The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1893-03-09
M'FINGAL IN GEORGIA.
Climate Plays Tricks With Men When
Women Sing
From the Home Journal

Women Sing,
From the Home Journal.
1t never would have happened if he had
stayed at home or gone north, but great
change Of climate plays strange tricks
with temperament, and the Italian on the
north cape is stern and stolid, while the
Scotchman under the tropic sun grows
sensitively emotional and loses his head.
When Donald McFingal came to Thorn
asville the Boston people said that he had
spent twenty lonely, toiling years in
| America and that now some trust or other
| was heaping unused millions to his credit.
They said besides that he had Just escaped
death from pneumonia and we all knew
that he went to his room for a tonic after
every meal. He was very distant for
week or two. He took his rides and tramDed
| the verandas alone, read three or four news
| papers a day aud a yellow covered novel
that somebody discovered was "PriUce
| Charles Daughter But one day when
we were all indoors, McFingal walked into
the parlor with Marion Holley and they
sat down to game of chess. Miss Holley
was not the prettiest woman in the house.
There was little girl from Detroit who
was that. Miss Holley was the young
woman who could do everything, whom
! everybody talked about, and she had
| meZzo-soprano voice rich as the mockinS
birds we had begun TO hear in the brilliant
southern springtime. Every day after
meal time for the rest Of the rainy week the
reddish gray head and the opposite head
| with its shining black coils bent together
over the chess or cribbaRe board until
| o'clock, when most people had gone to their
| rooms. Then she would 60 to the piano
and sing for him.
When the weather cleared again there
were riding parties and McFingal rode at
Miss Holley's side. Once, after the usual
fastening, resaddIing and delay there were
ten Of US as we rode off at o'clock, d own
| one Of the southwark roads and into the
| meaudering sroads that circle the town.
Miss HolleY and McFIngal were the lead
ers. She was full of sparkling life and
| gave us a fine trot over every level stretch of
| the firm, pine-sprinkled sends. She started
a chorus and we all joined in as we slowly
sklrted a wood where Judas trees, wild
crabapple and lockwood bent their blossoms
| over us.
She pointed out bush of wild azalea,
and we filed saddles. brides and button
holes with its delicious beauty. At last we
reached home COOL and unfatigued, and
| while we fingered In the shady porch Nc
| Fingal said that Miss Holley would sing
for us, 30 we all trooped after them into the
psrlor. Ethel Holley played fer her sister,
aud the singer, dotting hat aud gloves,
stood with clasped hands facing down the
| long room. The acoompanlst was rarely
sympathetic, and knowing we'll her sisters
moods, she choose the songs without notes
or suggestion.
Her preludes were always effective and
she introduced the ominous chords of the
"Wanderer" with dramatic meaning. Her
sister sang it quietly. strongly, and all its
passionate world-sickness throbbed in her
tones. Then she stood breathing slowly and
deeply, her noS;rils alert and her long eyes
cleaning under their lids, while the key
changed and presently We heard that fluent,
sensuous dream, ION Wigs Of Song"
IL faded away in its turn. aud then quickly.
in the same key. she was singing Thine
Eyes so Blue and Tonder." She had not
reached the end Of the first verse when a
sudden movement among US was followed
by all eyes in wide-oDen amazement, for
sobbing at the singers feet knelt Donald
McFingal Her clasped hands were seized
in his, and his head rested upon them.
Nobody knew what happened after that.
for group Of people in fashionable hotel
are sometimes moved by kindly impulse,
aud every body stole out into the halls and
disappeared.
The next day Miss Holley came down for
an early ride with her brother, very pale,
erect and silent. and we heard that Mr..
McFingai had gone to New Orleans by the
MIDNIGHT train.