Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1894-02-22
The Rector Of AbernthneV.

ment before unstrapped from the boot
But the WEAKNESS all left me, and the
excitement changed to quiet calmnes:
as gazed on the scene before me.
Some 80 yards to my right. embowered
among its little world of trees, stood the
manse. 1t was a beautiful building
there was no defniteness about the style
| of architecture-it simply seemed to be
the creation of an exquisite taste. There
was nothing about it suggestive of forti-
fication and defense, like those of the
Tudor or Elizabethan styles; it was nei-
ther of the open Italian order nor yet OF
the modern pointed gothic. 1t was a
sort of compromise between the latter,
probably what might be called the An
glo-Italian, and manse peculiarly adapt
ed to the artificial landscape gardening
in the front and the naturalness Of the
dusky woods and the frowning hills in
the background. There was no accumu-
lation of buttresses and gables and tur-
rets and such other conceits that lower
the dignity of house; true, there were
terraces, but they were ornamental ac-
companiments-they impaired an i'm
posing breadth to the whole group of
buildings
The approach to the house was through
broad, extensive avenue, lined on either
side with variety of trees planted with
the most delicate attention TO effect.
detected the silvery green of the white
poplar mingling with the dark green of
the native oak. blended here and there
with the abnormal tints of the sycamore
and the purple beech. The gardens
glowed with the same inspiration of
beauty and taste. From where stood
my eye could not criticise their regular
ity, but | saw the outlined hedges of
blossoming hawthorn. the fiowerbeds en-
circled with their ribbons of lockwood,
and the gay petunia Haunting beside the
humble violet and the bee haunted
thyme.
l felt that the spirit which presided
over that exquisite blending of nature
and art was thoroughly an artist, not
simply of the appreciative but of the
creative school. He was more of an
artist than the painter on canvas. The
latter commences with a tabula rasa;
his pencil is subject to his will; he puts
down a rock here and a brooklet there
and works in his buildings and trees as
taste may suggest or the laws of per-
spective demand. Then he can remove
with the same facility with which he
creates. The landscape gardener must
accept localities as he finds them; he
must conceal deformities and create
beauties. The greater and more numer-
GUS the difficulties he has to surmount,
the more superior to the landscape
painter is his taste and genius.
Beware of the man. says some one,
who loves neither flowers nor children.
There is not simply a speciousness about
that remark. 1t is the embodiment of
truth. We are conscious of the weight
and Importance of the caution. no mat
ter how limited our experience. As |
gazed upon the scene before me ! felt
convinced that the proprietor of Alb
ernthney Hall loved both flowers and
children; that he was gentleman of re-
fined sensibilities, a Christian and
scholar. had come to act as governess
to his children. had misgivings in
reference to my new home. My conjec-
lures of harshness and want of appre-
citation at times made me almost shrink
away from duty. But l was satisfied
and wholly at ease as | sat there upon
the baggage which made up the sum of
my earthly possessions.
And yet there was much of regret con-
nected with it-not on account of N.Y.
self, but on account of another. We
read that William Morton, Kane's friend
and companion, stood alone when he
gazed upon the unfrozen Polar sea surg
ing and rolling beneath him. The soul |
Of De Soto. when he first beheld the Mis- |
sissippi, was not touched with half the |
grandeur and sublimity. The dream of |
philosophy was reality; the inductions |
Of science truth; the open Polar sea
was foundl
The chilling grandeur of the snow, the
palaces of ice, ideal AIhambras glitter
ng like a thousand stars, the gigantic
;tairways of pearl, surmounted by the
brilliant arch of the aurora-but, above
Ill, the oppressiveness of that hour of
solitude and silence-stirred his soul
With thousand kindling emotions. But
1e stood there alone; he had 70 friend
% realize with him that half awakening
lream of magnifcence; to whom he
,ould relieve his surcharged heart by
Ipeech; to whom he could point out this
" that object of attraction. The op-
,ressiveness of his loneliness was like a
despair; it was the struggle of longing
md regret; he would even have grasped
at the ghostly hand of Sir
Tohn Franklin had he come out from
lis icy tomb to stand beside him there.
1t was something Of this regret that 1
elt in my soul. My mind went back to
he close, crowded city, with its sea of
leated roofs, noisy factories, dusty
treets and interminable walls of ma
onry. | thought of my sister Alice,
With her dark spiritual eyes, brighter
han the hectic flush upon her cheeks.
'oOF invalid child! How wished that
he was standing beside me, feeling the
anne cool breeze tanning her brow and
azing upon the same changing vistas of
cenery; standing beside me so that l
ould talk to herl But she was not there,
nd the tears came into my eyes as
hought about it; the silver abele grew ,
ldistinct, and there was a shadowiness
bout the blossoming hlacs.
/ was soon started out of my revere. ]
heard voices in the avenue, and in a |
loment afterward Mr.. Ashley reached I
ut his hand to me in his kind way,
lille the servants shouldered my trunks. |
] read my employer at glance there I
as not much individuality necessary |
, do that. His temperament was san
uine, with enough of the phlegmatic to i,
We him calmness and dignity. He was
i'll a young man. well formed and with
at intellectual expression upon his face :
hich comes to men who read and think 4
uch- His lips and eyes betrayed his
'nial nature. They would have given
eir impressions of geniality to very 6
lid. !;
He chatted gayly as we walked to- s
ard the house. He did SO partly to re- n
we me from embarrassment and part 4
because it was his nature. Perhaps !,