Middletown transcript., 1916-06-24
cOpXRInzT BY Z1zE CET7I1gY CO

II luG tLlIC dIC jos d-uONkA
it on to yO' old cane fieP."
The Barbadian laughed a little dryly
and shrugged his shoulders. The driver
got down, protesting, and helped the
family carry the house across the road
Then the cab went on and soon turned
up an avenue under a fiery canopy of
acacia famboyante.
AS they progressed, thick, twining
growths, spangled with brilliant
blooms, walled in the avenue The air
grew, cool but heavy with scents and
the full-favored spice of tropical gar
den under a blazing sun.
The air made Gerry dreamy. he
woke with a start when the Barbadian
said to the cabman, "This will do.
You needn't drive in. Wait here"
The cab stopped. Just ahead was
the ruin Of great gate. The two pill
lars still stood, but they were almost
entirely hidden by vines. To one of
them chung the rusted vestige of a
gate. Beyond the pillars there was a
winding way. Once 1t had been a
road continuation Of the avenue, now
it was but tunnel through the dense
ly crowded foliage. Along the center
Of the tunnel was a narrow path.
Even it was overgroWn. The Barba-
dian led Gerry down the path.
They came out under a grove of
mighty trees whose dense shade had
kept down the underground, and be-
yOnd the trees Gerry saw vast, ir-
regular mound of vines. with which
mingled giant geraniums, climbing
fuchsias, hOneysuckle and rose Then
he spied a broad flight of marble steps;
at one end of them an old moss-grown
urn. at the other, its fallen, broken
counterpart. Above the mound rose
the roof of house; through the vines,
as the two drew nearer, appeared shut
tered windows and a door, yelled with
creepers.
The Barbadian went up the steps
and tore the creepers away from the
door. Then he drew from his pocket
an enormous key. With a rasp the
lock turned and the door opened, let
ting a bar Of light into a wide, cool
hall.
Gerry followed the Barbadian
through the hall to a broad veranda at
the back of the house. A large living
room faced on to the veranda. The
Barbadian entered 1t, opened the
French door-windows and, dusting off
two lounge chairs, invited Gerry to sit
down.
Gerry looked around curlously. The
living room was comfortably fur
nished. There were one or two excel
lent rugs on the waxed floor; a great
couch. set into a bOw-window; lace
curtains, creamy with age; wonder
fully carved escrltoire In rosewood; a
sideboard, round table and chairs of
mahogany that was almost as dull
and black as ebony. Over all lay a
coat of dust
The Barbadian walked to the round
table and with his finger wrote in the
dust, then he sat down in a worn and
comfortable chair, a companion to
Gerry's. He fell into so deep a reverie
that Gerry thought he was asleep.
Gerry got up and walked around the
room. His eye fell on the table. He
saw what the Barbadian had written;
simply the date of the day. But above
the freshly written date showed an
other, filmed over with dust, and above
that another almost obliterated. Gerry
leaned over the table. He could see
that a long succession of dates had
been written into the thick-laid dust.
Beginning with the fresh numerals
staring up at him they reached back
ana back through the years TIL they
faded away into dim past.
Gerry tiptoed out on to the veranda.
Before him was a ruined lawn; in its
center cracked, dry, marble fountain.
Off to one side was a giant plane tree.
From one of its limbs hung two frayed
ropes. Against its trunk leaned a
weatherbeaten swing board. Under
the ropes, wisp Of path still showed,
beaten hard in a bygone day by the
feet Of children. Beyond the lawn
stretched wide hummocky cane fields.
They were abandoned save for little
patches of cane here and there,
punched up against little hen-coop
houses.
Got home, boy?"
Gerry turned and found the Barba-
dian standing beside him. "A home"
he answered, his thoughts flying to
Red Hill, Il should think 1 have and
it's a Ii" Gerry caught himself but
not in time
The Barbadian nodded slowly. II
know" he said, you were going to say
it's live one. Well, as to that, don't
you make a mistake. This home is
alive toO-just exactly as alive as l
am, for I'm the last of the Barbados
Malcolms
Home" he went on, isn't alto
gether a matter of cash, comfort and
cool drinks. Sometimes it's just a
gathering place for memories.
There was a time when we whites
stood fifteen to one over the blacks on
this island. Now the tables are turned
A chap that only takes a drink every
time he sees a white man would have
to go to a mass meeting to get drunk.
Lately they've been sending out
scientific commissions from England
to sit like coroners on this mound in
the sea- They say they're going to
bring the corpse back to life. I've been
offered a big price for this old place
but I'm not selling"
Gerry looked at the Barbadian's
rather shabby clothes. "Why don't
you sell if you don't want to work the
place? It's worth money. 1 know
apou0h +o foil Won that"