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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..483ccbd --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69643 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69643) diff --git a/old/69643-0.txt b/old/69643-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 138552d..0000000 --- a/old/69643-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5760 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Woodburn Grange, vol. 3 of 3, by -William Howitt - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Woodburn Grange, vol. 3 of 3 - A story of English country life - -Author: William Howitt - -Release Date: December 26, 2022 [eBook #69643] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Sonya Schermann, Bob Taylor and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOODBURN GRANGE, VOL. 3 OF -3 *** - - - - - - Transcriber’s Note - Italic text is displayed as: _italic_ - - - - - WOODBURN GRANGE. - - - - - WOODBURN GRANGE. - - A Story of English Country Life. - - BY - - WILLIAM HOWITT. - - IN THREE VOLUMES. - - VOL. III. - - LONDON: - CHARLES W. WOOD, 13, TAVISTOCK ST., STRAND. - 1867. - - [_Right of Translation reserved._] - - - - - LONDON: - - BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - CHAP. PAGE - - I.—THE MURDER AT THE FERRY 1 - - II.—WHO DID IT? 34 - - III.—A WONDERFUL DREAM 72 - - IV.—SCAMMEL’S DEATH 121 - - V.—THE SKY BRIGHTENS 168 - - VI.—THE TRIAL, AND TALK AT WOODBURN 217 - - VII.—A QUAKER WEDDING, AND ANOTHER WEDDING 242 - - VIII.—IT IS ALL OWING TO LETTY 269 - - IX.—THE LONG LINE AND THIS BOOK END 292 - - - - - WOODBURN GRANGE. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - - THE MURDER AT THE FERRY. - - -The circumstances related in our last chapter fearfully aggravated -the state of things which had now continued two years: a year after -the unfortunate visit of Miss Heritage to London, and nearly ten -months after the embarkation of Dr. Leroy for India. The breach -between Mr. Trant Drury and Mr. Leonard Woodburn, as well as that -between different members of the community, had steadily grown -wider and more irrevocable. The irritation of Mr. Woodburn against -Mr. Drury had become thus more deeply intensified. As to Mr. Drury -himself, he would never seem to recognise any cause of offence -between them. He would always accost Mr. Woodburn, when they met, -in a somewhat brusque manner, intended to be friendly, though he -seldom obtained more than a “good day” from him, and a steady passing -on. These occasions of cursory speech, in fact, generally added -some fresh touch of irritation to Mr. Woodburn. He regarded this -nonchalant and unabashed manner of Mr. Drury’s, when he knew the many -offences he had given him, as fresh offence, and proof of a hard and -impudent character of mind. Yet, in truth, they were only the result -of Mr. Drury’s peculiar temperament, who meant no offence, but only -the assertion of what, to him, were unimpeachable truths, that people -ought to accept, and, sooner or later, must accept. To Mr. Woodburn, -however, the position of Mr. Drury, as a man in much intercourse -with the class of gentry round who were so antagonistic to all the -political views of himself and most highly esteemed friends, added a -deeper feeling to his dislike. - -A more painful state of things cannot be conceived. To George -Woodburn and Elizabeth Drury it was a state of perpetual torture. Mr. -Woodburn wished George to take a house somewhere not far off, get -married, and manage the paternal property. He named to him a handsome -income, which he would appropriate to him; but George knew that at -such a wedding his father would never meet Mr. Drury, and to such a -scandal neither he nor Elizabeth would consent. George proposed to -take a farm in some distant county, and to be married at some distant -place quietly, but he saw that this caused his parents great pain, -and though Mr. Drury was quite ready to acquiesce in this plan, -George hesitated to take this only possible step for peace. - -Such was the state of things when hay-harvest came round again. -Every one thought of that hay-field fête three years ago, at which -Mrs. Heritage had foreseen such glooms. And greatly had these fallen. -On Fair Manor itself they had fallen. Dr. Leroy had been enveloped -by them, and was on the other side the globe, all his fair prospects -blighted. Thorsby was away in the wilds of America. Letters to both -Mr. Barnsdale and his wife had informed them that he had succeeded -in putting his goods in New York into the hands of the house which -apprised him of his agent’s elopement; a house with which he had -had considerable and satisfactory transaction; that he was starting -on the trail of the delinquent, who had gone away in company with a -lady, and that he meant to pursue him to the utmost. Since then, only -one or two letters had been received from him from the far interior, -detailing his still hopeless pursuit, but undiminished determination -to persevere to the last. Letty was bravely working on with the -business in Castleborough. Mrs. Thorsby was dead: and little Leonard, -growing every day more interesting, was the great consolation of -Letty’s life. Over Woodburn Grange lay a dark cloud of care and -mortification, only relieved by the marriage of Ann and Sir Henry -Clavering, which was at last fixed for the commencement of August, -and was to be followed by a tour on the continent. - -Once more July brought hay-time. The weather had been cloudy and -still, and thus unfavourable to the drying of the hay. One morning -Mr. Woodburn was with his work-people in the very hill-field in which -the memorable hay-field fête had been held. He was standing, leaning -on a rake, just above the hollow road leading down to the river -ferry. The wild roses and eglantine flower-bunches were breathing -sweetly from one of those luxuriant fences which Mr. Drury desired -to see cut down to a short and rigid ugliness. The hay-makers were -driving the hay from beneath the large shadow of hedgerow trees up -the side of the field, into the middle, to give it more air and sun, -if the sun should look out. At this moment Mr. Drury himself came -riding down the lane. “Ah! my friend,” he said; “now you see the -nuisance of these tall hedges and trees. You cannot get an atom of -sun or breeze to your hay, and you must, with much extra labour, -force it into the centre of the field. Even there it will still feel -the effect of these barriers against free circulation of air and -light.” - -Mr. Woodburn showed instantly his great irritation. The blood rushed -into his face, and with a dark, stern expression he said, “Mr. Drury, -this is insolence—this is intolerable. When I need your advice I will -ask for it;” and with that he turned away. Mr. Drury rode on, only -saying, with a sort of half laugh of triumph, “Well, good morning, -Woodburn.” - -“Is there no good fortune,” said Mr. Woodburn, unguardedly, as -he turned away, “which will turn up to rid this country of that -nuisance of a man, of his cursed pride, and conceited meddling with -everybody’s business?” He began working away with his rake, and it -might be seen for a long time after that he was still thinking on -this _mal-à-propos_ salutation of Mr. Drury. - -Four days later Mr. Woodburn returned home to tea. He had been across -Wink’s Ferry, to his hay meadows on the other side the river, where -he had many people at work. The weather had cleared up, and a more -lovely evening never lay calmly shining over the summer earth. Mrs. -Woodburn had the tea set out in the arbour in the garden, and she -and her husband, George and Ann, were quietly enjoying it, and the -sweetness of the garden around. The bees were humming on the sunlit -flowers, the sulphur and red butterflies were wavering here and there -in the clear air; the roses and wallflowers, after the late shadowy -weather and occasional showers, were pouring forth their delicious -odours, which came wafted in at door and window of the summer-house. - -George and his father were talking of the harvest, and of the -arrangements for carrying the hay on the morrow, and the number of -people who should be at work in the home fields, and the number in -the meadows over the river, when, at once, came Betty Trapps, running -like a maniac, from the house. Her face was a face of death in hue -and terror. Her eyes seemed starting from her head. - -“Mester! Mester! George!” she cried, wildly, shriekingly. “There’s -Mester Drury’s horse gone up the village, all over wet and sludge, -with his saddle turned, the reins under his feet; and there’s a cry -Mr. Drury’s drowned!” - -“Oh, Mercy!” exclaimed the ladies, starting up in horror. “Oh! God -have mercy, and send it be not so!” - -George ran headlong from the place, and Mr. Woodburn followed him, -saying, “Be quiet, women! be quiet! it is only a fancy. I saw Mr. -Drury but half an hour ago, at a distance, among his haymakers. He -may be thrown, but not drowned.” - -George meantime was out in front of the house, and saw several men -trying to stop the horse, which was evidently much excited. “Stop -him!” cried George. “Don’t let the horse run to the farm, it will -cause the ladies such fright!” - -He was glad to see that the men had succeeded in seizing the fallen -reins. They patted and soothed the alarmed horse, and brought him -back. George saw that he had evidently had a violent struggle in -the river. He was covered with mud and gravel. The saddle was -turned under his chest, and was torn and scratched. The poor horse -trembled with terror in every limb. George bade the man put it into -the stable, and wash and clean it well; and he sent another man up -the road to prevent anyone carrying the news to Bilts’ Farm till the -reality was known. He then ran down to the Ferry. There were already -several men and women there as well as Mr. Woodburn. The ferry-boat -was drawn to this side of the river, but it betrayed no marks of any -kind which could clear up the mystery. Mr. Drury was nowhere to be -seen; but on searching down the bank to a little distance, the place -was found where the horse had reached it, evidently from the river, -and had struggled his way up it to the land. - -“Did no one see what took place at the boat when Mr. Drury came -over?” said Mr. Woodburn. “I came over myself only half an hour ago, -and then Mr. Drury was with his people in the meadow on horseback.” - -No one had seen it. The people present were his own people, who had -seen the horse come galloping up the lane by the hill-field from the -ferry, and some had gone to stop the horse, and some ran down here. -Soon there were many other people assembled. Those in the meadow had -caught the rumour, and there was a general running to the ferry. The -river was hunted down on both sides to some distance, but without -effect. The ferry-boat was then loosed from the chain, poles were cut -to steer it by, and a careful search was made down the stream, George -Woodburn