The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1881-09-08
THE VILLAGE OAK.

Dunn't nobody tell me When tho
Trevors coined to these pearts, sentries
ago, the Squoire--if they called them
squoires in them times-brought with
him a fair young bride. So, when theer
son nm heir was born, theer was foin
doin's, and the mother, in 'memoration,
planted the acorn from which has coined
that oak. The rocks that cawed in the
elms then have died-the elms theer-
selves has died-but theers the oak, hale
and hearty. The lightnin' struck it, the
wind blowed it; yet thccr it stands as
firm as ever, and while it do, the Trevors
will be squoires at the Hall p
The speaker was tho old sexton. He
had just closed the vault Of the Trevors,
and, with spade and mattock on shoul-
der, stood among the graves in the
shadows of the ancient, square-turreted
church in which Squire Trevor had that
day been laid to rest.
'"That, my friend, is, I suppose, the
superstition ?" smiled the new vicar,
scanning the old church with the look of
an antiquary.
'Superstition Well, if the truth be
superstition, perhaps it is, sir"
cat any rate, tho present Squire, they
say, is different enough from his. uncle
spendthrift, or worse"
"Mabbc. The Trevors have all been
bit wild Mt first but they settle down,
you see, sir-they settle down when
they marry. Squire Marm' duke will
marry and settle down, like the rest"
"It is to be hoped So" said the vicar,
kindly.
cat any rate, he'll marry; that you
may be sure, for he's the last Trevor, he
is, and the family's bound to live rs long
as the village oak. Now, sir, I've
locked all'up. p'r'aps may go?"
"Certainly, my friend. Good even-
ing p
The sexton, his opinion of the new
vicar by no means raised by this con-
versation, plodded his way to the ale
house.
The vicar, his hoad bowed, his hands.
behind his back, went slowly through
the peaceful churchyard, crossed the
road, and entered the Vicarage garden.
The blinds that had been lowered out
of respect to the defunct Squire were
still down but approaching the long
window, which was open, the vicar put
back the blinds, and stepped into q
charmingly cool room pleasant with tho
odor Of fresh rose leaves. ~
The occupants Of the apartment were
pretty girl, with brown, soft eyes,
small, delicate features, and chestnut
hair, and young man, owning pleas
ant, manly countenance, and we'll
shaped, easy figure.
AS the wears shadow had fallen OH
the blind, the young man had moved 80
far away from his fair companions work
table that, aided by the heightened
color of the ladys cheek, that action
was moro suspicious than his close
proximity to the piece of furniture.
"Hullo. Ned found us out already ?"
said the vicar, with smile.
'"rhe fact is, sir" replied tho young
man. returning the warm hand-prossure,
'your description of the old church, the
place and especially that village oak,
was too tempting for mo to resist. I
made leisure, packed up my knapsack,
and came down."
"Ah understand" remarked the
vicar, drily, md he did understand very
we'll. "The attraction, no doubt, is
great to M artist; )" "and his glance
wandered to his pretty daughter" "By
tho way, jennie" he proceeded, IT
have contribution to your album Of
Family .Superstitions. That village
oak has one twined about its ancient
branches" ..-.
"Has it really, papa?" she smiled,
leaning upon his shoulder. "What is
it?"
Ned Graham also showed much inter-
est, and the vicar told what the old SEX
ton had said.
"Why," laughed the artist, "thcre is
n capital subject for either picture or
poem"
"Ihen, suppose, papa" said Jennie,
eff one night tho old oak on tho green
we're to blown down, there would be an
end Of -"
"Mr. Trevor, sir |" said tho servant,
opening the door.
A merry glance passed between tho
young people.
"Exactlyl" smiled tho vicar, as he
rose and went into the library, where
the new Squire awaited him.
The Squire was handsome man of