Goldsboro weekly argus. [volume] (Goldsboro, N.C.) 1885-1909, 1897-06-24
WADE HAMPTON'S HOME.

4A
A Trip to Wildwood, Where Live
the Sisters of the General.
The last red and gold rays of a
setting sun were growing faint>
er in the west as we took our
seats in one of the new fashioned
two-seated road carts now so
popular. I was content to allow
my hostess to take the ribbons.
She had offered to drive me down
five miles from toWn-tO one
of the most famous old homes of
the South, where we were ex>
pected, and [ delightedly accepts
ed her offer. I had been longing
for the opportunity.
And so, as we drove out, Of
the tall wooden gates, held open
by a colored scrap~o humanity,
I lazily gave myself up to the
rise and fall of the cart as we
sped down the road at a brisk
trot. The road, of hard, level
white sand, wound most of the
way through tall, dark pines,
sweet smelling and life giving,
but the night wind sighed with
restless means in their tops aud
made me feel a little eerie at the
thought of the late return. until
I saw the golden bow of a week.
old moon just above US in a clear
sky and knew that it's soft light
would benignantly guide us at
the late hour. The five miles
were soon covered, and when I
heard our wheels crunchlng small
pebble stones [ was told we were
entering the private grounds of
this famous home.
There was no fencing or en-
closure OF any sort; the entrance
was marked by trees only, and
the approach to the house was
the graveled driveway that fifty
years ago was the pride of the
owner. Now there were strags
Cling. riotous vines running out
from a wild growth of shrub
berry on either side, and kept in
bounds only by the invading
wheels of constant visitors to see
this relic of the past. A little
farther on I saw a board nailed
to a tree and marked, "Private
Grounds-No Admittance," and
was told it was placed there by
the family to protect themselves
from strangers, many of whom
would not hesitate to come even
into the house at all times of the
day. The pebble driveway ex-
tended more than a quarter of a
mile and always through the
same beautifulconfusion of trees,
old rose bushes and numerous
dark thickets, with here and
there a bright blossom azaleas
and yellow jessamine, all in full
bloom and filling with a delicious
dewy perfume as of old time
memories.
We drew rein under a splendid
live oak, a few steps from the
house, fastened the horses to a
large ring intended for the pur-
pose. and out of the semi>dark-
ness we were at once greeted by
rich, sweet voices, and soft cool
hands took our own as we steps
ped on the plaza and we're wel>
coined by three peerless gentle
women of the South. We did not
go inside, but sat down in big
arm chairs with soft cushions
that seemed to invite repose in
the open air.
The cottage these ladies now
live in was once occupied by the
gardener, but after the d~estruc-
ton of their home their hearts
chung to the spot, and even while
the mansion Was in flames they
took refuge in the town rooms
of the-small cottage that was
placed a short distance from the
old site, and with only rare in
tervals of change, here they
have lived for more than thirty
years. If the old gardener could
rise from his long sleep and
some early morning come back
with hoe and watering pot in
hand, there would be great sur
prise and wonder in his simple
mind to see the place of his two
room q%uartering occupied by a
pretty cottage of eight rooms.
four above and four below, and a
low, broad piazza running the
entire length of the house, raised
only one step from the ground,
and with La Marc and Marie
Henriette roses climbing to the
windows on the top floor.
Six tall Corinthian columns
alone stand to mark the place Of
the fallen glory Of a house for
the ''home, ;" in its sense of unity