen,” said Beatrice,
did not sleep, nor even doze; but suddenly the ! Long hours passed that night ere he could close “I paid forty thousand dollars for this house
warm, soft air of the apartment seemed changed his eyes; a dim, foreshadowing of the future and fifteen for the furniture. We have been
My sweet little wife is a very child yet, and will
be* grateful for the loving guidance of your expe
rienced hand.”
What a bright picture of domestic happiness
he was picturing!
“No,” said Beatrice, placing her hand on the Trahlyta had for a time appeared to fade as do
door. “Whatever you have to say, say it here the delicate wild flowers before the blaze of the
and now. Your mother can bear it as well as I noonday sun. The brightness vanished from her
can.” lovely eyes and the rose-tint from her cheek,
“Oh! Beatrice, how you do misunderstand while the light step, once the envy of her com-
me,” said Paul. “I would give you anything in panions, became slower and more languid every
the world if I could. I was telling you the sim- day.
The
to the hot, fierce breath of a furnace. His brain ; haunted him, and sleep fled in affright,
j grew dizzy; a nameless terror took possession of , * » , *
his soul, he felt that he was falling. He tried , ^ month passed. Paul was not happy,
o speak; his tongue was parched and dry, fl Beatrice displayed a most violent anc
lips refused to move, and Ins voice died away in ° , , , r * , T , . ,. ..
, , t . ’ . . , .. y- ungovernable temper, and Paul continually ex
a low sob. In an instant the sound of ruslnng 1 n , f , , . /. ,,
water fell upon his ear; the air grew sweet and {^XrlJom herTtfngin^ Scalms Mrs
, cool; an ineffable peace tilled his heart. Again T e Pnv wn= winr j tn r ” ol atato
: he tried to speak, and a cry of joy burst from
Le Roy was not blind to the real state of affairs;
but - oh ! unselfish mother-love—she pretended
to be so, and succeeded in making Paul believe
married but six weeks, and in that time I have
drawn sixteen thousand dollars from the bank.
I have but nineteen thousand dollars remaining,
and at the rate we have been living, that is abso
lute poverty.”
Mrs. Le Roy sank breathlessly into a seat;
Mrs. Kendrick smiled incredulously, while Beat
rice, rising slowly from her chair, said
There lived at that time, in a wild and dreary
region amid the mountains, an old medicine
woman or witch, whose weird incantations and
marvelous power excited the wonder, fear and
reverence of her tribe. To her, therefore, Trah
lyta repaired in her distress and besought the
exercise of her power in restoring lost health
and beauty.
After patiently listening to her story, the old
witch thus replied:
“Grieve not, my child; I ean tell thee how
thou mayest regain thy health and beauty. In a
wild little valley at the foot of the mountains the
Great Spirit has caused a medicine spring to
gush forth. Thither resort daily, drink of it
that it was so. Alas! that we should have to tell I * or *?y band ?
his lips and mingled with the silvery strokes of
the tiny clock.
The twenty-eighth day of December was for
ever numbered with those of the past.
“My son !” cried Mrs. Le Roy, “you are not
well?” •
“Y r es, mother, quite well,” he answered, look
ing curiously around him. “ Have I been
asleep ?”
“Certainly not,” answered his mother; “you
were not resting there a minute. What was it?” and met Paul > 8 faintly-uttered rernon-
“If I had been asleep, I would say that I ^’ es with 8nch a stonn 0 f tears and anger
dreamed. I telt as it w ere s ant 1 8 ® | that he was silenced. Everything was in readi-
“idst of a fiery furnace: my brain whirled, I ness; th( , room8 were dec0 rated, the guests bid-
was terror-stricken for a moment! den , the supper ordered; and then at the last
He shuddered and pressed his hand to his moment al " st when she wa8 ready to dress,
Do you mean to tell me that ninety thousand and lave in its soft waters, and thy beauty will
dollars was all that you had when you proposed bloom again like the rose. So long as thou dost
it—the honeymoon barely upon the wane, and
nothing but bitterness left!
Paul’s practice increased rapidly. He was ten
der, pains-taking and skillful, and was counte
nanced by well-known physicians. It was well
that his list of wealthy patients lengthened, for
‘I do, most certainly,” said Paul.
“ And you have only nineteen thousand now ?”
“Only" that, with this house and my profes
sion,” replied her husband.
