The sunny South. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1875-1907, September 25, 1880, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextTt»r f| VOL. VI. J. H. & W. B. SEAL8 EDITORS ANI) PROPRIETORS. ATLANTA, (JA., SEITE3IBEU 25, 18S0. Terms in Advance: f Oiip Year. 82. \ Siugrl#' < NO. 270 DISCONTENT. r.v i.niiFK ", - V'^S.'N'' •' ’• t r - ■- * ' "'r^-rsf L -iL '• ? ''I'ifyi / ' •/■</ Sorely despondent, once I cried For Lut ;i sin le of some kind •rodder. And pledged me to be satisfied With one bright glance of sweet sutre-. This coquette came, to my surprise ; Singled on me once—ab ! softly smiled, Tii n turned her round face to the v ki» And left me joyous as a child. Kight soon I sought to call her back : ‘With golden tresses—ladiant face, “Felightful creature only speak “One word to cheer my toilsome race.” Came she and *»poke a cheerful word Which made my lib* a rapturous song; But when her soft voice was unheard My drear life’s-psalm again •.ent wp•• g “O, happy creature of thesk.. Frayed I, “who smiled— who spoke to m ‘Comedown and live with me. and I “Shall ever be content with ’lice!” But she declared she would not come— That I would never he content. And, past the stars, to her bright Lon. This fairy of the heavens went. <OKSOUTIO>. - KSTi ! * BY A VlJ w ii. F. Re : of rut I’ * II U1T. i tfi:i l t Mn. A -trirken mother, numb n! heart and bra:::. I.iesbowed above a little empty bed, ■'pent with the .'tri -s and durance of herpan: Her >orrow for the chiM-love w ho Is dea'l. If she could only hear again those feet That blithely pattered up and down thestai: If she might kiss the cherub mouth so sweet. And stroke onee more the curls of silken nai if—but this wishing P so vain, so void. That now her anguisht d heart cries out to nn "Leave me not here in grief all unalloyed.' I et ■ ns. sic. .. t„ n ,nth my darling’s' But sudden o'er her hded sense is home A soft celestial strain, wliile in tier ears The sacred words, "blessed are tin y that men For well they shall be comforted, she hears. A flood of radiant giorv fills the room— Music and light in mellow minglemen*. Some gracious influence banishes the gloom And breathes an essence of divine content Audio! a concourse of the heavenly host Hovers above her in the ambient air : i >i whom the fairest bears the babe she lost In loving arms, with fondly fostering care. Tlie little child with calm, seraphic eyes. Pillows her head, upon the angel's breast. While in her pure, confiding trust she lies In the safe haven of (tod's holiest rest. The tender faces of the heavenly throng Shed comfort on the desolate mother’s pain : Tlie low, sweet cadence of their perfect song i '.insoles her with its glad, yet soothing stra: Believing that ill Gilead there is balm, And surely a benign Physician there, Over her spirit gently steals the calm Born of resigned and benedictioiial pray* r. —Jlomc Journal. The s. c. nd frame d'- si d tv': ■ r u Tli eyes gleaming less softly :vl tic- -Pgiirjy s'orntu! smiie of youth - tti • i int . -.. .■—.-in, Vo glance of love fell up *i: the •* , - -r ; . Virginia bride by hi> side li,' far-off ex pressjon implied loiieiines'- !b>- want >f something tlie heart had lost. ‘•Had you but loved me, my father ' h“ exclaimed in tones of intense n-gi-.t. “Her ilaiighter," glancing at tie- .-old f i e of the second wife, “never missed if tievr aired for it, but I God only knows ie.w me heart to be loved, onipass. I am . i nop 1 nt.gere iit-ini or heavens For a few men bowed hea 1, then s tliird frame. Tv. 1 cover. Strange en And now. with' cuts (;.• remai nod hesitating •e Ite essayed ti quiver his being. Would the altar of love he had been building to the name of mother recieve from )ier pictured face a glow of realization: Nervously he drew the cover aside. He turned from his father’s well-remembered face, with eyes sharp and flashing, forehead gathered into a frown, and with a smile of ■ scorn ard sarcasm, t>> gaze on the pretty, i childish face of liis mother. He gazed breath lessly. Agitation gathered force as he look ed into the blue eyes that had puzzled and ’ forced two fine artists t-, declare their ex- : pressjon undefinable. Did he catch from • their strange blending of fear, doubt and j