The Savannah morning news., 1903-06-21
BLACK POINT.
BY Ella p. Lewis.

In going from Savannah to Fernan-
dina, you pass Black Point. 1t was
once a fine old place. The rooms are
large and lofty, with mantels of beau
tifully carved wood; you can go out
on the roof and have an extended view
of the surrounding country. The oaks
are magnificent. Once there was an
orange grove; there were pomegran-
ties. bananas, and many other tropical
shrubs; and, in front, gay flower
garden reaching down to the waters
edge. There one could sit and watch
the big fish come tumbling in with the
tide: and the little ones looking like
silver as they leaped out of the wa
ter.
When the tide Is low, the cranes
stand like sentinels along the large
marsh island. watching for fish. Alli-
gators basking in the sun; marsh hens
flying from their nests: birds OF bril-
liant plumage fitting from tree to tree
are all there.
There are clouds of glorious briliian-
cy in the west and ever-rippling water
and the green marsh islands in front
The setting sun gilds even the dark
foliage of the Point, while one long ray
rests on a clump of oaks and reveals
a lonely grave beneath.
Kathleen. is this all you can say
to me? 2"
Il know nothing else, Donald"
Kathleen, / have loved you from
a boy. | have walked hand in hand
with you over the stepping stones. /
have carried you in my arms. have
Ralloped by your side with my hand
on your saddle. / have lifted you from
your horse that we might gather
flowers together. l have never dreamed
or planned for anyone but you"
Donald, Donald, / love you tool
always have-but not in the way you
wish"
rs IL for this Englishman you have
thrown me off? Were 1t for anyone
else-by Heavens!-I could stand IL
better. We're IL Harry or Lawrence.
could give you up like a man--But an
Englishman! Your fathers will turn in
their graves. Kathleen listen while
there is yet time"
The head dropped. the blue eyes fill
ed with tears-those Irish blue eyes.
with the black lashes matching the
raven black hair. His voice changed
from stern to tender.
Do grleve you, Mavourneen? Then
/ Will say no more"
He sat for a short time with his head
between his hands.
He wants the Hall, too, hear Let
him have 1t. Donald will grieve you no
more. Farewell, my little one, fare
we'll
Donald O'Donnell sold his ancestral
home. loaded a steamer with all the
femily treasures, took those of his
faithful retainers who We're young
enough to care to go to America, in
vested his money in fine stock, and
babe farewell to Ireland forever.
Black Point had been advertised for
sale and his agent had bought II for
him. That was his destination. Along
with the blooded stock and family
treasures came-a barrel of whisky.
The fine horses were worried out az
their lives by sand-nies; the servants
could not stand the sun or the insects;
they tried to work by moonlight, but
the shadows led them to do more harm
than good; the orange grove was kill
ed by the frost. Nothing prospered
Gradually the fine old furniture was
sold to bring home necessaries-and
whisky
One day a lawyer came and asked for
an interview.
'HMr. oDonnell, your title is not good
to this property. 1t really belongs to
minors now In France. Their father
had no legal right to sell the property
as IL came from their mother, and was
settled on them. What is to be done
about III"
II will consult my lawyer. and IL IL
Is as you say, / will deliver it to you
in six months. Let them have the
cursed place"
The orgies grew wilder than ever.
O'DonnelIs health failed. Finally he
took to his bed, growing weaker each
day. Calling his most trusted servant
to him, he said:
Tim, in the box under my bed, you
will find all that is left of the family
silver. Take 1t to my agent at Fernan-
dina and tell him to sell It. Get what
IL needed and-whisky. One package,
marked "ODonneir' you must keep for
my burial. Bury me where all my
hopes are buried-under that clump of
small oaks to the right as you enter the
gate. The men must share the rest of
the money. Get the sailboat ready,
take Larry-Go. Stay, you can sell the
sailboat also to be delivered when you
take your last trip to st. Mary's. Here
is your commission to do this" and he
turned over as If not wishing to be dis
turbed.
'"Tim."
81 am right here, Mr.. O'Donnell."
When you go back to old Ireland,
take that little, low chair in the corner
with you. My mother rocked me to
sleep in that chair, singing, Hush my
babe, lie still and slumber." l have
kept IL for her sake. Take 1t to Kath-
leen-you know whom / mean. Give
IL to her with my dying love. Tell
her 1t is my legacy-all that is left OF
the O'Donnell treasures. When she
rocks her babes to sleep in II, tell her
to think sometimes of the lone grave on
a foreign shore"
Presently he stirred again. Tim lean
ed over and listened. The men were
all gathered around now.
What did he say, Tim?"
"Jist Mither, Mither.'
Sobs broke from those strong men
who had given up all for him.
There was an Irish wake that night.
The storm howled and whistled, and
whirled the long arms of the oaks, the
moss writhing and twirling and dying
around them like winged demons. The
sea moaned and groaned, dashing and
flashing one big wave after another
upon the shore.
Two days later the last Of the o'Don-
nells was laid in his lonely grave.