“ ‘This house’?” repeated Beatrice scornfully.
Pardon me, sir; this house is mine! Only
tiilll’ Alio Hot ol >1 Cllltll y IMllCHlo It HLLUv HCH, lt/1 , _ — fl TT -m . ^ •
Beatrice knew how to spend money freely, if not ninety thousand ! How dared you deceive me
wisely. She had determined to give a large
forehead. Mrs. Le Roy started violently.
“My son !” she cried, “look at that ring!”
He lifted his left hand and looked curiously
at the ring upon his little finger. It was formed
of three bands of gold twisted together, and now
they seemed instinct with life, writhing around
each other like venomous serpents, while the
drink of it, youth and beauty will still be thine;
when thou dost cease to do so, they will fade.”
After a solemn warning from the old witch
never to reveal the existence of the healing foun
tain, Trahlyta wended her way homeward to try
its much-desired power; and from that fortunate
day her beauty perceptibly revived until it even
surpassed its former radiance; hence, Wahsega’s
increasing admiration. He long sought to win
Heaven knows I have never tried to deceive her, but finding it impossible to induce her to
vou,” said Paul earnestly. leave her father’s wigwam, he resolved to accom-
“ You said you were worth three hundred plish by stratagem what fair means had failed to
thousand dollars,” said Beatrica passionately. ' achieve. Accordingly, one day when Trahlyta
“Never!” exclaimed Paul. “I could never ' tripped quietly along the path that led to her
have said such a thing ;- nor had I the least idea j favorite haunt, Wahsega’s warriors surrounded
crape.
, . . , “I am not a child,” answered Beatrice;
sapphire held in tneir folds deepened in color think j know what is suitab i e ,
glowing and flashing with an evil, supernatural 1
fire! In a moment the strange appearance had
vanished.
“I think we are both dreaming, mother,” he
said, laughing, “for the ring actually looked as
if it were rejoicing.”
“Yes,” replied his mother gravely, “with a j
malicious joy. Paul, just twenty years ago this [
very hour, that ring was removed from your J
father’s hand, and just so it looked then. You j
know that your father died by his own hand, j ber busband enter a j e welry"store.
and when, an hour after that ring was taken 1 beside him in an instant .
from his finger, it was red with his blood. You
Beatrice declared she must have some new
els,—she had nothing “fit to wear.”
“My dear,” said the elder Mrs. Le Roy, with , . ...
a faint sigh, “will not vour wedding pearls do? bls white with rage. “Do you suppose
Thev would be beautiful with that green-tinted would have sacrificed rnysell tor such a paltry
sum?
‘ ‘ Sacrificed !”
That was all he said as, covering his pale face
with his hands, he staggered to a seat.
“Oh, my son! my son!” exclaimed the an
guished mother, starting to her feet.
Oh! how long before those words passed her
quivering lips again ! She reached out her arms
toward him and fell paralyzed at his feet.
“You have made an unnecessary fuss, Beat
rice,” said Mrs. Kendrick, as they left the room
Walking hurriedly down Chestnut street (she together. ‘‘He is deceiving you about that
would not wait for her carriage), Beatrice saw money. Mr. Kendrick said he was worth far
- g be was j more than any paltry three hundred thousand
“The expense,” murmured Mrs. Le Roy.
“ That you have nothing to do with,” replied
Beatrice tartly. “If Paul would be a little more
economical in other matters, he would have more
money to spend on his wife.”
She swept from the room, leaving the high
bred old lady completely stunned by her rude
ness.
[Written for The Sunny South.]
THE RING ACCURSED.
BY KITH FAIRFAX.
know how reluctantly I yielded to your request
to be allowed to wear it. It may be weak, but I
am afraid of it.”
“My dear mother,” exclaimed Paul, “it is the
only weakness I ever knew you to have. So dis
miss it and let me wear the ring, to prove to you
that there is no truth in the tradition which calls
it ‘ The Rinn Accursed.’ ”
“Well met, Paul,” she said, smiling sweetly;
twenty-eighth.
“Mere coincidences, mother,” said Paul, clos
ing her lips with a kiss. “And now good-night,
dearest and best of mothers. Rest assured that
PART FIFTH.
CHAPTER III.
