The Manning times. [volume] (Manning, Clarendon County, S.C.) 1884-current, 1902-11-19
CHAPTER XIV.
GRAEAIE's NEW BIRTH.

friend and comrade in the quiet coun-
try churchyard. I waited long for the
old careless, reckless spirit to appear,
but lie was never the same again. IEe
change was unmistakable, but hard TO
define. He seemed to have resolved
his life into definite purpose. He
was hardly 50 comfortable fellow to
bc with; he made me feel even more
lazy and useless than was my wont,
but respected him more and liked
him none the less. AS lion he was
not q success He would not roar.
This was disappointing to me and to
his friends and mine, who had been
waiting his return with eager eEpecta-
ton of tales Of thrilling and blood
thirsty adventure.
His first days were spent in making
right, or as nearly right as he could,
the break that drove him to the west.
His old frm-and I have had more re-
spect for the humanity Of lawyers ever
since-behaved really we'll. They PROV
ed the restoration Of their confidence
in his integrity and ability by offering
him q place in the firm, which, how
ever, he would not accept. Then, when
he felt clean, as he said, be posted of
home, taking me with him. During
the railway journey Of four hours he
hardly spoke, but when we had left
the town behind and had fairly got
upon the country road that led toward
the home ten miles away his speech
came to him in q great fiow- His spir-
its ran over. he was like boy re-
turning from his first college term. Ills
very face wore the boys open, inno-
cent, earnest look that used to attract
men to him in his first college year.
His delight in the fields and woods. in
the sweet country air and the sunlight,
was without bound. How often had
we driven this road together in the
old days!
Every turn was familiar. The swamp
where the tamarackS stood straight and
slim out Of their beds Of moss; the
brule, as we used 10 call it, where the
pine stumps, huge and blackened, were
half hidden by the new growth CT pop
lars and soft naples; the big hill,
where we used to get out and walk
when the roads were bad; the orchards,
where the harvest apples were best
and most accessible-all had their
memories.
ne offHr.
Moons that so often come IN the early
Canadian summer before nature grows
weary with the heat. The white gravel
road was trimmed on either side with
turf of living green, close cropped by
the sheep that wandered in fiocks along
its whole length. Beyond the pictur-
esque snake fences stretched the fields
Of springirg grain, of varying shades OF
green, with here and there q dark
brown patch, marking turnip field or
summer fallow, and far back were che
woods Of maple and beech and elm.
with here and there the tufted top Of
mighty pine, the lonely representative
Of q vanished race. standing clear
above the humber trees.
AS we drove through the big swamp,
where the yawning, haunted gully
plunges down to its gloomy depths,
Graeme reminded me Of that night
when our horse saw something in that
same gully and refused to so past, and
I felt again, though it was broad day
light, something Of the grewsomencss
that shivered down my back as s;:w
in the moonlight the CLEAN Of White
thing rot far through the pine trunks.
As we came nearer nome Cle houses
became familiar. Every house had its
tale. We had eaten or slept in most
Of them; we had sampled apples ana
cherries and plums from their Or
chards. openly as guests OR secretly as
marauders, under cover Of nlGht-the
more delightful way. l fear. All, hap
py days, with these innocent crimes
and feeting remorses, how bravely we
faced them, and how gayly we lived
them, and how yearningly we look
back at them now. The Sun was just
dipping into the treetops of the distant
woods behind as we came to the top
of the last hill that overlooked the val
ley in which lay the village of River
dale. Wooded hills stood about 1t on
three sides, and where the hills faded
out there lay the millpond sleeping and
smiling IN the sun. Through the VII
lage ran the white road. up past the
ol>, MI an 70
manse hiding among the trees. That
was Graeme's home and mine, too, for
I had never known another worthy OF
the name. We held up our team to
look down over the valley, with its
rampant Of wooded hills. its shining
pond and its nesting village. The
beauty, the peace, the warm, loving
homeliness Of the scene, came about
our hearts; but, being men, we could
find no words.
Lets gor' cried Graeme, and down
the hill We tore and rocked and sway
ed, to the amazement of the steady
team, whose education from the earll-
est years had impressed upon their
minds the criminality Of attempting to
do anything but walk carefully down
hill, at least for tyFo-thirds Of the way.
Through the village, in cloud Of dust,
we swept, catching glimpse of a we'll
known face here and there and fliEging
a salutation as we passed, leaving the
owner Of the face rooted to his place in
aston;shment at the sight Of Graeme
whirling on in his old time, well known
reckless manner. Only old Dune Nc
Leod was equal to the moment, for as
Graeme called out, Hello, Dune" the
old man lifted up his hands and called
back in an awed voice:
"Bless my soul! Is it yourself"'
Stands his whisky we'll, poor old
chapw was Graeme's comment.
AS we neared the church he pulled
up his team, and we went quietly past
the sleepers there, then again on the
full run down the gentle slope, over
the little brook and up to the gate. He
had hardly got his team pulled up be-