sorrow, the soul of a mother: While he I gazfd. the half-formed smile seemed to van j ish, and the light in her eyt-s seemed to i waver. The slightly turned shoulders, the I curve of the neck, and scarcely perceptible | bent posture, suggested uneasiness Disap j pointinent slow ly made its way to Mr ! Earle’s emaciated face. He stepped heavily i to the floor and paced the room. I “Three lives bound in one!" suddenly paus- j ing. “All done with life! Life—what is it' | To the dead it is nothing, but to me a eon- i sinning lo H!" i As in- threw himself on an antique sofa tlie ' twelve eyes peered into his agitated face as ii | seeking an inlet into the labyrinth beneath. | An hour later Sam announced Mr. Blam. i Mr. Earle was in no hurry to receive his j welcome back to Earlesdale. Again he stood j before his mother’s picture, led he fathom | that strange, but fascinating combination f blended feeling so artistically portrayed; ! Something like pity, then sympathy softened the light in his eyes as lie whispered. "You 1 were not happy, my mother! Death brought „k •• , ••• li, f ; boor, deni;d to v nr >” £* J’he overseer awaited Mr. Earle the Lad. j The interview was short. As Mr. [tarn | passed the pantry door Mrs. Todd saw a pu/- ; zicl expression, indicating a kindred disup j i(ointment which would by and by work its way to the plodding overseer’s face. CHAPTER IV A> OV.l> PI.AAil' VI'Un SCJvM-i «l,l» « VSl’ilK S IMKTIIIFVI . THE EARLS AND THE FITZHUGHS; OR THE TRAIL OF TH3 CURSE. A Bitter Feud Between Two Wealthy nd Influential Families of South Caroliii CHAPTER Ii. Ill BE.XbM CHAPTER I. Ml iK>T> G IN A SOITHEEN’ HOME. The gav dawn peered above the horizon slowly. Tlie cock sent his loud crow as a morn ing salute to returning ligiit. The winding blasts of the overseer’s horn, roused the sleep ing negroes. The hub-bub began. Squalling infants and laughing youths, middle-age and grumbling old, were involved in confusion, which increased on bearing, alx.ve^the din, the stentorian voice of the ‘driver. The infants ceased their squalls as each was carried to a spacious room called we nursery, where the “maimin' of the planta tion reigned supreme. Many little eyes sparkled—many little* mouths smacked as they caught sight of the well known hominy pot sw ung over a crackling fire: and watched the sharing out of the clablier. The piow- bovs. dapping tlieir wool hats on their wool- lie? heads and thrusting their hands in then pockets, started for the stables. The lively ones whistling and cutting the pigion wing, the lazy, moving drowsily, as if they tain would have more sleep: while a serious boy brought up the rear singing, “W e are g\wne ter die, niggers—we are gwine ter die. The men dispersed; each to some minor but necessary part of plantation work. 1 he wo men, meanwhile, busied themselves in put ting to rights their cabins, getting breaklasc, or in hoeing in tlieir patch—for their own use —attached to each habitation. The sun’s rays were just gilding the eastern sky when the overseer’s horn again winded out a call, as lie passed through the negro quarter;” and the “driver” was again heard above the clanking of pots, the banging of doors, and the jarring of voices, vocifeiating the overseer’s orders. The “hands with un>- overseers orders. The “hands ^wRh picking bags swung over their shoulders, baskets on their heads, pipes in their mouths, and buckets—containing the noon meal—on their arms, stragglingly proceeded to the fields. The plow-boys each on a mule, sing ing and uting, and with jingling chains followedae overseer. The milk women with skii tucked up and pails balanced on tlieir lice, were seen on their way to the “cow pe and behind them trudged several urchins lied “calf-minders.” The “stock- minder’iounted on a shaggy pony*—with a bag of Ci on the pommel of the saddle— surrounl by squealing pigs, grunting sows, bring sheep, and mischievous goats, threw ci the lot gate. Th> sheep rushed pell-meor the pasture; the goats with an tics bold away to the hills; and the swine, still selling, follow him to the swamp. The ha and pop of the wagoner’s whip were h i as a team passed from beneath a shed.uiing hales of cotton to the nearest depot, i the “lot,” the hostler was groom ing aack horse of