Democratic Sentinel, Volume 4, Number 2, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 February 1880 — ANNA VAN DOHA. [ARTICLE]

ANNA VAN DOHA.

BY MRS. NANNIE STEELE MOORE.

Oh! what a jolly time the girls and boys had that day (or I may say ladies and gentlemen, for wo all had arrived at the years of discretion) down on the banks of a beautiful stream, that proudly swept through the pine woods of Georgia. It was a day devoted to the entertainments that are to bo enjoyed at a country picnic. We had a spacious platform, excellent music, merry dancing, boating, fishing, refreslimcn s' of every kind—rich viands, delicious sweetmeats, tempting fruits, cool, refreshing beverages, and plenty of time to discuss on various subjects; but, strange to say.no matter what subject was introduced, nor on what pcintweargued.it inevitably ended' upon sweethearts and matrimony. I was rather a stranger in the locality; I had only been there about six months (teaching school); not being very sociably disposed naturally, and greatly burdened with my scholastic duties, I had formed but very few acquaintances; but among the little number there was one that had found a warm place in my affections. This was the beautiful, highly accomplished and regal-looking Aunu Van Dorn. She was about 2 years my senior—jovial, highspirited and possessed of as noble a heart as ever throbbed—a heart overflowing with affection, kindness and sympathy. Her father had been an extensive planter, and accumulated considerable wealth; but his death had occurred long before my meeting with his lovely daughter. She was at that time an orphan, and residing with a married brother, about three miles from where I was boarding. I found in Anna all the beautiful traits so much to bo admired in true woman, aud we soon became warm, confidential friends. My time was too much occupied to admit of mevisitiug her often, aud those visits were very brief; but she would spend days, and sometimes weeks, with me; and I shall never f«rget the pleasant hours I enjoyed while in company with her, and how much I appreciated her social visits.

Of course, Anna Avas at the picnic; it Avouid have been a blank Avitkout her, for she was the acknowledged belle of the community for miles around. As usual, she and I wore inseparable; wo Avalked together, sat together, and Avero as affectionate to each other as girls only are capalle of being. Wo had been on the grounds but a short while, when there appeared on the scene—very unexpectedly to myself, though the surprise, I must say, Avas a remarkably pleasant oue—a very distinguished young lawyer that I had the honor jof claiming as a friend.

Like mjself, his acquaintance among the assembly was very limited. lie soon made his way through the crowd to where I was standing; and, after a hearty shaking of hands, and considerable surprise expressed on the part of each ut our very unexpected meeting, he explained to me that he had come out from the city the day before on business caf a very important nuturo; and, having keen compelled to remain in the neighborhood over uight, that the young people at the house where he was stopping had . prevailed upon him to attend the picnic. As usual Anna was near me. I attracted Ins attention to her, and told him that I would introduce him to my dearest and most intimate friend, and assured him that ho would llud her very entertaining, aud, doubtless, pass a very pleasant day in her charming society. 1 truly loved her, aud really felt proud to call her my friend; and, in a short time, after, as I saw his tall, graceful form bending so low, listening to the sweet, low mimic of her voice, till the brown, wavy hair fell in masses of beauty over his classic brow, while her upturned face, radiant with smiles, her bright black eyes, beaming with intellect, looked so confidingly up to him. I thought, oh, what a handsome couple they, would make; aud down in my heart I wished they would marry.

While I stood thus contemplating, they approached me and insisted that I should join them in a stroll through the grand old woods. Carl Maurice, for this was the name of my friend, had been passing the warm summer days in the close coniines cf city walls, inhaling the clouds of dust and volumes of smoke that arose from its crowded streets and busy workshops—and a ramble in the green woods—the pure, fresh breeze that played hide-aud-seek through his wavy hair; the sweet melody of the song birds as they flitted from branch to branch of the tall pines that waved and sighed above our heads gave;an unusual buoyancy to his nature. I had never seen him so gay, so frolicsome, so boyish beforo. I noticed that a spirit of hilarity had taken possession of him, and the dignified bearing he had hitherto displayed during our former meetings in city parlors was fast departing, aud I slyly wondered if the bewitching Anna had not thrown a Circean spell around him. After walking a considerable distance we found a beautiful, shaded retreat, sach as I fancy wood nymphs dwell in. High above ns rose an immense bluff,

