The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1868-11-04

I always think OF bean-poies, with
Gored dresses on the brain.
Oh, we'll, this is curious world,
False teeth, false calves. and oh,
They speak of palpitators; but
The truth I do not know.
But lot them wear whate'er they will,
liemonstrance is in vain,
And they are really charming with
The fashion on the brain.
f--y
MYSTERY OF THE TI4ATCHED
HOUSE.
It was clean, bright, wholesome,
thoroughly lovable house. The first
time I saw il, / fell in love with it,
and wanted to live in it at once. It
fascinated me. When I crossed its
threshold, I felt as if I had opened o
book whose parusal promised en-
chantment. I felt passionate long
ing to have been born here, to have
been expected by the brown old
watchful walls for years before it had
been my turn to exist in the world.
I felt despoiled of my rights; because
there was here hoard of wealth
which I might'not touch, placed just
beyond the reach of my hand. I was
tantaized; because the secrets of O.
sweetly odorous past hung about the
shady corners, and the sunny win
dow-franes and the grotesque hearth
places; and their breath was no more
to me than the scent of dried rose
leaves. ~
It was my fault that we bought the
Thatched House. We wanted q coun-
try home; and, hearing that this was
for sale, we drove many miles one
showery April morning to view the
place and judge if it might suit our
need. Aunt Featherstone objected to
1T from the first, and often boosted of
her own sagacity in doing SO, after
the Thatched House had proved it.
self an incubus dreadful Old Man
of the Mountains, not to be shaken
from our necks. I once was bold
enough to tell her that temper, and
not sagacity, was the cause of her dis
like that April morning. We drove
In an open ph@ton, and Aunt Fea-
therstone got some drops of rain on
her new silk dress. Consequently
she was out of humor with every
thing, and vehemently pronounced
her veto upon the purchase of the
Thatcked House.
was spoiled girl, however, and
thought it hard that I might not
have my own way in this matter as in
everything else. AS we drove along
lonely road, across wild, open
country, I had worshipped the
broken, gold. edged rain-clouds, and
the hills, with their soft, trailing sha-
dows. had caught the shower in
my face, and laughed; and dried my
limp curls with my pocket handker-
chief. l was disposed to love every
thing l saw, and clapped my hands
when we stopped before the sad look
ing old gates, with their mossy brick
pillars, and their iron arms folded
across, as if mournfully forbidding
inquiry into some long hushed-up
and forgotten mystery. When we
swept along the silent avenue nv
heart leaped up in greeting to the
grand old trees, that rose towering
freshly at every curve, spreading
their masses of green foliage right
and left, and flinging showers of dia.
mond drops to the ground whenever
the breeze lifted the tresses of q
drowsy bough, or a bird poised its
slender weight upon twig; and then
shot off sudden into the blue.
Aunt Featherstone exclaimed
against the house the very moment
we came in sight of it. 1t was NOT
the sort of thing we wanted at ali
she said. It had not got a modern
porch, and it was all hooks and an
giles on the outside. The lower win.
dows were too long and narrow, and
upper ones too small, and pointing
up above the caves in that old,
fashioned inconvenient manner. To
crown its absurdities, the roof was
thatched. No, no, Aunt Feather
stone said, it was necessary for such
old houses to exist for the sake of
pictures and romances; but as for
people of common sense going to
live In them, that was out of the
question.
L left her still outside with her eve
glass leveled at the chimneys, and
darted into the house to explore. An
Old woman preceded me with ling
ling bunch of keys, unlocking ali the m
doors, throwing open the shutters
and letting the long levels of the ann
shine fall over the uncarpeted floors
1t was ell delicious, [ thought: the
long dining-room with it's %indows