Why should we number the gentle words, the
sweet smiles, the tender glances, that brought
Paul to the feet of Beatrice ? The twenty-eighth
of March found the finger of Beatrice adorned no °ne can ever thrust you out ot my heart; and
by an engagement ring. Paul would have spoken believe, as I do, that we will be happy,
before, but he dared not; she was so innocent. She sighed gravely, returned his tender caress,
so child-like, he was afraid to startle her too and blessed him as she said good-night.
soon, and so lose her altogether. She was to
leave for New York on the thirtieth, and it was
her sudden burst of tears, as she told him of
her intended departure, that brought to his lips
the words he had been whispering in his heart.
And so she went, and Paul devoted himself to
his duties.with renewed ardor. He was doing
well; he inspired confidence in his skill and
kindness at first sight.
While she was absent, the first shadow of dis
appointment fell over Paul’s happiness. Her let
ters were neither entertaining nor loving. It
was a bitter disappointment; and as she again
“I was coming here myself. What are you going
to get?”
“ Only a key for my watch,” he replied. “And
you?”
“Oh! I want a necklace and bracelets,” she
answered lightly. Then to the clerk, “Opals,
please. ”
. ,, 1 “My dear,” said Paul in an undertone, “do
“But, Paul, the remarkable coincidences. of . not p £ rcllase anyt hing expensive. -
the dates ! I was married on the twenty-eighth , lffort \ it blst now
day of December; you were born on the twenty- j ‘ ghe gave bim a swift g l an ce_of angry surprise;
had hur-
upon one
uav 01 iieceinuei, you « ere uorn on me iwemj - g he ^ a swift glance of angry
eighth, four years afterward; your father s death, , then turned smi i ing i y to Mr. Ball, who
the first day you wore the ring, your meeting rfed forward fts wa ^ is wont , to wait 1
with Beatrice, your wedding-day,—all on the , , • b .
of his best customers.
“Opals, Mr. Ball, and handsome ones,” she
said, with a ring of defiance in her tones unheard
by the jeweler, but only too distinct to the ears
of Paul.
“Certainly, madame,” answered the smiling
merchant, taking a velvet case from a private
drawer. You never purchase anything but fine
jewelry. Will these suit you?”
j He opened the case, displaying the beautiful
„ | gems with their changing rainbow tints.
kHAPJ.E.K . | “Oh, how lovely !” exclaimed Beatrice, with a
The first week of Paul Le Roy’s wedded life J pretty affectation of childish pleasure. “They
passed like a fairy dream; and then a new delight ■ will suit me exactly. Please put them up for
unfolded its rosy wings before them,—they were me, Mr. Ball.”
to move into their own house the next week. I “What is the price?” ventured Paul.
For a rarity, they had no visitors this last j “Twenty-five hundred dollars,"answered Mr.
evening of their stay in Mrs. Kendrick’s house; Ball, deftly enclosing the handsome case in fine
and Paul, comffjrtable, if not elegant, in dress- ! white paper.
ing-gown and slippers, sat beside his wife in j “ I have not that amount to spare just now,”
their private apartment. She was a picture of j said Paul in a low tone to his wife,
rare beauty as she sat there, her golden hair! “ Oh, that’s nothing, sir. Charge them to you;
and again answered the honest outpouring of floating loosely about her shoulders, her blue pay when you get ready,” said Mr. Ball, whose
his heart with some words ol fun, lie began to eyes half closed. She looked as if angels were | quick ears had caught Paul’s words,
have a dim consciousness that she did not under- whispering holy thoughts to her listening heart, j With a low bow he placed the package in Mrs.
stand him. Paul did not yet love Beatrice with Of what was she thinking? Paul fixed his admi- Le Roy’s hand. She acknowledged the bow with
the full strength of his nature; but had she been ring eyes upon her. a graceful bend of her head, and playfully invited
the kind of woman to call it forth, his slightly “To-morrow, my wife, we move into our own j her husband to accompany her home,
aroused heart would have quickly responded to borne,” he said, his voice lingering tenderly over “Send up to my office in the morn
7 iew- that it made any difference to you what I was her and bore her from her father’s wigwam for-
■ -worth.” j ever. Wahsega himself awaited her not many
It did! It made every difference!” answered , leagues distant, saying, as if in excuse for his
Do you suppose I compulsory measures:
“Wahsega was lonely; his wigwam was very
dark: Trahlyta’s smile will make it light for
him, and she shall be the sunlight of his tribe.
His warriors will fight bravely when Trahlyta
smiles on them.”
