THE SURRENDER AT DISCRETION. 41Y 



ing, and even Mike the quiet, satirical Mike had 

 awakened to the uses of the holidays. 



Mike, agreeably to a promise to spend the Christmas 

 days at the Moorlands, had come as punctual as the year 

 itself, and his wild, droll stories woke the fireside to 

 peals of laughter when we nig*htly fought our battles 

 o'er again. The house we were visiting was a portion 

 of an estate that had reverted to Lou Jackson, and that 

 from poverty had raised her again to wealth, and the 

 feast that had lasted for a week was made doubly joyful 

 by seeing our hostess of Far Away the head of the old 

 homestead. 



The allotted time of our visit, spent in a round of 

 pleasure, had flown away, and it was now the middle of 

 the night preceding New Year's day. The moon, 

 " sweet regent of the sky," overlooked the Moorlands, 

 and her reflections flecked the lawn, whitened the house, 

 brightened the whitewashed negro cabins, and made the 

 Altamaha a belt of silver among the rice-fieMs. The air 

 was still, and all the household realized in dreams the 

 hopes of the incoming year. The great house itself 

 seemed to slumber, with its half-open doors, its smokeless 

 chimneys, its scattered implements of labor, shadowed 

 by trees, and lost in the forgetfulness of the early morn- 

 ing. Its young mistress lay in her bed, with her head 

 pillowed on her hand. The door of her room opening 

 on the piazza was ajar, and the moonshine in a flood 

 came in, revealing the turned down book on the stand, 

 and the white garments upon the chair, yet warm and 



18* 



