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THE SOUTHERN WORLD, DECEMBER 1,1883.
“ I SING FOR THEE."
BY CHARLES W. HUBNIR.
Oh, meadow-brook! that (lowest
So blithe and free,
Thy silver tribute bearing:
To the far sea,
Wilt thon not tell the secret,
If such it is,:
Which to thy spirit glveth
Its endless bliss?
Oft by thy margin straying,
In shine and shade,
I mark that time no changes
In thee hath made;
Still singing, singing, singing
The same sweet song,
I see thy waters gliding
In joy along.
Alas! and am I only
Foredoomed to feel
That mystic change, whose meaning
■Who shall reveal?
Not thou, oh, merry rover
To the far sea,
For only this thou sayest:
“I sing for thee!"
THE DeSAUSSURES.
A Historical Romance.
BY B. F. SAWYER.
CHAPTER XIII.
No news travels so fast as bad news.
The unfortunate trouble uo unnecessarily
provoked by Captain Chatham, in Co
lumbia, with its ominous threatenings
went flying back on mischievous wings
to every home where fond hearts were
waiting so eagerly to catch tidings from
the dear ones away. Of course ft grew
as it went, and by the time it reached
the friendly ears of Mrs. Coleman,
already inclined to hear the evil things
she had predicted, it attained such fright
ful magnitude as to call for indignant
and immediate action. The rumor came
that Captain Chatham, in order to assert
his authority, had ordered his men to
strip off the clothing, even their shirts,
and put on coarse kersey uniforms, fitting
only for the negroes. It was even added
that as no regular .uniform could be
found the striped uniform worn by the
county convicts, were brought in requi
sition and the men compelled to wear
them. It was further added that he
would have fitted an iron collar around
each man’s neck with his number on it,
had not Lieutenant Shirly threatened to
cut his heart out if he did. It came that
because he respectfully protested against
wearing the collar, Frank DeSaussure
had been reduced to the ranks—whatever
that was—and that the Captain had
threatened to have him shot as soon as
they reached the army.
All this was told to the sympathetic
ears 6f Mrs. Coleman by Mrs. Mason,
who got it from Mrs. Brown,
the sister of Mrs. Whittle, whose son
John was one of the detail who had
brought the cumbersome baggage back
home. The good lady, was distressed at the
ugly tidings, albeit she drew a little com
fort from the facts that it was nothing
more than she expected. She hurried
to her husband and laid the case in
all its degrading details before him. The
old gentleman listened in sympathetic
silence until the story of the convicts’
uniform was reached, and then he inter
rupted—
“Nonsense, Molly! It's all amistake.
There is no such thing as a county con
vict. You never saw such a thing in all
your life.
“ Well; but Mrs. Mayson says it is so,
and he even was so cruel as to order iron
collars, with each man’s name on it, for
them to wear,” affirmed the lady.
“Molly; you know that’s all stuff,”
protested the gentleman.
“No it’s not; John Whittle, brought
back their cast off clothing. His mother
told her sister, Mrs. Brown, all about it
and Mrs. Brown told Mrs. Mayson. I
know it is so, every word of it,” insisted
the lady.
“ I have no idea that one half of what
you have heard is the truth,” profanely
answered her husband.
“ But I know John Whittle did come,”
she affirmed.
“Well; suppose he did?’’asked the
unbelieving man.
“ Well; I know John Whittle wouldn’t
tell a story about it,” assuringly retorted
his wife.
“ I don’t think he would either, es
pecially such a preposterous one as this,”
replied the old gentleman.
“ Well; I don’t care. I believe it, and
I intend to drive down to LaVergne
right away and see Kate about it. Julia,
tell Pleas to pet out the carriage,” said
the lady turning to her maid.
“I will be glad for you to go and see
Mrs. DeSaussure; but if I were you, I
should not distress her with any such
foolish reports,” suggested the gentle
man. i,
“ I shall find out what she knows about
it,” said the lady.
“ Well'; I’ll bet you a silk dress against
a ginger cake, that she has heard noth
ing so foolish as all this,” bantered the
husband.
“ Then it is time she should hear it,”
said the lady. “Poor Frank! I told
Drucie, that day, that .trouble would
come between these men. I wonder
where Drucie is. She must go with me.