assisting most anxiously in the exploration, whilst the -rest of the crowd accompanied the boat along each bank. Long was the -search, but in vain; but, on pushing the boat up the stream again, -and within five yards of the ferry, it struck on something soft, -and, on looking into the clear water, it was seen to be the body of -Mr. Drury. Great was the horror at the discovery. Several men jumped -into the stream, which was shallow, and drew forth the corpse, and -laid it streaming on the boat. What a sight was that! The well-known -tall figure of Mr. Drury, in his well-known blue lapelled coat, pale -yellow waistcoat, kerseymere small-clothes, and smart top-boots. His -riding-whip was still clenched in his right hand. - -“Is it possible, then,” asked Mr. Woodburn, “that no one saw anything -of this sad catastrophe? Was no one about when Mr. Drury came to the -ferry?” Not a soul had seen him at the ferry; not a soul had been -seen about it at the time. “They saw Mr. Woodburn go to the ferry,” -the haymakers said, “and in awhile after, Mr. Drury ride towards the -ferry, too. That was all that they knew.” - -“It is very strange,” said Mr. Woodburn. “The question is, how it -can have happened? Can the horse have taken alarm as Mr. Drury was -pulling at the chain, and kicked him, or pushed him in by backing? A -doctor must be fetched in all haste. He cannot revive him, but he -may throw some light on the mysterious occurrence. The body must not -be moved till he comes, nor anything about him touched.” - -A guard of trusty men was set over the body and boat, and George -Woodburn went off to fetch the doctor. The character of the men set -over the body on the boat, which was put off to midstream, and the -number of spectators on each bank, was sufficient guarantee that -no interference with the corpse would take place. Mr. Woodburn, -therefore, slowly returned homewards. George, meantime, had -ordered his horse, and, with a heart overwhelmed with grief and -consternation, had gone to his mother and sister, who were in a -condition not to be described. - -“But,” said George, “there is a duty that some one must perform—a—a -terrible duty; it is to break this awful event to the Drurys. I -confess that I am unequal to it, and I must away for the doctor. -You, dear mother and sister, cannot bear it.” Both the ladies shook -their heads and groaned in agony. “No, no,” said Ann, “impossible.” -There was but one person whom George could think of to perform this -awful duty, and it must be done at once, or it would reach Bilts’ -Farm by a side way—it was Betty Trapps. But Betty at first stoutly -refused; she was herself lost in tears and prayers, and said she -would sooner be drowned too than carry such ill-tidings. But when she -saw George’s distress she said, “Well, what must be, must be,” and -at once put on her bonnet and shawl and set out. Betty walked on, -wrapped up in her trouble, and making one long prayer the whole way; -but how she did it and how she bore it she said afterwards she did -not know, but one thing she did know, that nothing should ever induce -her to do such an errand, and see such a stunning misery burst upon -innocent, loving heads again. - -The news of such an event flies fast, and when the doctor came with -George from Castleborough, for there was none nearer, there was a -great crowd of men, women, and children surrounding the ferry, and a -hundred different speculations were passing from mouth to mouth as to -the catastrophe George Woodburn’s horse showed, by his reeking skin -and panting flanks, at what a rate he had ridden, and the doctor’s -smoking horse at what a rate they had returned. - -A solemn silence fell over the crowd as the doctor and George walked -through it, and beckoning the boat to the shore, entered upon it, and -then had it put back a little from the bank again. The doctor had the -drowned man’s vest opened; no wound or bruise was apparent; he drew -off his hat, which still, though battered down, was upon his head. A -gush of congealing blood followed it, and the hair was matted with -gore. - -“There is the mischief,” said the surgeon. He had a large basin of -water brought, washed the head well, and examined it. - -“By whatever done,” he said, “the blow is behind. Can it be a -kick from his horse? I think not. It does not show the cut of the -sharp edge of a horse-shoe, but looks like the blow of some blunt -instrument, or of a cudgel. Can he have struck his head in falling on -the edge of the boat?” He shook his head thoughtfully. “I think not: -but let us examine his pockets; that may indicate whether there has -been any robbery in the case.” - -That the watch of the deceased had not been taken was evident to them -all. It was still attached to its gold chain, and in the fob of his -small-clothes waistband, as watches were then worn. From his coat -pockets were produced his handkerchief, his spectacles, a knife of -many blades, comb, and other things. There was found gold and silver -untouched in his purse, and in the breast-pocket his pocket-book, -containing some bank-notes of high value, and two or three -acceptances just coming due, as if he had put them in his pocket to -go to the bank to receive their contents. - -“Nothing here,” said the doctor, “warrants the suspicion of any -robbery; the thing is a mystery which time and inquiry may clear -up. The body must be conveyed to the Grey Goose public-house for -the inspection of the inquest to-morrow; let an exact list of -the articles found upon the body be made, and kept by Mr. George -Woodburn, and I will produce these, the money, purse, pocket-book, -watch, &c., to the coroner to-morrow.” - -With that the doctor and George Woodburn returned to the village. The -doctor took his leave, and the body, laid on a door and covered with -a bed-quilt, was carried to the public-house, followed by the silent -crowd. - -It may be imagined what a sensation this event created, not only in -Woodburn but in the country far round, and also in Castleborough. -Mr. Trant Drury had made himself a man of too much mark to pass out -of the world in this sudden and mysterious manner without producing -a great shock in the public mind, and the circumstances of his death -were too peculiar not to excite the faculties of wonder and curiosity -in an extreme degree. - -The coroner and doctor duly appeared at the Grey Goose about eleven -o’clock the next day. A jury was got together from amongst the -neighbouring farmers, including Mr. Howell Crusoe, the schoolmaster, -as a man of superior intelligence. All the circumstances already -related were reviewed, the doctor produced the purse, watch, -pocket-book, &c., and gave his view as to the wound on the back -of the head not being made by a kick of the horse; a thorough -examination of the corpse showed no other injury. The jury then -adjourned to the ferry, examined the boat, the bank where the horse -had got out of the river, and had the spot pointed out to them where -the body was found in it, which was still marked by a pole which one -of the men thrust down at the time. - -On the return to the Grey Goose, the evidence of Mr. Woodburn, of -George Woodburn, and a number of the hay-makers, both from the -hill-field and from beyond the river, was taken, all of which went -only to show that nothing more was known than that Mr. Drury was seen -alive and quite well in the hay-fields till about half an hour after -Mr. Woodburn left the same meadow and passed over the same ferry. No -one had witnessed the crossing, at least no one who could be found -or heard of, and there were no evidences of any robbery having been -perpetrated. The occurrence had taken place on a fine, bright, calm -evening of July. The coroner asked whether any one was known to -have any feud or had evinced any spirit of resentment towards Mr. -Drury. Perhaps not a man there who was of the neighbourhood into -whose mind did not flash at that question the fact that Mr. Woodburn -was known to have a great dislike to Mr. Drury, and the labourers -in the hill-field thought of the words of Mr. Woodburn but four -days previously, namely, querying why some good fortune did not -remove that troublesome man from the neighbourhood, attended with -expressions of great vexation; but that Mr. Woodburn, that man of -ancient honour and quiet virtues, should have had any hand in such -an atrocity was an idea too wild to be dwelt upon. All were silent -on that head. The jury continued in discussion on the cause of Mr. -Drury’s death, and yet, at length, swayed by the words used by the -surgeon, came to a verdict of “Wilful murder against some person or -persons unknown.” - -It is impossible for any pen to describe the deep and strange feeling -which rested on the people, both gentle and simple, in the country -round and in Castleborough on this sad and mysterious event. The -violent death of so strong and active a man as Mr. Trant Drury, in -passing that quiet ferry, never before stained by any human blood -or witness to any human crime, on one of the loveliest evenings of -summer, in brightest sunshine, and within a few hundred yards of -Woodburn village. It would be equally impossible to express the -great distress which existed within Woodburn Grange—the still more -agonising and horrified affliction of the wife and daughter of the -deceased. Vast crowds assembled to witness the funeral of the man so -lately in fullest life, and a strange shiver of mysterious awe and -wonder seemed to hang over the whole assembly, and as these crowds -dispersed, to fall more profoundly on Woodburn and its neighbouring -fields. Immediately after the funeral, Elizabeth Drury and her -mother left Bilts’ Farm, and went to reside amongst their relatives -in Yorkshire. Sad and silent was their departure. Elizabeth wrote -short and most affecting notes of adieu to her dear friends—the -Woodburns and the Heritages—saying that they could not bear to see -any whom they loved so much. Yet George and Elizabeth had had a most -heartrending interview, and he had begged earnestly and passionately -that they would not give up the idea of some day, when their feelings -were more calm, coming once more amongst them. He offered to overlook -the farm, left in the hands of the bailiff, till they should -determine ultimately what to do; and so it was left. - -After this, a calm seemed to fall on the neighbourhood and over this -event; but this calm was only apparent. The subject was discussed -everywhere,—in the Grey Goose amongst its evening circle; in the -fields and woods by the workmen; in the cottages amongst the women; -at the smithy, at Job Latter’s, where the patriarchs of the village -often congregated to talk with him whilst he modelled a horse-shoe, -or sharpened a ploughshare or a pick. But no inquiries, nor all the -talk on the affair, had thrown, after many weeks, a single ray of -light upon it. The doctor’s opinion that there had been foul play in -the matter seemed to be finally that of every one, but no one had -seen any person