The sunny South. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1875-1907, April 17, 1875, Image 7

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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