Kate wishes her to stay with her. I
will go out and find her.”
“ Poor Mollie, she will keep the road
hot if she runs to Kate DeSaussure with
every cock and bull story she hears of
Frank,” soliloquised the old gentleman,
as he resumed his paper.
Miss Coleman was soon found and by
the time the ladies had dressed for the
drive, Pleas had the carriage at the porfe
coche.
“ But what does papa think about it,
mamma? ” asked tne young lady, after
her mother had finished the portentous
recital as the carriage bowled rapidly
along through the pleasant woods.
“ Oh, your father vexes me. He don’t
seem to care anything about it, just as if
it was a matter of course. He thinks
they will have to get used to worse
things than that,” answered the mother.
“Well; I dare say that they will,
mamma, a soldier’s life is a hard one I
am told,” philosophically answered the
young lady.
“Yes; but only think of Frank De
Saussure being treated that way,” in
dignantly protested the old lady.
“ Yes; 1 know, mamma, it is bad; but
you know that Captain Chatham said
that he should make no difference in
persons,” said the daughter.
“Yes; and that’s why I know it is
all so,” replied her mother. “ But do
you think they will snoot him Bure
enough! Surely they cannot be so reck
less of a soldier’s life as to allow that.”
“I don’t know, mamma, I have read
some cruel stories of military hard
ships,’ ’lugubriously answered the daugh
ter. “You know the young officer
who was writing the letter to his wife,
and only because he waited to seal it be
fore he blew out his light when the
drum beat, the Czar ordered him to add
the cruel postscript, that he was to be
shot the next morning at sun rise,” she
added.
“ Mercy me, and did they shoot him
just for that? ” asked the mother.
“Yes; only for that!” dolefully re
sponded Miss Coleman. “Just think,
mamma, what a shock it must have been
to the wife when she read the post
script.”
“Yes; and what a shock it must have
been to the young officer the next morn
ing at sunrise,” sympathetically answer
ed the mother. “And,” she continued,
“ what a blow it will be to poor Kate, if
they do shoot poor dear Frank. Oh; I
do hope the cruel man will not do it!
Drucie, darling, do you know, that were
I you, I believe I should write to him, to
Captain Chatham, I mean, and intercede
for poor Frank,” cried the mother in
thorough distress.
“ If your suspicions are right, mamma,
I fear it would only aggravate the case,”
replied the young lady with a blush.
“ Well, I know what we can do, Kate
and I, we can appeal to Gov. Pickens. I
know he can interpose in Frank’s be
half, and he will not refuse Kate any
thing she asks,” Baid the gjod lady as
tlie happy thought struck her.
“Yes; that will be best,” acquiesced
the daughter. “Only, some how,
mother, I do not think that Frank would
wish for his mother to interfere. I think
him too proud and brave a man to want
any outside interference with his af
fairs.”
‘ Yes; but if he has got himself into
such a miserable scrape as this already,
he must expect his friends to look after
and help him,” said the lady.
“ May be it is not so bad after all,
mamma,” encouragingly said the young
lady.
Oh, I fear it is even worse than we
have yet heard,” responded the mother,
and having thus buried themselves as
deep as possible in the sombre shades of
forebodings, they hushed—each too sad
in contemplating the horrid possibles to
encourage the other.
They found the mistress of LaVergne
sadly in needot pleasant companionship.
The funereal air of loneliness still clung
about the great large house, all the more
sombre and lonesome because of its
vastness. She welcomed them with un
feigned gladness, for the loneliness had
become almost unbearable.
“ Oh,.Mary 1 I am so glad you have
come, and you, Drucie. I am so sad, so
sad, and so lonely,” she cried, embrac
ing and kissing them, as she met them
at the door.
“ It is true, then? ” asked Mrs. Cole
man, as she released herself from the
friendly embrace.
“ Is what true ? ” asked the other with
a startled look—the constant gloom of
the place had sadly unnerved her.
“All this wretched news we hear about
poor Frank,” explained Mrs. Coleman
“ What news, Mary? For God’s sake
speak. You frighten me with your
trembling lips. Has anything happened
to my poor boy ? ” asked the mother put
ting out her arms in helpless entreaty
“ Mamma, you are too precipitate,
may be nothing so very bad after all,’
said Miss Coleman, in an awkward at
tempt to lighten the blow.
