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NEWS & PLANTERS’ GAZETTE.
D. <*. COTTIIG, Editor.
No. 32.—NEW SERIES.]
News and Planters ’ Gazette.
terms:
Published weekly at Two Dollars and Fifty
Cents per annum, if paid at the time of Subscri
bing ; or Three Dollars if not paid till (he expi
ration of three months.
No paper to be discontinued,unless at the
option of the Editor, without the settlement of
all arrearages.
iX hitters,on business, must be postpaid, to
insure attention. No communication shall he
published, unless we are made acquainted with
the name of the author.
TO ADVERTISERS.
Adoertiscments, not exceeding one square, first
insertion, Seven! y-Jive Cents; and for each sub
sequent insertion, Fifty Cents. A reduction v. ill
be made of twenty-live per cent, to those who
advertise by the year. Advertisements not
limited when handed in, will be inserted till lcr
bid, and charged accordingly.
Sales of Laud and Negroes by Executors, Ad
ministrators and Guardians, are required by law,
to be advertised, in a public Gazette, sixty days
previous to the day of sale.
The sales of Personal Propert y must be adver
tised in like manner, forty days.
Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate
must be published forty days.
Notice that application will be made to the
Court of Ordinary, for leave to sell Land or Ne
groes, must be published for Jour months—
notice that application will be made for Letters
of Administration, must be published thirty days;
and Letters of Dismission, six months.
Mail Arrangements.
POST OFFICE, )
Washington, Ga., Sept. 1, 1843. $
EASTERN MAIL.
By this route, Mails are made up for Raytown,
Double-Wells, Crawl'ordville, Camack, Warren
ton, Thompson, Bearing, and Barzelia.
ARRIVES.
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 9, A. M.
CLOSES.
Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, at ‘Z\, P. M
WESTERN MAIL.
By this route, Mails are made up for all Ofli
ces in South-Western Georgia, Alabama, Mis
sissippi, Louisiana, Florida, also Athens, Ga. and
the North-Western part of the State.
arrives —Wednesday and Friday, by G A. M.
closes —Tuesday and Thursday, at 12 M.
ABBEVILLE, S. C. MAIL.
By this route, Mails are made up for Danburg,
Pistol Creek, and Petersburg.
ARRIVES.
Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, by 1 P. M.
. CLOSES.
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 6 A. M.
LEXINGTON MAIL.
By this route, Mails are made up for Centre
ville, State Rights, Scull-shoals, and Salem.
arrives —Monday and Friday, at 9 A. M.
closes —Tuesday and Saturday, at 9 A. M.
APPLING MAIL.
By this route, Mails are made up for Wriglits
boro’, White Oak, Walker’s Quaker Springs.
arrives —Tuesday and Saturday, by 9 A. M.
closes —Monday and Friday, at 9 A. M.
ELBERTON MAIL.
By this route, Mails are made up for Mallo
rysville, Goosepond, Whites, Mill-Stone, Harri
sonvilie, and Ruckersville.
Arrives Thursday’ 8 P. M., and Closes same time.
LINCOLNTON MAIL.
By this route, Mails are made up for Rehoboth,
Stouey Point, Goshen, Double Branches, and
Darby’s.
Arrives Friday, 12 M. | Closes same time.
CT* The Letter Box is the proper place to de
posite all matter designed to be transported by
Mail, and such as may be found there at the
times above specified, will be despatched by first
post.
palmer &, McMillan,
TAILORS,
HAVE removed to N0.4, Bolton's Range,
on the West side of the Public Square,
where they will be happy to see all their friends
and customers.
December 21,1843. 17
COTTING & BUTLER,
ATTORNIES,
HAVE taken an OFFICE on the North
side of the Public Square, next door to
ibe Branch Bank of the State of Georgia.
October, 1843. 28
NELSON CARTER,
DEALER IN
Choice Drugs and Medicines,
Chemicals, Patent Medicines,
Surgical and Dental Instruments,
Perfumery, Brushes,
Paints, Oils, Dye-Stuffs,
Window Glass, Bpc. SfC.
MB ’MORTAR. \ AUGUSTA. Ga.
October 12, 1843. ly 7
- ■— -
FOUR months after date, application will be
made to the Honorable the Inferior Court
of Elbert county, while sitting as a Court of Or
dinary, for leave to sell all the Lands and Ne
groes belonging to the Estate of Rhoda Cleve
land, deceased, late of Elbert county.
