Page images
PDF
EPUB

quested the reproduction of the following story, which appeared in the Christmas Eve edition of "The Herald" several years ago:

"During the many, many years of its existence, there have been numberless stories connected with Meadow Garden-the old Walton home on the canal bank-but of them all none is more interesting than one known only by one of Augusta's oldest inhabitants, and recently told by her in response to a special plea made in behalf of its appropriateness to the Christmas season. Perhaps even then she would not have consented to tell the story in all its details if it had not been for a strange circumstance related to her. Of late years, since the old home has fallen from its high estate, it has been occupied by many families; and some of them have, from time to time, told remarkable tales of the house being haunted. There are nights, it has been said, when the echo of dance music is heard in the empty corridors, and when clicking of high heels resounds on the stairs. A few days ago an old man, who has been living in another State for many years, told of an experience he had one Christmas Eve at Meadow Garden.

"A room directly under the front stairs, which is now walled up-some say because it is in wretched repair, and others because of certain mysterious reasons not given-was open at that time. It had been a storeroom in the palmy days of the great house, and the old man found it convenient for the storing away of certain of his own belongings not in constant use. Just before an ever memorable Christmas he had bought some gifts with which to surprise his family and the storeroom afforded a good hiding place for them. It was late on Christmas Eve that he stole quietly down the stairs to bring out the packages.

"The room was full of dark shadows which the flickering candle he carried only served to make blacker. It was nearly midnight and everything was so deadly still that the man was startled by a slight, rustling noise, probably made by a mouse. Suddenly, as he stopped to lift some toys from the floor, it seemed to him that the air became heavy with the fragrance of violets.

"He knew that no flowers had been to his room and he

looked around curiously to discern the cause of the waves of intoxicating sweetness. Holding the candle high over his head he peered into the dark corners; and as he looked the door leading into the large kitchen next to the room slowly opened, and to the gazer's utter amazement a lady entered. The man was too astonished to utter a sound or move. He was dimly conscious of the fact that it was a very grand lady indeed who entered the crowded, dingy room, and that the cobweb and dust would certainly spoil her violet satin gown. In one hand she held a large bunch of violets and with the other she held up her dainty skirts, showing lace-trimmed petticoats and one satin-shod foot.

"For a moment she stood there, slightly panting as though from rapid running; and then, seemingly unconscious of the fact that anyone was in the room, tossed the flowers to one side, and walking to a distant corner, she ran her hand in a crevice of the wall, as though feeling for something. The search was evidently in vain, for she shook her head several times, and a puzzled and anxious look passed over her face.

"Just then a gust of wind blew out the light and frightened by he knew not what, the man turned and ran from the room. When he collected himself sufficiently to go back with another light he found the door leading into the kitchen locked and barred, as he remembered he had left it the day before.

"The mystery of the strange lady's appearance was never accounted for, and the man's associates laughed so incredulously whenever he told the story, saying that he must have been drinking pretty freely, that he soon grew sensitive on the subject and could not be induced to say anything about it.

"A complicated train of circumstance led to the writer hearing these facts, and immediately the determination was formed to try to find some solution to the mystery from a lady known to be thoroughly well posted on all the facts connected with the history of the Walton home. The facts she related are woven into the following:

"In the heydey of Meadow Garden's glory, shortly after the close of the Revolution, a great house party was given in compliment to a young Northern girl spending the winter with relatives in Georgia. The most brilliant of the many enter

tainments with which she was complimented was a grand ball given at Meadow Garden on Christmas Eve. Never before or since has the historic home been the scene of such festivities. The house was ablaze with lights, and all was abloom with holly berries and mistletoe and rare Southern roses. The dance went on in the two rooms on the right of the hall, then thrown into one. Here were assembled many beautiful women and gallant men, not only from surrounding country, but from neighboring cities.

"The most admired of all the gay throng was the fair guest of the North. Her hand was eagerly sought for every dance, not by one, but by the majority of the men present. It was observed that she danced often with a young Englishman visiting America on an important mission from the Mother Country. The feeling of bitterness between England and the United States had almost entirely died out, and the young stranger was received very cordially; but there were some who had not forgotten the recent enmity, and among these was the father of the belle of the ball. The Englishman had paid devoted attention to the girl ever since he arrived in the South, and a rumor as to the state of affairs had reached the ears of the father in Boston.

