The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1876-03-23
Original Starg.
BERKELEY HALL.
BY "LA CAROLINE"
CHAPTER XII.
"All within is dark as night;
In the windows Is no light,
And no murmur at the door,
So.freouent on its hinge before"

In the autumn of -65, a party of
trayelen-refugees homeward bound
stopped at Gravelly Bottom to rest their
horses and refresh themselves with a cold
dinner The carriage had been driven
out of the road, the horses cared for, and
the driver lounged &, carelessly beside
them. In his sad and discontented face
wesfnd it difficult to trace the lineaments
of our lively, grinning acquaintance of
Berkleys Hall, Croppo, Col. Maham's
carriage driver, and the ever ready and
delighted attendant in all the sports by
wood and stream of his master and his
masters guests and friends. IL. j
Freedom, the costly boon bestowed
upon his race, (the purchase money hav-
ing been thelblood of our brayest and
best had quenched the light of joy
which, heamedf from his eye, and had
driven from his breast the sweet spirit of
contentment and poor Croppo had be-
COME the moody and irresolute victim of
the denouement of the radical idea of
equal rights and progress. ....
Croppo loved his kind mistress, Miss
Marion, and Mass Harry, but that very
love which had given grace to his rough
ness and dignity to his ignorance, he
had been taught was crime against his
race, his deliverers and his God. Poor,
poor fellowl he was in a hard strait,
from which his dull negro brains could
not extricate him. Thus, we find him
moody and unhappy, with but one fixed
aim, viz: to take his mistress back safely
to Berkley Hall, and then ready to do
that which probably, he would not, if
leftonly to his own kindly feelings
0na couch made of shawls and COM
forters, Mrs. Maham sat in reclining
posture, and by her side, dressed in a
suit of worn grey clothes, from which
the military buttons and trimmings had
been taken, lay an x-Confederate SOL
dier. His cap was thrown of, his head
rested on one of the carriage cushions,
and he gazed,with quiet enjoyment upon
the blue and perfectly cloudless autumn
skies. His work had been done-nobly
doneE:@ The cause; it is true, was lost,
but the youthful though war-worn SOL
dier enjoyed inward peace in the con-
sciousness of a well-performed duty, and
was ready fofthe manly Performance of
the still harder one of patient waiting.
In despite of the muscular and finely
developed proportions of well-built
man, the dark-chesnut beard, and the
occasional threads of silver in the glossy,
brown hair, we do not fail to recognize
in the toati ensemble our boyish favorite,
Harry Mahap.t IL |
"Harry Maham, scarce twenty-five,
and greyp you exclaim. All! reader,
have you forgotten the terrible struggle
through which our heroes of the stricken
South had passed? and can you wonder
flour boys are grey-haired men2 Our
friend, Harry, had in truth grown to
manhood amid those scenes of sorrow
and strife. The boy, Harry, had devel-
oped in mental and moral as well as
physical proportions. His impulsive,
passionate, boy nature, had sobered into
thoughtful earnest enthusiasm. He had
passed through those sad four years with
out receiving one single wound from
ball or shell. On every battlefield his
courage and daring had been conspicu-
GUS, but he seemed to carry charmed
life. Father and brother, friends and
comrades had fallen by his side; but
Harry lived on, hiding his heart wounds
with manly courage, and sharing with
his brave countrymen their common
hardships on the field and in the camp
the summers heat, the winters cold,
hunger and thirst, pain and weariness-
with the calm fortitude and -soldierly
bearing gof al veteran! Inithat terrible
struggle to him had been granted the
Christians hope; he had learned to live
the Christians life, ~
About two hundred yards removed
from Harry and his mother, Marion sat
on low log by the side Of the narrow
little-brooklet which runs across the peb-;
bly, road, So narrow is the little stream
it might be said to resemble broad
azure ribbon, interviewer with golden
threads, borrowing its coloring from the
blue skies and yellow sunlight. The
youngsgirl'stooped over the tiny stream
let,af dipping her white hands eyer and
anon in the clear, cool water; and gently
lifting the pink and white pebbles, the
bosom treasures of the little rill, which
were as easily discerned in its shallow
depth as the joys and sorrows of child
hoods. heart are marked upon its open
brow. She seemed to be lost in thought;
in a day dream from which she was
aroused by the voice of Arthur Fergu-
son, who had been leaning against tall
hickory close by, watching with affection
ate admiration the varied emotions of
her expressive face, and the undulations
of her graceful form.
"a penny for your thoughts, chere
an'ie," ne said, STOPPING over and speak
ing in low but playful voice, eff it be
not impertinent to question the soul
voices of fair maiden's heart"
"My thoughts! oh! they are most of
them gone, and gone foreverl I could
not.catch them if would; but some of
them you may surely share, Arthur. I
7 vas THINKING of the Dast. our happy