JACOB M. CLEVELAND, Adm’r.
January 8,1844. m4m 21
FOUR months after date, application will be
made to the Inferior Court of Elbert coun
ty, while sittings a Court of Ordinary, for leave
to sell all the Lands belonging to the Estate of
Archer Skinner, deceased.
ADAM KELLEY, Adm’r. with
the will annexed, of Archer Skinner, deceased.
January 2,1844. m4m 19
irtfttuicrUaurotisi.
THE DUMMY.
A Legend of Lincolnshire.
It was in the January of 18—, when,
having passed in safety the perils of “Great
Go,” I determined to put in practice a pet
scheme of making a shooting excursion in
to the wildest part of the fen country; there
at least, my memory would he able to dis
charge with all reasonable speed her con
fused cargo of Latin. Greek, history, alge
bra, arithmetic, moral philosophy, mechan
ics, hydrostics, pneumatics, optics, and
sundry other ticks w hich oppressed it. Ac
cordinglv, packing up half a dozen shirts,
and as many pounds of‘Pigou and Wilkes’
best canister, I took my place, one clear
frosty night, on the box of the Holbeach
mail. On we sped some ten miles along
a dull, dead road: then came a tree, then
abridge, then a ratling and jolting over
the stones of a dirty dreary town; then a
turnpike, then ten dull miles more, and
another tree, another bridge, another jolt
ing, another dreary town, and so on till at
daybreak we found ourselves in the neigh- \
borhood of Wisbeach. Here it was neces
ary to engage a fly to convey me to the
place of my destination, a lonely village,
about fourteeen or fifteen miles distant. I
found , however of much higher pre
tensions, and of far greater extent than 1
had anticipated, and to say the truth, felt
half inclined to quarrel witli it for its gen
tility. The public buildings were numer
ous, comprising a church, two dissenting
chapels, the stocks, a pound, and a very
comfortable commercial inn; to which may
be added a red brick house belonging to
the attorney, and a white stuccoed house
the abode of the surgeon.
There was, indeed, little room for
choice, as regarded lodging, and at “The
chequers,” the inn aforesaid, my carpet
-bag was pitched. Here the first coup
le of days passed cheerily enough. The
weather was fine, the birds abundant, and
mine host’s fare undeniable. On the third
morning a louring sky gave promise of a
regular wet day, which promise was most
exactly observed, and the rain came down
in torrents. For some time 1 endeavored
to pursue the sport, till my gun having ex
liibited many symptoms of reluctance, at
length positively declined to go off'at all
Nothing, then remained but for me to do,
and 1 made the best of my way back to
what the classic Robbins would term my
‘•duke dumum.” What, however, with the
violence of the storm which boat merciless
ly in my face, the increasing darkness, and
my imperfect knowledge of the country, it
was soon pretty clear that I had lost my
bearings, and it was near ten at night ere,
drenched,chilled, and wearied, I reached
the outskirts of the village. “The Che
quers” was, of course, situated as near as
might be in the centre; and stumbling on,
now tip to inv knees in mud, now breaking
my shins against some .'leap of rubbish, I
gained the churchyard, through which a
shorter pathway led to the inn in question.
The church itself, though much dilapi
dated and even shorn of its fair proportions,
as was indicated by the ruined walls a
round, was yet a picteresqne and a noble
building of the—but really, having the
fear of Camden societies and the like, be
fore my eyes, lam afraid to say of what
country or what style. Enough, it abound
ed with windows, pointed arches, lofty
butresses, hideous corbels, and other gro
tesque carving. Whence the materials
came, or how they were conveyed thither,
no one could pretend to say; the erection
was commonly attributed to the agpncy of
the devil or the monks, and probably one
or other had a hand in the transaction.
As for myself, I was at that moment far
too discomfited either to speculate on its
origin or admire its beauties, even had the
latter been visible, but nevertheless, could
not help being struck, as its dim outline
stood forth against the gloomy sky, with a
light, a pale bluish flame proceeding ap
parently from one of the windows. 1 paus
ed—and, but that my curiosity was as
thoroughly damped as my powder, should
have forthwith made farther examination;
a piercing gust of wind, however decided
the matter, and hurried me forward. On
looking again, the light had disappeared,
and I thought no more of the matter till,
encased in a dry suit, comforted by a capi
tal supper, and seated in front of a glorious
fire, I mentioned the circumstance in the
traveller’s room.