topped by the hngc forest trees that seemed towering to the skie3, while the fairy nook in which we sat was riehlv covered with nature’s green velvety carpet, dotted over with bays, which filled each passing zephyr with their delicate fragrance, and fringed with water lilies. At our feet whirled and danced the rippliDg waves, which were thrown into greater agitation by the revolution of a mammoth mill that stood but a short distance from us; the continued buzzing of the gigantic wheels, and the loud roar of the water, as it fell over them in dashing, silvery sprays, played a grand part in nature’s music. It seemed as if Anna and Carl had had a lively interest awakened within their hearts, that had become mutual. I knew them both well enough to read in their faces that they were evidently pleased with each other, and felt satisfied that they were destined to be firm friends, and perhaps more than friends, to each other.

As I sat listening to the sounds of the busy mill, and watching the ripples chase each other, I was lost in a beautiful dream of what their future lives might be. I knew that this was one of Cupid’s busiest days, and, as he had an extra amount of labor to perform, I imagined that ho had deputized me to assist him in match-makiug, and flattered myself that 1 would be very successful. But as frowaing reality has ever p oved to bo a destroying enemy to blissful dreams, mine was at this moment crushed to the earth by the sudden approach of a stranger that had dared to intrude himself upon the happy trio of this hallowed spot. “Why, good mornin’; I liked never to have found you.” As his rude salutation fell harshly upon my ear I turned my head, and my eyes rested fully upon the most uncouth specimen of humanity that I had ever seen in that community—a slim, gawky, boyish form —a sallow, beardless face, and long, stringy, sandy hair, that fell in disheveled locks around his neck. He wore a suit of white linen (and from my earliest recollection I have had a holy horror of a man dressed in white); his coat was one of those airy, commodious dusters used for traveling, and my candid opinion has ever been that if a part of it could have beeu added to the length and breadth of his pants his general appearance would have been greatly improved—while on his head rested a coarse, broad-brimmed straw hat, the crown entirely covered with a wide black band that encircled it, which served to prove the most conspicuous part of his dress. To increase my mingled indignation aud astonishment, Anna arose, gave him as hearty a grasp of the hand and as cordial a welcome as I had bestowed upon the fastidious Carl, and then returned the courtesy that I had formerly extended to her by introducing mo to her friend, Mr. Jones. Carl also recived an introduction, and returned the quick jerk of the head—which Mr. Jones intended for a bow—with a very low bow of true patrician grace. I was watching him very closely; he tried to conceal liis feelings; but, as he stood twirling his mustache and looking silently on, I could easily see mischievous smiles playing over his features, which he could not suppress; this gave new life to the indignant feelings wi h which I was struggling. I felt the blood mounting to my throbbing temples, and fervently wished that the repulsive creature—the horrid Jones—had never found us.

I proposed returning to the platform, for I felt that our lovely retieat had been invaded by an evil spirit; and the sweet siren spell that lingered around was now broken. Anna led the way.gayly chatting with Mr. Jones; but Carl and I walked on in silence. I knew that he was lontnnff t.n give vent, to his laughter, and I hated him for it; for a copious flow of tears would have then brought a healing, refreshing balm to my wounded pride and burning brain. I did not dare to speak; for I l'elt that he was only waiting for me to break the silence, which would give him an opportunity to relieve his amused feelings by some ludicrous remark. As great as my mortification had been at seeing Anna condescend to recognize such a person as a friend: and as indignant as I felt at having an acquaintance forced upon me that I Avouid have otherwise avoidel, I loved her too much to hear liar faults condemned by another, and I knew that if any slight remark, or even an allusion iu regard to her actions, had left his lips, that it would forever blast the friendship existing between him and I. If my tongue had remained silent during the day itw'ould have been far better for me; but there was an evil spirit within me, thirsting for revenge, and I xvas determined that Anna should know how deeply she had Avounded my pride. I sought an opportunity of speakiug to her privately, which very soon presented itself. Mr. Jones had goue out with a boating party; Carl Avas exercising himself by his terpsichorean accomplishments, and Anna Avns standing alone, intently Avatching the mauy forms as they gayly moA'ed to and fro iu the merry dance. I knew that the sounds of the music and dancing Avouid drown our voices and prevent our conversation from being heard. As I quietly approached her, I laid my hand upon her shoulder and sai’d : “Anna, why did you introduce that awkward boy to Carl and I?”

