Columbia College - Columbian Yearbook (Columbia, SC)

Page 93 text:

THE DOCTOR 'S S TOR Y N .ff T 'T P HE man who had just been talking leaned forward and r flecked the ashes from his cigar over the banisters, then 'Fitz settled back comfortably in his chair and watched the effect .2 i of his story on his companion. However, so far as he could --Ti. see in the dim twilight, there was no change ot expression on the other's face. He was a man who did not show his feelings-the doctor. Sometimes people said he had no feelings. Yet he was a man of .wide experience. He had served in many positions in his lite, from being a prison doctor at one time to practicing awhile in China and other heathen countries, not as a medical mis- sionary, however, but only to gain experience. The two men remained silent tor sometime. Across the sands in front of the hotel piazza the echo of merry voices came to them on the soft suminerbreeze. The continual, mighty roar of the surf niade solemn music in their ears. The night was perfect. They had been comrades in college, these two. They had not met since then until now, nearly thirty years later. The doctor's hair was snow-white, even though his face was still young. Time had not used the other so badly. He still appeared almost a young man. His lite, the story ot which he had just been relating. had been a very happy one. Atter leaving college. he had bought a ranch out West and had taken his girl-wife out there to make a honie l'or biin. She was still there, waiting 'tor hiin to come back l'roni a business trip, he had said. Oh. no. she was not alone. Three of the tinest boys in the world were with her: also waiting for the 1'eturn out him, their itather. lt was a. happy picture. The silent inan in the other chair reached out and grasped his old CO1lll'?lflC,S hand. There was no need 'l'or anything to he said. lt was an old college trick out theirs, and each understood. But, now, old boy, it's your tiine to tell a story, the younger inan insisted. l have no story to tell ol' niysell'. the doctor said siniply. You know what niy lite has been tor the most part-one experience after another, one country a l'ter another. My love story was short-and sweet. You know about that. Alec. It ended long ago-when the little mountain girl l loved sent ine out in the world to live 'tor us both--while she went back to her mountains ton- The other nian nodded and the doctor did not finish. But there is a story l will tell you it' you would like to hear it. he went on after a pause. The other nodded again. and. throwing his head back and gazing 'tar over the darkening sea. the doctor began. There was a girl, he said. not so pretty was she and rather sinall. yet the kind of a girl that made you l'eel her strength by the very lirst words she spoke: more than that, just by looking at you. lt was at one out those Sunnner C'onterences 91

Page 92 text:

UNCLE EPHRAI M 'S FAI LI N G YICIZYIXOIJY knew l'ncle .l'l1Jlll'2lllll. and knew him to be a worthless old negro, yet he enjoyed a certain distinction. Worthless fum laude is a phrase that describes fairly well the opinion in which he was held. As a slave, he had been ol' little value to his master. During the t'ivil War he had remained with Ole Missusf' a lmrden rather than a help or protector. He did not go awav with Sherman's -Xrmv for two reasons: he had not been urged to do so, and mi was afraid to leave the well beaten paths of indolence for the untried experience ol' camp life among rough soldiers. Years later, when much was being said about the loyalty ol' the old negroes who had remained with the unprotected homes. no one had l'ncle ltlphraim' in mind, but he heard' the talk of the whites, caught a l'ew phrases, and was soon heard extolling the virtues of us genimen what tuck kyur ol' ou' ole Missusf' Who that has ever claimed special credit for observing the lirst law of nature can censure Yncle Ephraim? No one has even censured him. or even denied him the role he chose to claim for himself. As years went by and gray heads were laid to rest, there were few left who could do so. And so it happened that when lincle Ephrain1's name was mentioned, someone would always say. He has become worthless in his old age, but we must take care of him. We cannot forget what he did for old Mrs, Adams during the raid. ln face of so noble a sentiment, the 'few who knew what his career had really been, were not so cruel as to speak of it. 'llhus it came about, what from his own praise and what from that ol' the coimnunity that a halo arose like an exhalation from the narrow strip of cotton that bound his temples and rested a few inches above his bald black head. Strange to say, the other members of his own race did not object to the canonization of the old negro. In that disordered social condition in which the war left them, the negroes were prepared to receive any strange thing as their portion of the spoils. 'While Vncle Ephraim was being lifted to the position of a hero, other ncgroes were reaping other and greater honors-theirs soon to be lost, his to abide. Fortunately for him, EDll1'3.'l1117S ambition did not extend beyond the enjoyment of life on earth as he hoped to enjoy it in heaven-in a quiet, undis- turhed sort of peace. ti'onversely he expected nothing in heaven more desirable than a continuation of his life here. He looked upon death as he had looked upon the approach of Serman's army-as a vaguely possible disturbing event in his existence. He had escaped the 'Hrst of these dangers unscathed, and religion was to him a hope that he might be as successful. in escaping the burning lightwood knots of hell. ln this he would take no chances. He practiced the doctrines of the church according to the best light that fell into his benighted soul. He played the part of churchman assiduously, it was his chief interest now that he had convinced himself and others that he had been a hero. He was never seen without a small Bible, which others read for him. He wore on all occasions a clerical coat, given him by a friendly rector. In the local church he was a shining light, in the parlance of his fellow-members. If need be, he would preach, but it was in prayer that he starred. He never lost an opportunity to talk of prayer and ol' the art of praying. The brethren7' of both races often took private instruction, willingly or unwillingly, from Uncle Ephraim. Met upon the highway, he would stop, and after a few preliminary words, he would begin, Now, brudder, ef yo, ebah pray, begin kinder easy like, an' w'en eberything is still as er grabe ya'd, den cry out loud fo' mu'cy. Den go easy like again 5 den squall sudden. An, atter 88

Page 94 text:

SPRING TIME I have seen the glorious splendor Of the autuinnls changing leaves: I have felt in many a woodland Summer's soft caressing breeze, l have seen the snowy crystals Falling, pure and dazzling white, But to me, of all the dearest Is sweet springtime, joyous, bright. VVhen I lie beneath the willows, By a sparkling, dancing stream, VVeaving loving, tender fancies Into happy, youthful dreams- VVhere the scent of woodland flowers, Floats upon the gentle breeze, And the world is filled with music From the tops of budding trees- Then my soul is lost in rapture, And each cool alluring grove, Filled with heart refreshing beauty, VVhispers of a FELthG1',-S love. - M . 90