Kenosha tribune & telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1856-1859, 1857-01-29
GREYS NE HALL.
CHAPTER I.

SnaH not tel you where UhlS retreat u
mine is, or descant upon the thousand
and-one charms of its situation; wish
the little tenement to be still mine, par
excellence, whenever am inclined to IN
habit it. @
1t was the embarrassment of wealth
that made me pause, before / had gone
many yards from my door, to decide in
which direction / should turn my steps
that day.
Summer was gone, certainly, but | new
er wall her departure
AS watched the clouds, driven by a
wild wind across a wild sky, and bark
ened to the waves breaking and boom
ing against the old grey crags far be
meath, my spirits rose buoyantly. /
opened the arms of my body and soul to
welcome. my rough, true friend-Au,
tumn.
Spring too often presents herself to
me as a cruel, but irresistibly attractive
coquette. She mocks at passions she
arouses-cannot satisfy desires that she
aWakes; she hints mysteriously of gifts
of knowledge, power, love, which she
never bestows; she is eXacting and re
tentiye; lays heavy burdens on souls,
and taunts their toiling, striving, groan.
ing, rs she Skins along her lightsome
way.
Summer finds me tired out by Spring
tyrannous sway. She gives me drug
ged draught Of honey sweetness, and
lays me away among her roses, bidding
me believe that inaction is calm, indif.
terent languid peace.
| might sleep on, dream deeper and
deeper till my sleep should be that from
which is no waking; but Autumn comes,
breaks Summers spells, repairs Springs
mischief and calls up what in me is kim
dred to its own strength. So hail to
thee, . Autumn!
Something wierd in the Wilderness OF
this early morning reminded me Of de-
serted house had often seen from a dis
lance in my rambles, and meant to Wis
it. | would 90 there now, | thought, so
turned from the sea awhile towards the
desolate hills and heaths.
There was something inexpressibly
grand in the influence of these apparent
~ boundleSs tracks Of swelling and fall
ing, heathcr-grown, greystone-sown
moorland. felt it to the full that morn
ing, plnging on against the storm-wind,
only guided by vague idea Of tie direc-
ton in which lay the place OF my desti-
nation; stopping now and then to turn
and see how far behind | had left the
ocean; to observe how sometimes it
flashed beneath a watery CLEAN, some
times lay black mass beneath cloud
cd horizon.
At last | grew slightly weary oflong-
continued battling with a wind that
shouted in triumph or shrieked in defeat,
as sunk deep i'll heather, or emerged
to go on and on.
/ was not sorry when the nature of the
scene changed. had cut across pref
ty broad promontory, and now came up
on a tiny, rocky bay. From this bay a
narrow valley ran up, widening gradu-
ally, and at some miles from the water
becoming woody and fertile-looking. A
road wound along it,~leading to a con
siderable town, where they consume the
fish caught in this bay.
| descended the hillside to a groupe
ofcottages, and asked ola woman whom
| met toiling up the beach with a heavy
load OF fish, ii any one lived at Grcystonc
Hall. No one, She told me-atleast, no
one was known to live there; but their
folks were mostly teard to pass by it,
and so there was no coming TO the rights
Of it. 1t had the character of an I'M
canny place, then! | went on, more ca
gelly than before, pursuing the road
through the valley for a compile Of miles,
then taking q branch road to the left,
that led me to the park gates. The gates
were locked; but between one Of them
carved pillars and the wall there was a
gap, through which | easily entered,
S, umblng over fallen and broken vase,
moss-grown and half buried in dead
leaves.
An avenue of old beeches, yellowed
and fast barring, in whose tops the wind
moaned dismally, led up to the house.
Great gaunt branches battered its board
ed-up windows. ] prowled about, tax
ing in the strange influence OF the place,
and seeking the whereabouts of a GER
tain line, and clump ofblacktrces, which
! had ALWAYS remarked when viewing
the house from the hills around.
/ sought lazily and dreamily, setting
wild thoughts to wild music the while.
| confess to having been much startled
when, as | passed close to thewest wing
of the house, voice addressed me.
Turning, | saw a small figure standing
ut the top OF the tenace-steps-lnct two
blue eyes, that questioned my right TO
be where I was. / had a name to give,
that, for reasons best known to us two,
placed me on friendly terms with the
owner OF those blue eyes, aad we enter
ed into conversation. The owner OF
those blue eyes-clear, calm, youthful
cyes-was d woman Of upwards ofsix-
ty, whom | shall call Marg'rct.
For weeks, GreyStone Hall was a
haunt of mine: grew acquainted, but
not familiar, with its grand dcsola'io ion,
and bit by bit learned something OF the
history of the inhabitants. On sunny
Autumn moons, | paced up and down
the terrace for hours, dreaming over
what had heard from Marg'ret When
twill; hit fell, and the wind soughed sigh
ingly, and the branches OF the trees
threw themselves about as if possessed,
| sometimes too keenly felt, fer past grief
and excitement had LETT me with shat
tered nerves-that-
There are spirits in the air,
And genii Of the evening breeze,
And gentle ghosts, with eyes as fair,
As star beams among twilight trees.
Too keenly, say, because Twas obliged
to avoid excitement: my reason might
then have given way, had | yielded my
self to the experiencing OF the soul-thrll-
ling awe which even fancied communion