The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1894-12-30

When left the Colonel we had fixed
a rendezvous in order to pay this very
visit / was TO take lunch with him
and we were to go to the school in
company with his daughter, an in
genious invention perfected by him per-
hitting her to be transported from her
couch into carriage. He told me all
that we would do during the afternoon,
as he reconducted me toward my car
riage through his park. We took a
different road from that by which I
, had arrived. and as we passed before
a little Enclosure full of trees and sur
rounded by low walls he said:
Look there: that is the cemetery
where all the Chastins have been in
tered for one hundred and fifty years
These corners are the remains of that
old America which travellers forget so
often in their studies of the new
We therefore entered the cemetery.
The luxuriant meridional vegetation
made an immense basket of flowers of
these thirty square yards at this mo-
ment. Wild jasmine, hawthorn. honey
suckle. the narcissus grew there i'm
most glorious disorder. Glycins climbed
up the trees and yellow roses, those
miniature roses that are called bank
shires. grew in large tufts among the
black Expresses. "A number of stones
appeared all eaten away by decay in
this garden OF youth. of springtime
and OF perfume.
L parted the fresh branches and the
sweet flowers in order to decipher some
OF the epitaphs. The latest of the
stones, put there without doubt by the
care of Mr.. Scott. was decorated with
carved sabre. / read the inscription
on it and saw that it was the tomb of
the last of the Chastins, and that this
last heir Of the name was once also a
colonel. but in the confederate army
Just at one side and upon another
tomb. which was disappearing under the
vegetation. 1 could distinguish the date
1873 and the words New Orleans" I
at once understood that the successor
OF the vanished masters had had the
pious idea of placing in their last re-
pose. side by side. the founder of the
demesne and his descendant.
The humanity contained in this in
closure pierced the heart The race
which slept there in its entirety had
once been all powerful. and no one
now remained to pay it homage except
the generous Enemy who possessed it's
property, and the spring which show
cred its splendors on the melancholy
refuge with that peaceable indifference
of nature one hates so much when one
begins to creep on. To feel how little
we are enables us to receive the in
evitable defeat with tranquil soul.
Although as active man. and one
who has been through the war, the
Colonel perhaps did not feel the same
sort Of emotion as 1 myself. this little
.mortuary oasis. which the murmur of
bees filled with music a. that luminous
hour. did not leave him Indifferent. He
became as silent as myself. and it was
only when we had left the place again
that he recovered his spirit and said
You noticed that the cemetery is
still cared for? 1t is one of their old
slaves that has undertaken the duty.
They call her Aunt Sarah. You will see
her at our school. She looks after the
children. Her fidelity is a tribute to
dearer to me. Naturally there is some
pleasure in the though that one occu-
pies house in which hive lived none
but noble people for four or five genera
tons. 1t is as though one thought
there were no unfortunates around. AS
matter of fact there are none. 1 re-
peat, when you go to the school you
shall visit few of the cabins. You
Will see the contented physiognomy of
those people A little salt pork and
nd fhaxr
Portable as though they had all the
millions of all the cottagers of New
port However. here is your carriage"
My little carriage. in fact, awaited
me almost at the door of the cemetery
recognized in this delicate, hospitable
attention the graceful foresight of the
invalid. The Colonel gave a few in
structions to the coachman, and then
said to me. ION Tuesday at 1 O'clock"
as he shook my hand. / had to repress
the temptation to reply to him. Tues
day? What long time," so great was
my desire TO see him again quickly
The originality of his character, the no.
bility or his daughters face. the
: picturesque character of their residence
had inspired in me one of those sud-
den interests that professional novelists
probably are the only ones to feel. 1t is
like the bewitching of ones magma
ton, which gives rise to passionate
desire to know all about some one, to
respire the same air. to live the same
life, to think ne same thoughts. While
i was travt Ig toward Philippeville
along the sandy roads / hardly noticed
the magnificence of the scenery, SO alb
sorbed was / by my reflections upon
these two persons. who were unknown
TO me few hours before. / admired
the Puritanical ardor which had dis
tinguished their ancestors and which
still burned in them like an inextin-
guishable flame. L discovered in their
fervor OF proselytism the atavism of
the Mayfower's passengers.
I was astonished at the race preiu-
dices, which, Notwithstanding this mis-
sionary zeal. made them regard as pol
luton the marriage of one of their race
with the best of their black proteges.
i thought of the wealth of this mans
nature. man whom five or six trades
and sixty years of work had not ex-
hausted; OF the sadness of his childs
destiny: of the oddities of this country.
even: of the astonishing apparition, for
example, OF MIR. Scott ousfly engaged
In wrenching out the fangs of a chloro-
formed serpent. In fact fifty ideas re-
volving in my mind rendered me de-
sirous of seeing again as soon as possf-
bic the man whom / had met to-day.
/ did not know that ] should see him
on Tuesday under very different circum-
stances. and very far from the family
lunch presided over by Miss Ruth. nor
that / should take part in his company
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