Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-01-06

large rain drops, the first indication of a
faSt-app oaching storm. are alfeaul
dropping heavily on the housetops
Aver long season OF heat ans
dust the noise and tumult seem aetna
music. and warm sleepers turn gratefully
I in their beds. and sleep again with smile
/ of satisfaction at the thought OF a wet and
7 cool Tomorrow. These feel as If the ram
had hardly begun when they are sur
/ Drised by the broad sunlight shining full
IN their faces.
A clear and lovely morning has dawned
the early brilliance touching the wet
and fragrant earth with gittering splen-
dor. There are no rills of water, no little
! standing pools. The rain has fallen in
7 broad sheets, bat the thirsty earth has
drunk every drop, and nature looks clean
and newly tOileted in fresh morning
beauty. Nowhere does the light fall on a
prettier scene than it finds in and around
the home which looked only dark and
massy last night. The house fronts full
to the east, and through the thick foliage
in which it stands framed, every window
| is Illuminated with a slant ray of gold.
The grassy terrace on which it rests is a
smooth velvet carpet of green and vine,
and flowers are doing their grateful best
in return for the plentiful draught their
thirsty leaves have just taken. A long
needed rain always draws from nature her
turn OF beauty and fragrance was offered
joyfully with the eloquence of renewed
and refreshed silence. The house
door is broadly opened. A careful house
maid is already sweeping the cool porch,
and the early birds are busy and restless
overhead. Everything looks lovely, peace
ful, happy. Alas! that on a morning so
radiant sick rooms are closed, and the
suffering aud dying are shut in from its
glory, and signing not for part IN all
this beauty-only for eaSe-0nIy Tor rest.
The terrace steps had been swept, and
the morning sun had already dried them.
Indeed, it was just here that the warmth
had reached first, and the leaves and grass
too are clean and dry, though, in
shaded places, the trees shaken by the
least passing breeze shower plentiful and
! glittering spray.
1t is a lovely morning ina Southern eli
mate, beautitied by natures last and most
grateful touch-a night bath OF needed
rain. The hOusemaid, with suspended
broom, stands watching the slow and
measured walk of the tall stranger who
had arrived the night before. AS she is a
new conner, she does not know that he is a
frequent visitOr-almOst one OF the family
and wonders at his perfectly familiar
and accustomed handling of his surround
! ings. He had come down early from his
Z IL
den, where he has sought ut once the
! pleasantest and most frequented places.
/ He had sat for one moment IN the summer
! house, and, firing of this, had walked
! through and through the open conservato-
ry, ami had come out richer by an eXqul-
/ site little bouquet at his button hole.
! Now he has reached the terrace, stops
| again, and, taking out his watch, looks
| impatiently toward the house. The girl
| thinks him a very stylish, handsome gen
| tleman in his fresh morning habit, and
| with such q heavy beard and moustache,
| and wonders much who he can be. she Is
| going 10 inquire at the house, when she
| may, but, just as she finishes her sweep
| ing, he espies her and calls out softly, as
| if careful not to be overheard:
Il say, girl? Eth! what's your name?''
| 'ELueindy, SIR" she answers, distinct
| ly, but low too, as If noise here was
! the thing to be most avoided.
| He motioned her with his hand to come
! to him. and she, nothing 10th, lays down
| her broom and is by his side in mo-
ment.
"Lucindy," he says, 'can you run up
| stairs for me without being seen and with
| out disturbing anybOdyY'
| "Oh! yes, sir. | was just going up to
! clean the rooms-that's my business"
| ''Well, you know Mrs. Beltham, per-
haps?"
| 'Ohl yes, sir. or course l dO?'
| ''She is my mother. | want you to go
to her room and tell her that [ am here
| and would like to see her before break
fast. as don't want to disturb the rest OF
the family yet"
Yes, sir"
"And Lucindy, you need not mention
my being here to anyone else, as | shall
| see them all at breakfast. BY the way
Z hot of hnr
| soon after you opened the front door this
| mOrningY
THAT was one of the neighbOrs, Mr.
! Bell. He sat up all last night with the
judge. Somebody sits up every night"
"Yes. Go on now and tell Mrs. Belt
ham,"
| YES, sir" and the girl runs swiftly of
| to do his bidding.
| He does not seat himself on the sunny
! terrace as if expecting some one, but
| walks slowly behind a large hedge OF
( Usage orange, always with a Watchfu
! eve fixed on the house door. His mother
| however, does not appear there, but, com
| ung around by a circuitous sideway
! otartles him by speaking directly behind
| his back.
"Why. Albert You here?"
Seen in fair daylight these two are won
! dertulIy alike-alike in nature. feature
| Expression, but nOticeably alike in curl
| us air, common to both, of consequence
| IS if comforting a sort of patronage even
! on the pretty garden by being There's
sort OF cOndescendrng indulgence to the
| sun to shine and to the flowers to bloom
| sort of royal permit to nature to show
| herself fair, and be assured of their kline
| interest in her successful performances
| The lady held her trailing skirts
| in one hand, and smiled d
polite welcome to the son whom she ha(
| seen but a few hours before, and he, eyi
! IDENTIFY accepting the situation, with in
tuitiye tact stopped and kissed his hand
| some mother on the forehead; did itgrace
fully and with even a distinguished air
| too, for the benefit Of all whom it might
concern, although this all only comprised
the watchful Lucindy. But then it coulC
! not be said to be wasted, all this studied
| Effect. for the girl, overcome with admira
ZION. FASTENED to the kitchen to tell then
| there of this unexpected meeting, and how
! Mrs. Beltham's handsome son kissed hel
just for all the world like she seen 'em do IL
the theatre"
Whilst Lucindy tarried the talk between
/ these two was limited to the feWeSt polite
| generalities but she was no sooner out o.
! sight, than throwing off all mannerIsms
| and looking only bored, the gentleman
seated himself and said abruptly but very
! low
"Well, you wrote for me, and don't see
| for what. / looked in his room last night
! and everything was just exactly as l lef
it six weeks ago. He is no worse.
! never saw Just such Wis vita. If he haC
been young man that first attack il
| April would have killed him. AS it is
an old man never dies until he has tried
| the"
| "Albert. hush Don't talk so loud.
You are always so impatient. Have
not always managed these things for you
and done it we'll tOoY
"Well enough. But 1 say he is no
worse"
"He is decidedly worse. DR.. Lane told
his wife he might drop off at any moment:
indeed, he has been near death"
''But he didR't dier'
''No, but he evil. stoop down and vii
tell YOU"
He bent his head and she whispered:
Gle has not yet executed his will"
"Ah! What's the trouble?'
'At the last moment some reluctance
| [ think, to disnheriting poor Hugh, anC
| some anxiety about Charlie"
''What about Charlie?
"She must have a guardian, you know
and
''What bungling! Why, mother, thd
was settled in April. What did he ash
me to take charge of Charles affairs TO
if he didn't want me? Am / boy to b.
off and on in that styleY'
sob, hushl You are too loud. H
CHANGED to mention it to Charlie, yol