Trahlyta had divined her destination from the
moment of her capture, and seeing escape hope
less, had calmly proceeded with her captors.
All the pride of a long line of chiefs rose within
her to stifle the entreaties that rose to her lips,
and not a word had been uttered until the half-
apologetic words of Wahsega aroused her to reply
with something of her wonted spirit:
“ Wahsega talks of love now, but it has been
shown me that he will look coldly on Trahlyta
dollars.’” when her beauty fades and she pines for her
And vou were stupid enough to suppose he loved haunts round her father’s wigwam. Then
meant money!” said Beatrice angrily. “No, he I Wahsega will forget his vows and return not
is not deceiving me; I wish he was.” ] from the war-path to seek his waiting bride.”
She knew that he was too honorable to tell a The haughty young chief could ill brook such
falsehood. ... a prophecy even from the lips of Trahlyta; but
Paul tenderly lifted his stricken mother, neither command nor entreaty could elicit from
wounded through her love for him, and ringing | her any information concerning its source, else
for the servants, bore her in his own arms to her p had "fared ill with the old witch of the moun-
C) „„ room. Here, during the long, weary hours of tain. At length, the effect of a removal from the
I cannot the night, he sat by her side; while his elegant waters of the wonderful spring began to be visi-
drawing-rooms were filled with a giddy crowd, b ] e j n the languid eyes of Trahlyta, which
and his beautiful wife, lovely as a fairy queen, ^ sparkled not at the approach of Wahsega as for-
in her tinted crape and gleaming opals, passed j nierly. And true to the old sibyl’s words, with
the time merrily, waltzing in the arms of a dis- j the waning beauty of Trahlyta, Wahsega’s love
tinguislied-looking foreigner, until even Mrs. waned also. He smiled not on her a.? in happier
Kendrick stood aghast. days of beauty and love. Many times he noted
The night—so pleasant to some, so full of her not among the squaws that went out to wel-
anguish to others—passed at length. The cold, CO me the braves returning from the hunt, and
gray dawn found Paul’s mother quite recovered he came not to her wigwam with his trophies of
in mind, but her palsied tongue feebly performed j valor or the reward of his hunting. Truly,
its office, and her hand hung almost useless by j ,
her side I “ Light cares speak when mighty griefs are dumb.
Did indeed the ring upon his finger bear with Poor Trahlyta murmured not in the grief that
it a terrible curse to its wearer? Some dark was rapidly crushing all the life and light in
fatality seemed to attend him, and threatened to her gentle spirit, and a breaking heart looked
overwhelm with deep and sudden gloom the forth from her wistful eyes. Her aged father
bright promise of his early manhood.
( TO BE CONTINUED.)
her call. Great as was the disappointment, he
excused her. ‘TSorne persons.” he thought,
cannot express themselves freely on paper. It
will all be right when she comes.”
So the summer months passed away. Paul’s
mother had paid her son a visit, and then re
turned to Virginia. The wedding-day had been
fixed for the twenty-eighth day of December.
Beatrice, ever frivolous, would have it take place
in the midst of the Christmas and New Year's
festivities, and Paul said: “Let it be so: it is
the anniversary of our meeting.” The first of
December, she returned to her aunt's house in
the words.
“Yes,” she replied, opening her. eyes, “to- j
morrow I will be mistress of my own house.”
The tones of her voice, rather than the words,
jarred painfully upon his feelings, but he tried ]
to smile brightly as he said:
“I think we will have to leave the cares of j
housekeeping to mother. My little wife does
not look as if she would like such work.”
■ Your mother?” exclaimed Beatrice, and now
! morning, and I
will give you a check for the amount,” said Dr.
Le Roy, gravely returning the well-pleased mer
chant’s salutation and leaving the store with his
wife.
Mrs. Le Roy preserved a sullen silence as soon
as they were alone, and gloomily they walked
toward home. Home? Ah! forgive the profa
nation of the word.
Twilight was fast deepening, and as they hur
riedly crossed Eighth street, a trim-looking old
she opened her eyes indeed. “ Does your mother woman just in front of them slipped and fell,
propose to lengthen her visit ?” : In an instant Paul was beside her, assisted her
[Tor The Sunny South.]
THE FOREST FLOWER ;
—OR,—
The Cedar Mountain Spring.
BY MISS H. R. R.