The company therein assembled consist
ed of four individuals besides myself. A
stout cheerful old gentleman, with a bald
head and pigtail, smoked his pipe on the
side of the huge grate. He was a man evi
dently of active habits, and kept bustling
in his chair, poking the fire upon scientific
principles, explaining them the while, and
snuffing the candles with a decision that
quite startled one; his manners and appear
ance were above the common run of farm
ers, and his age seemed to exclude him from
the fraternity of bagmen. A little more
quiescent, and he might have been the vi
car; a little less philosophical, and he
would have passed for the attorney; as it
was, he could but be the village apotheca
ry. His vis-a-vis was a commercial trav
eller, in the wine and spirit line, a jovial,
red-faced, white-teethed,apoplectic-looking
person,and seemingly well acquainted with
the practical part of his craft. The land
lord, a middle-aged man, both meek and
sleek, who said little, but whose ever-vary
ing expression was a sufficient index of his ‘
thoughts, sat apart from the circle, and !
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING.
WASHINGTON, (WILtK.ES COUNTY, GA.,) APRIL 4, 1844.
watched with manifest uneasiness the ma
ny unprovoked pokings and snuflings in
llinted by the doctor. A young gentleman,
with a sporting air, in a striped shirt, shoot
ing-jaeket, and Wellington boots, who turn
ed out to be an attorney’s clerk, and was
kind enough to bestow much notice and
patronage upon my humble self, completed
the party.
On my casually mentioning the circum
stance that had attracted rny attention in
the churchyard, a sudden silence fell anon
all. The medical man hastily laid down
the snuffers, as if they were unpleasantly
warm ; the landlord and my young Mecse
nas looked resolutely in my face, the one
with an incredulous, the other with an in
quiring gaze ; the traveller alone remained
undisturbed, and appeared to regard the
tableau with much inward merriment.
“Capital!” he exclaimed. “What! are
they at it again, ch !—a long game, upon
rny honor.”
“Who are at it, and what is it they are
at ?” said I, as confused ideas of lead steal
ers, body-snatchers, and church-robbers in
general suggested themselves.
“Oh, ask Mr. Evans,” was the reply.—
“He knows : nobody ventures to tell that
story in his presence.”
I looked inquiringly at the apothecary ;
he shook his lieud.
“The story, sir, said he, “which Mr.
Braggs alludes to, though well known here,
is yet one I am by no means fond of rela
ting. It is too sad, too strange, and per
haps a little too long, for mixed company.”
On such a night, with such a blazing
fire, and such a bowl of steaming puncli
beiore us, a tale “o’re true” was a luxury
not to be let slip. Persuasions, entreaties,
were lavished upon Mr. Evans, and at
length, although with some signs of reluc
tance, he thus began :
“It is now nearly forty years ago since
I first commenced practice in this lively
part of the country. In those days I was
possessed of little save a small floating
capital invested in drugs, the necessary in
struments of surgery, and a wife, —the last
as necessary an article, perhaps, as any lo
a man of my profession. Avery hard life
we led of it at first, and it was not without
much ado, and many stragglings, that we
contrived to keep up cheerful looksand de
cent appearances. The population was at
that time thin, and scarcely humanized ; it
was even reported that they were born with
webbed feet ; 1 do not vouch (or the fact
Indeed, it was very rarely I had an oppor
tunity of judging how they were born ; for
such was their heathenish ignorance, that
a few barbarous receipts, handed down
from Sliem, Ham, or Japliet, together with
an implicit reliance upon the powers of na
ture, sufficed for them in every emergency;
and it was long ere they could be induced
to have recourse to professional advice,
and submit to be physicked like rational
and Christian people.
“It was with no little surprise, then, that,
one winter’s night, as I was on the point of
retiring to the arms of Morpheus and Mrs.
Evans, I received a summons to attend a
strange lady, who had just arrived at the
Black Lion, and who was prevented by
sudden indisposition from pursuing her
journey.
“‘A lady at The Black Lion,’ quoth I,
buttoning on my great coat, in a state of
extreme bewilderment.