much beauty and streng w hile his assistant watered a pair of greonies at a stone trough, brimming with vr from a spring near by. | Appching the spacious dwelling of an- j tique 'earance, was seen the poultry, with cackligeese in the van, gobbling turkeys j iu thfir, and fowls of every line and size, | shrill forth their delight as the “poultry i mind showered down their morning re I past.be laundress, with bundle poised up- I on Read and humming a tune, turned in- | to tintli to the spring. In the wood yard, I a sti man, »ithexpressive puffs plied the I ax, ie one of the kitchen “helps” lazily lilleoasket with chips. Tlie cook moved l )r is aliout the kitchen. She sliced the steand watched the bubbling hominy, the risi oils, and a girl parching coffee. The boteeper, with keen observation and sha'oice, divided her attention between hoiervantsand several small blackamoors BWHg the yards. 'valet de chambre, with brushes and brs of water noiselessly ascend the stairs toiit in the hall the aw aking of the young mr, who had unexpectedly arrived during tight after an absence of nine years. In the room he bad occupied in childhood, lay Mr. Earle, the young master. The sal- lowness of his face was heightened by the light auburn hair thrown from ins finely shaped forehead and by the whiteness of the pillow against which liis thin visage pressed. The shadow from the waving branch of a I tree flitting up and down the blinds, letting in and shutting out the sunbeams, awoke j him. Startled he sat up. but feeling weary j front days of travel would have yielded again to sleep had not the well remembered voice of Mrs. Todd, the house keeper, broken the spell. With the sound of her voice came memo ries which were made more vivid by the room—more poignant by each recognized object. With a shudder he looked towards the closet where, times without number, he had been thrust and left kicking and scream ing till exhausted strength gave w ay to sleep. He saw tlie cushioned chair where in childish despair he had wept and prayel for death; the lounge on which he had in better mo ments made boyish resolves which were broken on tlie first provocation; and the table on which remained,as if left hut yesterday, tl sick Masser?" extending his hand. "No, only fatigued,” was the mechanical answer, not seeing the extended hand. “Re gorra! yer no fer know Sam dat use ter git de licking 'case he would pad arter yerself Vept when he been tied;” “Sami oh yes. You are well;” shaking liis hand. “You have brought water? There are my boots. If i need you I will ring the bell.” Thus abruptly dismissed, Sam, as he gath ered up the boots, stared at his master, who nine years before had tied from his home a fair faced boy. An hour later, Mrs. Todd’s face caught the expression Sam’s wore when dismissed by liis master: and before noon their impressions h id—with telegraphic quickness peculiar to the negro—saddened many hearts throughout the plantation which had bounded with joy at the unexpected announcement of their master's arrival. Tne sudden death of Mr. Earle’s father and his long absence from home, had formed in tlie minds of the negroes a centre around which the vague stories respecting bis father, his father’s three wives, and himself hml be come more definite. Noon found them in groups listening to, or relating occurrence books he had studied to li!tie advantage, the j mai j e wonderful bv superstitious surround- writing material he had rarely used save to [ j ngs draw pictures, and the pack of cards with j " which he had wiled away the manv lonely , CHARTER HI. hours that come to a spirit, pining for sym- j pathy. | After a silent breakfast, Mr. Earle, with He was again in South Carolina, back to | do win ast eyes, passeel through rooms, care- the home of liis childhood. He slowly paced | fully arranged, into one Mrs. Todd had not the room. Events in his boyhood’s life j entered with brush and broom. It was one crow.led upon liis memory, and stirred into lie bad been in before. In childhood it had life a past which should have remained en- j been associated with hobgoblin stories. He tombed. He tried to shut out bitter reflec- | paused on the threshold till his eyes accom tions: tried to forget his father's great grand