“ In deep forest shades, sweetly springs
The unexpected flower.”
Many years ago, when the Indian hunted and
fished from the Blue Ridge to the banks of the
Savannah, a lonely old sachem who, on account
of his great age, had resigned the chieftainship
of his war-like tribe, dwelt, remote from his peo
ple, on the-loftiest part of Cedar Mountain, with
no companion save his lovely daughter, Trah
lyta, “child of the forest,” who long had
bloomed an unplucked flower in her father’s
wigwam. Among all the maidens of her tribe,
none possessed a form so fair, a step so light or
“I do not tjiink I understand you, said Paul, to her feet, and stood supporting her trembling a laugh so gladsome and free as the gentle Trah-
Philadelphia, and 1 aul took a room at the “Con- hoping in his heart that he did not. ! form on his strong voung arm. For a moment
tinental.” Mrs. Le Roy arrived on the twentieth “I think I spoke plai) ' — . .. -- - ....
of December, and during the eight days that in
tervened, saw but little of her son’s betrothed,
though she was living in the same house with
her. Mr. K ndriek looked more and more gloomy
as the wedding-day approached, and more than
once muttered something about “Marry in
haste." Mr. Warner, the handsome, worthless
poke plainly enough,” said Beat- j his wife gazed wrathfully upon him; then, with !
lyta. Her hand had, therefore, been the coveted
had passed away to the spirit land where she
longed to follow him. On one occasion, when
the warriors were starting on a hunting excur
sion to be absent several weeks, Wahsega came
not to bid adieu to his lonely love or to seek the
beaded moccasin her own skillful fingers had
wrought for him. No lingering glance fell on
the unhappy Trahlyta as she reclined at the
door of her wigwam pining for a smile or a word
of love. Long she sat there; the sun, glowing
like a great ball of fire, sank beneath the moun
tains, and the little stars one by one came out
and seemed to look down pityingly upon her;
and in the simplicity of her desolate heart she
wondered if the Great Spirit did not pity her
also.
After an absence of many weeks, the warriors
turned their faces homeward. Memory and re
gret were busy in the heart of Wahsega. His
warriors noted his unwonted silence and the
stern gravity of his countenance, and shaped
their conduct accordingly. He had gathered ti
spray of the mountain ivy, Trahlyta’s favorite
flower; he often found it for her in the sunny
days of love, and remembered the native grace
with which she twined it in her dark tresses,
glancing up blushingly the while at his smile of
admiration, and bounding away as lightly as a
young fawn when he bent his stately head until
its plumes brushed her cheek.
And now the repentant Wahsega hastened to
the wigwam of his once-loved Trahlyta. remark-
rice impatiently, “and you are not generally
dull of comprehension. I want to know if your
mother proposes to extend her visit, or if she
will immediatelv return to her home in Yir-
curlin' r Tips and flashing eves passed on V P r i ze of the young chiefs of all the neighboring ing sadly that she came not to meet him as in
-1 n • 1 11 -i .. — .1 1 -1 • j • • 1 /Ioi'd nf 1-rtfAi Rnf aloe ’ ronnuftiTipa PfltnP fftfi
heavy sigh swelled the bosom of Paul as, in tribes; yet none succeeded in enticing her from
gentle tones, he asked his charge if she was ; b g r mountain home. Coquetting with some,
lma
"She has no home in Virginia," said Paul in
grieved surprise. “We sold the place near
father of Beatrice, had come to “ give away the Richmond before I came to Philadelphia, and \ often a gentleman like you will notice a poor
bride.” Paul, by Mr. Kendricks advice, had my dear mother has no home but with me.” j body like me. I can walk now, sir, thank you;
purchased the house in which his office was
located; and then, self-willed for once in his
life, utterly unheeding the almost angry protest
ations of his friend, had a marriage settlement
drawn up, wherein he gave Beatrice the house
and all it contained.' Mr. Warner had casually
hinted that she ought to be provided for in case
“No. sir, thank you kindly,” said the old ntterl - V discardin S othere ’ her heart ™ bard
woman, looking up into his handsome face as he towards all save one.
