Beaufort Republican. [volume] (Beaufort, S.C.) 1871-1873, 1872-11-14
A SKETCH FROM LIFE.

On the moorland in the sunset hour,
and it is all ruddy and golden hued.
There is busy, FLASHING little water
fall running heedlessly on its way from
the hills to the sea. 1t knows no pain,
nor i'll, and it passes every object un
needed by ; away it goes, madly, indif-
ferently. carelessiy. Surely on all the
moorland. and in all wide Nature, there
is nothing SO uusympathising as this one
little burn, which hurries carelessly
through the copse of birch trees.
Pust along the rough path into the
nest of trees ; there, standing on the
banks of the burn are feeble, tottering
walls. Every stone of them is gener-
orally letting go its hold on its neighbor.
Clearly this tells of time that is past.
Only ruins of old cottages, nothing
more ! and they yet hold to the old
place, and cry on Nature around for
sympathy.
Aad the birch trees cluster over them,
clasping and twining their weird fantas.
tic arms above, and the briars and honey
suckles h ing lovingly and picturesquely
about them, and the birds build THEN
nests there, and they sit in the bir,l,
trees overhead and sing their Songs.
Outside the walls grows the bracken fern,
which turns golden in Autumn and in.
side, where once were odd little rooms,
where children's voices and footsteps
echoed, is now purple garden of heather
with deeply-set roots. Over all there is
an utter stiffness.
Pass on, and on the steep hillside you
will see another cottage, with the ground
on one side of it 50 sloping that it is on
a level with the roof 1t is only separated
from the ruins by the plashing barn.
In the sunset glow which comes Gid.
ing through the trees, there is wonder
ful color about this roof; it is thached
with brown red heather, and is a perfect
garden Of feathery grasses, golden flow.
ers and ruddy leaves. Rising up from
among them is thin line of blue, curl,
ing smoke and this was all there was tc
tell that this cottage had aught to dc
with life.
Before the sun had quite disappeared
behind the hills, an old woman descended
toward the cottage. She stood in the
sunlight, in her short gray homespur
petticoat and brown jacket. On hel
back she carried large bundle of gold
en- tinged bracken, and the sunlight
played among it. She stood waiting
and looking in the direction of the cot
tage, for stranger stood there looking
about him. There was about as great {
contrast between them as can we'll bt
imagined, for while the old woman seem
ed to be part and parcel of the old cot
tage, the stranger was young man
evidently tourist.
He advanced to the old woman, ant
told her that he had come to see her ant
her house. Then she extended hanC
to him, and without another word sh,
threw the bracken on the ground an(
set herself down beside it on the grass
and clasped her hands around he
knees.
The tla1ger sat down beside her, an
asked her whether she had lived Ion,
alone in the cottage.
Sha told him that she lived With Mary
but that Mary was ont, and that Mar,
was so deaf that she was quite useless
and that she had no English.
In the meantime the old woman, wht
was talking, had a somewhat peculia
English of her own she translated from
Gaelic, and as there is no cit" in tha
ianeulge it occasioned some confusion
of gen Ter. Mary, she was always spok
of as She" She told the stranger tina
Mary thatched the house, sowed thei
field. looked after tho COW and did every
thing. He gave his opinion that Mar,
MI s. be very clever.
''Ou aye, he's rael clever" was tn
answer.