Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1858-10-13
EDGEE1ELD S. o. OCTOBER 13, 1858.

C0loSeuS; inc llCLle ones, Ellie auu LauTa, Witt
ing round and round to make hen coops with
their dresses; Master Charlie climbing up on
the back of his high table chair to make Metals
mocking bird sing Yankee Doodle ;-he has
nearly reached the top, when down, on sudden
comes cage, and bird and chair, and all, with
such scream from poor Charlie that the noise
within we'll nigh vies with the storm without
and draws Papa Lindsay from his reverie Of bar
vest and corn,-Meta and Paul from the
"wind harps" in the'window.
Full half an hour has passed since the rain
began, and still the storm RACES in all its fury
another half hour passes and the rain is over
and forth they wander,-Papa Lindsay to the
fields, Paul and Meta to the piazza, and the lit.
tie ones who have been pent up in the old hall
these three hours, to the four ends of the earth
1t is now an hour past noon, and the clouds
are all rolling rapidly away from the East and
West, the North and South, to the land o
dreams, or dissolving themselves in the fields o
air; the whole earth becoming, in the mean
time, as resplendent with sunshine as if it were
the resurrection morn. Delciously cool and
ballny breczes spring up on every side, shaking
the rain drops from tie tree tops in a sort OF
drip, drip, drip-a-drp cadence-b:rls' songs fill
the air with melody, and from the rose vine
behind which Meta and Paul are talking comes
at this moment, STOOD Of wild and delrious
Music" from the throat of single mock-Lird
o, so refreshing is the rain, and So beautiful is
the clearing away Of the Clouds
An hour or so later, and tue sandy soil is
sufficiently dry for maiden to walk; and Paul
Randall, arising, throws Meta's guitar across his
shoulders, q Ia Troubaelour, th'usts volume Of
Tennyson's poetry into his pocket, draws Metals
hand within his arm, starts forth for ramble
down the lane and across the Meadows. And
wont you, gentle reader, wander with them,
thou and thy Paul, to, drink in the beauty of the
outer world, and to thank God for the summer
rain? o, my sweet love, thou, whose tender
blue eyes follow these words of mine, leave off
romance and philosophy, and even the rhymes
of the poet for an afternoon, and go with Paul
and little Meta in quest Of country air, and
country folks. And thou, poor dreamer, poor
lone dreamer, be thou whosoever thou art, leave
the shadows of that inner world, and come forth
like a glad child into the sunlight Of heaven
Do not fear but that you will come back a
purer and better man. The blue sky, and the
genial sui, the fresh green woods and II bird
songs, cannot prove traitor 10 themselves They
will set your whole sole a-slow with l'a?py. hap
ny thoughts; will enrich and bcauti(y the spirit;
and cause roses, and violets, and jasmines, and
a thousand sweet summer flowers to spring up
in the desert wastes of your ileart, makil'e
your whole life seem altogether beautiful.
Come! upon refreshed world We enter, passing
first the little plots Of garden flowers to find
them all hanging their heads in grateful humili-
ty, having intoxicated themselves upon rain
water; and then into the long narrow lane we
pass with the apple trees glistenins with rain
drops on one side of you, and on the other
broad fields of yellow grain, all waving SO beau
tilully beneath the summer breeze in their
dewy fullness. And thus you continue your
rambe, passing at intervals large fields Of corn,
tue leaves Of which continually rustic in the
breezy air and gliSten with sunlight-ever and
anon jumping over little pools Of water that
still lie gathered in the road and then again
you enter long narrow lane, through which
you pass, and at length find yourself upon the
great unenclosed old fields that surround the
Battle Ground Of Ninety-Six. Very beautiful,
and with aTitian soltness, glows the smoothe
green grass beneath your feet, and so balmy and
life-gving is the air, that the very act of breath
ing becomes thing of the Most exquisite en-
joyment. :.
And now, dear reader, if thou art wearied
with walking underneath some one Of tie pref
ty little clumps Of cedar and elm, OF sunach and
grape vines, that dot the plain here and there,
we will leave you to rest whilst Paul and Meta
continue their ramble whithersoever they will.
Through the old fields and around many little
clumps of trees we see them wandering to the
Old Fort. 1t is old and hallowed ground unto
them; the little span Of their lives so far has
been spent under its very shadow; and over its
hill-sides wandered, half century ago, the
youthful, and nimble feet of sainted forms, very
dear unto them, that now lie mouldering in the
grave. War; clad heroes seem to arise from the
very dust ut their feet and hold familiar inter-
course with them; their imagnations bring out
before them the whole armed array Of sodiery,
whilst legendary voices come from the storied
Past, and throw around them spell Of thought
full silence.
Thus impressed, they both sat down upon
the moss-covered roots of the huge old sugar.
berry tree that still oyershadows as with re-
membrance the famous mine of 1881. All day
long, Paul has been in strangely thoughtful
mood, which nothing could disturb save the
presence Of little Meta, and when she spoke to
him, he would look upon her wi h such a.deep
interest swelling in his darlSbrown eyes that
she would be compelled to turn away her head,
in order to hide her bushes. As the shadows
of evening began to fall, his thoughts seemed to
grow upon him, and he sat there upon the gras
sy mound, in one Of those strangely startled,
wondering and watchfu moods, that come upon
one when the mind realizes that some great
and thrilling event, is about to dawn upon us.
Meta sat beside him, electrically bound to
his side with beautiful and holy light burn