The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1891-12-13
THE LOST SOUL.
BY WALTER l. HAwLEY.

In a little cabin built on q bit Of high
ground close 10 the junction Of a broad
and sluggish bayou with the Mississippi
river. Jean St Pierre had lived for twenty
years Miasma lurked In the swamp
behind the cabin, and the air vas thick
with malaria, but st. Pierre was accli-
mated. The lodge, as he called his home,
was twenty miles below New Orleans. Five
months OF the year ducks swarmed along
the banks of the bayou and the adjacent
lakes and ponds Then hunters came from
the city In great numbers. hired the old
creole's boats by the day. rented his blinds
by the season and paid him well to guide
them to points where tho shooting was best.
The other seven months Of the year the old
man spent in repairing his blinds aud boats.
building the levee little higher in front OF
his cabin, and In teaching Marie the songs
and legends of the French creOles.
Marie vas st. Pierre's only child. Her
mother, who was never strong, succumbed
20 the terrible fever Of the swamps when
Marie was only 2 years old. The child
seemed to thrive on the Naturalization air,
and grew up as fair and tender as the
white lilies that bloomed on the banks of
the bayou
Their only neighbors we're the negroes
who cultivated the big sugar plantation up
the bayou. The old black mammys and
the pickaninnies often came to see Marie
the pretty white child, they called her.
The former loved to listen to the music of
her voice as she sang in quaint pathos the
creole songs her father had taught her. In
turn they told her weird supersti-
tions of the swamps. Jean Sc.
Pierre often listened TO these strange tales
of the old negroes. One Of them made a
lasting impression on bis mind and Ia time
he came to belieue it himself. II was the
voudoo superstition that the souls of the
dead remain on earth In the form of owls
and that the gho5t-liks cry of the swamp
owl so often heard in that locality, was the
wall Of a lost soul.
The pretty face and graceful form of
Marie attracted the attention Of one Of the
younger men who came to the cabin every
season to shoot ducks. He told her stories
of the pleasure of life in the big city I'D the
river, that made her long to leave the rude
old cabin forever. When he asked her to
GO aud live In New Orleans in richly fur
nished house that he would provide for her
she readily consented. No one had ever
told her 1t would be wrong TO do so. She
knew as little of the sinful world as q babe.
Coming home from his boats one evening
Jean st. Peirre found the cabin deserted.
Marie was gone. He called her name aloud.
No answer. Then he ran down 10 the levee
and called her again and again, but his
voice died away In the dark swamp or
came back to him In ghost-llke echoes
from across the river and the bayou.
Marie was gone out Of his home and his life
forever.
Ono of the far.famed Mardi Gras balls
was in progress in New Orleans. Rex,
king OF the carnival, had just entered the
ball room, when two young men met
under the spreading leaves of a palmetto
tree that formed part of the decorations.
"Eh, Paul, have you seen my latest
fame" one of them asked.
1.-THE beauty hanging on your arm q mo-
naent agop'
"The same. What do you think Of herF
THE form Of Venus, the eyes of a
h@ Where did you find herr
90 Down the river. She Is the daughter OF
creole hunter. Marie st. Pierre is her
name. ! will present you during the
evening"
"why, you are not thinking of marrying
| her, are your
"Ot course not. She Is only a toy, easily
rid Of at any time; she is so Ignorant and
| trustingIn '"U "-rifu- srri -t
A low cry Of pain that came from the
| other side of the palmetto tree was drowned
| in the roar Of the music and applause that
| greeted the appearances of King Rex, and
the two young men did not hear it.
The following day all New Orleans was
| startled by the news Of sensational mur-
| der and suicide One of the best known
young men in the city had been shot and
killed by his pretty creole mistress. who i'm.
mediately sent bullet crashing through
her own brain. The murderess and suicide
was Maria ST. Peirre.
I
The terrible swamp fever had attacked
| Jea1 st. Peirre at last, and he lay moaning
and tossing on his bed With only kind old
negro watching at his side. His strength
was going fast, but in his moments of de-
lirium be called aloud for Marie, his child.
Only an echo Of the name came back to
him from the river and the swamp.
The old creole had been lying still lonR
time. A fltful slumber had come to his
burning eyes at last. 1t was two hours past
midnight when he suddenly sat up in bed
his eyes wide open, bis body trembling.
"Listenl Listenl Did you hear it?n he
| asked.
"Therel There it is again"
Out of the darkness and the death laden
air back of the cabin came the weird, ghost
like cry of q swamp owl.
ibid you hear it9 It is her voice p
cried the sick man trying to rise from the
bed.
Again the cry of the owl was heard.
louder than before.
ut Is the wall Of her lost soull Mario.
my child Marier'
Beginning in shrek the CRY Of the sick
man ended in a moan, as he fell back on the
bed.
The strange wailing cry Of the swamp
owl came out of the darkness again, but
Jean st. Pierre heard It not.
DEATH TIE RssuI,T OF A DRnAr