The Press., 1895-07-11
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 a 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 troes-such the scene as the chatter of horses hoofs echo- ing on the hard flooring of the river bridge dies away into noiscless footballs and the wheels turn without sound i'll the yielding soil of St. Andrew $. The murlnured chorus of countless pines charms us into forgetfulness of the city's close proximity across the river. Ahead the way unfolds to us, broad and smooth, winding between long battalions of an cient oaks, muffied up to their chins in gray; on through miles of the century old trees, their massive trunks bound with fibrous scarfs, as if to veil the scars of successive seasons, every twig and branch and spray hung 2 ith streaming moss. Grand old oaks! Autumnal storms and April airs ill turns have tossed and kissed their rugged boughs, yet the giant trunks stand firm. Scarce a gap in the 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 a 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's garden" grew ill trim luxuriance. Only the Ash ley is unchanged as it nipples by on it's way to the sea, its waves as blue and sparkling as when it bore many a boat ing party from the mansion house.
 Ashley Hall was the scene of a munifi- cent and lavish hospitality ill 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. Andrew S mansion were frequently thronged with gay con- pany of the most distinguished people of the state. The host was passionately fond of the chase and delighted to as senable about him those who shared ill 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 hospitality so marked obtained between master and slave, and the large retinue of servants at the hall were happy, care free set. It was tra- 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 ill possession of this country. They had already sacked and destroyed every house in the parish, with 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 neighbors, and which he felt that a few 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 heirlooms-all were sacrificed save the small number which could be has tily secreted by trusted slaves when they learned of his intention. It 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 Carolina's colonial governors, an ances- tor of the doughty colonel. It 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