child, at whose coming he dated the inaugur- ation of sterner measures to subdue his own high temper and obstinate will: tried to for get how that boy. not only twined himself into his father’s affections, but was the chief cause of an estrangement between them which widened day by day till ere liis fif teenth year be was at times openly defiant, and seldom cheerfully obedient: tried to for get that fearful day of anger, blows resisted and denunciations returned, which drove him from his father's house. ! modated themselves to the dim light, then | opened a how window at tlie further end and looked inquiringly around. Tlie room, situated in the east wing, was i large, oblong, and opened by folding doors into tlie parlor. On either side were deep set windows and between them were walnut shelves. Above the shelves were hung many covered frames. Towards these Mr. Earle looked nervously; and why ? From his fifteenth to his twentieth year lie was at school or college leading, in the es timation of teachers and professors, a tulera But had lie known how intensely his father ; bly correct and studious life. Though, with had loved that boy’s great-grand mother and ' quiet manners and thoughtful face, he was the sad fate of their child and grand child, it > subject to extremes of good or evil. There would have palliated the pointed preference was, at times, a moral grandeur in his line which had been manifested. Had he known ! deportment and classical face, which might how his father’s proud nature had suffered 1 have exerted a beneficial influence over his l>y humiliations and suspicions connected companions had it not been for his domineer- with his mother, he would have excused much ing disposition, keen sarcasm, and sudden that seemed harsh and cruel. ' outbursts of evil. It was in one of these Ham, the valet hearing foot steps, entered ‘ hours of weakness he committed a deed the room eager to greet the young master he which hail sent him a self-exiled wanderer, had played with in childhood. ' In Germany, whiie examining an old cas- “Gorra mercy! am dis Mas Perry? am yer tie, a boy kneeling before the portrait of a ! woman engaged his attention. He learned that against the wishes of a kind step-mother he had worked his way from England to search for that picture—his mother’s; and that he was without friends and without money. The hoy’s honest face and simple recital excited an interest which resulted in a de termination on the part of Mr. Earle to pay liis passage back to England. It was some days however, before he could lie sent on his way. In the meanwhile, the favorable im pressions increased. The boy secured a val uable friend. His devotion to his mother's picture was peculiar. It led Mr. Earle to think of his own mother's early ended life and created the desire to see her pictured fai e. He was ignorant of her history, but conjectured from vague ideas gathered iu childhood from the idle gossip of negroes that she was connected with a great family trouble. Why had liis father and grandmother been so reticent? He longed to know her brief career. Thus it was the youth awoke new emo tions—emotions that led him back to his home—the home where his mother died. He was then in the room she once occupied —was i.ear her picture which artists had pronounced to be a gein of art. He knew it was one of the three large frames hanging near each other. But as he stood m close proximitv to it lie felt a vague fear. He yearned for a slight realization of the ten derness of a mother’s love in the face he was to behold for the first time. Would the emo tion be gratified ? Stepping upon an oblong table he drew hack the cover from the frame nearest to him and looked upon the face of a royally beautiful woman. A heavy sigh told as he gazed at his fath er’s handsome, youthful face that he beheld his first wife—his Italian bride. Strange emotions were experienced as he contem plated his father in the guise of early man hood—ere care had wrinkled his brow and the storms of life had given fierceness to his grey eyes and firmness to his mouth. Ill childhood be had heard from an age-1 gardener of the Italian’s beauty, lingering illuesss, and death; that her only child—the idol of her father—after his second marriage