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PI BLraBBP BY JAMBS ftABPfdH,
KEW SERIES.]
THE STORY TELLER, =
flft* Southern Field and Fireside.] *\,
BELLMONT.
BT mbs. BUI K. HIMT,
How the whole picture of s ohlldhood lies
Oft 'midst your bough* fonrottcn buried deep!
Til! razing through them up thfc summer skies
As hashed we stsuA, * breeze perchance may creep,
And old sweet leaf-sounds reach the inner world
Where memory ooila—and 10l at once unfurl d
Hie past a glowing scroll, before our eirt t.
Spreads clear 1 ’ ' [1 Inman*.
IN traveling along oue of tbe principal roads
leading from the thriving and busy town of
D——, one cannot but be impressed with tbe
quiet beauty of the surrounding country, with
its ample, home-like farm-houses, almost? flen
cealed from view by extensive lawne, which
are bordered by fields of luxuriant corn and
cotton. The spacious hill-side pastures, wa
tered by small streams, over which droops the
graceful weeping willow,whose pliant braucbes
keep time to the music of every passing
breeze; Ihe low, irregular rail fences, which
form a support for the twuiiug branches of the
Cherokee rose, whose pure, white blossoms bp*
pee# in anowwtekes ufi«r the dark green f*JT*
isbed leaves, diversify tbe rich and productive
plantations which adorn the vicinity. The ri
der will involuutarily check hie borees 1 reins
as on gaining a alight emiuence in the road, he
beholds stretched before hie view a lawn of ex
tensive magnitude, where tbe huge old oaks
cross and recross each other at every imagina
ble angle, aDd from whose brawny arms sweep
long and dark festoons of gray moss, which
seem to hang as a drapery of mourning over
tbe long avenues, which bad once been pressed .
by gay and happy feet, but now grown over
with weeds and grass; as still and sombre
looking as are tbe’greves of that once happy
household. Upon the highest part of tbe emi
nence are tbe remains of what was once the
noble mansion of a wealthy Englishman, who
owned tbe place while our country was mill ia
possession of the British. It had been occu
pied for several generations by hie descendants,
but twenty-five years previous, and soon after
tbe death of its owner it was partly destroyed
by fire. The remainder bed been allowed to
stand without repairs, and finally, with tbe sur
rounding plantation, was sold. This lawn, or
pleasure ground occupied a considerable space
in front of the building, end extended some
< distance in the rear, where it was terminated
by a high bluff on the river. The old gran
ite steps, leading down to the water’s edge,
though grey and crumbling, still remain, but
the light pleasure boats, which formed a promi
nent feature in the amusements of Bellmont
hall, were no where visible. v
To the old hall we will turn, where an inde
scribable awe will seize the beholder as he
passes through its stately corridors, and indeed,
could voice be given to those carved ceilings,
and frescoed walls, they would reveal tales of
love; the festivities of the bridal hour; the
blissful days of quiet happiness; the sweet
music of childhood’s joyous laugh, and the
kind accents of friendship’s soothing words.—
Or they might tell sadder tales of tbe wretched
victim, as he wrung his bands in agony,and then
applied the unerring ball, or quaffed the fatal
draught; or it might be the keen, slow an
guish that was cutting asunder tbe sensitive
chords of woman’s bleeding heart. Within
those walls the living had heard that time to
them should be no more, and thftjrouM spirit
first beheld the light of an earthly existence.
Many incidents of thrilling interest could be
called from its time-worn pages, but it is not
vuh these we propose to linger, for Bellmont,
w.th its proud old name had passed into other
hard®, and its ancient glory buried with things
of tbi past. It was now in possession of Mr.
Ralst i, a wealthy planter, whose residence
> was abfat half a mile from Bellmont, as it still
D continued to be called. Years before he bad
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AUGUSTA. GA., SATURDAY, JANUARY 3, 1863.
purchased the spacious plantation of which it
formed a part, and left the ruins undisturbed,
considering tbe new building site more eligi
ble.
Mr. Ralston was a man several years past
the prime of life, but was one of those persons
too rarily met with, who had not outlived the
sympathies and enthusiasm, of youth, and al
though time bad left its furrows on his brow,
it bad not congealed, or even rendered more
sluggish the milk of human kindness in his
breast.
He found ample scope for the exercise of his
benevolent feelings towards his fellow beings
who pore less favored than himselt. In him
tbe feeble and aged found a friend and com
forter, the young and thoughtless a counsel
lor, ever ready to lend a listening ear, aud
with a kind look and cheering word, to help
them, whether their troubles wore real or
imaginary.
His genial, hospitable disposition, drew
around him a boat of frieuds,and no gathering of
young people was considered complete without
Mr. Ralston,and hiselegaut house and grounds
were often the scene of festive gaitr. 'His
family consisted of his wife, an adopted son of
fifteen years, and a little daughter of ten sum
mers.
