San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1891-09-09


some light work in her hand, and sits
down upon weather beaten bench be-
side her father You would at once
know that she is the daughter of this
man, she is so like him. As she bends
over her sewing. her features fall into
their habitual retrospective repose. Her
hair and eyes are black. her nose small
and straight. her mouth and chin we'll
formed, her forehead low and broad
They make a strange, dark picture.
these two sOrrowful looking forms, out
lined against the dull background of the
old mills messy wall They do not seem
to note each others presence The
growing of the mill is enlivened by the
song of hooking bird up in the null
berry tree An ivory billed woodpecker
is cackling merrily on the great oak
yonder by the brook From some in
definite distance comes the mellow tin
king of a COW bell.
Suddenly few strong notes from the
banjo came out of the mill The man
and woman looked up, a half smile
lighting their gloomy faces They al
ways smiled when they heard the sound
Of that banjo, for the player was the life
of the old mills household
Colonel Chenier ceased reading and
Adelaide, his sad faced daughter, let
fall her sewing as they both gazed upon
lovely apparition now passing out
through the wide doorway of the mill.
1t was Rosalie Chenier, the colonel's
youngest child. She held in her hand a
banjo of fine workmanship, dark, old,
with ieweled keys and polished silver
screws. She sat down on the stone step
and began to play lively medley, made
up of concordant bits snatched from this
and that familiar old tune, sort Of
hooking bird performance, which threw
together the cheeriest parts of many
pieces she knew.
She was beautiful, in the best sense of
the word, from head to foot. Without
lacking anything of strong, almost
voluptuous development, her form was
slender, 1.-THE and graceful, as so many
mountain girls forms are. and her fea-
lures were of almost Grecian fneness
and regularity. The color of her hair
was that pale, sheeny gold, so seldom
seen in the south, the true harvest yell
low, very thick and long, plated into
two heavy braids and bound with scraps
of blue ribbon. Her eyes were gray
green. specked with amber, full of ex-
preston, clear, deep and innocent as a
babes. There was that in her complex
ion. beyond its extreme fairness, which
is best called bloom, the warm flush Of
incompatible purity and health. She
turned her head slightly to one side,
keeping time with a slender. high arched
foot as she played The contrast of
color and expression between her and
the other two whom we have described
were much stronger than mere words
can make it appear. 1t was, in fact,
the contrast between the new and the
old, in all the phases of the two
The big outside, far away world of
wealth and fashion and business turmoil
had no immediate relationship to her
life It's doings had reached her only in
the vag'IeSt and most indefinite way, as
rumurs from another sphere, or as the
murnlur of a battle heard from a great
distance Unlike her father and her Sis
ter Adelaide, she had no war memories,
nor recuIectiOus of former wealth and
splendOr, 10 keep her looking back to
better day Three years old when the
war ended. scarcely six when brought
here 70 ne mill, she had no distinct no
ton Of life beyond the limits of this lit
tie VALLEY She had entered her eight
eenth year knowing Us little of social life
as if she were still child in the nursery.
Of nature however she had learned
much. and her father ard mother had
carefully taught her The usual routine
lessons Uf tn,. schools For the rest she
took u tn banjo us naturally as does a
moci,!mg biz! 20 singing, mastering its
difficulties with scarcely al effort. She
mad found this fine old instrument hid
den away III il pile oi rubbish III the at
tic of the mill where its owner had left
it at some distant time No doubt it had
been hidden there, that it might escape
the fate of everything valuable which
came III the way of Sherman's army. AS
for its real owner. he may have fallen in
defense Of the lost cauSe At all events
he had never returned To claim 1t.
In the south the banjo during the days
of slavery was looked upon as rude
and savage instrument. fit only for the
hands and taste of negroes 1t bore the
brand of everything connected with the
pathetic life of the slave. The wonder
is that long ago this fascinating Tyre of
the cabin was not lifted to its proper
place, which was beside the violin No
doubt the secret Of its neglect lay in the
fact that it was treated as negro in