The Tupelo journal., 1904-12-16
u Ride in the Swamp
900
BY S. RHET ROMAN. ;

THE result is what counts, and
L the finality striven for by every
one is c0ntentment, If not happiness.
A sacrifice of personal ambition, in
pursuit of some imperiOus call, which
gives us eventually the content we
crave for, is, therefore, the height OF
human wisdom.
This was my conclusion, reached
while riding slowly along the planta-
ton road which runs through the
center of the canefields, while l was
abstractedly watching the gangs OF la
bOrers at work.
When Jack died leaving Susan and
her baby girl practically pennlless, 1T
was plain to me that | must give up
my law practice AID take hold of poor
old Jacks tangled affairs, and, bring
ing order out of chaos, get back his
jeopardized sugar place into a prosper
Gus condition for those two.
Belleview is q glorious country
home, for behind the stately old colo
NAL house stretch 5000 acres of fine
cane and pasture lands, cut off by a
rim of thick forest and swamp, where
splendid timber has been growing for
centuries.
With reckless improyidence Jack
had heavily mortgaged the old place
against my advice.
So, as in our school and college
days, Jack and l had been more like
brothers than cousins. I felt l must
come forward and save his widow and
child from bankruptcy.
There was a fascination about Jack
Travers which | for one could never
resist.
He had a certain dash and daring
and gay light-heartedness, and for all
he was impulsively headstrong. yet |
could not remember anyone failing to
fall under his influence, be quite ready
to cOndone his fOllies and declare his
mistakes and blunders unkind cuts
of fate.
Poor old Jack! Vera is very much
like him, but if possible even hand
somer.
Jack was certainly the ~handsomest
man | ever saw.
1t is now Is years since | closed up
my law office, packed away my books,
and refused to run for the attorney
generalship, although | knew | was
practically elected.
But there was something else, l
knew. 1t was that unless | devoted
49, or+;,a o++o,%;o, o-l +;.oo o.J or-
ergy to the task of redeeming Belle
view, Jacks noble property would go
under the ~auctioneer's hammer.
Results have proved l was right.
Each grinding season has Melted a
handsome amount, l have long since
cleared off the mortgage, and one
year will see 1000 acres planted in
cane, besides diversified crops.
The sawmill | put up as a venture,
in the heart of the swamp, is bringing
in big returns, and when Vera will
reach her majority in a few months
time she may lay claim to being a
wealthy young woman in her own
right. Then will turn over my stew
ardship, and go back to my law books,
grown musty from disuse-like their
weather-beaten and taciturn master.
1t means an arduous life to super
wise, as l have done, an embarrassed
estate, redeem it and make it's broad
fields justify and answer to the call
made upon them, and to bring wealth
out of ruin. But it has its rewards.
One grows to love the rich, black
lands, the glorious growth of the long
stretch of cane, the straight run of the
pillow through the burrows, the smell
of the upturned earth, the sight of
cattle in the pasture, and the song of
the laborers going home when their
days work is done.
And when the last slanting rays
of the sun have left the fields to dim
shades of purple, green and gray, while
gliding the crest of the forest, and
the katydids and nesting birds give
their last sweet calls, the hour is pro-
pitious for self-communing.
I drop the rein on my sorrels neck
and let him crop a tuft of grass along
the edge of the ditch, as we go slowly
along, and l count up the cost of my
ambition sacrificed to Vera's happi-
ness and find the debt is in my favor.
Poor Jacks baby girl crept into my
heart that first night when l took her
in my arms and sobbingly she went to
sleep, her tangled nut-brown curls
close to my cheek. while l explained
to her mother that I would provide and
care for Jacks widow and child with
t~ireless devotion.
Vera, in those early years, was my
constant companion. She would wait
and watch for me, claiming a ride be-
fore me on my saddle each time I came
in from the fields. She would coax
me to let old Fanchette come out with
her in the pony-carriage to where the
hands were at work, and her gay
laughter and lovely face filled my
heart with content.
David, o are spelling that child.
believe she cares more for you than
me-" Susan used to say.
Certainly vera's love, which she
gives as Jack did, with a lavish hand
and a captivating whole-heartedness.