lent her his arm for a little way. "Ah! it isn’t On the bold and manly address of Wahsega,
the young sachem of the tribe and his own suc
cessor, the old chief looked with no unfavorable
The angry flush spread over the fair face of and God bless your mother, sir.” ~ eye, while Trahlyta gave him pleasant words
Beatrice. Paul could not affect not to see it. With this quaint blessing the old woman hob- and stole him sweet, sunny glances from under-
“Why, surely, my dear, you do not object to bled away, leaving Dr. Le Roy with a faint smile neath her long lashes, but from some inexplica
having my mother stay with us ?” on his lips. * ble reason, still evaded his pleadings. Her
"Yes, I do object,” said Beatrice rudely. " God bless my mother !” he repeated to him- father often remonstrated with her, and one day
“Why should she stay with us?” self. “I have tried all my life to prove a bless- when Trahlyta had been unusually coquettish
. _ “You forget,” he answered in tones of tender ing to her. and now—what have I done?” He and willful,"and the young chief had gone away
of accidents, and Paul had eagerly grasped at reproof, “that you are speaking of my mother, to passed his hand across his forehead, then sud- half angry, half defiant and wholly captivated,
the idea. Mr. Warner was trustee. Mr. Ken- whose unselfish kindness we owe all that we denly held it before him. •• I wonder,” he the old°sachem thus addressed her':
drick had proven himself mistaken in one thing, have. ’ thought, “if there is any truth in the tradition “Mv daughter, many summers have come and
Beatrice herself selected every bit of furniture -I do not forget." replied Beatrice coldly; concerning this ring? ’Tis said the wearer shall gone s'inee the Great Spirit sent you to brighten
that went into the house, and superintended its “ you are not likely to let me do so. But you be unhappy. Nonsense! I am allowing imag- mv wigwam. While mv eye was bright as the
arrangement. No one could deny that the effect seem to forget that you have given me the house; ination to get the better of reason.” ° ° eagle’s? my step fleet as'the winged arrow and
was superb, but Paul gasped a little^ when bills jt is mine.” He quickened his steps, and entered the par- my spirit young and strong, I hunted the young
“My dear wife! exclaimed Paul, starting to lor just in time to hear his wife close the account deer for your pet and the warm bear-skin for
his feet, “is not all that I have yours? What do she was giving his mother and Mrs. Kendrick of vour couch. I returned not from the war-path
you mean? what she called his “remarkable conduct” in emptv; mv hands found the treasures of my en-
“I mean to be .mistress in my own house,” the street: nor had cared that Mrs. Kendrick's - - -
said Beatrice sulkily. . servant stood within the door awaiting orders, him—it is given to your lover, tfie young sa-
"But surely you would not wish me to refuse and of course heard every sneering word. chem of our tribe; therefore, my daughter, be
my mother a home?” asked Paul, gently placing “My dear son,” said his mother, taking his fore the Great Spirit calls me to rest with my
to the amount of fifteen thousand dollars were
put into his hands.
The day before the wedding Paul called on
Mrs. Kendrick! requesting her to go out with
him to select some ornaments for his bride. She
went willingly, for she liked such “trouble,”
and made the selection. The jewels were a
necklace and ear-rings; the bill was eight thou
sand dollars.
his hand on his wife's head.
hand and drawing him towards her,
“I never knew any one so fond of saying my thank you for what you have done.”
• let me fathers, let me see him take you to his wigwam
with ‘joy.’”
days of yore. But, alas! repentance came too
late. The weary spirit of Nature’s child was
just pluming its wings for a speedy departure
from earth’s sorrows. A faint smile of recogni
tion and forgiveness brightened the wan face ere
her spirit
“ Winged its upward way, if ever soul ascended.”
As the daughter of one chieftain and the wife
of another, she was buried with great honor in a
gorge between the mountains, now known as the
“Stone Pile Gap.” Many years later, when the
whites cruelly drove the Indian from his native
hills, the old witch of the tribe resolved, in re
venge for the injury done her race, to obliterate
every possible trace of the wonderful spring, in
order that the hated “pale-face” might never be
benefited by its waters. This was accordingly
executed with such fidelity that its existence was
not suspected until recently.
Thus endeth the legend of the “Cedar Moun
tain Spring,” now so much valued as a health
giving fountain.
The times are perplexing, ominous, dreary.
with men. “ Shall not the Judge of all the earth
do right ?” Higher than this ground-plan of the
universe—than this simple faith in infinite wis
dom and infinite love—no finite intellect has
gone.
emies. B'ut the warrior’s strength is taken from We cannot fathom or explain Godk dealings
him—it is given to your lover, the young