or persons about the ferry at that time. The subject -was agitated in the neighbourhood, and a reward of two hundred pounds -was offered by the family for the discovery of the supposed murderer -or murderers. To this the Government, at the representation of the -lord-lieutenant of the county, added another hundred. The constables, -and many another person fond of gain, urged inquiries far and wide. -Repeated visits to the ferry were made, and conjectures there thrown -out of how the event might have happened accidentally or otherwise, -but they produced nothing like a ray of elucidation. - -As these things and discussions went on, Mr. Woodburn began to -manifest considerable uneasiness, and he suddenly said one day, as -the matter was spoken of:—“You will see, they will say at last that -it was I who did it.” - -“Oh, God forbid!” exclaimed both Mrs. Woodburn and Ann. “What are you -saying? For heaven’s sake do not utter so horrid, so ridiculous an -idea.” - -“Well, you will see,” continued Mr. Woodburn, “that they will lay -the crime on me; and I would have you prepare for it. I was the last -man who passed that way before Mr. Drury that evening; and not long -before him; no mortal can be found to have witnessed how Mr. Drury -came to his death; and as the public mind, following the doctor, -insists on a murder—well then, I am the man who stands in closest -proximity to the event.” - -Mr. Woodburn might have added the unfortunate words which he used in -the hayfield in the hearing of at least half a dozen men and women; -but he would not add to the horror of the idea he had started to his -wife and children. Their alarm was great, though they treated any -imputation on such a man as their father and husband as the most -impossible and ridiculous of suppositions. George said thoughtfully, -but yet with a tone of melancholy, “Your character, dear father, is -enough to protect you from a dozen of such charges. It will never -be made; if it were, it can never be proved; because it is clear no -mortal saw the transaction, and it is still more certain that _you_ -never did it.” - -“Of course not,” said Mr. Woodburn; “I am not such a fool, if I were -even such a villain.” - -But not many weeks elapsed, before the worst fears of Mr. Woodburn -were realised. The “Castleborough Chronicle,” the conservative -journal of the county, and in which the influence of the Bullockshed, -Tenterhook, and Swagsides class, and that of a much higher and -nobler, the influence of the best aristocracy of the county, -prevailed, had a startling article. It observed that the continued -absence of any evidence of the perpetration of the crime of murder -at Wink’s Ferry, after much and vigorous inquiry, led them to -revert to that mysterious fact, by which a man of much eminence and -activity in the county had somehow lost his life. An event of so much -importance to the security of society, demanded that it should not be -suffered to drift away into oblivion, without the turning of every -stone which might possibly elicit the hidden and gloomy truth: and -however painful it might be to prosecute the inquiries on the subject -into quarters otherwise most respectable, and, therefore, unlikely, -impartial justice, and the dearest interests of the public, made it -imperative to endeavour to fathom the mystery, even though in the -process some most estimable minds might be intensely pained. - -After this preamble, the article went on to say that it was well -known that the late Mr. Trant Drury, by his bold innovations -and novel theories of agriculture, and it might be added, by an -enthusiasm which led him sometimes to be a little too unceremonious -to the long-cherished ideas of others, had made a number of enemies; -or, if that term were too strong, of persons animated by no concealed -resentment towards him. His introduction of machinery and other -causes had made him unpopular amongst the class of agricultural -labourers; but the inquiries of the police had resulted in the -clearest and most positive demonstration that every man and woman of -that class, for many miles round, could be shown to have been at some -particular place at the hour of this catastrophe, and nearly all of -them at work in the presence of numerous others. - -Now, this well ascertained fact compelled them to acquit this class -of the community; and to look whether there might be any member -or members of Mr. Drury’s own class who might have an ill-feeling -towards him, or a motive to wish him out of the way. They were very -sensible of the delicate ground on which they were entering; but the -paramount interests of truth and humanity required that they should -wave all considerations of delicacy or respect; and they were bound -to declare that there was a gentleman and near neighbour of the late -Mr. Drury, who had shown a strong antagonism to him, which was well -known to have gone on strengthening through a lengthened period; and -who, only a few days before this lamentable event took place, had -publicly, and with signs of much feeling, expressed a wish that some -cause could remove Mr. Drury from the neighbourhood. The gentleman -referred to was a man of wealth and position, a man of old family, -of great classical attainments, it was said, and of a character -against which, hitherto, not a shadow of a shade of suspicion of any -kind could be brought. On the contrary, he had always borne the most -honourable and admirable reputation. Yet such were the anomalies of -life and human nature, that it was not impossible but that to such -a man, some sudden contact and words of disagreement might have -occurred, and that in a moment of sudden anger, he might have raised -his hand and done, what even to himself an hour before, would have -seemed utterly impossible. - -They did not presume to say that any such thing had taken place; -this gentleman, honoured and beloved as he was, must be regarded as -innocent till he was fully proved to be otherwise; but they would -submit that had any poor man lain under the same complication of -circumstances, had long entertained unfriendly feelings against the -deceased—they did not yet say murdered gentleman—had he expressed an -angry wish for the removal of the deceased only a few days previous, -and were he the last person seen near the scene of the catastrophe, -nothing could have prevented him long ago being summoned to a legal -examination on that head. They thought the gentleman, if innocent, as -they sincerely hoped he was, must himself desire such an inquiry for -the vindication of his fair fame. - -It may be imagined that the sensation created by this article was -intense. What its effect was on the inhabitants of Woodburn Grange, -lies not within the compass of human language. Terror, grief, -distraction, astonishment, were blended into one crushing and -prostrating feeling. It was now that Mrs. Woodburn and her daughters -for the first time learned that Mr. Woodburn, in the hay-field, -had used those unfortunate words towards Mr. Drury in a moment of -irritation. George had heard of them before, and they had lain -on his heart with a deadly weight. Of his father’s incapability -of committing such a crime, under any circumstances, he had the -same assurance as he had of his own. He cast it away from him as -ridiculous: but he foresaw that they would excite much prejudice, -and occasion much trouble under the circumstances. He received a -letter from Elizabeth Drury, expressing her horror and indignation at -such a frightful imputation or even suspicion on his father. “Never! -never! never! would she believe it. She would answer for Mr. Woodburn -with her own existence; but the cruel aspersions, and the misery -and trouble that must arise out of it, had,” she said, “added fresh -poignancy to her former grief.” - -Words of indignation and of tender sympathy poured in from friends -all around, and assurances of any aid that could in any way be given -in defence against such a charge. Sir Henry Clavering came in haste -to express his unbounded grief and resentment of such an impossible -and unsupportable accusation. But instant steps, he said, must be -taken to change the current of public opinion. He was on his way to -secure an able refutation of the article in the paper of opposite -politics. This article appeared the following week, and denounced -so abominable a libel on the character of a man of the highest and -most unimpeachable reputation for all that was good and kind, and -against whom there was not a particle of evidence to support such a -foul charge. Words of petty difference of opinion between gentlemen -might, and did, frequently arise, but none but fools, considering the -character of the speaker, would attach any serious import to them. -Sir Henry did not wait for the issue of the paper, but that very day -had the walls of the town placarded by bills, expressing the same -energetic sentiments in different words. - -But the intention sufficiently manifested in the “Chronicle” article, -was, notwithstanding, carried out, and in a few days afterwards a -couple of constables presented themselves at Woodburn Grange, with -a mission no less astounding than that of the apprehension of Mr. -Leonard Woodburn, on a suspicion of murder; and amid a scene of -distress only to be imagined, he was conveyed in his own carriage -to the county court justice-room in Castleborough, to answer under -warrant to this charge. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - - WHO DID IT? - - -If, on that memorable occasion at the hayfield fête, when Mrs. -Heritage was impressed with a sense of impending calamities, she -had gone a little further and asserted that within three years -Sir Emanuel Clavering, then in full health and spirits, should be -gathered to his fathers; that a severe dispensation should fall on -the family at Fair Manor; that Dr. Leroy should suddenly abandon his -practice and his native place, and go to the far East; that Thorsby -should alternately turn reprobate, preacher, and again reprobate; -that he should marry Letty Woodburn, doat on her and leave her; that -one of the friends of the Woodburns should be killed in a most -mysterious manner at Wink’s Ferry; and that, as the climax of all, -Mr. Leonard Woodburn should be charged with a wilful murder, and -be put in jeopardy of a public and ignominious death,—the effect -of her vaticinations would have been lost, and she would have been -pronounced extravagantly insane. But now, as all these things had -taken place, there was scarcely a person who was present on that -occasion, who did not recall the fact with astonishment. - -On the morning following the arrest of Mr. Woodburn, he was brought -before the assembled bench of county magistrates. The throng -collected showed the importance attached to the case. A number of -men had been suddenly summoned from Woodburn, and brought up in -post-chaises. George Woodburn, assisted by Sir Henry Clavering, had -also collected a number of men and women who had been engaged in both -hayfields at the time, and had also brought Mrs. and Miss Woodburn, -overwhelmed with grief as they were. - -There was a formidable array of the Rockville, Bullockshed and -Tenterhook section of the magistracy on the bench, for Sir Benjamin -Bullockshed, whose steward Mr. Drury had become, had taken up the -matter as a personal one, and had not hesitated to say amongst his -particular friends, that he would make an example of Mr. Woodburn, -who was a stiff, impracticable man, and a stout adherent of the Degge -and pauper clique. Had this speech reached Sir Henry Clavering, he -and Simon Degge would have insisted that Sir Benjamin should not -occupy a place on the bench on this occasion. Able lawyers were -engaged on each side. To make a short story of the proceedings, some -of Mr. Woodburn’s own men were brought forward to prove that he had -expressed a wish that Mr. Drury were removed from the neighbourhood, -and that he was a nuisance. These men, who had talked this matter, -as they did every matter over at the Grey Goose public-house, without -noticing a stranger amongst them, were astonished and confounded to -be brought against their own respected master. At first they refused -to speak, but they were assured that if they did not they would be -sent to prison; and Mr. Woodburn, who had no wish to deny those -imprudent words, told them he wished them to speak out all that they -knew, and said that it was true that he had said such words, but -of course, with no evil intent. The men, thus having their tongues -loosed, gave evidence, but never having been in a witness-box before, -and being badgered by the opposing lawyer and by the magistrates, -made a confused mess of it. It was taken down, as admitted evidence -on their part, that Mr. Woodburn had uttered words of the sort -evincing a strong feeling against Mr. Drury. - -Evidence was brought from the hay-makers in the meadows to prove -that Mr. Woodburn and Mr. Drury were in the meadows at the same time; -that they both returned home by the ferry, Mr. Drury soon after Mr. -Woodburn; that they had observed no other person about the ferry -between the passing of Mr. Woodburn and Mr. Drury. It was also given -in evidence by various persons summoned, amongst whom, to their -inexpressible mortification, were Howell Crusoe and Job Latter, the -blacksmith, that there was a sort of misunderstanding betwixt the two -gentlemen. As for Crusoe and Latter, they added at the same time that -they would sooner believe the moon would fall than that Mr. Woodburn -would hurt a hair of any man alive. - -On the other hand, evidence was brought on Mr. Woodburn’s side, that -his having anything to do with the death of Mr. Drury was impossible, -even if such a matter was in any way likely, because Mr. Woodburn -was seen to leave the meadows half an hour before Mr. Drury, and -was seen coming up the hollow road from the ferry as immediately -following his quitting the meadows as it was possible in time. It was -not possible that he could have waited to waylay Mr. Drury. He was on -foot, Mr. Drury on horseback. He was seen walking up the hollow road -by a dozen people in the hill-field, in his usual quiet way, without -any evidence of excitement about him. George Woodburn, Betty Trapps -and the other maid-servants, gave evidence that Mr. Woodburn returned -home just at six, in his ordinarily quiet manner. He took his tea -with his family in the garden, showing no excitement, no exhaustion, -not a single trace on his clothes or on his person, of any unusual -disturbance of mind or exertion of body, which could not have been -the case had a man of his piety, his benevolence, his feeling and -whole character been engaged in a murder. The horse of Mr. Drury was -seen galloping up the village at half-past six, clearly under the -effect of sudden fright. Whatever was the cause of Mr. Drury’s death, -it had plainly taken place when Mr. Woodburn was tranquilly taking -tea with his family in his garden. - -But what produced the greatest sensation was to see Mrs. Woodburn -and her daughter Ann successively appear and, though sinking under -their grief, as a matter of social duty substantiate these latter -facts. The evidence being closed, Mr. Woodburn was allowed to make -a few observations. He said that such an accusation as this, and -the situation in which he stood, appeared to him a dream,—seemed -to his sober senses impossibilities. Yet, he so highly reverenced -human life and those laws of his country which were established to -protect it, that he did not object to stand there to answer to any -charge of the nature which circumstances might make in the least -degree colourable against him. All that wounded him was that any man -or men who had known his general character, tone of mind and life -for half a century, should suppose him capable of lifting his hand, -under any circumstances, against any human being. Now he was ready -to confess that there was that in the manner and dogmatism of Mr. -Drury which grated on his own feelings, and of late had held him at a -distance from him, and he admitted that he had uttered a wish in the -hearing of his workpeople, that some _fortunate_ circumstance would -take Mr. Drury out of the neighbourhood. “It was some _fortunate_ -circumstance, gentlemen, that I especially spoke of,” said Mr. -Woodburn, “and sincerely wished, namely, that from Mr. Drury’s -eminent abilities in agricultural science, knowledge of stock, and -other things, he might obtain a stewardship from some nobleman or -great landed gentleman at a distance, which would remove him out -of my immediate neighbourhood. But that I should have wished any -evil, much less that I should personally attempt any evil against -Mr. Drury, to whose only daughter my only son was engaged, or that -I should wish, or try to enact evil against any human creature -whatever, I am sure can never enter the mind of any one of my -neighbours who know my character and habits. As the circumstances -given in evidence show, moreover, that so far as I was concerned, the -murder of Mr. Drury, if murder it shall be proved, was an absolute -impossibility, I contend that there is no case against me. At the -same time I trust that no exertions will be omitted to obtain some -clue to the real causes and perpetrators, if such there be, of this, -by me most deeply deplored event.” - -Numbers of gentlemen, as well as neighbours of Mr. Woodburn, of -different classes, came forward to bear testimony to the uniformly -high moral character of Mr. Woodburn; amongst them Mr. Heritage, -Mr. William Fairfax, Mr. Simon Degge, the Rev. Thomas Clavering, -&c.; whilst Sir Henry Clavering and Mr. Degge gave their opinion -that there was not an atom of a case against him, and voted for -his instant discharge. A long and warm discussion took place; the -friends of Sir Benjamin Bullockshed were strong on the bench, and a -majority was obtained for the committal of Mr. Woodburn for trial at -the March Assizes. It was not a bailable offence, and Mr. Woodburn -was committed to the felons’ side of the county prison. Sir Henry -Clavering and Simon Degge, however, exerted their influence so far as -to procure him comfortable apartments in the gaol, and the privilege -of admittance to his immediate connections and intimate friends. -The Rockville faction having so far obtained their desire for his -incarceration and trial, were willing to make a grace of affording -him all alleviations consistent with his security. - -The sensation in Woodburn and the country round on the news of -this extraordinary fact exceeded anything known in the memory of -man. Bins’ Farm, deserted by its afflicted inhabitants, was not so -melancholy a place as Woodburn Grange, whence Mrs. and Miss Woodburn -had fled to be near the beloved husband and father in Castleborough. -George only was seen occasionally there, giving orders, and returning -hastily to the town. Sir Henry Clavering was nearly as little at -Cotmanhaye, but in turn occupied with all sorts of thoughts and -plans for the comfort of Mr. Woodburn, for supporting the dreadfully -oppressed minds of his family, and for prosecuting inquiries in the -country if possible to catch some small thread, if it were only that -of a gossamer, to lead to a solution of the mystery of Wink’s Ferry. -He inclined to the belief in its being murder, and that some cause -might yet lead to the detection of the murderer. The only thing which -puzzled him and others was the absence of any evidence of robbery. - -Poor Letty Thorsby! This frightful turn of affairs had once more -broken down the few supports which she had found in her own prior -affliction to her resolute determination to work for her husband’s -reform. She fell into violent convulsions on the first news of the -astounding charge, and, when admitted to see her father, she rushed -to his neck with a wild cry and fainted in his arms. It was many -days before she could rally in her that strong part of her soul -which had borne her so bravely through so much before. The whole -sorrowful family were at Letty’s, where also Sir Henry Clavering -was almost always. Horrible fears assailed them lest, after all, -the most terrible result might take place—the did condemnation of -Mr. Woodburn. In vain Sir Henry scout any such idea, declaring -that there was not a single iota of ground to go upon against Mr. -Woodburn. That, independent of his character, there was no proof -whatever of his or indeed, yet, of any one’s participation in this -catastrophe; but, on the contrary, he had positive proof against it. -But the unhappy sufferers were haunted by cases of conviction under -circumstantial evidence, and of persons suffering whose innocence was -too late made manifest. - -Sad and agonising were the days which passed over them—Sir Henry -and other friends exerting all their ingenuity to inspire them with -hope. It was only when they were with Mr. Woodburn that they forced -themselves to appear cheerful and hopeful. For himself, he was -calm and resigned. He would not believe that any sentence could be -obtained against him upon such an utter absence of proof. He begged -to have his favourite books, his Theocritus and Virgil, whose Idyls -and Georgics carried him into the country; his Plato and Epictetus, -whose philosophy and morals raised him above despondency; his Homer -and Euripides, whose heroic narratives and dramatic life made him -forget his actual solitude. Above all, his Bible and his favourite -religious authors. These were brought, and various articles of -furniture to make his rooms more agreeable, or to accommodate his -friends who came to cheer him. Amongst these were often Mr. and Mrs. -Heritage, Mr. William Fairfax, and the different members of the Degge -family. The gaoler, Mr. Wright, was a man noted for his intelligence -and kindness, and stretched Mr. Woodburn’s privileges to the utmost -limit of his own responsibility. He contrived to allow Mr. Woodburn -the range of the prison-yard when the other