St. Landry democrat., 1886-10-02
A CLASSIC MANIAC.
a Young Lady Who Refused to
be Sacrificed.

Soon after the surrender became a
teacher in the female seminary of j,
in South Louisiana. Like many another
of my countrywomen, was compelled
to disregard the normal antipathy of
the Southern mind to woman over
stepping the strait limits that bind her
within the sacred privacy of home, and
battling in the worlds arena for daily
bread. So l took my place in the
ranks of the combatants, and trained
young ideas in the seminary of j.
found it a pleasant little place, pretty
and picturesque, and especially favored
with good society and an abundance of
schools and churches. It had one
great drawback, however; what that
was my story will disclose.
One summer evening set out for q
ramble through the pine woods extend
ing for some distance above the town.
1t had been an intensely hot day, and l
had found the tedium of the schoolroom
increased to an intolerable degree by
the burning heat of the atmosphere; so
I went to look for a cooler spot than the
brick walls of the college could afford.
q found it on the top of pine-crowned
hill, and, seating myself on the soft
carpet of dead pine straw that covered
the ground, became immersed in
thoughts of former halcyon days, be-
fore the grim spectres of war and ruin
stalked through our sunny land, that I
forgot all about the lapse of time and
nv distance from home.
I was recalled to sense of my sur
roundings by low roll of thunder,
and, starting up, was surprised to see
how dark it had grown. The sky was
covered with thick clouds, through
which shone an occasional ominous
flash The wind, too, had risen, and
the solemn roar of the pine trees, surely
ears ever heard, filled the air. hastily
descended the hill, walking as rapidly
as possible, hoping to reach home be-
fore the storm broke. Before I had
gone half a mile / was startled by a
loud voice just behind me, saying:
GA pleasant evening, madam"
turned round and stared in astonish-
ment, first, as not being as supposed
entirely alone, secondly, at the uncere-
monious salutation of stranger; and
thirdly, at the very inappropriate re-
mark. Immediately behind me, as if
he had just sprung out of the ground,
stood young man, evidently gentle
man. in faultless evening costume ex-
cept that, strange to say, he wore no
hat Where he had come from, or
what he could be doing out there in the
woods in that dress and bareheaded, l
could not conjecture; nor hsw he pre-
sumed to address me SO Familiarity. I
replied by as slight and cold a bow as
possible, and turning from him walked
RAPIDLY onward. Not at all discomfort
ed by my chilling behavior, he stepped
up to my side and walked with me, con-
tinuing the conversation, or rather
monologue, in the same loud tone.
San uncommonly pleasant evening,
certainly. / have never felt the balmy
air of the sweet South so refreshing as
after day when the scorching rays of
Phebus, as the ancient Greeks named
she bright Iuminary of the sky, have been
SO OVtF-pOWtIiiiS. u uS0 VIC oh"h noFo
alovely night when the pale Diana, god
dess of the silver bow, will reign SUI
preme, and with her mild beams cool
our burning brainsP"
as he crazy9' thought l, getting
rather pale and nervous, and then crit
ically examining my unwelcome escort.
No, he looked sane enough; somewhat
ffighty, certainly, and decidedly high
flown in his language; but COM
posed and gentlemanly in manner. Just
then I remembered that an amateur
Thespian society had been recently
formed in j. which entirely pos
sessed the hearts and souls of the juve-
nile population, and / at once set down
INV new acquaintance as an enthusiastic
yotary of the histrionic art, who carried
lofty phraseology of the boards into
private conversation. / even thought
his face looked familiar, and decided
that I must have met him at rehearsal.
So. as there seemed no possibility OF
getting RIG Of HIM, put good face ON
che matter and replied civilly that was
afraid he was mistaken IN his opin-
ion of the weather, as there seemed ev-
ery prospect Of violent storm.