All a mother’s love was centered in these
#wg dft * tot
the tnoiWfs prayer orealhed Torch, an earnest
petitioa went with it, that they might not en
gross that love, even to idolatry, for her heart
had often been bereft of its treasures, and in
the church yard might be seen five little!
mounds, the tablet of each inscribed with
‘some sweet pet name and aged two.’
Tne evening of which we speak, Mr. and
Mrs. Ralston were seated in the trout piazza,
eujoying the gentle and balmy air, the former
in bis comfortable arm chair of white oak, the
workmanship of old uncle Mark, who consid
ered himself the personage of most importance
(hia master only excepted) on the plantation.
Mra. Ralston, with her bright knitting need
’ les plying rapidly through the meshes of a lit
tle pair of gloves—‘Jennie’s school gloves’ she
would tell you—which, by the way, were more
rarely found on Jennie's hands than in the bot
tom of her school satchel. She teld Masay
confidentially that she did despise gloves, and
did wish that mother and aunt Elsy would'nt
knit to many for her.
A merry little laugh on the steps leading
from the piazza, caused Mrs. Ralston to look up
from her work, to see Jennie seated there with
her lap full of flowers, and large bay leaves,
which she, and a little negro girl of her own
age were industriously pinning together with
long sharp thorns.
4 Making a fancy cap for Wellington,’ was
Jennie's reply to her mother’s question of
what she was doing, and the aforesaid Well
ington, a little darkey, whoae nether limbs
Werp not remarkable for their resemblance to
an arrow, sat a few steps below, bolding a half
grown yellow cat, and watching the movements
of his young mistress, with no ordinary degree
of interest, for when that was completed, iheir
usual afternoon drill was to come off in tbe
back yard, where Miss Jennie officiated as cap
tain and drummer on an old tin pan.
‘ Jennie,’ said Mrs. Ralston, ‘lam aatonisbed
at you, after all that I have said to you about
playing so much with tbe little negroes. Send
them out of the flower garden immediately,
and come in and get your lessonq.jbr to-mor
row.’, 1
4 1 have got them, already,’ soid Jennie,
quickly glancing at her fattier, as if expecting
him to plead her cause, but be was too much
engrossed with his paper, and Jennie arose
slowly, emptying her flowers into Massy’s
apron.
4 Well, if yon know your lessons, go and
bring your quilt scrap? here, and make a square
before supper time.’ . ;
‘Mother,’ and Jennie looked as if she was
struck with a bright idea, * please let me make
an apron for Charity's baby ?’
4 Jennie,’ replied Mrs. Ralston, with a grieves
look,, I told you to get your quilt,’ and without
any mot* partying, Jennie flair away to
obey.
‘The child seems to be growing perfectly
wild’ said Mrs. Ralston with a aigb, and turn
ing to her husband with a troubled look.
‘ Oh, noaseose, Annie, he exclaimed, ‘ wild
flowers are more hardy than your little hot
house plants; she has no companion of her
own age, and with her lively, frolicsome dispo
sition, it is natural for her to enjoy compauy
wherever it may be found. She reminds me
of an active little humming bird, darting from
Sower toJfcrwer, extracting sweats from every
one. Let her run wild if she will, abe has time
enough tame.’
‘ She has uo companion—no sister,’ and the
moisture gathered in tha eyes of Mrs. Ralston,
as she thought of the little dimpled hands that
lay so quietly crossed above the little beans
that were' stilled forever.
Jouuirsoon returned, very demurely carry
ing her work-basket in one band, and a small
rocking-chair in the other, and placing them
by her mothers aide, wsb about to begin her
task. * - .v-' t.-\
• Your father, as usual, has been pleading for
you, said her mother, 4 but I am afraid that you
will grow up to be a very ignorant young
fedy ’
4 Oh, l a 1 sew lots to-morrow,’and almost
turned fcs its usual place in her mother's room.
4 Mother, liaven’t you tdrgotten to have the
plants you rot out yesterday, watered ? Can’t
I run and led John to get the watering pot;
and mayn't I help him ?’
An assenting nod at the end of this speech,
and Jennie was soon seen following the gar
dener down one of the circular carriage drives,
running from flower to flower, and asking all
manner of questions, feeling very important,
for as she told the ecbool girls, abe helped
•John every evening to water mother's flowers.
An exclamation of 4 my Bakes alive I’ caused
John to look up, and enquire what was the
matter.
4 Do look at that little funny old womau com
ing down the road,’ said Jennie. 4 1 do think
she must look like a fchost.’
4 La missy,’ chuckled John, ‘ you uever seed a
ghost; they don’t come iu day time, but only
'pears at uigbt, aud then in long white gowns,
and kinder sails along. I guess dat old wo
man ia made of fleah and blood by the way
she can step along.’
Jennie stood for some moments watching the
approach of what was indeed a strange looking
piece of humanity, then turning and darting to
w arda the house, was soon in the presence of
her parents.