prisoners were in their -cells, so that he could enjoy sufficient exercise without being -exposed to unwelcome notice. - -So passed on that long and miserable autumn, that long and melancholy -winter. During this time Letty received a letter from her husband, -which informed her and Mr. Barnsdale that he had followed on the -trail of the flying miscreant, through New Jersey, Pennsylvania, -Virginia, and into Ohio. The man seemed possessed by a spirit -of unrest, or of fear of pursuit, which kept him constantly in -motion. Sometimes he had been on his very heels; sometimes he lost -his trail for weeks. In his lonely journeys he had met with some -strange occurrences, too numerous to detail; but everywhere he -carried in his pocket-book the severe letter of Mrs. Heritage, and -inflicted a proper penance on himself by looking at his past image -in it, as in a glass. “Ah!” he said, “it is in these long, solitary -journeys, through deep woods and through swampy jungles, or amid -total strangers, that the brightness and beauty of his once heavenly -but abused home came over him with a force which made him curse his -now inconceivable folly. And yet,” added he, “that will-o’-the-wisp -nature in me is not yet extinct. One day I came upon a great -camp-meeting in the midst of the woods, and after witnessing the -strange scene for some time I was seized by a spirit of fire, and -sprung up into a waggon, and poured forth a harangue on sin and its -sorrow; on the strength of weakness in some souls carrying them like -maniacs into the whirlwinds of crime and woe; on repentance and -backsliding; on heaven and damnation, in such a rush and hurricane -of passionate speech, such cries of despair and shouts of ‘Help! -help!’ within me to God and Christ, as drew the scattered thousands -around me, and flung them into the wildest commotion and shrieks -and ejaculations; which seemed more like the riot of a raging ocean -tempest than the tumult of human creatures. Suddenly I dropped down, -and disappeared amongst the trees; but for days and weeks afterwards -I heard of what they called ‘The Wild-fire Preacher,’ who came and -went so mysteriously.” - -Thorsby related that one evening having made his camp for the night, -and cut down boughs of the hemlock pine for his bed, an old Friend -rode up, and asked leave to pass the night by his fire. He was a -small, light man in sober home-spun clothes, who having hobbled out -his horse, came and sat down, and drew from his wallet bread and -dried venison, and invited Thorsby to partake. He said his name was -Jesse Kersey, and that he was on a religious journey into the back -settlements. After they had conversed till rather late, the stranger -informed Thorsby that his father had left him a good property. -Thorsby asked him in what it consisted,—in land? No. In houses? No. -In money? No. In teaching him to live on a little. “He who has that -fortune,” said Jesse Kersey, “can never want. I would give thee this -as a safe rule of life— - - ‘Keep within compass, and thou wilt be sure - To shun many evils that others endure.’” - -The old man having said this, tied his handkerchief round his -head for a nightcap, drew his rug over him, and saying, “Farewell, -friend!” dropped instantly to sleep, and slept like a child till -morning. Thorsby himself lay long, and thought on the truth of the -old man’s simple philosophy. In the morning, as they rode on through -the deep forests together, Jesse Kersey dropped gradually into a -silence. Thorsby addressed to him some remark, but receiving no -reply, he cast a glance at his companion, and observed that he was -deep sunk in reverie. At length the old man said— - -“Stranger and yet friend, I am drawn by that life which wells up in -the heart like the spring in the desert, and the soft breeze on the -solitary plain, in tenderness and loving concern towards thee. Of -thy past life or outward circumstances I know nothing but what thou -hast said, that thou art from the old country; I am, however, made -inwardly sensible that there are two natures striving in thee for -the mastery. There is the spirit and life of good, and the spirit -and life of vanity, and the word to thee which arises in me is—Be -prayerful and bewareful. Oh, I see a fire in thee which might be that -of which I have lately heard in the so-called ‘Wild-fire Preacher,’ -Oh, it is a quick, leaping, overleaping, perilous fire, capable of -causing thee to spring out of the cool soberness of peace and wisdom, -as it were, into the very pit of perdition. Friend! beware! beware! -beware! Put thy heart into the hand of Almighty God. Oh, pray Him -fervently, most fervently to chastise it, and press it down, and -crush out of it this high-leaping and unruly fire! And the answer -in my spirit is—Yes. God shall so press down the life within thee; -so crush and control thy spirit by severe labour and discipline, by -passing the waters of affliction over thy had and by awaking deep -searching thoughts in thy own solitary heart, that this fire shall -be extinguished, and the solid ground of peaceful wisdom shall be -laid within thee, and thou shalt be made to experience the beauty of -holiness and the thoughts of him whose heart is stayed on God.” - -Thorsby added that he himself had here broken down, and had wept -like a child, wept long and silently as they travelled on, and he -had prayed that every affliction might befall him which should arm -him with this blessed strength. His heart had been drawn to this old -Friend as to a father, and he had travelled on with him a fortnight, -attended his meetings, and seen with daily increasing wonder the -loving and single childlike simplicity and faith of this apostle of -the woods. It was with a violent effort that he had torn himself away -from him, and that he was now about to penetrate into the woods and -hills of Indiana. - -It may be imagined what a consolation this letter was to Letty -Thorsby amid the dark days now lowering over her and her whole -family, and she, too, prayed that God would spare no correction to -her husband which would leave him sobered and strengthened into -permanent stability. - -Spring was once more advancing, but to the afflicted family and -the prisoner at Castleborough it came only with anxious fears and -dreadfully depressed spirits. The Woodburns, collected together at -Letty’s, were very very low in heart; and Mr. Woodburn himself, as -time drew on, became very restless and desponding. He had borne up -well, and said very little about his case, except that it would be -all right. But as the time of trial approached and no new light -whatever had been cast on the mystery of Mr. Drury’s death, he began -to be very low too. - -Sometimes, after sitting long in silence, he would suddenly seem to -wake out of a reverie, and say, “It is strange, very strange that -nothing turns up.” His family would say, “Very strange, indeed; but -we must trust in God.” And once or twice lately he had startled them -by saying, as if angrily, “Yes, trust in God, that is always the -word; but is there a God at all?” - -The shock this gave them was dreadful. Ann exclaimed, “Oh, dear -father, don’t, don’t let go your faith in God! Think what mercies -He has shed on your whole life. Think on the love by which you -are surrounded, on the influential friends ready to do everything -possible for your defence.” - -“If anything,” said Mr. Woodburn, “would make me doubt the truth -of Christianity, it is those very ready, flourishing promises that -it abounds in. ‘Whatever ye ask in my name, believing, ye shall -receive.’ ‘Seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened; -ask, and it shall be given you.’ Now, have I not asked day after -day, in the name of Christ, that the truth might be revealed in -this case? Have I not sought, and knocked, and asked, and all to no -purpose?” - -“But, dear father,” said Ann, in the greatest perturbation, “the time -is not yet over and past. Our time is not God’s time. He may wish to -try us all, and may solve the enigma even at the last moment.” - -“It may be so,” said Mr. Woodburn, gloomily; “but what does it mean -where it says that if any man lose houses or land or wife or children -for Christ’s sake, he shall receive tenfold more in this world of -houses, land, and the rest of it, and in the world to come life -everlasting? Now, Ann, I have heard of thousands being ruined, and -even burnt and killed for Christ’s sake, but I never yet heard of one -who received tenfold property for what he lost. These things make one -believe the whole to be a cunningly devised fable. If the Gospels are -not true altogether, they may not be true at all.” - -Ann sat and wept bitterly for a long time; then getting up and -throwing her arms round her father’s neck, and looking with her -streaming eyes into his face, she said, “Oh, father, if you let go -your faith in our dear Redeemer, you let go everything, and make us -all miserable beyond words. Wait, wait a little, and I feel sure all -will be well. For myself, I would rather lose life, liberty, fame, -everything, than my trust in God.” - -“But why should God,” added Mr. Woodburn, “treat his servants worse -than the devil and the world treat theirs? I see continually those -who neither think nor care about religion flourishing like green bay -trees, and the good left to all sorts of troubles.” - -“Oh, don’t talk in that manner!” exclaimed Ann. “Shall we expect -an eternity of good, and shall we shrink from a trial for a few -years? Shall we serve and trust in God only for selfish ends? Oh, -no, indeed; we do need refining by fire. But, dear father, your mind -and health are hurt by this confinement and suspense. But, I say, -and ever will say, ‘Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s -good pleasure to give you the kingdom.’ Remember God has an eternal -recompense to offer for all our sorrows here, but the devil and the -world have nothing to offer us after this little life.” - -These moments of despair in Mr. Woodburn were the severest trial -of all to his disconsolate family. But the March assizes were at -hand, and the preparations which his friends were making for his -defence tended to occupy his mind and relieve his spirits. Sir Henry -Clavering never for a moment doubted of his instant and complete -acquittal, and his steady, cheerful views and active exertions acted -as a great solace to the Woodburns. He and George, assisted most -zealously by Simon Degge, Mr. Heritage, and Mr. Fairfax, had arranged -a considerable amount of evidence, which though it brought no nearer -to the light the real perpetrator of the murder, if it were one, -showed, they thought, sufficiently that no suspicion could fall on -Mr. Woodburn. - -The assizes had at length arrived. Mr. Baron Garrow had arrived -and opened his commission. Mr. Woodburn’s case, as it occurred -immediately after the midsummer assizes, was the first on the -calendar. Vast was the excitement connected with it. The singular -mystery of the affair, the character and position of the prisoner, -were circumstances sure to awake a most lively interest. The town -was crowded by people from all parts of the country round, and the -county court was filled in a few minutes to repletion. Most of the -families of distinction of the county and town were in the galleries. -We will not go at great length into the details of the trial. Mr. -Sergeant Giffard was the counsel for the crown against Mr. Woodburn, -and he was defended by his old friend, Mr. Balguy of Derbyshire. Sir -Henry Clavering had entreated him to have other and very celebrated -counsel from London, but Mr. Woodburn steadily refused. He said, “No, -he had perfect reliance on his friend Balguy; though he practised -only as a provincial barrister, he was a man of the soundest -judgment, one who had known him all his life, and could speak -personally to his character. Besides, he would not have it imagined -for a moment that his case required the subtle lights and arts of a -brilliant oratory. He wanted merely a plain statement of plain facts.” - -When Mr. Woodburn was brought in and placed in the dock, there was a -silence like death throughout the court. The sensation was profound. -He was attended by his son and Sir Henry Clavering, who were -accommodated at each side of the dock; so that they could encourage -him, and communicate for him with his counsel, seated just under him. -Mr. Woodburn looked calm, but somewhat pale, and his intelligent, -thoughtful, and amiable aspect was anything but that of a murderer. -“That man,” said many a lady to her friend near her, “never committed -a murder.” “No,” some gentleman replied, “one would not think it; but -one cannot tell what a growing animosity may stir a man to, in some -unguarded moment.” - -The case was opened, the indictment read, and Mr. Serjeant Giffard -rose. He called first witnesses to show that there had been a -considerable and, as he termed it, a bitter feud betwixt the prisoner -and Mr. Drury; he proved the unguarded expressions of Mr. Woodburn -in the hay-field, and that the prisoner was the last man seen coming -from the ferry where Mr. Drury was found, as he said, in his blood. -In his address, which followed, he dwelt on these proofs of an animus -in Mr. Woodburn’s mind against Mr. Drury, and treated his words only -four days before the catastrophe as words of menace, or at least -of a wish to have Mr. Drury put away. The catastrophe following -on the immediate heels of these words, what could it be deemed but -the direct result of them? Then the fact that no amount of inquiry, -nor the offered reward of 300_l._, had been able to elicit a single -atom of evidence implicating any other person, must be held, in his -opinion, as most decisive. Why had no such evidence transpired? The -answer in his own mind, said the counsel, was that no such evidence -existed; and that the fair and damning inference was that the man, -who was known to have a standing feud with the murdered man; who had -uttered words of a vindictive and even minatory character; the man -who was last seen coming from the fatal spot, and that only just -before the discovery of the horrible circumstance, was the person -guilty of that deadly crime. He had wished the country might be -fortunately rid of the person so offensive to him, and there was the -finale. He dwelt especially on the fact, that no robbery had been -committed; it was clearly a case of vengeance in a mind where money -offered no temptation. - -It was with a deep and breathless feeling that the spectators saw the -counsel for the defence rise. He observed that his learned friend -had galloped to a conclusion, for which there was not a single atom -of foundation. He had talked of a murder, yet there was no proof of -a murder. An unhappy accident in crossing the ferry; a fright on the -part of the horse, and a kick on the head of the unfortunate owner -as he stooped to pull the chain, would probably explain it all. Now -he had known Mr. Woodburn all his life from his school-days, and he -would pledge his whole character, conscience, and existence to the -jury, that Mr. Woodburn was as incapable of a murder as he was of -flying. No, he would not tread on a worm if he knew it. He would -call evidence to show that it was as improbable as it was, in fact, -impossible. His learned friend had talked of a feud betwixt Mr. -Woodburn and Mr. Drury. Why, this feud was of so mild a kind that -the only son of Mr. Woodburn was on the point at the moment of the -catastrophe of being married to the only daughter of Mr. Drury. His -learned friend had left it to be inferred that Mr. Woodburn was the -only man in the neighbourhood who felt any antagonism to Mr. Drury. -He would bring forward proofs that Mr. Drury had made many bitter -enemies, he would not say justly, but simply by the introduction -of new machines, and new fashions of farming, and by his active, -energetic, and, perhaps, somewhat peremptory and exacting character; -he had made those enemies amongst the lower and more ignorant class, -who were far more likely to commit an outrage in their revenge than -a gentleman of Mr. Woodburn’s well-known character—than a gentleman -whose family was on the very point of forming the most intimate ties -with the family of Mr. Drury. As to the question of crossing the -ferry, he would show that it was impossible that Mr. Woodburn could -have been present at the catastrophe, for he had witnesses to prove -that Mr. Drury did not leave the hay-meadow beyond the river till -nearly half an hour after Mr. Woodburn was seated quietly with his -family at tea in his own garden. - -This last assertion produced an instant and evident sensation -throughout the whole place. The judge on the bench, with whom were -seated several noblemen and gentlemen of the county, the counsel -at the bar, the people throughout the court, were engaged in -conversation on it. There was a general buzz and murmur of voices -in the court, when the clerk of the arraigns called, “Silence!” and -Mr. Balguy began with his witnesses. He produced a number of farmers -of the neighbourhood, who declared that they had heard the severest -language of hatred used by their labourers against Mr. Drury, adding -they would not be in his shoes for a trifle. They said this was -not only on account of his using so much machinery, but on account -of his timing them, and docking their wages, and his slave-driving -way, as they called it. Many labourers were called who gave the same -evidence. Mr. Balguy then called several haymakers to show that Mr. -Woodburn’s words were, not that he wished something would fortunately -rid the country of Mr. Drury, but that some fortunate circumstance -would take him somewhere else. He next showed by the evidence of Mr. -Drury’s own bailiff, who was in the meadows when Mr. Drury left, that -it was half-past six o’clock by his watch, and then by the evidence -of George Woodburn and Betty Trapps that Mr. Woodburn entered the -house exactly as the old cuckoo clock in the hall struck six. That -the time of the bailiff and of the clock at Woodburn Grange agreed, -was also proved by the people of both farms going to and returning -from work at exactly the same hour, morning, noon and evening. - -This evidence having been gone through, Mr. Balguy said that little -more was required. He would only remark that it was shown that there -were many persons in the neighbourhood hostile to Mr. Drury. That -Mr. Woodburn’s words in the hay-field were meant by him to express a -wish that some stewardship, such as his eminent agricultural talents -warranted, might call Mr. Drury from a neighbourhood where his views -were not favourably received. That was the “fortunate” circumstance -which Mr. Woodburn alluded to. Then, as he had shown by a complete -_alibi_ that Mr. Woodburn could not possibly be at Wink’s Ferry when -Mr. Drury lost his life, he contended first, that if that catastrophe -were a murder, it could not have been perpetrated by Mr. Woodburn; -and secondly, that it had yet to be shown that it was a murder at -all. He was, therefore, sure that the jury would acquit his client -instantly and entirely. - -The judge in summing up, came to the same conclusion. It was, -he said, for the jury to decide, whether what had been shown to -be impossible, if the respectable evidence of Mr. Drury’s own -bailiff, and of the family of the prisoner as to time, was to be -believed, could be possible: for his own part he did not believe in -impossibilities. The jury consulted for a moment, and the foreman -arose and declared the unanimous verdict to be—NOT GUILTY! - -The effect of these words was an instant burst of uproarious applause -throughout the court. Hats were waved violently; white handkerchiefs -were waved as actively; the friends of the prisoner were shaking -hands with one another, and rushing to shake hands with him, and all -the time the judge was looking half-menacingly, half-laughingly, and -saying something that nobody could hear, and the clerk of arraigns -was shouting “Order! order!” with all his might. Of course the judge -was trying to tell the offenders that if they did not keep quiet he -must order them into custody, which was such an excellent joke, the -offenders being the whole assembly, except a few of the Rockville and -Bullockshed clan, who looked dark and significant of dissent, that -old Baron Garrow, who dearly loved a joke, enjoyed the uproar as much -as any of them. - -Sir Henry Clavering had slipped away by a private door from the -court, and run to carry the news to the family of Mr. Woodburn, -who were awaiting in direst anxiety the result of the trial. They -were standing at the window ready to catch the first sign of an -approaching messenger, when a triumphant wave of his hat made them -aware that all was right, and he rushed into the house to find -himself caught and embraced and kissed and wet all over with tears -of joy by every one there. Quickly came Sir Henry’s carriage, -bringing Mr. Woodburn and George. We must leave the reader to imagine -the scenes that followed. The husband and father stood amongst -them once more, freed from every charge or shadow of suspicion of -the odious crime imputed to him. That same evening a long train of -carriages was seen driving from Mrs. Thorsby’s house out of the town, -and taking the way towards Woodburn. There were those of Mr. Degge, -of Mr. Heritage, Mr. Fairfax, Sir Henry Clavering, and the worthy -Counsellor Balguy, as he was commonly called all through the Midland -Counties. The bells were ringing in the steeples of Castleborough, -and they were ringing at Cotmanhaye—Woodburn had no church—for Sir -Henry Clavering had previously arranged all that in a most liberal -manner, and that evening Mr. Woodburn stood once more under his own -roof a free and unblemished man. All through Woodburn flags and -garlands of evergreens, and shouting men, and women all tears and -smiles, had made the drive a triumph. When these accompanying friends -had taken their