The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1895-08-18

D
aaily 10 the seashore. be the. weather wet
or dry, hot or cold, that they might have
| their swim after the sticks he threw into
| the water for them Great as his affec-
/ uon was for dogs. his love for a horse
! transcribed il, and he seemed doubly en-
dowed with that sixth sense born in
I truly good horseman which enables him
| 70 understand his mount and at the same
! time to make his horse trust and obey
him. A horse was never simply means
OF conveyance TO my father. Each ami
mai had a definite personality 10 him. too
decidedly marked ever to be forgotten,
even after the lapse of years He individ-
uaAzed his saddle horses especially, how
ever and remembered their names and
characteristics as one might those Of tried
| friends In his old age nothing pleased
him better than to talk OF the four-footed
companions Of his earlier life, those use
ful friends by whom he was never mis-
understood and in whom he found no
shadow OF turning
The sale of a horse was an eXpedient to
which he could only be forced by neces-
sity. and then he was more concerned
about the kind of owner 10 whom the ami
NAL was intrusted than about the profit
in the bargain.
His was not merely a negative mercy,
for he considered IL the first rudiment Of
good riding to sacrifice minor personal
comforts TO the well-being Of the steed,
and any one who was his pupil in horse
manship was taught to consider the
strained or sore back Of his mount as a
personal disgrace to the rider. / shall
never forget the first lesson In this sort
of self-control that 1 received from him.
We were cantering along together under
the summer woods. The thick curtain Of
leaves that marked the course of hidden
streams cut of the breeze from the sea,
the air was hot, still and heavy with the
resinous doors Of the pine needles. When
we passed into an occasional thickct of
scrub oak the shade was pleasant and
cool l wanted to walk my horse there,
but my father pressed forward so that /
had TO ride briskly not to fall behind.
When we had regained the open barrens.
where the sun beat down among the pur-
pish tree boles, he called to me to walk
my mare, as it was too hot for her to pace
in that temperature.
His was the purest mercy. as 1t recog-
nized the right OF every created thing TO
the full enjoyment of its greatest possible
happiness, and II seemed, therefore, a
downright sin 70 his just mind that man,
as master OF the brute, should use his ac-
quired power with a selfish disregard Of
the dumb animals inability 10 press its
claim to consideration.
My father could never reconcile himself
to the thought that any innocuous erea-
ture should be killed without some useful
end or ON account of misplaced trust in
man. Therefore, first at Brierheld and af-
terward at BeauvOir, all shooting was for
hidden in the grounds about the house, a
circumstance of which the birds and small
wild things were quick TO take advantage.
They perfectly understood the security of
this sanctuary. and. to my fathers great
delight, became so tame that they paid lit
tie attention 10 human intrusion. He cease
lessly inculcated gentleness in his chill
dren as an Integral part Of the courage
which was the first requisite in his estima-
ton for all high character / remember
when was a little girl being once stopped
by him when l was about to tread heed
lessly on tiny beetle. Laying his hand
on my arm, he said: rs there not room in
the world. little daughter. for you and
that harmless insect, too?" II was one of
those gentle lessons that sink deep into
the mind and heart OF child-a lesson l
never forgot
Nor did his desire to see ali living things
rejoice unhindered in their strength stop
with the animal creation. He extended
this feeling even to plants and trees 1t
panied him to see them broken or injured
in any way. He would take a wrung and
stunted bush under his special perfection
and watch over it until 1t had recovered
lost ground in the race for life. There is a
tiny volunteer life oak near the house at
Beauvoir that he nursed for years, al
though 1t repaid him but poorly for his
care.
He never conferred a favor as though 1t
cost him anything. It aways seemed to the
recipient as if it pleased my father so much
to be giving that he considered the obliSa-
ton entirely his. Indeed, he managed TO
throw so great a charm of perfect courtesy
around the most intimate intercourse that
the thousand little sacrifices of, time. and
| inclination he daily made were endowed
with cheerful grace which gave them
double value. lie paid the most scrupu-
! lcrs attention to personal neatness He
was marvelously graceful. and always ar
rayed in well-fitting, refined garments
scrupulously clean and carefully worm
though mot expressed in fancy" Once
when my mother pleaded with him to go
to dinner in his dressing gown, as there
was no one there except herself and he
had been and still was i'll, he declined, say
ing: II know no one for whom have more
respect than yourself. l hope l shall not
take cold, but / cannot sit at dinner with
you in my gown" AT eighty he rose with
the same alacrity to offer his seat to a
young visitor as he had done at twenty
and gave him his courteous attention.
As Eaconteur he had few equals, and
| happy indeed was the child who could
| crawl up into his arms as we used TO do
and sit listening with bated breath while
| he told the same old-fashioned fairy tales
made radiant and fascinating with a new
/ charm, or stirred the blood with wild sto-
ries of Indian warfare, of hairbreadth
/ escapes, of the hunting of big game, or of
| horse fights and the wild dances of the red
men. Nor was it only the stories en-
/ dowed with personal interest that we loved
/ to hear him tell. His splendid memory
was stored with an incalculable treasure
| of poetry l remember sitting on his knee
| in the winter twilight, with only the fire
| to illuminate the recesSes of the library.
/ listening to him recite, in his wonderful
I voice, Blanche of Devou's Death, THE
| Fight at Collantoglesford," and other
/ cantos, only breaking OFF here and there
/ TO bridge over too lengthy description
/ or situation could not have understood.
] Although he was an 0mniverous reader.
! cevouring political and historical works
Side by side with Gaboriaus or any other
! sensational novels, he never seemed to
i have blunted his keen literary palate.
] but appreciated the good books that came
| in his way with the zest Of boy. ! re-
member reading aloud 10 him from ben
/ Hur' from 10 o'clock until daybreak. both
| Of US oblivious to the flight Of time, and
| when my sleepy eyes refused to follow
the.lines I left him still absorbed In the
novel-indeed, he did not 80 to rest until
/ he had finished H.
] In the main, however his heart ma.