Her father put aside bis paper, and looked
enquiringly at her, for he knew, from her dila
ting eyes .hat there was something on her
mind, which was too much for her to keep.
4 There’! the funniest—looking—woman, and
Jennie caight her breath between every word,
and Ido believe abe is coming right here; she
walks just so,’—and Jennie started acroas the
piazza, in that peculiar style which ladies of
the old school so much admire, and think can
only be acquired by tbe careful training of an
accompiisied dancing master; but glancing
over her stoulder Jennie perceived that the ex
pected viator had already entered the gate,and
was fast ipproaching '.he house, when s,he
very quicky exchanged her 4 limping’ for longer
strides tofards her father, where she seated
herself, tailing the precaution to keep him be
tween herijeif and tbe entrance.
Mr. Raljton, with his usual polite and gentle
manly manner arose to receive an old lady who
was alreaiw on his threshold, and in return to
bis kind ' good evening’ received a short nod
without a aocompanying word.
Mrs. R« ston looked up to see what she sup
posed to b i an extremely old and peculiar look
ing femal, attired in a dresa of very gaudy
hue, reac ing scarcely to her ankle; a oape
thrown ovfer her shoulders, though differing in
design of pattern irom her dress, was not be
hind it in fyiug with tbe rainbow hues. Oa her
head was a prodigious bonnet of black calico,
I *
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• •
toe cape of which descended below her waist.
| 4 Wopder where she got the pattern of it,’
thought Jennie. 4 1 know Miss Patsy would
like to have it, it beats anything she’s got.’
Mrs. Ralston bad given her a chair, upon
which she seated herself, and taking off her
bonnet, loosened a large old fashioned comb
from her head, at the same time giving it a little
shake, which seut the hair in a wavy mass to
the floor. It was almost entirely white, but here
and there might be seen a dark strand, remind
ing one of what it once had been; then rnnahig
the comb several times through it, drawing all
the hair back from her face, she Commenced
winding it slowly around her hand, and at
length had it in one massive coil, at the back
of her delicately shaped head, which she sur
rounded by tbe high-lop comb, and deliberately
replacing hpr bonnet, turned to Mr. Ralston.
‘Are you, air, the owner of Belltnont?’ she
enquired, fixing his black, piercing eyes upou
his face.
4 Yes, madam.’ . , _
‘1 have come then,’ she continued, ‘to know
upon what terms you would rent the place.’
An amused look played about the corners of
Mr. Ralston's mouth, as bo thought of how
long the bets had claimed it, as their owu; and
how often the owis, with their dismal, midnight
screeches, had made its solitary chambers echo
to their sounds.
F u ~farwrpsr
ine the house and grounds, before making a
bargain ; it may not fill the idea its name sug
gests.’
I have already been there, and am acquainted
with all of its defects; and now, if you will iet
me have the place, state tbe terms.
Verv business like thought Mr. Ralstou, and
scarcely knowing how to reply to her direct
question, glanoed at his wife.
‘Have you a family?’ queried Mrs. Ralston
before her husband coaid reply.
‘No.’ '.
‘Where bare you been living?’
‘ln various places—sometimes here, and
sometimes there.’
‘You look as if you have traveled a good die
tanoe,’ continued Mrs. Ralston. Are you not
tired ?’
‘No,’ waa again the laconic answer. Mrs.
Ralston, still not discouraged in eliciting some
thing of her history, remarked 'that Bellmont
was a very lonely place for a woman to live
without company.’
A short, hollow laugh was all the answer,
and all sat iu silence for some minutes. At
length, Mr. Ralston, turning to his visitor, said:
‘suppose I let you have place, there is no
ground immediately around it flt foe cultivation;
what was dbee a garden ia now only a thick
growth of trees; how could you support your
self?’
‘Honestly.’
Satisfactory, thought Mr. Balaton, as lar as it
goes, and, being rather amused than vexed at
her taciturnity, told hot that she had liberty to
take possession of tbe plaoe, and, after trying it
a while, might make her own terms.
A quick glance from hia wife assured him
that this agreement did not meet with her ap
probation ; but, just at this moment, a servant
entered bearing a package of letters and papers
which he handed to bis master. My dear, here
is one for you, said Mr. Ralston handing his
wife, one of the letters.
‘From Reinhold, the dear boy,’ she exclaimed,
as she glanoed at the bold and free looking su
perscription.
Tbeir visitor arose saying, 'her business was
through, and she would go.’
‘You surely don’t intend to take possession
to-night, sara Mr. Ralston in an enquiring tone.’
‘Why not ?’
‘I should think the place required a little at
tention before being habitable ; and have you
furniture, or provision* there ?’
‘No, but I can stay without’
4 I should think, Annie, said Mr. Ralston,
turning to his wife, and wondering at her unu
sual silence where she thought there was an
object on which sho could exercise her charity,
that yon could find a room, and some refresh-
IVOL. I.—NUMBER 1.