“ ‘Quite a lady, sir,—quite young and
alone, one servant, and coach-and-four, sir,’
was the reply.
“Such a tiling had not occurred within
the memory of man Our country was
raiely visited at all, save by the landlord’s
agent, and an occasional commercial tra
veller ; but a lady, attended, too, merely
by a servant, it was well nigh incredible ;
and, full of conjectures, 1 set forth to wait
upon my new patient.
“The Black Lion was situated about
half a mile from the village, or what was
then the highroad : you may have noticed
its remains in your excursion to day.”
“I did so,” replied 1, interrupting the
narrator; “the old sign-post, drew me thith
er, in the hope of gaining shelter.”
“Sign-post, indeed !” replied the apothe
cary, with a shudder ; “God keep us from
many such ! The storm was never whiles,
sed that would drive me to seek shelter
there. But to proceed—spite of wind and
wet, I made my way as rapidly as possi
ble across the fen to the house in question.
The fens in those days were fens indeed ;
no drainage, no inclosures, no subsoil
ploughs and Lincolnshire short horns ; the
snipe, and the bittern, and the moorfowl
had it all to themselves. Where you now
see corn waving and stock feeding, in those
days not a living being’ save those bred and
born among the wilds, dared set foot. The
paths across the morasses were few, and
known to few, and rarely traversed, save
in the pursuit of wild ducks and fen-birds.
But of all the frequenters of that perilous
region, Giles Roper, the landlord of the
Black Lion, was held, to be the most skil
led and the most adventurous. He was a
dead shot, and not thought to be over nice at
what he pulled a trigger. Many and
strange were the stories told of his exploits,
but little of good was known of him ; and
his house was the resort of sheep-stealers,
poachers, and especially oflow gamblers,
ruffians almost as desperate as himself.
“Such was the character of the man and
the spot which I was about to visit, and it
was not without feelings of sorrow and ap
prehension that I learnt that a lay, young,
sick, apparently rich,and unprotected, save
by an aged domestic, had been compelled
to seek so doubtful an asylum. On reach-
ing the house, I was ushered at once to the
chamber of the sufferer. It was a mean
apartment, low.roofed, not over-clean, and
evidently ill suited to the rank of its pre
sent occupant. Costly gurments were
heaped on the ricketty chairs, and on the
plain deal table stood a magnificent dres
sing-case, with an ebony-cabinet, curiously
inlaid, and clasped with silver, by its side.
1 approached the bed, and, to my suiprise,
found the upper portion of the lady’s fea
tures concealed by a black silk musk ; the
mouth alone was visible, the lips of which,
bloodless and quivering, disclosed teeth per
fect in shape and colour, but fast set in a
paroxysm of pain. 1 gently opened the
iiand which lay clenched and rigid by bol
ide. A single jewed sparkled on her fin
ger ; it was a diamond of marvellous size
and brilliancy ; but, alas! no plain gold
ring was to be seen. As the spasm passed
( begged to be allowed to remove the cov
ering from her face ; it could but prove op
pressive in her present state ; ’twas vain.
In a low, gentle, but decisive tone, she re
plied, ‘it might not be.’
“Hero was evidently'an affair of mighty
mystery. The lady had doubtless good
reasons for guarding against recognition;
and, at all events, it was no part of mine to
pry into her secret. Meanwhile, many
and anxious were the inquiries of her grey
haired attendant as to the condition of his
mistress.
“ ‘Thanks ! thanks 1’ he exclaimed, rais
ing his eyes to heaven, w hile the tears ran
down his furrowed cheeks as I announced
at length the birth of a female infant, with
the assurance that no present danger was
to be feared either to mother or child. For
some days all went well ; the lady, proud
of her new treasure, was fast recovering
strength ; but the babe itself, weakly and
sick. I felt from the first its days were num
bered and few. It was even so ; ere a fort
night had elapsed the young mother clasped
her firstborn cold and lifeless to her bosom.
“Well, sir, the pursuit of our profession
is said to steel the heart, as well as nerve
the hand, to enlighten the intellect, but to
dull the sensibilities. It may be so, and
it is well that it should be so; but I was un
tempered then, and never can forget the ef
fect produced on me by the tearless, noise
less agony of that bereaved one. All de
sires, all interests seemed to have forsaken
her. Tiie mask was laid aside ; conceal
ment or discovery affected her but little
now ; and with her pale, lovely face shaded
by locks of dark and dishevelled hair, she
would sit for days without motion, without
speech, but with a look of anguish and be
wilderment on her brow that haunts me to
this hour.
