Democratic Sentinel, Volume 2, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 October 1878 — A TALE OF THE OLDEN TIME. [ARTICLE]

A TALE OF THE OLDEN TIME.

In the summer of 1757, when we were fighting against the encroachments of France on our Northern and Western borders, there lay among the picturesque hills of Northern Virginia a large plantation. The family mansion stood on elevated ground, with sloping lawns, and broad piazzas, shaded by an abundant growth of ivy and tall poplars. The owner of this beautiful estate was an eccentric old planter, whose chief pride lay in the immutability of his word. A law of the Medes and Persians could sooner have been broken than his commands changed; and under his arbitrary rule he had brought up a daughter—his only child. She was just 17, and was possessed of a beauty so rare and unconscious that, added to her prospective wealth, it caused her fame to spread far and wide. About this time the atro&ties of the Indians grew so daring and terrifying that the planter determined on getting a son-in-law possessing strength and courage, even at the sacrifice of his daughter’s happiness; but he matured his plans before he revealed them. One afternoon, late in August, the planter’s daughter stood on the western piazza, leaning against a pillar covered with climbing roses. She was dejectedly gazing into the golden, hazy clouds that lay piled in the distant west, and nervously pulling apart the roses, until the floor at her feet was covered with petals. “ Oh, dear,” she exclaimed at last, “ I wonder if ahything can be done!” “ About what, honey?” asked a moth-erly-looking darkey, looking up from her knitting through a pair of large brass spectacles. “ Haven’t you heard, mammy, of father’s last whim ?” sighed the girl. “We are to have a jumping-match on the east lawn in two weeks. All the young men of the villages are invited to take part, and I am to marry the one who slumps the farthest.” “ Lord o’ Massy, chile! de butcher’s son might jump de furdest!” “ Oh, no, there is little danger of that. I fear others more.” “ I reckon, darlin’, dem savages is de cause of all dis here trouble,” said the woman thoughtfully. “ Massa is awfully ’fraid dey’ll come up here an’ butcher us widout judge or jury, an’ he’s gettin’ ole, honey, and needs a son dat can site, an’ larn de boys to site, too.” A quick step on the gravel walk made the young girl turn. “ Oh, here is Tom at last!” she exclaimed, as, with beaming face and heightened color, she sprung lightly down the steps to meet a finelooking young military officer. “ I am so glad to see you,” she said, extending both hands.' “And so old Tim actually found you ?” “ Yes,” he replied, taking her hands, and then lifting her tell-tale face to find a confirmation of her words in the innocent depths of her dark eyes. “ Tim found me, and here I am, Nettie; but I have only ten or fifteen minutes to stay. Let us walk in that path yonder, where we can talk undisturbedly;” and he drew her hand through his arm. “ Your note tells me of this jack-a-napes whim of your father’s, and the consequent son-in-law business. It fairly makes my blood boil to think he would subject you to such a trial.” “ But you can jump further than any one else, Tom, and you won’t have to go to Carlisle, will you ?” “No, thank fortune, not for some time. We are at Fort Cumberland now, but in a few days will be nearer this plantation. Col. Stanwix sent me down with a party of men to help dose these Indians with gunpowder. They have committed some fearful ravages not very far oft’.” “ I wonder where Col. Washington is ? Why doesn’t he stop these cruelties, if he is as brave as they say?” asked Nettie. “ Because Gov. Dinwiddie is always interfering with him. He has scarcely more than enough men at his own headquarters in Winchester to protect Fort Loudon alone. As to his bravery, it can’t be questioned. He received four bullets through his coat at the battle of Monongahela, two years ago, and had two horses killed under him, and he was just recovering from a fever, too. But, Nettie, we can talk of this some other time. Now to business: On the day of the match, if—” “ Oh, don’t say it, Tom,” interrupted Nettie, hiding her face on his arm. “ You know father is inexorable, and if you fail!” “Fail or not fail, you belong to me, darling,” exclaimed the young man, emphatically, “ and nothing shall separate us. Wear this ring as a pledge, and, if the worst is realized, you and I must be among the missing immediately after the festivities. Will you do just as I tell you, Nettie?” “Yes, Tom,” she replied, in a low tone. “ Then we can make arrangements for a failure when we meet, for I can’t think it possible that I can fail.” He spoke hurriedly, for there was not a moment to spare. “ Duty is imperative,” he continued with a smile, “ and I have scarcely time to reach my post, so good-by, Nettie, for two weeks.” The appointed day dawned bright and clear. Promptly the young men assembled, each eager to win so much beauty and wealth. The gentry and farmers also came to witness the unusual spectacle. The old planter, with his friends, took places on the judges’ platform, while Nettie, at her father’s command, stood at a little distance, under a group of trees, with her old nurse and a few young friends. The contest began, and had nearly closed, when a horseman galloped up the road, and, seeing the crowd, fastened his horse, and walked over the lawn to inquire what was going on. He was about 25, very tall, and with a military bearing remarkable in one so young. Such dignity of deportment would seem, in these days, inconsistent with such a pastime as jumping, but then it was a common amusement, like

