The Arkansaw traveler., 1889-08-17
FOR THE ARKANsAw TRAVELLER. gUHT CHaRTTY'S LEGACY.
BY SUSIE ANTROBUS.

Louis Leonard walked over the bridge leading from Barnes Station He had been told it was but 6 mile to the plantation he was in search of, but before he reached his destination he concluded 1t was the longest mile he had ever walked.
 It was an April noontide, and there & sud- den heat in the air which produced anguid effect the northern born young man, he went slowly after leaving the lake, following the hard brown dirt road it wound through cotton field. Leaves were expanding and buds bursting everywhere, and it seemed if listening ear could catch an almost inaudible but incessant sound of awakening life. Overhead the birds were circliDg and darting under the begrimed caves of the negro quarters, which at close intervals dotted the field. The air stirred softly and every flower ing bush and sweet smelling tree seemed to join in rsvishing, riotous jubilee to the young spring. O. where in all the world is there climate like the Louisiana spriDgtime.
 Leonard went on lesurely until suddenly, after an abrupt turn, he came to 6 lagoon spanned by a low, dropping bridge, beyond which he could see square, white house in the midst of a large oak tree shaded yard. With hesitancy he crossed the bridge and started towards the house. keeping close to the whitewashed paliDgs. At that moment he distinctly hesrd a voice speaking in the peculiar pdtOts of the Louisiana negroes The tones were remarkably tender and he thought he detected something like dry huskiness. "Yes, honey; it wuz hard," said the voice. "Marse Jeems would come cIar outer hiz grave if he wuz 'qusinted wifi all de facs"
 Then came the sound of unrestra ned weeping, coming from somewhere close behind the Cherokee hedge inside of the palipgs The crying ceased tor & second and then grew more vehement. "But-| butt don't want to marry him." said gentler feminine voice between sobs "Oh, oh, Aunt Charity"
 The last sentence was uttered in such despair that the gallant spirit and tender heart of Leonard could not stand it a moment longer. He cautiously leaned over the fence and pushed aside the branches and leaves and looked into the yard. It was large and in wild state of neglect. Coco grew over the walks which were shrunken into mere paths. The grass was intergrown with weeds; the trees were untrimmed, and calves frolicked about unmolested The house had once been an important figure with its wide balconies and famous garden; yet, when Leonard looked upon its shattered caves and cobwebby windows, and crumbling, begrimed chim- neys it only suggested destruction
 Within but 6 stone's throw from the hedge he saw young girl seated on fallen tree overgrown with honey suckle vines while kneeing close beside her old black woman. She was small in stature and slight, with expressive eyes and tired patient face, surmounted by a towering lowered turban.
 "Honey, you does muffin but cry and keep gettin' so thin and so DO; 1t jes' grievin tdeath. You muz'nt mind Ms-se Tom if he do Tar an tar. dunno how on de face CT de yearth any man kin haf de heart to skeer hle w'ite chile like you"
 At that moment the girl raised her head, and Leonard thought he had never seen a more beauti- ful, high bred face, all tear-stained though 1t She rose to her feet an erect marvelousy graceful young creature, tall for her seventeen years, but very youthful in appearance.