“The child was at length removed ; calm
it lay, and seemingly well content in its
little coffin ; then came the gush of tears
and the burst of grief: then did the mother
become fully and fearfully alive to her
loss, —alive to the blow, but blind, poor
creature ! to the blessing.
“One evening, on entering the apartment,
I found her just rising from her knees ; she
was more composed, and better than I had
vet seen her, and announced her intention
of taking her departure at the expiration of
another day. She placed a most handsome
present in my hands, and spoke in feeling
terms of my kindness.
“‘I shall tax it,” she said, ‘yet further.
You will accompany me to-morrow in my
first, my last visit to the grave of my pool
child V
“I readily assented, and it was arranged
that I should call early on the morrow for
that purpose. As I was about to take my
leave she gently laid her thin, soft hand
upon mine.
“ 1 Doctor,’ she said, looking sadly up
into my face, ‘my sin has been great, but
my sorrow has been grievous. 1 have
prayed,—how unceasingly, how earnest
ly !—for pardon, and I dare hope I am for
given.’
“Pool soul! I never heard her speak
again.
“On descending the stair, I found the
landlord in the passage, apparently waiting
mv appearance. lie motioned me into a
small sanded room, yclept ‘The Parlour,’
and significantly closed the door. There
was an oily smile on his ruffian counte
nance, and an offensive familiarity in his
demeanour, that made my gorge rise ; but
it was not my cue to quarrel with the mean
est of the neighbohhood, far less with a man
so noted as Giles Roper; so I e’en gulped
down my indignation, and submitted to his
noisome society as best I might.
“ ‘Here’s to ye, doctor,’ lie commenced,
pushing towards me a beaker of smoking
punch, by the way, at the Black Lion, I am
bound in justice to admit, was fascinating,
‘Here’s luck ! broken bones, and a sickly
season; but in the meantime, I hear I am
to lose a lodger, and you a patient, eh, Mr.
Evans V
“ ‘The lady,’ I replied, ‘health permit
ting, departs the day after to-morrow.’
“ ‘Umph ! well, I should be sorry to say
anything uncharitable or ungentlemanlike;
but some folks, you know, are not quite so
rich, or quite so honest, perhaps, as other
folks give them credit for.’
“Well, Mr. Roper,’ said I, not precisely
divining his drift,‘possible they may not
be—what then V
“ ‘Oh, nothing—nothing,’ muttered the
innkeeper. ‘I suppose,’ he added sudden
ly, ‘you have got your fees all right; but
all I can say is, not a penny of my bill has
been paid yet—that’s fact!’ The blood
rushed to my face ; I never felt so inclined
before or since to kick a man out of his
own house, or, indeed, out of any house. It
was a luxury, however, not to be indulged, |
and I endeavoured to reply with composure. I
‘“lf you refer to my patient, sir, I beg
you will understand that I have been remu- !
nerated richly, nobly.’
“ ‘Oh ! I never questioned the lady’s lib
erality,’interrupted my companion, chan-|
ging histone, ‘it was her means I took the j
liberty of doubting ; we’ve none of us seen
the colour of her gold as yet.’
“ ‘You may make yourself easy on that
point,’ replied I, rising to depart; ‘to my \
certain knowledge your visitor is ns able, j
as lam sure you will find her willing, to j
satisfy every reasonable demand.’
“ ‘She has money, then V asked Roper
eagerly.
“ ‘As this may serve to prove,’ and I ex
hibited the rouleaux with which l had just
been presented.
“An expression of exultation, almost de
vilish in its character, passed over the
man’s face as 1 spoke ; it was briefas light
ning, but in the instant I saw ni’ error, and
inwardly cursed my folly in being trapped
into such a disclosure by so shallow a de
vice. Roper evidently perceived my vexa
tion, and observed, in a careless tone, as [
he took down an immense single-barrelled
“‘Well, well; 1 only wish the thing
that’s fair. Nobody can complain of my
charges but the ducks—eh, doctor ? If tiie
young woman lias lots of the rhino, why •
the devil send her luck with it; but I am I
bound for the wild moor fen, and, with j
your leave, will bear you company as far i
as the village ; we arc off to-night on a fowl- I
ing excursion.’