fled from her home to share the fortunes of one unworthy of the sacrifice and died brok en-hearted; that she too left one child who at the tender age of sixteen was sacrificed for a home of wealth; and he remembered vaguely lier burial and the arrival of a two- year-old baby boy. Bitterly be recalled his father’s devotion to that great grandchild and his sternness to himself. With a sneer on his lip he thought of that child, then en tering manhood, revelling in all the vices of Philadelphia under the preteuce of studying medicine. A week had passed since Mr. Earle's ar rival. Though many friends had called, few had seen him. They were not purposely avoided, ids restlessness did not allow him to remain long in the house. What time he slept was a mystery to Ham: what he lived on was a still greater one to Mrs. Todd. Three friends, his early plavrnates. who had called tor the second time, looked blank when they beheld him, and felt saddened when they parted from him “1 would not have recognized Perry Earle had I met him in a strange place," said John Thornton mounting his horse. | “Nor would (." replied Willie, his younger ! br tiler. J James Holcombe said nothing. As a boy | lie bad looked up to Perry Earle—three years j his senior. With wonder he had seen him j braving attacks from strong! r boys: with : admiration had heard his acknowledgment j of deeds of mischief, and with gratitude re membered interventions to save him from I the blows of boys whose only boast was strength. As be rested his eyes on the broad shouldered John Thornton the bullv of the 'school he recalled a light, by appointment, j down by the old mill, between that individ j ual and Perry Earle. How distinctly the i sc me appeared. The clamorous boys stand ing back of their favorite champion: the sec oruls measuring off lines: the judge quietly looking on; and the combatants, with hats and coats off. awaiting the signal to com mence. John Thornton never forgave Perry Earle for tlie humiliation of that afternoon. And though lie had uttered w< rds of welcome he felt a rekindling of the old enmity. Mr. Earle with a sigh and a wistful glance at the receding figures, returned to the room selected for a study. His books had arrived that day. The sun was sinking behind the distant tree tops when quick steps were heard, two | rapis given, and tne door opened. [ “William!" ejaculated Mr. Earle, grasping I the hand of his friend William boring, i For a moment Mr. boring stood bewilder ed. He could not realize that the sallow, spare man before him was tlie once brilliant Perry Earle The momentary expression of joy passed from Mr. Earle's face. “You are shocked! I am not surprised. There is truth in the theory that spirit-faces are stamped with predominant traits. We see it typically illustrated on earth," touch ing his face. "i’errv. my friend!” still holding his hand, “have you been ill!" “Ill : No. Are you well,” looking at him attentively, “and happy?” “Yes- vi r happy to have you with me once more. Let me welcome you home." “Between us, 1 should think that farce can lie dispensed with.’’ “Perry, your friendship is tlie link I have missed from my chain of happiness." “Friendseip—happiness! Has sunlight and darkness anything in common? The Perry Earle of yore is no more! The link proveil worthless—it has perished.” “Perry, my friend—my more than broth er, vou distress me!” “William, your presence awakes such memories. You forget you are linked with 1113- fearful past—in it—but not of it. There is a remnant left of m> otherself. Gratitude is not entirely buried among tlie ruins. Your letters were received, and though unan swered did a good mission. ’’I'wus a noble thought you suggested, to live on and suffer rather than buy memory in a suicide’s grave. ” Mr. Loring was notan impulsive man. As a minister of the gosjiel he had made the practical duties of life bis chief study. Four years had passed since he had parted from Perry Earle on the deck of a steamer bound for Europe. During that time he had never heard from him or of him. Of the changes which had taken place in mind and heart he

Georgia Historic Newspapers

The sunny South. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1875-1907, September 25, 1880, Image 1