Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-11-30

! light me that Malise was saddled and
| brought out. How eXhilarating is horse
back ridingl My pulses tingled with new
life when L felt the bound of Malise, all
| alive as he was with gentle gayetv.
"Thank you, father" 1 cried: ''cOmpli-
ments are sweet from you, and 1 do APP
preciate this enjoyment"
l cantered on ahead Tor while, but
came back TO the side of fathers buggy to
ask him some questions.
''Father, do tell me something about
those strangers at Strassnere. 1 was at
school when they came"
."Humph9' calculated be. 1t was i'm
| possible for him to talk Without something
of that kind. "There is a curious sort OF
breeze that blows fr0n that quarter.
have never met with it on seas BEFORE"
Some persons would have imagined that
father was sailing a vessel yer, though
the solid earth was under him. but he
was sea Captain in language all his
l-life.
at is all owing to old Miriam's cracked
ways that man away out in louisiana
should have taken it into his head to seize
hold Of her place as he did. She must
need TO have pictures struck off OF the
| house and grounds after it was done, and
give them to every shabby little workman
who helped her out with her crazy plans.
They were pretty pictures, too, and
| think she might have given you one, eh,
| Min: Wasn't she an old goose, anyway?
You shake your head to that. Well, it is
about true that there is some fool mixed
! up il the very best Of US. Miriam would
have her way with her plans. One of the
woTkmen who was her accOmpiice, or
tool, in fixing up in the house some sort
| of Blue Beard trap that she would not let
| people examine, carried one of those pic
lures with him when he moved westward.
! He must have given the history of how
and by whom it was built to this Will
| liams'-father would drop titles to my
cnagrin when he mentioned gentlemen
! from whom l received q letter saying
that he wished to bring his people over
here. One letter was followed fast on the
| heels of another, and then the crowd
| came in one night when no one was there
| but the lodge keeper, who let them in to
| the wing OF the building, where l found
| them. 1t was no use for me to try to GUST
them as did, for this jaunty fellow has
! kind of lOrdly way with him that / could
not help liking, and he had a nice little
| sick mother, and he had plenty of money,
with which he paid over to me big sum
| for lease upon the whole grounds. l gave
in to his plans chiefly because l wanted
somebody of sense to take care Of all
these valuable lands. He claims to be
grape-grower of experience, as he halls
from France, but, depend upon it, If he is
I a D
hardly be sensible. If he swamps things
here, I'll be lin a dead calm,' sure
| enough. Think we had better 90 to wind
ward5 to-day and look at the vines"
My curiosity was reused so that l
| piled father with some more question
ing:
TELL me what family he has, and all
about them, please"
"Saucy lass! Pye only tongue, and but
half an eye for staring at folks. What
dye think I remember about 'em? The
morning after they came l found 'em all
! huddIed up in two rooms, and one was
! tight shut. / saw sparkling, lady-llke
little woman that be says is his mother
What dye think l care it there are hum
| dred mole of 'em? didn't see any more.
What's in the wind now? Looking for
| sweetheart|
blushed Indignantly at this, and asked
no more just then. We had come TO the
| vineyard.
"Surely," l exclaimed. ''these vines
/ look as if very sensible hand was train
! ing them"
I characteristic ''humph!" was all his
/ response, but saw that he liked the looks
| of the field.
He had a hobby about making wine
! that was stronger than The juice OF the
| grape.
Our wine closet was open always, and
] DdIFGlS Ol iuG lltiuiu olCpu III luSlC OAtA d
/ syphOn conveniently rear.
Alas! for poor Harry, whose father new
! er denied him tree access to the wines.
! How bitterly | had learned to hate the
! very sight of a vineyard, yet dared not
! turn away while father mounted his hob
! by and grew enthusiastic over grape
nursery. How blind, how cruel 1t ap-
peared to me! The old heartache was
/ coming on as we rode along, and ne talked
! on mostly to himself. AS we drew near
! enough to see the large entrance gate to
! the park in front Of the house L heard
4 father say:
/ s!Ah! there's Williams out among his
vines. I'll go and join him."
1t did not take father long to alight and
| Join the gentleman, who was standing
quite near the fence. l was lett on
! guard, and amused myself looking at the
genius"
At a glance l decided that there was
something about the appearance of MIR.
! Williams very different from that of most
men-something that impressed me r0-
manticaly. L was near enough to see
every feature, yet so unconscious did he
seem to be Of the fact, that it embOldened
me to forget myself in the pleasure OF
| scrutiniZlng him.
Descriptions are vain. AS well try to
! describe lightning as the human face
| that varies with every passing thought.
| Every Iineament of MIR. Williams showed
| that he was intellectual, and hi, dress
and figure told Of refinement, That he
was tender-hearted and kind l
| learned to know afterwards, but
it seemed to me 1 knew it then.
l felt safe about fathers rough sea-
! terms that so often made me vince for fear
| of his being ridiculed. There was moth
| ing but a kindly merriment in the smiles
| that now and then stole over Mr.. Will
| liams' face while the talk about vines
! continued, and father mixed up ''sheets"
and leaves and twigs and %miZZenmasts"
as if they were all one and the same. All
at once father turned about.
s'Why. Min, l forget you were waiting.
! Mr.. Williams, that is my lass. She's not
1 a young lady yet, but would scold me
well if | forgot all etiquette. You see,
| sir, Pm an old sailor yet and can't get
! civilized. l know it gives her many a
| spasm, but the mind sets fair, after all"
! You must be weary, Miss WellbOrn,"
! and as Mr.. Williams spoke he buttOned
his cellar and drew up his half-fallen coat
| in a magically quick manner.
1t was evident that he had not seen me
| before.
"WiIl YOU not let me accompany you to
| the house, where | would like to have you
meet my mother?
OF course l assented, and in a few min
utes we were going up the avenue leading
| to the building.
Oh! Strassmere, what memories cling TO
| thee! Would it were possible to paint
thy beauties!
"All that's lovely in life,
To thy fair shades belong"
A lawn, terraced and with covering of
soft green grass was in front, and through
! il ran clear, natural brook, tumbling
now and then over rocks singing as it
went onward. Pretty white stone
bridges spanned the brook on the right
and on the left. Nearer the house were
some native forest trees, in which the
birds hoped and sang as blithely as if
they were monarchs of birdland. A flight
of white stone steps led to higher plat
of ground where the sweetest of flowers
were planted. A road of gravel, border
ed with rich grass, wound around another