The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1888-01-28

old residents of Hartford. A rather funny
incident happened as she was strolling the
field one day last summer picking flowers
On one of the low hills lying in the vicinity
of Hartford's famous cemetery has lived
for over sixty years a man by the name of
Dix. Mr.. Dix is now approaching his SOth
year, but is a hearty, well preserved old
gentleman and is extremely proud of the
fact that he is the father of sew
eral generations of children and grand
children. Old Mr.. Dix was picking ''yarbs,"
as he calls them, one afternoon i'll a field
near his hou-e. | will let him tell the rest
in his own words:
Il was picking some YARDS in the field
when all of a suddint heard some one say,
Old man what are you picking them YARDS
forP | looked up and jist over the stun
wall | saw the funniest looking little woman
ever laid my eyes on, kinder simple look
ing, too. told her | was getting the YARDS
for rheumatic. Then she asked me my
name. | told her my name, and said had
lived in the little house on the hill for nigh
on to sixty years. Then l said:
"'What may your name be, marmT
oh she said, My name is Harriet
Beecher Stowe
"Wall you could have knocked me down
with feather was never more dumb
founded in my life. There I'd been taking
that woman for er fool"
That evening and night l passed at the
house of her son, the Rev Charles E. Stowe,
who is pastor of the Windsor avenue Con-
gregational church, quite in the other part
of the city. He talked very freely about
his mother and her affairs.
LAS you probably noticed, he said, as we
sat in his study after dinner, ''mother is in
good health. in fact, can't remember when
she has been in better"
"Will she ever 60 to her cottage in Florida
againr asked.
mo The place will be advertised for
sale in the spring Mother went down there
principally on fathers account, you
know, and now that he is gone there is no
reason why it should not be sold"
Mr.. Stoves mention of his father brought
wildly back to my mind the patriarchal
figure of the old professor as he used to sit
! for hours surrounded by his favorite books
| on the veranda of Mrs. Stowe s delightful
cottage at Mandarin, Fla. l had passed
some weeks, about four years ago, with
| Mrs. Stoves family there, and many an
afternoon had spent pleasant hours listening
| to Prof. Stowe talk of his experiences
| abroad and of his books and papers He
was one of the most profound theologians
! of his time Like many another man, his
| fame was o'ershadowel by that OF still
| more famous wife. In his own household,
| however, he was the central figure. | do not
| think | ever met q man who could so charm
| with his conversation or amuse by his pecu-
| liarities. Nothing delighted him more than
| to sit upon the cottage veranda and receive
| the tourists who came at times in swarms to
| pay their respects to Mrs. Stowe in her
! Southern home. Mrs. Stowe seldom APP
peared She dreaded more than almost
anything else seeing strangers and would
| generally shut herself up in her room when
she heard of their approach. The profes-
sOr, however, had no such aversion. He
would receive visitors with great enjoyment
and liked nothing better than to
stuff them full of marvellous stories
some which, fear partook of the nature
| of fables. There were very harmless
| stories, however, and the old gentleman us
ually undeceived this visitors before they
left. One of his favorite yarns. remember,
was this: In front of the Mandarin cot
| tage there were two gigantic live oaks
whose towering branches and magnificent
| foliage almost hid the house from view.
| While i'll the midst of general conversation
| the professor would dexterously turn it
upon the subject of the Spanish lombard
| ment in 1865 When he mad sufficiently
| primed his hearers he would point to a
cannon ball which lay apparently embedded
! between two OF the gnarly roots of one OF
| the trees:
| "Dou you see that cannon ball?" he
would ask "Yes? Well, that cannon ball
was fired there from one of the Spanish
men-of- war"
The whole party would then examine the
ball with exclamanatjons of wonder, and
then the conversation would drift to some
thing else. Finally as the party were tax
ing their leaves and had got as far as the
| gate the professor would call out:
| "You remeber that cannon ball that told
you was fired into that live oak by the
Spaniardsm
"YeS.n
"Well, was lying. put that cannon
ball there myself"
| shall never forget the flavor of the or
anges that grew in Mrs Stoves grove
Many night have got out of bed and
picked enough to salty my immediate long
ing, while the radiance Ct the moonlight
shone through the lustrous leaves and the
hooking birds filed the air with splendid
melody.