The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1895-03-15
A GHOST OF A PLACE.
THE STORY OF ASHLEY HALL AND
HOSPlTABLE COLONEL BULL.

How the Planter Kept His Household
Goods From the Hands of the "Raiders."
Pictures of Beautiful Suburb That All
Visitors to Charleston Admire.
Woodlands thick with undergrowth;
tranquil country stiffness, the stiffness
of bit of country comparatively un-
titled and unpastured; roadways lined
with tall and stately trees-such the
scene as the clatter Of horses hoofs echo
ing on the hard flooring of the river
bridge dies away into noiseless footballs
and the wheels turn without sound in
the yielding soil of ST. Andrews. The
murlnured chorus of countless pines
charms US into forgetfulness of tho city's
close proximity across the river. Ahead
the way unfolds to US, broad and smooth,
winding between long battalions of an
cient oaks, muf1ed up to their chins in
gray; on through miles of the century old
trees, their massive trunks bound with
fbrous scarfs, as if to veil the scars of
successive seasons every twig and
branch and spray hung with streaming
moss. Grand old oaksl Autumnal
storms and April airs in turns have
tossed and kissed their rugged boughs,
yet the giant trunks stand firm. Scarce
gap in tlIe uniform line shows where
a grenadier has fallen out of ranks, and,
elbow to elbow, they guard the ancient
highway from encroachment of forest or
field.
Here is an old gateway, the entrance
to the grounds which once surrounded
Ashley Hall, one of the proudest and
most spacious of the ancestral homes in
this parish. We pass through the use-
less massive portals into the driveway
beyond. In the shaded light the avenue
seems dreaming of the past, for these
great oaks stand guard over the wreck
of all they were intended to adorn. OF
the stately home to which their beauty
formed fit approach nothing now re-
mains but the crumbling marble steps
and tall, spirelike chimneys. Little
pickaninnies play hide and seek where
once the flowers in my lady garden"
grew in trim luxuriance. Only the Ash
ley is unchanged as it ripples by on it's
way to the sea, its waves as blue and
sparkling as when it bore many boat.
ing party from the mansion house.
Ashley Hall was the scene of munifi-
cent and lavish hospitality in antebel-
lum days Its owner possessed immense
plantations in Mississippi and Louisiana
in addition to his Carolina estates, and
the great halls and spacious drawing
rooms of the st. Al ,rew's mansion were
frequently thronged with gay COM
pany of the most distinguished people
of the state. The host was passionately
fond of the chase and delighted to as
semble about him those who shared in
his love of sport. Deer hunts, partici-
pated in by famous sportsmen from all
over the south, were features of every
season. The same open handed generos-
ity that dictated a hospitality so marked
obtained between master and slave, and
the large retinue of servants at the hall
were a happy, care free set. 1t was ira
ditional that no one was ever sent away
empty handed who applied for aid at
the doors of this plantation home.
This old hall, in which seven genera
tions of the same family had dwelt, liv-
ing almost ideal lives. met with tragic
fate The organized struggle between
the north and south was at an end, but
the raiders" were in possession of this
country. They had already sacked and
destroyed every house in the parish,
with a single exception, and that plan
tation was occupied by an enemy more
dreaded even than demoralized soldiers
namely, smallpox. That frightened
even rough handed rapacity away, and
venerable Drayton Hall, today famous
for its wonderful gardens, was preserved
inviolate. the knowledge of the fate
that had overtaken the homes of his
hours more would precipitate upon his
own, determined Colonel Bull. Calling
for kindling wood, surrounded by his
awestricken servants, he himself applied
the pine torch to his household gods.
Pictures, plate, antique furniture, val
ued heiriooms-all were sacrificed save
the small number which could be has
tily secreted by trusted slaves when they
learned of his intention. 1t is related by
an eyewitness that the stalwart planter
wept tears of infinite sorrow as the
sounds of falling brick and crumbling
woodwork smote upon his ears. just
back of the house is an ancient monu-
ment erected to commemorate one Of
Cardinals colonial governors, an anoes-
tor of the doughty colonel 1t was on
the base of this shaft that the master of
the manor sat and watched the destruc-
tion of his home.
We retrace our way along the ranks
of rare old trees, passing through the
ancient gateway, fit subject for poets
theme, into the open road. where we are
greeted by procession Of oaks as SYM
motrical as those we left behind. Miles
of moss fringed trees, their somber cur
tains swaying far above, and again
dropping so as almost to touch the earth
about their feet, continue even to the
cleared strip of land Immediately in
front of the bridge Opposite lies the
city, her cluster turrets and slender
spires outlined against the evening sky.
Asked how we like the oaks, we say
that they are beautiful" but all the
while we are conscious that they have
charm Of their own not to be interpreted
in words. Cor. New York Post.
A Great Landowner.
A Tourist was being driven over
part of the country in Ireland where his
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