The Caucasian. (Shreveport, La.) 1900-192?, 1907-08-04

England orchards. The south winds Of
May scattered the apple blossoms like
snow over the emerald turf and filled
the air with fragrance. TIL" earliest
bluchirds came to them. ana there the
first robins built their nests. How
charming and airy it all was in May,
when the days We're melting into sum-
mer and how really beautiful and full
of life were all Of these venerable New
England homes.
After the old house was burned Wis
tied the place and brought away a few
bricks as Il souvenir of Il home Of hero
ic memories happy memories, too,
II we except Il Singl" tragedy of the In
dian war. The great orchards We're
gone. the old lvrns and their swallows.
Only the well remained and heap of
burned bricks and the blackcncd out
line of the cellar wall.
1t was Il house full Of legends and
stories wonder stories that once led
stranger to look upon it with a kind of
superStitiouS awe 1t had its historic
lore. and, like al great colonial houses.
''H Sn'N' w = Wv Wv i,'' "
''Se"" "SN"' ''''" WIN inc ""' vans
was Mi" " as ~ W." -'''''' '>''
ties" The legend may have grown
W." ~ ''' = "">
hfS'"fl' ''''n ana was VI '''' ''''' ~ Wv.
amnl" tirrsi,'rS Of thr"c generations IF
| Dorchester people"
me "'''pT. iiN' IVY |'p''
Z ft,,
prayer |'F'i'''i never - 'li"- N'''i '''
many courses '' 'o''' ''''' a. 81"
/ ana anu PIES anu "Pl'''N """ '''iS
and az SORTS OF SWPriin''.S.
Z nci" /Ph'dP"' pii'"
wei dear1'.
Aunt S''! mat You No'li4 ''' US 'iN
| story OF the IVY" prlSS Net'icS ~ '"r Hii-
ner
/ "Nhy, de"r'"; yes yes We ''''h
/ telling that story these "2l'E years.
come oetn""r. l'i"ht IoI' never he'"
lit: Thought III niue Sh2S"fS ki'c"
about that The two brass Fott 'eS-EeS
"Thcy're in the old cupboard now.
Bring them out, and | viii tell you I'll
about EN-. | shaht live to tel fhat
story many more years. Maybe snail
never tell il again"
; The servants brought out The Nv"
| kettles into the kitchen where we
could see them through the wide din
ing room door.
Put 'em in the middle of the tioo:
! before the window" said Uncle Zebe-
dee "The"e. that will do. That is
! just where they were when the Indian
came. You see The Window he
added
It had a great, deep set easement.
Grapevines half curtained it now on
the outside. and the slanting sun shone
| through them, its beams glimmering
on the old silver of the table. 1t
! was past the middle of the afternoon
Of the shortening days Of autumn.
"You have all heard of Philips
war" continued Uncle Zebedee, leaning
forward from his chair on his crutch.
Everybody has. 1t destroyed thirteen
towns of the old colony and for two
years filed evcrT heart with terror.
Philip struck here. there and every
where. No one could tell where he
would strike next The sight of an
Indian lurking about in the woods or
looking ont Of the pines and bushes
usually meant massacre.
zone Sunday in July. in 1915. the
family went to meeting leaving two
small children. boy and girl. at
home in the charge Of 4 maid named
Experience. The kitchen then was
as you see 1t now. -':c window was
open; the two brass l:c.:lcs had been
secured on Saturday and placed bot
tom upward on the floor just rs you
see them there.
ut was blazing July day. The
hayfields Were silent There was Al
odor of hayricks in the air. and the
bobOlinks. | suppose, toppled about in
the grass and red winged blackbirds
piped among the wild wayside roses
just as they do now. l wish that You
could have seen the old hayfelds in
the long July afternoons, all scent and
hi