“ Who—Tom? - ’ “ I don’t know what his name is, but you know who I have reference to.” “ Oh, yes; Tom Jones. I was somewhat surprised at you uot being acquainted w.th him. I thought you had met him before.”

“Tom Jones,” I replied. “I must say that it is a very familiar name--too commonplace to be otherwise—but I never saw him nor heard of him until he dropped down so suddenly upon us that, had his appearance been more prepossessing, I might have supposed he was a fallen angel, aud I hope 1 shall never see him after todav.”

“Tom Jones,” I repeated—“what a common Dame; and he looks like a simpleton.” She gave me a kind reproving smile', as she laid her hand on mine aud said: “Never judge a person by his dress, and ever remember that there is nothing in a name; besides, you are mistaken in the opinions you have formed of Mr. Jones. Tom is not tuch a boy as you take him to be; he is about 23 years old, he has a very fair business education, and is a young man of very good practical sense.” “Indeed.” I replied, “you seem to be well-informed in regard to this gallant cavalier, of piney-woods nobility.” “Yes, I have a light to be; we were raised on adjoining farms; I have gone to school with him, and played with him many a day; and I know that a better boy never lived than Tom has ever proved himself to be.” “It is a blessing that he has some redeeming trait,” I replied. “I am glad to know that he really possesses so much purity of character, aud deeply regret that his cultivation has been so sadly neglected; otherwise he might have made a very brilliant star in society.” Just here the quadrille ended; partners rushed for seats, and I heard no more concerning Mr. Jones’ good qualities. Anna was by nature far better than I was, or she would have been highly incensed at the manner in which I expressed myself to her, if not at my words. It wa3 grooving late in. the afternoon ;

some were leaving, others preparing to do so, when Carl came to bid me goodfcy. He declared that he had spent one of the most delightful days that had ever dawned upon his existence, and one that would long be remembered; but regretted that I had seemed to share but a small degree of the enjoyment—while the same roguish twinkle danced in his eyes. I begged him not to refer to what had transpired in the morning, for, while it seemed to add greatly to his diversion, it was certainly very annoying to myrelf. “But with all,” I said, in a tone of candor, looking steadfastly at him, “Anna Van Dorn is a noble woman, and, let the youDg man be wbat he may, she has found some valuable trait in his character, I will assure you, or she would never recognize him as her friend. And yon will oblige me now by being very guarded in your remarks concerning her or her deeds.” For a moment he regarded me with a look of displeasure, and his voice grew tremulous as he said :

“ Why, yon astonish me; lain perfectly fascinated with Miss Van Dorn; what could I say or even think of her that would be wrong?” Then, as suddenly as sunlight breaking through a cloud, his features wore an animated expression as he exclaimed: “Oh! I see—excuse me —forgive me I know —it was down under the bluff. Pray don’t get angry with me, but it was yourself that I was amused at. The look of contempt that swept over your face, the scornful curl that came to your lip, the haughty toss of your head, and that bow—why, it Avouid have been faultless bestowed upon an Emperor. Ha! ha! ha! It always did amuse me to see a lady vexed.” And the laugh that followed his explanation—that loud burst of merriment that had been a burden to him all day—now echoed, and resounded, until the sighing of the pines, and the murmuring of the water seemed to catch the lively strain, and nature joined the happy chorus. I alone failed to appreciate the joyful sound of that ringing laugh. I was greatly relieved to know that his opinion of Anna Avas not lessened. But I felt more chagrined than ever to think that I had acted so very silly, and made myself appear so ridiculous; while I had committed the unpardonable act ot judging innocent Carl by the wicked impulses of my own heart.