“ So bad after all 1 Oh, Drucie, please
tell me!” cried the mother, tottering
to a sofa and pulling the young lady
down by her side.
“ It may be nothing, Mrs. DeSaussure
only a rumor we have heard about
trouble between Frank and Captain
Chatham,” said the young lady bravely
trying to soften the stroke her mother
stood in such sympathetic eagerness to
“Trouble?” repeated the mother
“Yes; Kate, dear. My own brave
Kate. They have had a trouble and
they are going to sho—sho-^shoot poor
Frank,” boohooed the affectionate com
forter, stooping over the stricken mother
and catching her head to her motherly
breast.
“Shoot Francis! Shoot my son
cried the mother, putting aside Mrs
Coleman’s sympathetic arms and rising
to her feet. “ Shoot Francis DeSaussure!
I should like to see such a thing attempt
ed. Who dare so much as even to threaten
it?” she said rising to her queenliest
hight, her eyes flashing like the tigress
defending her young. “ Shoot my son ‘
I shall see about that,” she continued
her haughty lip curved and her nostri [
extended in wrathful excitement.
“Yes; that’s what I came for, Kate
to get you, and go to the Governor at
once and have him pardoned,” said Mrs.
Coleman, cowering a .little in the pres
ence of the aroused tigress.
“But what has he done? They can
not shoot him—he is not a dog, to be
shot like one! They cannot even shoot
a negro without law,” said the mother.
“ But Kate, dear, you know they have
no law in the army. The Captain can
do anything,” insisted Mrs. Coleman.
“ He cannot, the men would not sub
mit, but would kill him a hundred times
were he to attempt such a thing,” pro
tested the mother. “But tell me what
has he done. Drucie, do you know?”
she asked turning to the daughter.
“ It was something about the uniforms.
I do not know what. We could not
clearly make out and we came to you to
know,” replied the young lady as well
as she could.
“The uniforms?” repeated Mrs. De
Saussure.
“Yes; and the iron collars!” broke
in Mrs. Coleman. Frank wouldn’t wear
one—and I don’t blame him—and they
had a quarrel and he, that horrid man,
Chatham—I always did despise him—
has reduced him to the ranks, and now
as soon as they get to the army he is go
ing to have him sho—sho—shot,” and
another boo-hoo, told how fearfully the
good lady’s sensibilities had been out
raged.
“ Mary, I fear you are over excited.
Please sit down and let Drucie tell it,”
said Mrs. DeSaussure, gently putting the
lady back against the sofa. “There; I
know there must be some mistake about
it. Drucie, dear, tell me how it is or
what it is you have heard ? ”
“ Well, I hardly know what it is, Mrs.
DeSaussure. It was mamma who heard
it. Mrs. Mayson told her,something that
Mrs. Brown told Mrs. Mayson, and Mrs.
Whittle told Mrs. Brown and John
Whittle told Mrs. Whittle,” explained
the young lady.
“Oh, something, as I said, about the
uniforms with horrid stripes on them,
and iron collars, and the Lord knows
what all. I really cannot tell head nor
tail about it,” said the young lady in de
spair.
“ Uniforms with stripes—all uniforms
have stripes don’t they Drucie?” Mrs.
DeSaussure asked assuringly.
“ Yes; all that I ever saw,” answered
Drucie.
“But these were convict stripes!”
again broke in Mrs. Coleman, dead set
upon having Frank shot.
“ Convict stripes 1 What convicts?”
asked Mrs. DeSaussure.
“ Oh, I don’t know. Mrs. Mayson did
not say,” replied Mrs. Coleman.
“And what about the iron collars,
Drucie? ” Mrs. DeSaussure again asked
turning to the young lady.
“ He, Captain Chatham, wanted them
to wear them, and Frank refused to do
so, and they had a trouble about it,”
answered the young lady.
“A trouble?” asked the mother,
startled into a little anxiety.
“Yes; so the report goes. I do not
know of what nature,” answered M; ao
Coleman. * Rs
“ Oh, my rash, impulsive, boy, I f ear .
ed that something of this sort would oc
cur,” cried the mother.
“ But, perhaps, it was nothing serio U8
Mrs. DeSaussure, such things, you know’
are always exaggerated,” consolingly ar
gued Miss Coleman.
