Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1857-09-16

success.
All that night, and for days and weeks
after, the search was continued with all the
sleepless energy and vigilance which love
could prompt, but all in vain; not the
slightest trace was ever found of the mis-
sing bride
Had she, in some sudden alteration of
mind, wandered into the boundless swamps,
and perished miserably Of hunger and ex- Z,
posure Or had some fearful and unbo-
somed grief, caused her to cast herself
into the turbid waters of the Missis-
sippi2 Or had she, perchace, met and
loved some person SO far beneath her in
station as to render an open union hopeless,
and they had fled together to distant lands.
Such were some of the conjectures Of the
gossips concerning her fate; while others
told dreary stories of the dreadful and des-
perate deeds of the pirates of the gulf, or
late at nights, with terrified glances cast
over their shoulders towards the door, whis-
pered ghostly tales of the doings of the de-
mon huntsman, whose horn was often heard
among the woods and marshes, and the
baying of whose dogs mingled with the
rustling of the wind among the leaves, as
it struck upon his ear in the dreary hours of
night, caused many pious Acadian to
hastily cross himself and utter an Ave Ma
ria and petition for protection against
the devil and his angels.
It would be tedious to tell-as to hear,
save in the briefest manner-how, one af-
ter another, FIVE more of the seven daugh-
ters disappeared in the same way, each on
their wedding night, till but one was left,
the youngest and most beautiful, the best
loved of all. A strange infatuation SEEM
ed to enchain all who were concerned
and while, when each was lost, the same
scene of frantic search, of wild grief, and
of despairing acquieseence was enacted,
none ever dreamed of making the mystic
rious fate which seemed to hang over the
/ family, an objection to the marriage of the
young girl And thus it came to pass that
the last daughter became betrothed, as the
rest had been, to one well worthy of her,
and in due time another large company as
sembled to grace the nuptials.
But on this occasion there was but little
of merriment. The guests clustered to-
lgether in groups of twos, threes, and in
whispers spoke of the lost sisters. All
seemed to feel as though they were shad-
owed by the wings of some dark and terri
Bile misfortune lowering over the doomed
!, house. No one was found bold enough to
utter a jest, or speak gay or thoughtless
word.
t In the meantime all possible care was
taken to guard the bride from the fate Of
! her sisters. A chosen body of friends
watched constantly over her, and never per.
/, mitted her to be absent from their sight.
Thus were matters situated when the
hour appointed for the nuptial ceremony
, arrived.
But the final VOWS were scarcely spoken
!. when the sound of a distant horn was heard
, and thrill of terror struck to each heart
: 1t appeared nearer, till at last the heavy
: tramp of man, accompanied by the pat
: tering sound of the feet of hurrying dog
d was heard upon the veranda. All eye
+ were fixed upon the closed door. 1t open
J ed with crash, and a gigantic huntsman
! clad all in green, and surrounded by
Q pack of huge and painting hounds appeare,
II upon the theshold Fixed to their place
:, the spectators stared with CLASSY eyes W
i on the terrible visitor, and waited in speech
: less terror his further movement. Fixin
; his flashing eyes upon the bride, with in
. perial air he raised his right hand toward
n her. With tottering steps she advanced
ST and sank fainting into his arms. One bias
r upon his mighty horn, one yell from h
ferocious pack and the green huntsma
sprang from the house bearing with hir
the inanimate, form of the doomed BRIDE
Fainter and fainter grew the sounds of th
horn and the dogs, till they faded quit
away in the distance and then, and not ii
then, did the beholders of this strange seer
nt recover from the spell which had dep1
ID we'd them of the power of moving or speal
d ing.
10 All those who were present at this supe
t; natural abduction have long since mingle
is their ashes with their parent earth, bl
o. the old house still stands, witness to tt
It. truth of the legend, and on stormy nigh
be the demon auntsman's horn and the bayin
of his dogs, rising above the roaring of Il
ns tempest, may be heard sounding along IL
,rs Metairie Ridge and through the SWAMP
as and woods adjoining, and at the midnigl
by hour the ghosts of the bereaved old faith
d, yet wanders through the deserted chamb
,r, of the ancient house, weeping and wringiI
es its shadoway hand and repeating, in az
he nizing tones, the names Of the seUen Il
ed brides.
-
es.
W THE MOTHER MouLDs THE MAN.-That
en- is the mother who moulds the man, is ase
"A timent illustrated by the following record
observations of shrewd writer:
when lived among the Choctaw India
ge held consultation with one of their chi
ng respecting the successive stages of their 2
ice gress in the arts of civilized life, and amt
un other things he informed me that, at tt
the start, they fell into great mistake Il
ad. only sent their boys to school. These b
II came home intelligent men, but they MARI
Aeu uneducated and uncivilized wives and
Ca uniform result was that the children were
llu- like their mothers. Thus the father soon
| of his wife and children. And now said he
In we would educate but one class of our C
and dren we would choose the girls, for, W
az, they became mothers, they educate Il
sons. This is the point, and it is true.
Enation can become fully enlightened W
! to mothers are not in good degree, quail
to discharge the duties of the home worl
)