The Abbeville messenger. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1884-1887, 1886-01-05
Elephant in Battle.

Ernest Whitney IN 81. Nicholas.
Elephant In Battle.
There is a beautiful story Of IN old
elephant engaged in a battle on the
plains Of India. He was a standard
bearer, and carried on his huge back.
the royal ensign, the rallying-post Of
the Poona host. At the beginning of
the fight he lost his master. The ma
bout, or driver, had just given him the
word to halt, when he received a fatal
wound and fell to the ground, where
he lay under a heap Of slain. The
obedient elephant lay still while the
battle closed around him and the stand
ard he carried. He never stirred a foot,
refusing to advance or retire, as the
conflict became hotter and fercer, until
the Mahrattas. seeing that the standard
was still there, flying steadily in it's
place, refused to believe they were be-
ing beaten. rallied again and again
around their colors. land all this
while amid the din of battle the pa
tiet animal straining its ears to catch
the sound of that voice it would never
hear again. At length the tide or con
quest left the field deserted. The NAH
rattas swept on in pursuit of the fly
ing foe, but the elephant stood like a
rock, with the dead aad dying around
him and the ensign waving in it's
place. For three days and nights it
remained where its master had given
the command to halt. No bride or
threat could mov it. They then sent
to n village one hundred miles away.
and brought the mahout's little son.
TIE animal hero seemed then to re-
member how the driver had given his
authority to the little child, and i'm
mediately, with all the shattered trap
pings clinging as he went. paced quiet
ly and slowly away.
A Legend OF the Weeping willow.
Just where the path disappeared
Into the copse that skirted the great
dark forest. where all day long the
shadows hid, and out ol which the
night seemed to come as the sun went
down, a man came, bearing an armful
Of lirewood. As he logged along he
caught a protruding twig and tossed
it away. Quickly a little slip of q
girl, with sun-kissed hair and eyes of
divinest blue, ran and picked it up.
May I have itT" she asked of the
man.
"Ye may have it without asking, If
yell take the trouble to stoop fort"
returned he.
I'm going to plant It," declared the
tiny maiden, lightly holding the twig
between her soft finger tips.
"What'u ye do that for ?" said the
man.. sit will never grow"
"Oh, it will if 1 tend it," confidently
returned the lassie.
With another look al the wind
blown curls and the eyes like heaven,
the man went his way and the wee
one planted the twig.
Every day she watered and tended
and watched the little wisp, with its
| slender, silvery lining. Day by day it
grew larger and sturdier, and swayed
more gracefully in the summer wind;
and the little maid clapped her hands
in her glee, as she cried II knew it
would grow"
Again and again the seasons came
and went. The castaway twig had
grown into a beautiful tree. The slip
of a girl on the verge of womanhood
stood. Then it was the hand of the
death angel touched the lovely maiden
and chilled the warm life in her tender
frame and put out the light in her
beautiful eyes.
They made her grave beneath the
tree she had planted and fostered, be-
cause she had wished it, and mourned
her long and deeply.
But now the tree. they that had
loved her noted, seemed to droop and
languish, and on the breeze there came
a sound as Of sobbing and sighing,,
which shook the tree through all it,