The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1850-1873, 1870-02-04
Misfellaay.
THE LOVERS LEAP.
BY JUSTIN MCCARTHY.


BY JUSTIN MCCARTHY.
In one of the few quarters of New
York, which innovation and progres
have not touched, or which, to quot
a famous phrase of Grattan's, "moderl
degeneracy has failed to reach" is
queer, quaint, mouldy-looking littl.
old church or chapel. How old 1t is l
unskilled in the archaeology OF the re
gion, have no means of knowing; pu
/ should think it might well hav'
echoed to the steady tread OF stout re
ter Stuyvesant; for the houses Whicf
now nearly gird it round are them
selves ancient of days-almost medle
val for place like New York; ane
vet they have evidently grown VI
Gradually long since the building of the
church or chapel. say this is evident
because take it for granted that nc
mortal ever yet set about building
church where there was not more OF
less of clear s;,ace around it; and this
little church is now blocked up on al
three sides with houses. In fact, il
stands, one might say, in niche form.
ed by the encroachiug and almost en-
circling buildings. Its place is just a
little back of a considerable and busy
thoroughfare. You step aside into q
narrow and irregular gorge of small de-
caying houses, and there before you
stands the gate and the little church
yard, reduced now to a mere patch OF
dank grass rallied around with pali-
SADIE of rusty and mouldering iron.-
Then you see the church, low, squat,
square, built mainly of brick which was
once red, but has failed to keep the ma
tural ruby of its cheeks; with a very
low and Stunted tower or belfry; and
general aspect of sullenness about it
as a structure which feels itself out of
date and out of place, but which, nev-
ertheless, positively refuses to surren-
der to the progress of audacious change.
Round the three sides of the church
tall houses, swarming with population,
have risen; and they have SO little
breathing space for the venerable
building, that there hardly seems a
clear way for decent donkey-cart be-
tween its ratings and their doors and
stoops and if one of them were to fall
it would have no choice but to come
crashing down into the church-yard.-
The houses contain, floor over floor,
offices of small mysterious agencies for
coal-companies, and building-compa-
mics, and such like; carpenters work
rooms, artificial fiOwer-makers, gold
beaters, beer-sellers; here and there
restaurant or German c0ndnOret;
and that there are many laundresses
in the region is made evident by the
| fact that almost every roof is festOOned
with futtering shirts, pantalets and
chemises.
In this dingy and melancholy region
lived and bloomed pretty girl as one
might wish to see-Elsie Clarion. Eli
sizes grandfather and grandmother
were French Canadians, who settled
in New York, and the family had gone
on growing there since; and Elsie now
| lived with her father and mother, the
only child how left to them; for her
three brothers had gone West, and
were farming in different States. Ell.
sie's father was matchmaker in rath-
er a small way. He and his wife were
persons some education and taste, and
they had had Elsie well taught
Among her other accomplishments she
had some gift of music, and actually
now held the important and lucrative
DOcI VI OlSoLlSt tiiS uiSo. httlC
church have described.
Now there had been calamity in
Elsie's family. She had a sister, a
handSome, dark-eyed girl, too attrac-
tive and too restless for her surround
ings; and she had been seen some
where by young man from a better
quarter of the city, and she had gone
with him to the parks and to concerts
and tine rest need hardly be told. The
poor girl repented bitterly; and her pa
rents would have forgiven her and still
kept her with them, but New York
was hateful to her; and as one of her
brothers offered to give her home she
went with HIM, and her father and
mother had to part with her. We do
not meet with her directly in this sto-
ry; she is mentioned thus early for the
purpose of explaining and emphasizing
the keen and almost morbid anxiety
with which Elsie's father and mother
watched over her as she grew to be
woman, and the beauty of her bright
eyes and graceful figure became more
and more evident.
Elsie used to practice on the organ a
good deal in the evenings, and even
until it was quite dark very often. She
had the key of the little church. She
would let herself in, lock the door,
mount the organ-loft, and there prac-
tice her playing; and her father and
mother, who lived in one of the houses
on the right side of the church as you
looked from the open street, and could
hear the sweet, solemn notes of the
organ, and they knew that their daugh.
ter's fingers were calling forth the mu-
sic; and they were happy. Happier
still, perhaps, were they when she
thought she had practiced enongh, and
descended from the organ>loft, came
out of the desolate little church into
the almost equally desolate little
church-yard, locked the doors behind
her, and ran home, looking bright and
winning and full of love.
But what darksome, grewsome
place must have been that dreary
-church-tower for Elsie Clairon to spend
evening hours in! She must have had
good conscience, and been very little
afraid of ghosts, to endure that place
alone in the gray, grim, evening hours.
To stand alone in the church-yard out
side, even though there be houses all
around, would be trial enough for some
nerves at certain hours of shadow-and
yet this girl sits alone in that awesOme
organ-loft and plays for hours, long af-
ter the stars of the summer evening
have begun to look out. Take this
particular evening for example. 1t is
late; the sun has gone down full an
hour; the season is the very latest |
verge of summer; the night has al
ready begun to drop its curtain of
gloom; the clouds cover the sky so
that no stars can be seen; the air is |
heavy, thick, apparently surcharged
with electricity; there is evidently q
thunderstorm approaching. Yet you
can hear the tones of the organ dis |
tinctly; and when you hear them YOU
may know that Elsie Clairon is sitting
there in that doleful tower. 1t is very
ghosuy here-One wonders what ii |
must be there.
We'll, the story-teller enters every
where, and can take his audience with |
INN, as the DidJie BOiteur could carry
Don Cleofas. and, with Don Cleofas all |
The world of readers. We enter the |
cnurch-and truly it is dismal edifice. |
1nlngs look far drearier within than |
WITHOUT. All Is gray, gloomy, mould |
ering, sepulchral. The dismalness and
darkness oppress the soul. How co,
Elsie endure the place? We follow the
strains OF her music till we find our
selves just or the last step of the tor
turous, rickety flight of stairs leadinp
TO the organ-gallery; and there we
pause. We will not intrude: but we
will listen while the pretty girl plays.