Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1878-03-07
From Lippitcott's Magazine.

IW6lV0 U CLOCK duu SIdIl6SS HlRDt,
the sky bending SO close to earth, that
one might fancy the very steam of the
worlds passions condensed in the
| black clouds that rolled heavily across
it; no sound save the ceaseless soft
plashing of the Mississippi waves.
Suddenly light wind rose, piercing
shaft of moonlight struck through the
clouds, falling on the black letters over
a beer shop, and idealizing TO purple
and fine linen some fiuttering rags that
hung from a dingy tenement house.
The wind grew stronger; the clouds
were blown into wild shapes; the shaft
of moonlight melted out into broad
sheet of silver.
A steep blaf overhung the river;
slOping away from it were the long,
curving streets of Southern city. A
flight of stone steps led from its nigh
est point to fat level, where new
workshops, ruins of burned houses and
long cotton.sheds were crowded to-
getber. 1t was damp, dirty place.
People called ii 'Hell's Half-Acre,' ,
and in the day it justified its name.
But the moon denies her gift of beauty
to naught, and to- night this most mel
oncholy half acre seemed to have a
better right to be. One noticed then
twenty-four slim white pillars, Cor
inthian in design, that fire had left
standing from some stately public
building. The moonbeams broke into
thousand different shapes in the lit
sle inlets where the river had pushed
its way in. The shapeless ruins were
imposing in the half-light, and heavy
scented flowers grew above them,
mihgling their odors with the sweet
fresh smell of new timber at the pla-
ming phil. And the river-by day.
light vulgar muddy stream-now
flowed in wide, mysterious grandeur,
and distant CLEANS of silver on its
slow waves.
Across the river, on the line of an
other State, was little town, so white,
and simple and still that it might have
been the home of moths and shadows.
But as the moons light grew clearer q
keen eye might have seen mans
form standing at the waters edge, and
keen ear might have heard the sound
of a body falling into water. The river
was narrow at this point, and man
could easily swim across it, as this one
was doing. His body undulated un-
D. uN
barely visible above the water was
small, and the wet hair clung closely
about 1t like cap. When he had
landed, he stood for moment shiver-
ing with cold, and casting quick, ner-
vous glances around him as if he had
been pursued, Then he walked irres-
Olutely toward cotton shed, and
throwing himself on the ground, partly
sheltered by bale of cotton, he fell
asleep.
The sun rose eloomily, and in its
light, the place that had been almost
poetic the night before showed all its
squalid ugliness. The street near the
river, once a fine and fashionable
promenade, now seemed built of the
very skeletons of houses, so busily had
decay been at work, and so little had
been done to stop its advance. Tho
very flowers had lost their purity, and
hung heavy with little particles of cot
ton that had blown upon them from
the wagons continually passing, and
blackened in the coal dust. 1t had
caught In the delicate lily cups; it
weighed down the roses; and in the
broad foliage of the arbor vitae it had
woven itselfin and ont until each pisce
was like fan. With the sun awoke
noisy life. The cotton drays raced
along Front Row, their black dryers
standing in them hatless, shoeless, and
ragged, urging On their mules with
discordant cries. The bleating fgo4ts
was heard from the darky settlement
on the side Of the cliff as queer old
aunties and uncles hobbled out to milk
them. Down ON the fiat the whir of
machinery beganj grimy men flung
oaths or rough jests at each other; fiat.
boats appeared on the river; and the
air grew dense with smoke from the
mills.
Through all, the man sleeping un-
der the cotton shed did not stir; deep
exhaustion seemed to hold him hand