Vernon Parish Democrat. (Leesville, La.) 1917-193?, 1919-12-13


into the night, and soft
voices and Iight-hearted laughter min
gled with the vibrant notes of violin
as it scared above the deeper tones
of the piano.
In my secluded room the music
reached me as l turned the leaves of
a yellow time-stained book. My own
name was written in furnished letters
upon the cover. The date was 1865.
One hundred years before a girlish
hand ha0 traced the faded words,
and /, the eat-great-grandniece and
namesake, glanced with tenderness at
the little story therein written.
1t was love story, sweet and whole
some. The spelling and peculiar use
of capital letters made it difficult to
read, but soon accustomed myself to
the writing and my interest grew with
every word.
1T is a white Christmas, the first
have ever known, and have slipped
away to look once more upon the won
derful outside world. For hours the
snow has been coming down in great
flakes, covering the pansies, the crocus
and the hyacinths blooming in the shell
ter Of the box hedge am wearing
cluster of heartsease, picked by-no
matter whom. Not even to you, my
diary, who knows my dearest thoughts,
can | whisper the happiness that is in
my heart. But we picked them to-
gether under the hedge, as the snow
was hiding them from sight, and
Charles-dear me could not help it.
He so fills my thoughts that l have
thought for little else, and before me
is his beautiful miniature, his first gift.
"'Tis pretty fancy-gift giving and
how proud I will be to wear his be-
fore our world. Yet tits a strange
custom, that all young maids must
wear the miniature of their betrothed
when they appear in public do not
think maids more tickle than those
charming gentlemen who swear eter-
NAL devotion upon their knees, but tits
disgraceful to be not wed before eight
cen, and when love comes all the world
must know. 'Tis full young to be al
wife, but Charles begs for an early
wedding day; yet know not-still-
perhaps
christmas day. The slaves awak-
ened us at daybreak, their soft voices
ringing clear in the old songs so dear
to them, and, shivering, crept from
my warm bed into the clothes Nanny
had ready for me. There was roar
ing fire in the dining room, and out
side our people waited for papa and
for me. 1t is good to be loved as they
love us, and twas a pleasure to see
their black faces as my hand went into
my reticule to papa's into his waist
coat pocket. But none were so glad
as old Uncle Phil when he opened the
package that had come all the way
from England for him. 1t was fid-
die. A beautiful, shining fiddle, that
papa had ordered after hearing him
play on the long-necked gourd with
horSehair strings that he had made |
In very JOY the old man danced hoe
down, with the tears streaming down |
his wrinkled face. l Thought once he
would hug papa but instead he caught !
his hand and thanked him over and
over again. He will play for us to
dance tonight.
"Such day as it has been. knew
not had so many kinfolk. I felt so
sorry for the tired and hungry little !
children that I took them into the up
per hall. where Uncle Alec had made |
a splendid fire, and they played blind |
mans buff and hunt the slipper until
worn out. Then Charles told them the |
drollest stories. He must have been
a mischievous boy, and he certainly |
is good to look at. Jack Rogers also |
helped amuse the children, and I doubt |
not he, too, is full Of old nick.
December 26: There is something |
in the air that keeps us all aquiver
with interest. The gentlemen are grave
and there is talk of war In one of
the towns the people carried black
coffin through the streets to show the
king they despised his commands
about the stamp act. But we young
folk still make merry. Yet my heart
is filled with fear What if there
should be war, and Charles-l
Il told him of my lack of courage,
and he but laughed and pinched my
cheek and took me in his arms as if
to ward off all danger and unhappiness