The Montgomery advertiser., 1906-03-23
THE CHURCH IN THE SWAMP
Ry pALLAg LOIRE SHARP.

BY DALLAS LORE SHARP Copyright. 1906. by Joseph B. Bowles.)
 There was time when the little hat-bottomed cotton boats touched at almost every woody bend as they pad dled down he Savannah from Angus ta. But the streams of population have changed their course since the coming of the railroad. The low-lying swamps are nearly deserted and now, except at the few regular stations, the boal turns her shovel nose into the bank only when she smells barrel of resin a bale of cotton. or sights some loneE dweller waving his hat or pine kno from a stump in the edge of tn swamp.
 One autumn day about ten year ago, was put ashore nearly 150 mile below Augusta, and struck in througl the swamp to the higher levels for wild turkeys. It had been beautiful October weather, but the game was scarce At the end of two days wan derings I had not heard, gobble. and when night of the second day came down with a dreary drizzle. was back along the river awaiting for the re- turning boat
 Just swhere I was did not know. I did not relish the prospect of an- other night In the swamp, not in this neighborhood. anyhow, alone, in the TafH ana TeeQS, ana aIllOHB tue SHdhes. malaria and other beasts lodging there about dared wait no longer. and, shouldering my rifle, made my way back to find a higher dryer bed.
 I had not gone far when l found I was following an old path--a hog trail probably.--and. with just hope that 1t would lead to a clearing, I kept on. With the extra sense of woodsman, l felt was nearing something or some where; and, turning q bend over the rising ground. I saw through the trees what seemed like a number of pines blazed by the pitch gatherers. But, on approaching, the pitch pines proved to be. not pines. but gravestones. l had stumbled upon an ancient graveyard. Only few Of the names could be made out They were all In French, and I guessed Il must be an old Hu- guenot burying ground.
 Peering in among the eedars that had rooted out many of the stones, l caught glimpse Of a white house, and hurrying forward as though I had not done one of my forty miles that day, wondering if it was a. white-wash- ed cabin, turpentine still or----I sud denly stood before a meeting house, older and thousand times more spec tral than the graveyard. It was on knoll, and had been in sight of the river below once; but now the brush and leaves completely hid 1t, except when one might happen to run upon it; and 1t looked in the gloom as if might be the only one to have done that in half century. The door was locked. l tried the windows. They were fastened. too; but on the river side the end window was partly torn away, leaving an opening large enough to admit ma
 climbed Inside and groped my way 1 about with the last of the light A dozen or more plain benches were drawn up parallel with the platform and close together. There was an antique swallow-nest pu'pit hanging | high up on the wall. with kind of l tunnel stairway leading down from 1t 1 to the platform. It was a hollow, 1 musty place. and from the odor. l | judged the bats must have recently 1 assembled in large and frequent con gregations here. It was spooky, too; 1 but 1t was shelter. and any kind of shelter-a fhouse at that.-was the widest kind of luxury in such a place. 1 l laid my rife on the platform and prepared my bed; whistliug tune fit ] to wake every old ghost about the place. The back bench was out of the draft of the broken window, and l spreading my rubber blanket on this, | with my game-bag for pillow, I lay down to sleep.
 The wind freshened in the trees and the pines broke out aloud in their eternal dirge. The rain began to pat ter in drops against the loose panes. It was pitch dark. What a it place to be dead in-the graveyard outside! Soughing pines, moss-hung expresses, night and storm and everlasting soli- tudei Rather how unfit
 I fell asleep and dreamed I was one of a large and happy congregation. listening to a good old father pleading from the pulpit overhead. Then the scene changed; the congregation van ished, the morning sunlight and the good-faced preacher disappeared, and I was alone. in the dark with Satan making ready from the pulpit to swoop down upon me. I woke with a start and shiver. For a moment the dream was so real I could still see the gleam- ing eyes of Satan staring down at me.
 The wind was high outside, the rain had ceased, the clouds were broken and driving across the moon and now and then faint flood of yellow light fell through the curtainless windows.