"That very day a letter had come forbidding the daughter to speak to her country's enemy, as the irate American expressed it, and commanding her to start for home with her travelling companion the very next day. This letter had been shown her companion, a widow almost as young and beautiful as her charge, and the girl had been comforted somewhat by her friend's warm expressions of sympathy.

"They had decided that no harm could be done by allowing the young couple to be happy together for this one last evening. During the pause for a dance they managed to steal away for a few minutes to whisper their goodbyes. It was never known exactly what was said, but before the lover left he gave her a ring twisted about a card on which he had written his Philadelphia address. This she was to send him if she found it in her power to give him one ray of hope. She did not dare to run the risk of the ring being seen, so she leaned on the window of the cloak room on the ground floor, near

which they were standing, and slipped the jewel into a little crevice hardly visible. Neither of the two in their absorption of each other, saw the burning gleam of almost insane jealousy in the eyes of the companion, who watched them from the shadows of the window hangings. Later, when the rightful owner of the ring and the card came for them, they had disappeared. She never again saw the Englishman. She died not long afterwards, and it was whispered that her heart was broken. Years afterwards the companion confessed before her own death, that, wild with jealousy, she had stolen the ring, and had written the lover, as though at her friend's dictation, that there was no hope for him and that the lady of his dreams was to marry another, one who pleased both her father and herself.

"It is by means of this confession that the story is known, and has been handed down through the generations of one family-never, until the other day, passing beyond the family circle.

"Listening to the story of the man who had seen the ghost, and later to that of the dear old Augusta lady, the writer was struck by a remarkable coincidence that gave great additional interest to the strange circumstances. During a visit to Boston several years ago a party of Georgians were entertained at a famous old mansion belonging to a distinguished family. The evening was a delightful one in all respects, but it was remembered by everyone principally for the view they had of the exquisite painting by a world famed master. It was a full-length portrait of a beautiful girl with deep blue eyes and golden hair. She wore a short-waisted gown of violet satin, held up by one hand so as to give a glimpse of lace skirts and a fairy foot. The other hand held a bunch of violets. The guests were so greatly interested in the angelically lovely woman that their host told something of her history. There was some romance in her life, connected with a visit to the South shortly before her death. By the way, it must have been one of your Georgia boys who stole her heart away, because her portrait was painted in a gown she wore to a Christmas ball given in Augusta.""

ELLA BUTLER EVANS.

WHAT WE ARE DOING AND

CHAPTER WORK.

CEDAR FALLS CHAPTER (Waterloo, Iowa).-Since the organization of this Chapter last summer, in which members from Waterloo and Cedar Falls united, the membership list has increased rapidly until now we number thirty-two. Much interest and enthusiasm is manifested in the work and the social features are very pleasant. The meetings are held alternately, and as the intervening distance is covered by an electric railway, there is no difficulty in arranging meetings in this way to be held once a month. There have been two very interesting and impressive ceremonies in which the Chapter has participated recently-the presentation of the gold spoon of the National Daughters of the American Revolution to the Real Daughters. Owing to the non-arrival of one the presentations had to be made separately. Mrs. Mary Ann Burr is the daughter of Theophilus Luther, who served as a private in the Rhode Island troops with Captain Carr and Colonel Crary. Mrs. Burr is ninety-two years old and quite feeble, although her mental faculties are keen. She was much affected by the presentation of the spoon. She was seated in the parlors of the Burr Hotel, Cedar Falls, where she makes her home with her son, and surrounded by the Chapter, her sons and grandson, when she was presented with the spon by the local Regent of the Chapter, Mrs. Julian Richardson, who made a short address. After the exercises Mesdames Burr served an excellent supper. Mrs. Burr's spoon was given her March 24th, and April 13th again our Chapter met in Cedar Falls and presented a similar testimonial to Mrs. Catherine Roadman. She is the daughter of Peter Mower. He served as a private in the New York troops under Captain Putnam and Colonel Willett. He was one of four brothers who served in the Revolutionary War. Mrs. Roadman is quite active and thinks nothing of driving her own carriage in from her home, about one and one-half miles from Cedar Falls. She related a story she remembers hearing her father tell of the capture of a pris

« PreviousContinue »