Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1883-01-25
Tte gtorp Teller.
The Old Church Under the Ledge.
BY WALTER L. SAWYER.

1t was very old church that was not tt
be questioned. That ubiquitous personag'
the ssoldest inhabitant"- always seen at bis
best in country villages-could not recall
time when it had not been !; the younger peo
Die did not presume to question its antiquity
its small, many paned windows, its thick
walls in which were many a crack and lts
four cornered belfry, from the centre OF which
a weather beaten spire shot up into the air
all were undoubted- undoubtable
ces of the age of the structure. Inside, the
floor, laid of roughly planed logs, so imper
fectly Joined as to afford free entrance to thean
from beneath the high backed deal benches
uncomfortably straight and precise the pull
pit perched above flight of rlckety STAIRS
and overhung with a sounding board al
these, again, gave proof that the church nae
been erected many, very many years ago.
The old church stood at the foot OF ledge
Of granite, and above it lowered masses OF
rock, seeming at first glance momentarlly tc
threaten the overthrow of the building. III
front of the door giant elm had grown, at
fording grateful shade to the passer ny, as
we'll as to him who stopped to rest beneath
the walls. Around the church was thick
growth of shrubbery which half concealed II
on three sides. So long a time had elapsed
since the building had been made use of, that
with this exception alone the surroundings
were fast falling into decay; only the church
remained, untouched by the hand OF time
more enduring it seemed, than the works OF
Nature herself.
The solitude around the church was seldom
broken in upon, save by some wandering
painter or antiquarian, who had heard OF II
from many quarters, and come to view 1t tor
4 ,A-I Il
from the little village of Ware, the towns.
people, while they were becomingy proud OF
it. and regarded it with kind Of reverential
awe, rarely approached it. Very few could
appreciate it at it's full value, so it was left
to ITSELF And yet, there was an odd sort OF
companionslip in the venerable structure,
which, though few realized and understood
its source and nature, richly repaid those who
were able to enter into relations of friend
ship-as one might say-with the old church.
Half way up the beetling mass of rock
which overhung the church, was the house OF
Stephen Parkes, an old man, one of the ear
liest settlers in the place; he had lived Tor
many years upon the side OF the ledge over
looking the village, but refusing all invita-
tions to remove to it. His little cottage front
ing toward the south, was set in cleared
space, which seemed to have been followed
from the solid rock itself Here, wife and
family being dead, he lived alone with Dolly,
his niece.
Neighborhood tradition well preserves the
memory of Dolly Parkes. 1t recalls her as
ioyous winsome girl whose very presence
lighted the shadow of the most overwhelming
sorrow, and who was beloved by every one,
welcome in every house. Pretty grant she was
not vet beautiful she was; for the pure, true
beautiful soul which looked out through hel
eyes, and lighted up her countenance excused
all irregularities of outline, overmasterlng
every. deviation i-om the established stan
dard.
Growing up, as one might say, almost above
the world, she had become woman in whom
all natural and healthful feeling found its
most complete expression, yet whose habits OF
zttIought were STRANGELY unlike ttose" of Tother
girls, and whose ideals were more lofty than
they could conceive. Her love for nature
had been from childhood appreciative and
almost overnastering, and in the love of
birds and flowers she was an apt scholar.
She, in the truest sense lived in the pres
ent only through the influence of the old
church, did she become an admirer Of what
had been. The church was a favOrite resort
with her; when she sat within its walls, OF
fingered outside in the calm summer evenings,
she could almost feel its presence as one might
feel that of a living friend. And in truth, it
was friend to her; it's age and sedateness
appealed to her imagination and feelings, and
she went to it for help in difficulties, comfort
in distress. Only to be near it brought ben
edction.
A quiet life, but none the less happy one
filled with petty cares, yet rounded with well
done duties, which brought to her serene con.
tent; owing little of its enjoyment to books,
but much to nature; such was hers. Of love
she, had never thought, save i'll vague, dreamy
way; there was no youth in the village whom
she could admire she had seen little OF the
outside world, from which, when she was
eighteen, came the man who it was fated she
should love-Howard Rayne.
1t is strange that she should have loved
such man, yet to him she gave her whole
heart. A handsome man, grant, but Meth.
er good man nor strong one, as his weak
lips and wavering eyes gave evidence. a
man of the world possibly she may have been
fascinated by the cultured air which comes
from travel and contact with many forms OF
society. A man who on the impulse of the
moment, might stife the voice of conscience,
and sacrifice all manly principle, to the graft
fication of his own selishness perhaps she
gl0rified this trait i'm him as calmness anC
self control, and thought of him as one wh(
could bend every opposing influence to hi:
will. I do not know, whatever she believed
she loved him. - sg%,E sa . gaa
Rayne was an artist, and Dolly met.him to-
The first timeiat the old church, which he wa:
sketching for wealthy patron. The work
was not one to his taste, and as he sat at hi:
easel one midsummer day, he inwardly curse(
his fate. He was capable of better things, he
knew. At the time, he burst not let his pref
udiees affect his paintings; he could not bt
very independent, he thought, until he wa:
more completely master of himself Bye ant
bye he might indulge his own inclinations
then he would paint persons instead Of places
figures, not forms. He believed that all that
he needed was ''start" If his picture il
the Exhibition would only succeed
He dropped his brush and fell into reverie
The bees hnmmed around him, and the win(
stirred the grass about his feet tall weed
bending to the breeze, touched against hi
face, as he leaned back in his chair and though
of the time to come. Nature spoke to hin
through all her original voices, but he did no
awake g; until, suddenly, he saw the shrubber.
in front of him part, and there came from be
tween the trees a young girl, who started a
first sight of him, then walked forward look
ing wonderingly at his easel.
Rayne sprang to his feet, raising his hat a
he did so. "Bless you, merry wood nymph
whomsoever you may be ~ he cried. ''Yo'
have reused me from my meditation whicl
bade fair to make me waste several hours 0
my time and cannot afford to think, now
he added, as if to himself, and somewhat bit
terly. Then, again addressing his visitor"
am Howard Rayne, painter. at your service.
MY name is Dolly Parkes," she said, witt
innocent self possession. II live in the lttl
cottage up there on the side of the ledge.
She stepped to Rayne's side, and gazed for
moment at the half completed picture on tn