The Laurens advertiser. (Laurens, S.C.) 1885-1973, 1905-02-15
Terry
80. By....
CHARLES A MUNrg
by LEE ca SREPAR2


ever came on Il, though, an we was
glad thar didn't. We KEEP the little
gal, IN she want long in CROWN into
our feelin's, an the older she growed
the more we thought o. her"
OF course the history of Uncle Ter
RVS protegee was known to every resi-
dent Of the island, and as she grew in
to girlhood and attended school at the
Cape, as the little village n quarter
mile back of the point was called, until
she matured into a young lady every
II came to feel that in n way she be-
longed to the kindly lighthouse keeper
and his wife Melissa.
TO them she was all that Il devoted
daughter could be, and when school
days were over she became Uncle Ter
rvs almost constant companion. On
pleasant days she went with him to
attend his traps and on his daily drive
to the head Of the island. She was
welcome in every house and well be-
loved by all those simple, kindly peo-
pie, who felt an unusual kindly inter
est In her existence. OF tender heart
and t!niia nature, her appealing yes
won the love of young and old. On
Sunday evenings she was always I'M
of the small congregation that gathered
to hold simple services in the little
church at the Cape, n square n story
building that never knew paint or shut
tiers.
or beau she hardly knew the mean
ing, and 1T must be said the few young
men who remained on the island after
reaching the age of courtship were
neither In garb nor manners such as
would attract a girl like Telly.
One special talent she was gifted
with, and that,was the ability to draw
and paint well. Even as a child at school
she would draw pictures on q slate that
were surprising, and when older and
she obtained materials she worked In
til she became In q way quite an artist.
AS Uncle Terry put 1T, maxim picters
comes nat'rl to the gal"
She had never received even the first
lessons in that charming art, but for
all that every room In the house had
dozens Of her efforts. large and small,
hanging on the walls and in the oldest
frames. Some were of strips Of thin
board covered with little shells or dried
moss, and others of rustic handiwork
and mounted with fir cones.
There wa but one shadow In her life,
and that the fact that no one OF the
relatives she imagined she must have
In faro6 Sweden eve made any eff
fort to learn the fate Of her parents,
who she knew had gone down so near
her home. The story Of her rescue
with all Its pitiful details was familiar
to her, and in her room were treasured
oil the odd bits of interchangeable locket
that contained her parents pictures,
the two rings, the last message OF her
mother and even the wooden shoe that
had tloated ashore, How many times
she had looked at those two pictured
faces, one a reflection of her own; how
many tears she had shed in secret over
them, and how, year after year. she
wondered if ever in her life some rela.
tive would be known to her, no one,
not even her foster parents, ever knew.
Neither did they know how many
times she had tried TO imagine the mo-
ment when her despairing mother,
with death neal and with prayers and
tears, had cast her adrift, hoping that
the one little life most dear to that
mother might be saved. The fatal reef
whore those parents had gone down
also held for her a weird Fascination,
md at times the voice of the ocean
seemed like the d~cspairing cries OF
mortals. One picture, Inc it was her
best, was a view of the wreck, as near
as Uncle Terry could describe 1t, with
human forms clinging to the ice clad
rigging and tempestuous seas leaping
over them. The subject held an UNI
canny influence over her, and she had
spent months on the picture. But this
shadow Of her life she kept carefully
guarded from all.