Los Angeles herald. [microfilm reel] (Los Angeles [Calif.]) 1900-1911, 1908-02-02
C. H A r Y B D I S

1t was during That exquisite half hour which
separates sunsetting and twilight that the slowly
moving train ntermtted its deliberate progress to
set down at the Valley station. We were the
only passengers to alight, the roomy wagon
which stood waiting could be for none other than
And slowing ourselves and our baggage
therein, we started on the road to Box Hill
road" called by courtesy. 1t was a path or
rather track, of the toughest description through
the pine woods, laid out as it were, by some wan
dering COW, winding and turning as she turned
here to crop bush and there to avoid fallen
trunk, set thickly with roots and stumps, and
swept in places with the lower branches of the
trees. Luckily our vehicle had no top to inter-
fere with these, and there was this consolation
for our jolts and bumps, that each obstruction
dislodged by our wheels improved the road for
the next traveller.
High over our heads the forest giants,
their soft feathery boughs meeting to clasp in
spaces of deep blue sky. The dust below was
brown with fallen needles, which sent fragrance
upward as we passed We conscious of
sound in the air like beating on a shore,
far off at times, then drawing nearer, and surging
and roaring, till looked, half expecting to see
the tide pour in and whelm the world in sea.
This strange sound was the tale of the flood,
which the pines have murmured ever since the
ark rested on Mount Ararat, and the waters which
covered them withdrawn The violets, trail
ing arbutus, and wind-fowers growing at their
feet turned up fresh fair faces and seemed listen
ing to the sound, half fearful, half fascinated.
We listened too, till gradually the spirit of dreams
took possession of us, and we pursued our way in
happy silence.
Two miles, three four and we came upon a
house set close to the forest edge-a little brown
house empowered in vines trailing wide We
randas, and standing in yard which reminded
us of a florists box, so full was it, to the very
edge, of roses, creamy, red, yellow, white, and
f1ame-colored. This was Box Hill; for there at
the gate appeared dear Kate Carroll and her hus
band ready to give us welcome. Behind them
stood an old colored woman, erect and digniied
with a wonderful poise to her turbaned head,
and an expression of self-satisfed repose. In the
midst of our first kisses my eyes wandered toward
this appariton, wherein she gave singular jump
and sidelong frisk, smiling SO to reveal two
rows of cleaning teeth and exclaimed:
'Mssy's the very picture of Mars BENJAMIN
what here piece back. Howdy missy?"
What is that?" I whispered, as we walked up
to the house.
THAT" answered Kate, sis Charybdis, Baby's
old nurse, you know" Her eyes took on that
luminous and far-away look which l have noticed
in other mothers eyes when they spoke of children
that are dead; and for moment there was silence.
Such droll pretty little house as it was,
draped outside with La Marque roses, which
topped the very chimneys, and beat on each win
dowpane with odd little pleading taps which
sounded like Take take, take or the more
romantic of us thought, like iteration of the
of the roses fair mistress Kate, Kate, Kate
Take, take, We did, and that with unsparing
hands, and all day long There never seemed
fewer buds blossoms the vine for all
gathering 1t is impossible to exhaust the riches
of Carolina rose-tree Inside, the house
ceed- and walled with yellow pine dark and
glossy with age. There were pictures bronzes
bits of old carved furniture flowers everywhere
In one stood tall Dutch clock which
chimed each hour some queer tinkling tune ex
changed Sundays for the 104th Psalm. The
whole was lit and made splendid by fire of light
wood-such fire is the joy of the "piny
gion' and impossible to Northern CRATES, charm
they never so wisely with Centennial tenders and
brass andirons Only in the South is light-wood
obtanable and it is worth going thither to ex-
ner1ence its glorious reSinouS flame.