The weekly mountain Democrat. [volume] (Placerville, El Dorado County, Calif.) 1861-1862, 1862-03-22
What he Saw.

What he Saw.
'Come, Mr.. Trevanion, tell US a story.
My dear Mrs. Grey, a story ] have
not told one since | was very little boy,
and was switched for my last
Nonsense | am speaking English !!
| don't wish lib, but tale-an adven-
ture. Something aesthetic, or narrowing,
or transcendental, or diplomatic, Or
oh, such big words Spare mel
! Big words Am a primer that cam
not speak in more than dissylables with.
49,, re.A,;>,. 49,: 81 x, c.s,,<t>,
and do as you are bid
'Bidr yawntd Trevanion. lie was sit
Ting on the upper step of the flight which
! led into the house, his head leaning back
upon the doors sill Of the piazza, and his
legs dangling down. 1t must be confessed
/ that Mr.. Trcvanion's manners were-un-
common and various. His very best
were very good indeed, but he would not
run the risk of wearing them out by con-
stant use his second best were tolerable !;
his worst | should not bike to see. At
present, he was indulging in his second
best for if his attitude lacked respect,
his tone was pleasant; and he was with
, those who excused his manner for the
sake of his matter, and covered over his
defects with the shady mantle Of 'oddity.
! Bid! {! he yawned again. What kind
of story did you suggest Diplomatic !?
Shall tell You how ! shocked a whole
company and fluStered myself, by igno-
: ring, through my semi nibarbarouS Ameri-
can Grcat.BritiSh habits, that ! should
oter my arm to the lady | took into my
first French dinner, and conduct her back
to the drawing room, instead Of tucKing
my feet under the mahogony for 'one
glass more'r'
'No-I won't have that anecdote; for
Won have condensed the whole thing, point
and all, in your one sentence
Then y"u wish to be kept in suspense.
Oh, let me OIL
Mrs. Grey shook her head and called
Mrs. Ilarr.ngton, Mr.. Trevanion is go
ing 10 tell us a story. Come and listen.
i don't believe in stories worth hearing
which you patronize or submit to me,
answered Mrs. Harrington, joining them.
She sent me book lately she cOntin-
ued, turning to Mr.. Trevanion, written
as an old manner might talk, with her
compliments as the authnr"SS feel
greatly Obliged for the compliment to my
understanding.
oh! had you been deceived by it, re-
torted Mrs. Grey, it would not have
brought your wit into question-it would
only have shown your appreciation of
mine. 1t was to test your gauge of me,
not mine Of yOn.'
That was fair enough, said Trevanion.
| if Mrs. Grey had cause to doubt your
valuation Of her mental charms. But
nppropos of writing, have story, which
ought to he written -
Write it, then; for, after all, you write
better than you speak, saii Mrs. Grey.
'Indccdr Trevanion was put on his
mcttle by the malicious sparkle in the
lively lady's eye. as she threw out this
suggestion. Il will tell it TO you,' he
said.
He shook himself into sitting posture,
and there was silence Of some moments.
The light OF an inner room scarcely
reached the group, but young moon
danced upon the broad ocean, which rolled
and Surged and beat laZily upon the beach,
not a hundred yards from the house -
Piles of sand had drifted here and there,
and Law white aud still in the cool but
breathleSs calm. There was no sound
from any neiShboring cottage, and no
thing interIrred with Trevanions strong
and marked voice as he deliberately thus
began:
There is narrow slip of half-reclaim-
cd land upon my plantation which con-
meets the island on which live with the
'main' determined, during the last
spring, TO make a cauSeway here, to ia
! clitatc communication between the two
| had gang OF negroes set to work at
this spot, and one afternoon took my way,
as usual, to see how they were coming on.
But | was late in starting. My pony
stood saddlcd at the door, and | loitered,
to play with my little girl, to watch the
gambols of litter of terriers, to light a
! fresh cigar, etc. Finally, when under
way, the evening had nearly closed in,
and | pushed on to reach the causeway
before night.
A thicket of trees borders the road on
either side as you approach this end of
the island-jeSsamine vines intcrlace the
branches, forming by day perfect bower
Of amber sweetness, but at night produ-
cling a gloomy darkness, which no moon
beams chad there even been noon could
penetrate.
My horse dropped into a walk as we
skirted this narrow path, and my stlrrup
brushed aside the blossoms in our slow
progress. | was idly meditating another
European journey, and thinking Of the
expense Of it, when hand as cold as ice
was laid upon mine. Starting, | turned
toward the thickct-cverythng was in.
distinct, but the lifelesS hand lay heavily
on my right, and the horse had stopped.
| passed my left hand along the wrist Of
this strange apparition, and discovered an
arm belonging 10 it; but so wasted, 50
emaciated, SO worn, that my first idea oI
its being one of my negroes fallen dead
near me, passed from my mind. None OF
my people could, unknown to me, have
reached so miserable a state. With an
impulse, to which instantly yielded,
drew the entire body from the entangled
shrubbery. and tossed it, light as it was,
across the pony's neck. Urging him
then to full speed. i pressed through the
grove; the daylight was nearly spent
and, to my horror, | could just distinguish,
as we cleared the overhangirg trees and
came into the open country. that the bur
den l partly bore was no negro, but q
shameless mass. Of which the head. crown.