“Now, albeit Mr. Giles Roper and his J
duck-gun were not exactly the companions j
I should have chosen on a dark evening,!
with a large sum of gold upon my person, i
still all fears on my account were swal- i
lowed up in the concern I felt for the safety !
of his guest, and 1 was too well satisfied to j
learn that he must be absent from home till j
day-break, to quarrel with an extra quar- 1
ter of an hour of his societ}'. His glance,!
his conversation, the more I reflected upon
them the more pregnant with evil they ap
peared, and 1 determined, that night once
over, it should be rny care that his guest
did not pass another under the roof of The
Black Lion.
“Early on the following morning I set :
forth, according to my promise, deeply im- !
pressed with the necessity of urging the in
valid to accelerate her journey. It was I
needless ; her last journey on earth was en- j
ded. She lay dead in her bed. Those j
eyes, once so bright, and yet so soft, were
glazed and starting from the sockets ; that >
pale and gentle face was swollen and dis- !
coloured ; her dark hair torn, and a broad j
livid mark, as of a man’s hand, stamped on
her ivory neck. She, so young, so bcauti- j
ful, lay there in that vile den, dead, mur- j
dered, with none but strangers to gather :
round, not a kindred tear to moisten her cold i
brow ; not a loving hand to cast a flower I
upon her grave.
“You may have noticed at no great dis
tance from the church-door a plain slab of
white marble ; our kind old vicar caused it
to be placed there ; beneath lie the fair
stranger and her child. Pardon and peace
be with them!”
The old gentleman paused, and brushed
away a tear that ran trickling down his
nose.
“But, surely,” said I, “the name and his
tory of the murdered lady have since been
brought to light ?”
“Never, sir ; to this day both remain a
mystery. The motive of her secrecy must
be obvious : it lias been well maintained ;
but one individual, who ere long must fol
low her to the dust, could divulge it. With
that person it perishes for ever.”
“And that person,” said I abruptly, “is
yourself.”
The old gentleman made no reply, but
a shade of displeasure passed across his
brow. Hastily stammering forth an apo
logy, I inquired if no steps were taken to
discover the perpetrators of the foul deed ?
“You shall hear, sir,” resumed the a
pothecary. “An inquiry, such as it was,
was set on foot immediately ; but, to con
fess the truth, there was no one to pursue it
with energy; our vicar was too infirm ; I
myself too ignorant in such matters, and too
poor ; thecountry squires were for the most
part too indifferent or too distant; and in
those days our humble village was not bles
sed with the presence ofa lawyer.”
Here my patronizing young friend, the
clerk, emitted a heavy cloud from his che
root, shaking his head the while with a
commiserating air, as much as to say,
“Poor devils!”
“From the evidence of two women who
had been left in sole charge of the house, —
the hostler having been sent to to ar
range about post-horses, and the landlord
being engaged with the fowling-party,—it
appeared that no alarm had been heard du
ring the night, but that on entering the fa
tal apartment on the morning, they had
found it stripped of every valuable, and its
occupant a corpse. The marks of stran
gulation were fresh upon her person, and
the finger of her left hand, from which the
diamond-ring had been withdrawn, crush
ed, and bloody. An entrance appeared to
have been effected through a scullery-door,
one so ricketty and ill-secured that it would
scarce have resisted the efforts of a child ;
thence access was easily gained to the re
mainder of the house. Suspicion at first
naturally fell upon the lady’s servant, the
old man of whom I spoke, and who slept in
an adjoining outbuilding. All search for
him proved fruitless : he was nowhere to
A. J. K APPEL, Printer.
bo found. But it seemed scarcely possible
that a person of his age, an evident stranger
too to the country, should have been able
to make bis escape on foot, so successfully
as to leave no trace behind whatever ; it ap
peared far more probable that lie had
shared the fate of his unfortunate mistress.
And now, spite of the alibi which he set up.
supported by the testimony of two disso.
lute characters, named Marsh ; spile of the
disappearance of the old man, whoso guilt
the landlord maintained to he mainifest,
public opinion gathered heavily round
Giles Roper; so heavily, indeed, that al
though nodirect evidence could be adduced,
he, together with his two associates, found
it advisable to quit the neighborhood for a
time.
