The Birmingham age-herald., 1912-10-13
SOME MEMOIRS OF HOME
 LIFE IN THE OLD SOUTH
Parts PART lily CAROLYN BRANDON ELLIOTT

Even centuries of struggle finally come to end. Such time had arrived for the 17th, when serene conditions existed in at least one little garden spot of the world. For, despite the desperate con- f1icts still to be encountered in the great beyond. tidewater Virginia was no longer a wilderness ringing with the battle ax of the pioneer and the Indians wall for the loss of his own. Palisades became un- necessary for protection against that one who was so sorely bereft. The Red Man had nnoked his last pipe of peace, and passed on, pathetic wanderer. in search of some unmolested fastness wherein to light his camp fires; some happier hunt ing grounds wherein his spirit might be free.
 And so those beautiful homes which have withstood the test of time, came to be, like all else that is worth while, through suffering and somebody's sac rifice. The great plantations on the banks Of the rivers grew into colonies, and homes sprang from the soil of this new environment which looked as though they might have rested in the shade of English oaks, and known the twine of English ivy, had they not claimed an architectural type peculiarly their own. The quaint old home of the planter was picturesque without architectural beauty. Wide and inviting. with It's tall chim- neys at either end. 1t was a modified re- production of the smaller English manor houses of the Tudor period. With the founding of Gunston Hall, the home of t- of the Lees, and Mount Vernon, there was . signal departure from the English model; while Monticello marked the be- ginning of a classical revival.
 The uncertain, rugged atmosphere grad ually disappeared, and though ones sensi- bilities might have longed for elegance rather than splendor. there was gratifica- ton in the luxury which was free from conscious display.
 Ear along the river bank stretched the tobacco and grain fields; inside the mas ters domain were orchards burdened with fruit; overhowing barns and stables wherein were tended the finest race horses in Virginia Ins the distance gleamed the negro quarters, dotted with little white cabins and silhouetted against fthe whiteness the negroes themselves dancing to the monotonous twang of the banjo. Then was the wonder-home, and the peace which hovered around 1t; the long driveway, with its interlaced tapes try of sunlight and leaf and the sentinel oaks overguarding. From afar the sub dued song of the river, flowing forever onward, and nearer than all to the home and heart of inch lady" the fragrance of the old flower garden with its glory of roses and prim lady slippers all in row; it's heartsease and clambering 1essa- mine vines.
 The time had not been long, but there was satisfaction in the way the old houses settled down. with look of dig nified content, as though they had come to stay. And I think they wanted to stay For think, from the beginning, they must have loved the southern sun light streaming through their long win dows and the warm rain tears on the roofs; even the sigh of the pine trees and the storms which beat upon them. Else why have they stood through the weather-beat years for us to look upon today as a glorious part of it all?
 At that time, from the wide terrace of the great house, one might have entered a doorway always hospitably open, to feel that just @ step had been made from a new world into one which seemed to breathe old memories of something long cherished before. In furnishing there was no jarring intimation of too perceptible newness. The shiniest mahogany and sil- yer never glared at one, but only sug- gested a certain polished refinement while the portraits smiled from the walls like old friends known for years. The secret of it all was, an old civilization had transplanted old homes upon new earth, and time was required for each to become a part of the other. So why won- der at royalists living in a land, the very