our base-ball. He stepped up to Tom, and asked, “ Can any one take part? I should like very much to try my skill.” “ Certainly; I believe the old planter’s whim included the world at large,” said Tom, curtly, as he moved off to take his turn. The soldier stood near black Tim, who had been watching the contest with much interest, but who now turned his attention to the long limbs of the stranger, with a good deal of concern expressed on his old black features. “ I say, massa,” and Tim’s eyes rolled round in his anxiety in a way quite fearful to behold, “dis yer yous, what you was talkin’ to, is Massa Tom, an’ dey is ’gaged already—de young missus an’ him. She likes him wonderful, but p’raps you donno dat our Miss Nettie is de prize, what de old massa put up for the biggest jumper. I’s awful ’faid you’ll jump de fardest wid dem long legs. No dispect meant, massa.” The reply to Tim’s discourse was lost in a shout from the crowd, for the people’s favorite—young Capt. Tom Lenard —had outstripped all of his competitors. But, to the surprise of many, this military stranger claimed a turn, and the old chronicler—Tradition—bears a fabulous record of his success across this chasm of 120 years. A moment of silent astonishment succeeded, and then rose a few shouts of admiration, a feeling all would have shared but for their sympathy with Annette. Trembling like a leaf, she leaned sadly on Tom’s arm, while he whispered hurried directions for their flight, and was leading her reluctant steps toward the ivy-covCred tower, that had been arranged near the platform for her and her successful knight. The old planter stepped from his slight elevation, and, placing his daughter’s hand in that of the victor, said, “ You have won the prize, sir, and, as my word is never broken ” “Excuse me, sir,” broke in the soldier, holding the hand of the blushing girl, “ but you must allow me to interrupt you one moment. I took part in this contest for the simple pleasure of trying my powers with others, and not as a rival. I confess this solitaire jewel is a rare prize, wonderfully rare, for a father’s heart to surrender to such an occasion, and, much as I might regret it under other circumstances, my engagements render it impossible for me to accept the honor you seem willing to confer. I, therefore, relinquish my right in favor of him who came next me in the list,” and, turning, he placed the hand he held in that of the surprised and happy Tom; adding, in a lower tone, “ besides, the hand and heart should never be divorced.” “ Look here, young officer,” abruptly interrupted the planter, “ I should be glad to know your name, and have you remain with us.” “ Thank you, sir,” was the reply, “but I have already lingered here too long. We are making military preparations to stop these Indian depredations, and you can judge it is no time for an officer to be long absent from his post. lam sorry to be forced to bid you so hurried a farewell.” He shook hands with the young couple and congratulated them upon the happy termination of the contest, and, waving an adieu to the rest, mounted his horse and was soon out of sight. The old planter did not long survive, and never saw his young visitor again. Tom and Nettie married and settled down in the old homestead, which wealth and happiness turned into a paradise. The French war was soon closed, but a greater one began when the colonies threw off the galling yoke of England. From this struggle rose the fame of Ggorge Washington, Commauder-in-Chief of the American armies, until it. not only filled all Europe, but rose higher still to be “ first in the hearts of his countrymen.” After liberty was gained for 3,000,000 people Washington sought the retirement of home. Ou Christmas eve, 1783, he once more reached Mt. Vernon, after an absence of eight years and a half, during which time he had stopped there only twice—on his w’ay to Yorktown and back. The September following his return he began an equestrian tour beyond the Alleghanies, where he held some property, and, going near the plantation where twenty-six years before he had participated in a jumping-match, he called. Two young girls were sitting on the piazza, and rose to meet him as he ascended the steps. “Do Captain and Mrs. Lenard still reside here?” he asked. “ Yes, sir,” answered the younger. “ I will call mamma;” while the elder, pointing to an easy chair of willow, said, “ Won’t you take a seat, sir; it is cooler out here than inside,” blushing all the while under his scrutinizing gaze just as her mother had done years before. “Is your name Nettie?” he asked. “ Yes, sir.” “ Named for your mother, I suppose.” The astonished girl had no time to reply, for the Tom and Nettie of olden time appeared through the arched doorway and the stranger rose to greet 1 them. “ Will you take in an old friend and ; wayfarer to dine with you to-day? It is pleasanter being with friends than at an inn.” “ With pleasure,” they replied, in the old Southern style of true hospitality. He noticed, however, their look of per- i plexity, and said: “ I will not tax your i memory too far, for twenty-six years I bring heavy changes, still you can’t forget our last meeting. Do you re- ' member a young Colonel, Captain, whose presumption enabled him to outstrip you in a jumping match years ago, and who yielded his right to the prize you so much coveted?” “ Indeed I do,” exclaimed Capt. Lenard, springing up and grasping his hand once more, “ I knew I had seen you somewhere, General”—a name Tom had unwittingly given him from the first—“ but I could not recall the occasion. We are indeed glad to see you, and give you a warm welcome to our table.” They sat on the piazza after dinner, the same old western piazza, with its climbing roses, where Nettie stood in her youthful grief, just twenty-six years before. And here, shaded by the same old ivies and poplars, they talked of the changes the years had wrought, particularly for our country. Gen. Washington enjoyed his visit exceedingly. They all addressed him as “ General,” but their free and unconstrained remarks relating to the late war, and their intense admiration for the great leader of the American armies were evidence enough that he was unknown. When he rose to take leave, and was giving each a warm pressure of the hand in farewell, Capt. Lenard said, “ General, I gave you this name because it seemed to suit you, not that I thought you were one then, and it is the only name we have known you by. Were you aware you had never enlightened us?” Washington smiled. “I supposed from several remarks made to-day that I was unknown, and I have enjoyed our free, social intercourse too much to enlighten you. Will you excuse what has seemed like a breach in politeness ? and I will rectify the error now as far as possible.” Saying this, he presented his card: Geoeoe Washington, Mount Vernon. Not a word was spoken, and in the silence of amazement their worldfamed guest departed,