“Meanwhile nothing further could ho
done, no clue could be discovered either to
the missing servant or to the property which
bail been stolen ; the body was according
ly buried in the spot I have mentioned, and
the affair permitted to rest.
“About eleven months had elapsed, and
people had well-nigh ceased to talk or think
about tbe matter, when Mr. Roper once
more ventured to take up his residence at
his old abode ; and it was reported about
the same time that the two companions of
his retirement had been seen lurking about
the adjoining villages. The Black Lion,
however, was deserted ; bad as its former
frequenters were, partly from a feeling of
just horror, partly, perhaps, from supersti
tion, they turned from the scene of blood
shed, and shunned the company of the re
puted murderer. About this time, too, in
consequence of the drainage then being
commenced, it was found necessary to
turn the high road into its present position,
and the branded inn was left initssolitude.
But one visitor was known to cross the
threshold ; the sexton. lie was a strange
old man that, and had exercised his calling
beyond the memory of the oldest inhabi
tant of tiie parish, lie lived alone, with
the implements of his trade, and never
seemed happy but when called upon to ply
them. At the grave he was all glee and
merriment; singing and whistling at his
work, and tossing tip the heavy clay with
an energy that had done credit to one in his
prime. At other times ho was moody and
malicious in his manner ; the children one
and all looked upon him as an evil being ;
the women abused him, and the men con
tented themselves with exchanging a pas
sing salutation. His evenings had been
for the most part spent in the bar of The
Black Lion ; and then his eye would light
up with a fierce and almost a fiendish inter
est as he pursued the course of the games
of chance, of which the bar in question was
commonly the scene.
“Such was the sole companion left Mr.
Roper. Giles, however, was not a man
particularly sensitive to indications of pop
ular fueling. lie stood his ground man
fully ; smiled at averted looks, and resent
ed open insults. His bold bearing in the
course of time had, probably, borne down
the resentment of more active enemies, and
been accepted by the indifferent multitude
as an evidence of innocence. The trial,
however, was not allowed him. Before a
month had elapsed from his return he was
summoned to a sterner tribunal than that of
man. Pursuing his customary sport one
day in the fens, hisgun burst in the firing,
and the wretched being was brought maim
ed and senseless to his home. The effects
were beyond measure frightful ; three fin
gers hung loosely by the lacerated tendons
from his right baud ; his left was shattered
to the elbow ; the lower jaw was fractured,
and apiece of the broken metal had hurried
itself deep in the centre of his forehead.
“On being informed of the accident, I
once more, though not without a feeling of
distaste and repugnance, hurried to the
roadside inn ; as I was ascending the stairs
I heard footsteps hastily pacing the room
above, and at the same time the following
somewhat remarkable words were audibly
pronounced, in tiie harsh shrill voice of the
sexton : ‘Cheer up, Giles Roper ; you will
have fair play. We have sworn it on the
book, Giles. Alice or dead, you will have
fair play.’
“A groan from the dying man was the
only reply. On my entering, the sexton
seated himself, and relapsing into his ha
bitual silence, watched the pioceeding with
a contemptuous scowl. His miserable com
psnion was far beyond the reach of human
skill ; nothing remained but to dress his
wounds, and administer an opiate. Having
done so, I departed. Giles Roper died that
night.”
“Now, sir,” interrupted the commercial
gentleman, who had been gradually wound
up to a state of excitement quite charming
to witness, —“now for the extraordinary
part of the story.”
Mr. Evans continued. “The man died,
and was buried. About a week after the
funeral, one dark, stormy night, I was re
turning from a visit to a patient who resi
ded at a considerable distance. The wind,
laden with the heavy miasma of the fens,
swept howling across the level; at times a
burst of sleet, sharp and sudden, would al
most strike me from the saddle; then the
moon for an instant would be seen on high,
stemming the rushing clouds ; and then,
again, the icy fog, in huge rolling masses
closed around. My pony was well nigh
up to her knees in mud and water, and,
spite of my exertions, it was past twelve
before 1 gained the village ; no sound save
the melancholy moaning of the wind was
to be heard in “the deserted streets. The
good folks retired right early then. Dis
mounting,—for in so dark a night the road
[VOLUME XXIX.