The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1915-06-06

pidutdtlOu OH
MI the Santee lay three days to
~ the northward and ocean,
ward Of Charleston, nearly
two days from Georgetown and weeks
from anywhere else. To reach II you
had to sail, pole and row across the
open water, through natural and man
made canals. up one mouth Of the
santee, down another, through to a
third. and lastly up tortuously twist
ing Gunpowder Creek, with its mis-
chievous mud banks. to the landing
pier.
My father was a we'll beloved man,
ana OF Importance to the country, yet
ms friends shrank from visiting him.
Mr.. Washington came to us but once;
Legacy Pelham but twice, with an in
terval OF five years between visits;
Messrs. Hamilton and Jay not at all,
and Mr.. Jefferson came only as far
as Georgetown. to which. the weather
being tempestuous, he stuck like q
tick, ravishing the Madeiras from the
laydowns Of the first families.
But TO live thus amphibiously at the
n OF things had its advantages. We
grew the fullest, sweetest rice In the
largest quantities. I think, Of any one
family out OF the Orient, and were
delightfully."- rich and luxurious. The
plantation was a complete civiliza-
ton in itself.
The slave quarters constituted \
good sized village, and a pleasant look
ing one, too, with its main street rum
ming between venerable liveoaks, and
It's little burnt brick dwellings. cooled
against the sun by Cherokee roses and
hnnavGnrEl0 and NA1Inyv ,o~~.--
n our shiny wild sm!lax that grows
six inches between days in April.
In the village itself was the black
smith and the apothecary's. and the
spotless offices of Aunt Juny. the mid
wife. who had her obstetrical knowl-
edge direct from Mother Eve.
There was also the house Of old
Uncle Yah. the witch doctor, and in
the suburbs of the village was the
columned house of Mr.. Spool, the over
seer, and the cottage Of the chaplain,
the Rev. Crowles, who was also tutor
to us children and a man so ingenious
as to have provoked by his letters re-
plies from DR.. Franklin. And hard by
was a little chapel of red brick and
white trim, and the large stone vault,
turned over like a New England Ice
house, in which rested the family dead
and those servants M retainers, with
out regard to color. who had been
the most VIGOROUSLY faithful to us and
devoted.
The vault was ponderously built like
a powder magazine, and had a vastly
thick and heavy door laid over with
sheets Of copper. This locked or un-
locked for a braZen key that was less
like an instrument of precision than
some chosen weapon Of a savage tribe.
And once a year his mournful place
was opened to the sun 90 that a child
could peer in at the tiers Of collins.
and was swept and busted and put in
order as zealously as II It had been
my mothers boodwa.
And, finally, II was in this vault that
the alleged body of Capt. Thorn's wife
found a temporary Judgment and was
instrumental in affording those events
which l am about TO relate.
He came up Gunpowder Creek from
the ocean during a wet easterly blow
in a ships boat rowed by four
drenched seamen. They were hairy,
wiry looking brutes with gold rings
in their ears and stifY. tarry queues
Of hair down their backs And they
lay to their oars with a fine drive
and rhythm. Capt. Thorn himself,
who sat in the stern, had a face Of
rare and tragical beauty and as I
afterward learned a figure Of great
length and symmetry. but at the mo-
ment a salt stained cloak of blue
covered him alike from the eye and
the elements.
1t vas ], fishing from the pier, with
the skill of my 9 years and the corre-
epondent success, who was the first
to see the visitors and to be addressed
by them. Though as they drew near
and / perceived that the rowed boat
trailed another, sun nearly to the
gunwales by a black and dripping
coffin that rested from seat to seat
and was stained as IL by contact
with the earth. and altogether horrid,
! was minded to run away.
l know not why I stood or rather
sat my ground, unless it be that my
name is Jack and l was nearly always
a feature and usually a mischievous
and impertinent one) in whatever hap
pened. 1t was 1 indeed who buttered
the threshold OF Mr.. WashingtOn's
bedroom SO that he seated himself
with a rude violence that cracked the
plastering In Inc room beneath. And
1t was I who u%nbuckled and hid the
wooden leg Of Mr.. Pelham while he
dozed after port and 1t was I-alas!
1t was always i! But those who
named me Jack have only themselves
to blame.
Well. the first thing that Capt.
Thorn did when he saw me perched
Ike a tiny sprite upon the pier was
to chuckle n ask II / thought l was
fishing. To which ! responded that