“ Yes; I know, and I should not so
dread its truth did I not so well under
stand the hot, impulsive temper 0 f
Frank. He cannot tolerate an indignity
and would die rather than submit to an
outrage ,” said the lady, the tiger wrath
dying out and a woman’s timid dread
taking its place. “But, tell me, Drucie
when did this happen ? ’ ’ she asked in an
afterthought.
“The very next day after they left
here. John Whittle brought the news
when he returned with the clothing »
answered the young lady. ’
“ Well, I saw John Whittle. He came
to see me with Frank’s valise, and
brought me a note from Frank, himself
He said nothing to me about it, neither
did Frank write a word,” said Mrs. De
Saussure, brightening up.
“Oh, did he! Then, Kate, why i n
the world didn’t you tell us at first?"
said Mrs. Coleman, with a genuine re
lief.
“ Because, I thought it was some new
trouble you had heard about,” answered
the mother.
“ But, what did he write, Kate, do let
us here the straight about it?” asked
Mrs. Coleman.
“ Here is his letter. You can read it
yourself,” answered the lady opening
her escretoire and getting the letter.
“ Read it, Drucie,” said her mother.
Miss Coleman opened the note and
read:
Columbia, S. C., June s, 1861.
Dear Mother—I write you a hasty note by Mr.
Whittle, to inform you of our change of destina
tion. We go into camp of instruction at Fort
Mill, where we will remain until a sufficient
number of companies (10) are mustered to form
a regiment. I send my valise with all the cloth
ing that I cannot carry in my knapsack. We go
out ready for service and in light marching or
der. We will probably be at Fort Mill a week or
probably longer. Will you write to me there?
Address, private Frank DeSaussure, care Capt.
Chatham, Fort Mill, S. C. My kindest regards
to the servants, and a heart brimful of love to
you ray mother. Your affectionate son,
F. DeSaussure.
Miss Coleman laughed a soft, glad
laugh, but the tear that sparkled in her
eye told of the joyful relief to her heart.
“ Then, mamma, you see papa was
right. It is the old story of the three
black crows. Mrs. DeSaussure, will you
ever forgive us for the fright we caused
you? ” she said, looking up to the lady.
Mrs. DeSaussure saw the tear spark
ling speaking a love that no tongue
could have spoken, and for answer she
stooped and kissed her.
“ Yes; I am glad it turns out to be a
mistake,” apologetically said Mrs. Cole
man. “But when was that letter writ
ten?” she asked, with a clinging faith
in the crows.
“ The 5th,” answered her daughter.
“ And this is the 10th—five days ago,"
Miss Coleman said. “But could not
something have happened since then?"
she asked.
* But I am sure all this nonsense Mrs.
Mayson has told you couldn’t have hap
pened since, for John Whittle brought the
letter at the same time he brought the
news,” smilingly answered her daugh-
ter.
“And besides, I had a letter from
Frank to-day, written day before yester
day, and he mentions nothing about it,"
said Mrs. DeSaussure.
Oh, that is good news,” cried Miss
Coleman.
“ Yes ; he says all are well. He is in
fine spirits. Has a little hope of promo
tion, as the regiment is full, and the field
officers were to be elected yesterday, and
they would elect Captain Chatham col
onel, and that would leave a vacant lieu-
tency in his company, and he thought he
should run for it. I wrote him to do so,
by all means, as I felt a sad humiliation
in his debasement. I forgot that the
election would be over before my letter
reached him; but, for all that, it was
good advice, and I hope he will profit
by it.”
Missus, here’s a white boy out here
wid a letter for von.” said Dora.
“ A letter? Bring it to me, Dora.’ )(
“ He ses he wants you to sine fur it,
said Dora.
“ Sign for it? ” repeated the mistress.
“ Yes’um. He wouldn’t give it to me
widout signin’.”
"Tell him to bring it to me.”
Yes’um,” said Dora, withdrawing,
and in a moment ushering in a smart lad-
“I have a telegram for Mrs. De>aus-
sure,” he said, with a polite bow to tne
ladies. ,
“ A telegram for me! ” cried the lad),
turning pale with an undefined dread-
“Yes, ma’am. Will you please sign
the receipt. The charges are paid. ,
With a trembling hand the lady signed
the receipt, and reached for the te
gram.