The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1872-07-12

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them on relentingly for SO long q
time. There they remain TO this day,
to be seen by the thousands who
annually pass up and down that
beautiful river.
Later in the day, when Bessie
walked down to the bluff, I was pre-
pared to answer the questions she
asked the moment her eyes fell upon
the strange object in the river: sit
was merely sunken steamer; these
Southern rivers are full of dangerous
snags, you know"
The days slipped away quietly
and pleasantly. Under the pine
trees, we drank In health wi their
pungent fragrance; we luxuriated
upon oranges and berries, and idly
foated up and down the great river,
watching the sunsets. And when
the full, white moon appeared over
the dark belt of trees in the east, we
shot out from the reedy shores of the
solemn river into the silvery path it
left upon the water, and driited on
and on-dreamily happy, with no
sound to break the sweet silence of
the moment, save the faint ripple of
the water under our bow, or the
splash of distant oars far down the
river and then, home again, to
sleep soundly, until the echo of the
horn at sunrise should break in up
on our rest.
One day our host left us to the
tender mercies of Old Aunt Winner
and her tribe of colored satellites.
With my marine-glass and copy of
Tennyson, we strolled down to the
bluff, with the determination of en-
joying the day to the utmost. Hav-
ing arranged ourselves comfortably,
I opened my book, and, of course,
turned to the fittest poem for such
day and such place, and read
aloud
How sweet it were, hearing the downward
With haIf-sh eyes ever to seem
Falling asleep in a half dream!
To dream aud dream, like yOnder amber light,
Which win not leayc the nyrrh- bush on the
To hear each others whispered speech;
Eating the lotus, day by day,
TO watch the crisping Tipples on the beach,
And tender curving lines OF creamy spray;
To lend our hearts and spirits who ly
To the influence OF mild-minded melancholy;
TO muse and
'FWhat's that p asked Bessie, sud
denly.
"What's what ?'
'' thought heard some one call
ing"
"Joe, probably, shouting to his
mule" l answered, and, with this
quick dismissal of the matter, re-
turned to my book:
But propt on beds of amaranth and molly,
How sweet (while warm airs lull as, blowing low
With half-dropt eyelids stiIl.
Beneath "A heaven dark and holy,
TO watel the long, bright river drawing slowly
HIS waters from the purple hill
To hear the emerald -colOred water falling
Only to hear and see the far off sparkling brine
Only to hear were sweet, stretched out beneath
the pine,
'' There it is again, Phil"
"Bessie," said I, ''you are certain
ly nervous this morning; but I hope
you viii not make that an excuse for
foolishly imagining that the cawing
of crow, or the bowling of a darky
over In the cotton field, is a cry of
distress. Be quiet, and let's enjoy
our Iazines5."
'But did hear some one distinct
ly call for help"
"Nonesense."
"Well, just listen a moment, and
perhaps you will be convinced"
SO l put down the book, and
stopped In sensuous delight over the
dreamy lusciousness of the day and
scenery. I looked through half
closed lids out upon the sapphire
waters of the beautiful Weiaka. So
we waited: Bessie all alert for the
expected cry, I drowsily nodding
away the moments, so completely
imbued with the spirit of lotus-land
that quite forgot what we were
waiting for, and languidly imagined
that the quiet happiness of the mo-
ment would never be disturbed.
The river was so quietly beautiful,
the air SO full of fragrance, the whole
scene SO altogether lovely, that from
my soul felt that
''Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toll
There Is no Joy but calm
Suddenly acr SIS the sparkling riv-
er came a prolonged cry-half a
shout, half a sigh. All my dreami-
ness fed In an instant.
swell, said Bessie, 'are you salts
fed ?''
"Quite so but what can it be ?'
We listened for its repetition, and
again the sound hoated over to us
cry so full of horror and despair
that we both shuddered as though a
sudden chill had Overtaken us.
Some one Is drowning" said Bes-
sic. Selling the glass and resting it
against the log, l locke out upon
the river-ihis time with wide-opcn
eyes, taking in every speck that dane
ed upon its ripples. There was not
a breath of wind we had not seen a
single sail that morning. How was
it possible that any disaster could
have overtaken a boat ?-and yet the
cry certainly came from the river
Slowly / turned the glass up the riv-
er until it came in range with the oil
wreck. There were the great black
beams-silent sentinels over the
graves of the martyred dead-but I
could see nothing else, and pointed
the glass further up the river. Just
then another cry-this time of direst
/ agony. Bessie clUtched my arm with
cold. trembling hands and quickly
bringing the glass back SO that the
wreck was again IN range, 1 thought
yes, was sure-that I detected
some strange object, and moments
/ careful observation convinced me that
/ 1T was man clinging for his life to