As we left for our respective homes Anna and I bade each other an affectionate adieu, seemingly as good friends as ever. But time Avore on: days and Aveeks glided by. Anna had neA’er called to see me after that eventful, day. The time was drawing near lor me to return to my own home. I had sent her several verbal messages, inviting her to come; and finally I wrote her a note teeming Avitk affection, in Avhich I stated that i slioiild remain but a few days longer, and that I Avas more than anxious to see her before my departure. It was answered by a friendly missive, equally as affectionate as mine had been; laden Avith many good wishes for my future happiness and success; but saying that illness in her brother’s family made it impossible for her to A’isit me.

Nearly two years had passed when I received a long letter from a friend avlio resided in that vicinity, giving me the general news of the surrounding country; but the part which mostly interested me ran as follows: “Anna Van Dorn is to be married very soon to Mr. Thomas W. J ones, one of the most energetic and successful young farmers iu our community, and a gentleman wholly worthy ot the lovely prize he has won.” As my eyes rested upon the words, the letter dro)>ped from my hand as if it had been a heated iron that had seared ru.jr fini/<Ava

I sat motionless, as my thoughts wandered back to the many happy hours that had intervened betAveen our first meeting aud last parting. The great mystery was now unraveled. I kneAv Avhy Anna had refused to come to see me; and, as the great truth flashed upon me, I hated myself for the foolish Avay in which T had acted on that never-to-be-forgolten day.

But a few weeks after this, our annual fair commenced, and our city Avas thronged with visitors. Among the list of hotel arrivals, I noticed the names of “Tkos. W. Jones and lady, of I .” I knew that the lady was Anna, and a longing desire to see her immediately took possession of me. In the afternoon of the same day, I called to see her.

She gave me a pleasant greeting, but with a cold reserve quite foreign to her warm nature. I found Mr. Jones fir more interesting than I had ever dreamed of his being, and his general appearance had gone through a decided change for the better.

Don’t understand me to say that he had grown handsome; for, according to my style of good looks, he did not possess the slightest resemblance to a handsome man; lut the black-cloth suit, which neatly fitted his form, was far more becoming than the one worn upon our first meeting; his hair was closely trimmed; his complexion had a fresh, healthy appearance; aud he sported a very reasonable sized mustache, which, all combined, formed him into what might be considered a tolerably goodlooking man. When I parted with them, I insisted that they should visit me; but Anna excused herself, by saying that they had only visited the city for the purpose of attending the fair, aud would not have time to make any calls, but if convenient that she would return my visit on her next trip to the city, and gave me an invitation to call to see her, if I ever visited their neighborhood again. Thus we parted—friendly—bat with a lack of that great degree of warmth that should ha v e glowed in our hearts for each other. But I knew that the blame rested wholly upon myself. I was the one that was in fault. I alone had thrown the sharp-edged dagger, and with it had laid open a deep incision, which had widened into a channel—that now stood—an impassable gulf—between us. And by the foolish pride, the rude ac‘s, and uokind expressions of one day, I had lost the friendship, the confidence, and the esteem of one of the noblest, purest women I have ever known.

And now, dear girls, in conclusion, permit me to ask you a question. How many are there among you to day who would not have acted just as I did in that day, under similar circumstances? You are young and inexperienced, as I was then. To learn life and its checkered w r ays is at best a bitter lesson; and let me warn and implore you never to let your willful acts and unkind words cause you to gain the ill-will of others.

Friendship is a precious boon, a sacred tie, and a firm support through life. Kind words and sweet smiles are very cheap, yet the most beautiful, most lasting, gift that, we can beitow upon our fellow-creatures, and why supplant them with the rude briers of scorn and contempt, which will pierce your hearts sorely in after years with their countless thorns? A word of kindness, a look of sympathy, a smile of encouragement, is never lost, even when bestowed on one of God’s most lowly creatures, and the great good they accomplish may return to you, after many days, as “bread cast” upon the waters,” bringing with it manifold blessings. CORISTH, Mis*.