leave, and the happy family were left to themselves -as in some strange dream, Ann came and softly dropped on her knees by -her father, and taking his hand said, amidst tears of gladness—“Well, -dearest father, God’s time is come!” - -Mr. Woodburn stooped and kissed her affectionately, and said, “True, -dear child, true—let us forget the hour and the power of darkness. -You are far wiser than I am.” - -“No, dear father,” said Ann. “No—the truth is, you have been tried -far more than I have. But thank God that all this is over!” - - - - - CHAPTER III. - - A WONDERFUL DREAM. - - -In the flush of happiness which immediately followed the acquittal -of Mr. Woodburn, the long-deferred marriage of Ann Woodburn was -celebrated. Sir Henry Clavering had proved himself a most noble and -indefatigable friend through the whole dark season, and all were -eager to confer on him his long and patiently sought prize, and to -claim him as one of the family of the Grange. It was a pleasant -morning in April when the wedding took place, the ceremony being -performed by Sir Henry’s worthy uncle, Thomas Clavering, assisted -by Mr. Markham, who, to his honour be it said, had most heartily -protested against what he termed the atrocious prosecution of Mr. -Woodburn. Not only was the outward spring breaking forth with her -buds and dews and violets, but the inner spring of peace and joy was -come back to the lovely fields of Woodburn. We need not say that -all Woodburn, many friends from Castleborough, Cotmanhaye Manor, -and all round there, some even from Rockville, had flocked to this -auspicious scene, and many a warm wish was sent after the happy pair -as they dashed away after the breakfast at the Grange, in Sir Henry’s -carriage, on their way towards Paris. God’s blessing go with them, -was the fervent prayer of the crowd of felicitating friends, as it is -ours. - -When they were gone, and the friends too, and that silence and -strange vacancy fell on the house, which is deep in proportion to -the love for the fair inmate carried away, Letty, who had worn on -that morning something of her former bloom and gaiety, dashed with -happy tears, said to her mother and father as they sat together in -their old sitting-room, “None of us will ever forget the presentiment -of Mrs. Heritage at our memorable May fête, for how strangely has -it been realised? But perhaps you have forgotten that she pointed -to an afterglow, and said that the days after the gloom should be -more lovely and happy than before. As that dear, good woman spoke -truth in one part of her prediction, I shall believe that she did in -the other. Is not the present happy issue of that hideous, odious -darkness a proof and a commencement of it? Is not this happy day -another proof? And now I will read you a letter from my husband, -which, though it may seem to you sad, is to me full of the happiest -confidence.” - -“What! have you at last heard from Thorsby again?” said her mother. - -“Yes, dear mother; it is now seven months since I heard, and I began -to have some serious fears of what might have befallen him: but you -shall hear:— - - “Cincinnati, March 7th, 18—. - - “MY DEAREST LETTY,—Probably you have thought me dead, and were not - very sorry for it. No; you have always, even in the worst periods - of my wretched life, shown such an admirable love for me, so - undeserved, so badly requited; you have had such a wonderful faith - in my coming some day right side uppermost, that I still flatter - myself that you will be glad to see my hand-writing again. But the - truth is, I have been at Death’s door, and all but in his ancient - house. When I wrote to you in the autumn, I said I was going into - Indiana. I had heard rumours of a man who very much resembled the - one I was wanting to come up with, though out of no love to him, - and was making my way to Indianopolis. I had reached a village not - far from the Wabash, in a deep valley, and amongst enormous woods, - where clearings and cultivation are but partial and scattered. I - put up at a rude wooden public-house, where I was very miserably - accommodated, but that was nothing new to me. When I came out of my - room in the morning, which was on the ground-floor, my landlord, a - tall, lanky woodsman, said, ‘Stranger, I guess I have but poor news - for you. Some one in the night has entered the shed, and ridden off - with your horse.’ - - “In my astonishment and consternation, I asked him why he thought - so. ‘Just,’ said he, ‘because the crittur is not there.’ I rushed - out as if I would be satisfied, but my horse, saddle, and bridle - had disappeared, and my landlord, for my consolation, assured me - that such scamps going through the country were often showing such a - preference of riding over walking, at any one’s expense. The horror - of my situation may be conceived. I had not money with me sufficient - to purchase another horse, and to wait for an answer and remittance - from New York would throw me into the winter. I determined to set - out and reach Indianapolis on foot. For days I walked on in extreme - anxiety, through woods, marshes, and intricate hills. Wet through - and through, I at length took up my quarters for the night in the - inn of another hamlet. The next morning I staggered forward on - rising out of bed, from excessive dizziness, and in two or three - days lost my consciousness in a delirious attack of fever. A week - after that I awoke, weak beyond expression, and unable to move. I - was told I had been in a raging condition, and corded down on my - bed. It was some time before I could get out of bed, and on looking - for my clothes, found my coat gone, and with it the whole of my - money. I could get no satisfaction. The people of the house said - there had been many strangers coming and going, and some one of them - had clearly been a thief. - - “What a situation! Here was I, above six hundred miles from New - York, without a dollar, and without a full suit of clothing! My - watch, too, was gone! I sat down in a mood of absolute despair, and - wished I had died in my delirium. The people bade me cheer up, they - said they would not charge me anything for their trouble. My inmost - conviction was that they need not—they had paid themselves too well - out of my property. But what was I to do? The man gave me an old - coarse rough coat of his own: I accepted it, for it would prevent - me from perishing. But how should I live? Winter was coming down, - there was no work, but that of felling timber, and ploughing the new - enclosures, and I had no strength for it; besides, the deep snow - would soon put an end to that. But there was sufficient food to be - had; the people of the inn said I might stay and recruit myself a - little. I did so. I believed I owed them nothing, that the balance - was really to my credit. - - “But there was one man always busy, that was the blacksmith. I - heard his hammer ringing on the anvil long before it was light in - a morning, and often till late at night. In my lack of anything - to occupy my time with, I wandered to his forge, and fell into - conversation with him. He had heard my case, and rough as he seemed, - he said he felt for me. ‘I wish I could swing a hammer like you,’ I - said, ‘I would come and help you, for you seem to have too much to - do.’ - - “‘I wish you could then,’ said he, ‘for I want a help dreadfully. - But why should not you soon?’ - - “I shook my head. ‘I am too weak yet,’ I said. - - “‘But there’s strength in hominy and pork and peach-brandy,’ he - said. ‘Come to my log-hut; you can rest and feed till you feel your - strength, and by-and-by, you can do a little.’ - - “I accepted his offer. Our living was, as he said, almost literally - hominy and pork, but these suited my reduced system excellently, and - in a few weeks I was strong enough to strike with the hammer against - him. He had plough-shares and all the irons for ploughs and harrows, - shoes for horses, and tiring and bushes for drays for the farmers - around to make, and having nothing much else to do in the winter, - they were always coming to demand them. - - “Well, to make a short story of it, by degrees I became capable of - striking with the big hammer against him. Day after day, from early - morning till night, I thus toiled and sweltered. Oh, what mortal - weariness, what aching bones were mine! Many a night I could not - sleep for aching, bone-weary fatigue. There was a young child which - cried continually in the room next to my little cabin of a place, - and though the stout blacksmith snored through it all, it kept me - awake when I could have slept. Through the long dreary winter I - continued to beat the anvil, and earn my hominy and pork, hominy and - molasses, hominy and milk. These were my chief articles of diet, - and my three dollars a-week. There was no help for it. The forests - around were impassable for snow; there was no communication with New - York. - - “But in those long laborious days, those dreary nights, in that - dreary village of Tunckhannock, the scenes of my past life came - before me in very different colours. Oh! what an idiot I saw myself - to have been. The letter of Mrs. Heritage, which the thief had - carried off in my coat—may it do him the good he greatly needs!—but - which was engraven on my memory, and the words of that good old - Jesse Kersey, they stood as if written in fire on my soul. I - acknowledged the hand that had thus led me into this school of hard - discipline, which had stripped me, and bruised me to the very core, - and I poured out my soul in tears and wrestling prayers for the - gifts of soberness and wisdom. If I am not greatly deceived, the - fire-spirit, as Jesse Kersey called it, is beaten out of me. That - big hammer and its ever-straining blows have tamed the wild blood in - me. I feel another, ‘a sadder but a wiser man.’ - - “The favour of God, indeed, seems to be returning to me. In this - city of the west, at the principal inn, whom should I discover - but the man of my long and vain search. As I entered the room I - saw him at a table opposite. He was no longer the brown-headed, - sandy-whiskered man, but one with a head of raven hair, a - clean-shaven face, and spectacles,—but I could never mistake those - features. I cautiously withdrew and returned with a constable. My - man very coolly assured us we were entirely mistaken in him. ‘If I - am,’ I said, ‘this black hair is not false,’ and with that I lifted - off his wig, and showed the brown crop beneath. We now searched his - portmanteau, found papers fully identifying him, and to my joyful - surprise three thousand pounds of my own money. A good Providence - seemed to have compelled him to wander like a Cain, and to carry his - spoil always with him. - - “I have stayed to see him put on the treadmill of the prison for - three years, and now I am about to travel on to New York. Boat and - carriage are now at my command. In the summer I trust once more to - see England, and a wife who will add to all her other undeserved - goodness that of receiving her repentant and for-ever sobered - - “HENRY THORSBY.” - -“Well,” said Mr. Woodburn, “God grant that he may be as completely -sobered as he says. That big hammer is one of the best things for -taming a man I ever heard of. If it has effected a cure, as we will -hope it has, Thorsby ought to have it emblazoned in his arms.” - -“Yes, truly,” said Mrs. Woodburn; “and I pray that it may have done -that good work with all my heart.” - -“And you can still forgive him, Letty?” said Mr. Woodburn. - -“My dear father,” said Letty, smiling, “do you think I never say the -Lord’s Prayer?” - -“Oh! as to that,” said Mr. Woodburn, “I know scores who say it every -night and morning, and yet never forgive anybody. They hug their -spites like dear babies, and remember a small offence ten or twenty -years after as keenly as they felt it the moment it occurred.” - -“I don’t understand such people,” said Letty. - -“They don’t understand themselves,” said her father. “Many of these -people think themselves admirable Christians.” - -“But,” said Letty, “if I am required by my Redeemer to forgive a -brother, not seven times, but seventy times seven, how many times -should I forgive a husband, whom I have sworn to take for better for -worse? My notion is that so long as you can hope to reform and save a -fellow-creature, you should not only forgive, but work hard for his -restoration. If God permits me to reclaim an immortal being that He -has thought it good to make, I don’t think I can be better employed.” - -“Nor I, neither,” said Mr. Woodburn. - -As time had worn on, after Mr. Woodburn’s acquittal, the first -satisfaction of it had given way in his mind to deeper and deeper -reflections on the brand which his neighbours had put upon him, -in publicly accusing him of so atrocious a crime as murder. The -more he pondered on it, the more it appeared like an ugly dream. -No single trace of an explanation had yet shown itself of the real -nature of the catastrophe. He knew that the Rockville faction still -amongst themselves deemed him guilty of the death of Mr. Drury, and -denominated the result of the trial a lucky escape for him. These -reflections were intolerable to him, and he became extremely low and -depressed. He did not like to be seen in public. He spent much time -in hoeing and weeding in his garden, where he was out of the way of -observation. Whenever he took a ride it was down the hollow road and -up the narrow hedge-embowered cart-road by the river to Cotmanhaye -Mill, and so out into Sir Henry Clavering’s fields. He sat for whole -days together over his old classical authors, and in the society of -his family fell into long and deep silences. All noticed this state -of things, and became anxious on account of its effect both on his -mind and his health. - -Towards midsummer Sir Henry and Lady Clavering returned to Cotmanhaye -Manor, and it was delightful to her family and friends to see her in -her new home all brightness and happiness. A lovely home it was, and -Sir Henry seemed proud of it because it gave so much pleasure to his -wife. A series of dinners and fêtes were given after the reception -days, at which all their friends from town and country assembled, -and not only Letty appeared there with much of her early gaiety, but -Millicent Heritage was observed to be cheerful and soberly happy. -At these fêtes, however, Mr. Woodburn was rarely seen, he preferred -walking up and talking with Sir Henry, his daughter, and the Rector -in quiet hours, when they were alone. It was clear that unless some -light could be thrown on the tragedy of Wink’s Ferry, his spirits -never again could regain their wonted buoyancy; he must be a retiring -and melancholy man: which was a heavy weight on the hearts of his -family. - -One day, towards the end of July, a traveller dropped from the top -of the Derby coach at the manufacturing village of Beeton, and took -his way across the wide meadows in the direction of Woodburn. The -hay had been cleared, and numerous herds of cattle were grazing in -them on the new-springing grass. The flowers of the meadow-sweet -yet breathed out their fragrance as the traveller walked on by the -long hedge sides, and along the dry footpath, with his eyes fixed on -the distant heights of Woodburn and the woods of Rockville. He had -evidently chosen this path that he might not be much seen; and as -he observed some peasants coming along the footpath towards him, he -crossed a gate, and sat down under the fence until they had passed. -He then recrossed and pursued his way. This traveller was Henry -Thorsby; but what a change! Instead of that bustling, mercurial -air, he looked grave, and even sad. He was wondering, after all, -notwithstanding Letty’s goodness, what sort of a reception he would -meet with. He knew that he deserved nothing but reproach, and all the -causes of such reproach rose up in his memory as he walked on. He -had learned, too, from Letty’s letters, and the English newspapers, -the whole strange story of Mr. Woodburn’s arrest and trial. It seemed -that he was drawing near to a very different Woodburn from that of -past times; and on reaching the river he hesitated whether to cross -and go boldly on to the Grange, or sit down and spend his time in -the solitary fields till he could steal away unnoticed to his house -in Castleborough. But he knew that Letty was at the Grange, where -she spent most of her time in endeavouring to cheer the spirits of -her father. He resolved, therefore, to go resolutely on. If he were -coldly received by the family, he knew that he deserved it, and he -was prepared to endure his just punishment. - -At Wink’s Ferry he paused and looked round, revolving in his mind -the strange occurrence of Mr. Drury’s death. All looked calm, and -serenely smiling as ever. He pulled himself over, and passing -through the branches of a great old hazel-bush—a way well known to -him and George Woodburn—entered the orchard, and so proceeded through -the garden to the house. With a hesitating step and beating heart -he entered the well-known sitting-room, and the next moment found -himself with a wild cry of joy in the arms of his wife. Mr. and Mrs. -Woodburn stood in silent surprise, and with feelings that it would be -in vain to attempt to describe. Over that sacred scene of the Return -of the Prodigal Son, and the forgiving hands that were extended to -him, let us draw the veil of domesticity, and of silence. - -For some time Thorsby remained at the Grange, and only ventured to -take the secluded path in the dusk of evening towards Cotmanhaye -Manor, where he was cordially received. The letters he had written to -Letty, and the altered appearance of his person, where the solidity -of middle age seemed to reign, and the subdued tone of his mind, -had produced a great revulsion in his favour. It was some weeks -before Letty could inspirit him to face Castleborough and all the -comments of his old townsmen, but at length even this was effected; -and people saw with astonishment Thorsby going with sober steps from -his house to his warehouse. The surprise of this re-appearance was -extreme; and afforded subject for abundance of discussion. Thorsby -sought no recognition from his old acquaintances; when he met them, -spoke passingly to them; and when anyone offered him a hand he took -it cordially; but there was a gravity about him that strangely -impressed even those of the greatest levity. He looked like a man who -had passed through some severe furnace of affliction, some profound -trouble of which the shadow still haunted him. All thought he looked -ten years older; and by degrees his steady devotion to business, and -the assurances of Mr. Barnesdale that he was a wonderfully changed -man, began to give him a new status in public opinion. His wife -seemed as happy as if no grief had ever passed over her, and she and -her husband, with their now lovely flaxen-curled little boy between -them, might be seen driving after business hours towards Woodburn. -There it was that Thorsby seemed most at home, except in his own -house. He felt deeply grateful for the kind reception he had met from -every one of the family, and was very anxious to contribute all he -could towards diverting that load of melancholy which weighed more -and more on the spirits of Mr. Woodburn. - -It was on a beautiful morning in August that Mr. and Mrs. Woodburn, -George and Letty were sitting in the cool old house-place. Breakfast -was just over, and Letty had nodded a loving greeting to her husband -as he rode past the front garden on his way to business, holding up -in her arms little Leonard, to make his greetings with a pair of -little chubby but active hands. George had taken down the Bible, for -they had adopted the custom of the Friends of Fair Manor, of reading -a chapter after breakfast. He had just commenced the reading of the -twelfth chapter of St. Luke, and reached the second verse,—“For there -is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; neither hid, that -shall not be known.” - -Mr. Woodburn did not wait for the conclusion of the reading, but -said, “Ay, see there now! that is one of those promises which are so -freely made in these Gospels, and that are not fulfilled. We know -that too well.” - -George paused, and was about to go on again, for such remarks were -too frequent from Mr. Woodburn to be immediately replied to, when -there came the postman’s rat-tat at the door, and Letty sprung up -with all a woman’s eagerness for letters, opened the door and took -in a letter. She looked at it a moment, and said, - -“For you, dear George. Bless me, a ship letter, and, as I live, -from Dr. Leroy! Why, that is the first news of him that has reached -England, so far as I know.” - -She handed it to George, who began running it over to himself. - -“He is well, I hope,” said two or three voices at once. - -“But I have scarcely read a line,” said George. “How can I tell? You -will hear all presently. It is dated from on board the Aurungzebe, -in the Hoogly. Yes, he says he is quite well.” And George read on in -silence again. Suddenly they saw a deeper interest expressed in his -face. He read on with a sort of hurrying avidity. - -“What is it? What is it?” asked the impatient Letty. - -“What is it?” said George. “It is most extraordinary, and yet it is -only a dream.” - -“A dream? Oh, a dream only, and does that so astonish you George, as -I see it does?” continued Letty. - -“Listen then,” said George; “listen, father. It is the most -extraordinary thing I ever heard of, though it is but a dream. One -thing, however, I observe, the letter must have lain somewhere a good -while, it is much out of date.” - - “On board the ‘Aurungzebe’ in the Hoogly, - July 4th, 18—. - -“MY DEAR GEORGE WOODBURN,—I write to you the first line of a letter -that I have sent to any one since leaving England; you will see why. -We have had a long, but a prosperous voyage. We discharged part -cargo at the Cape, and another at the Mauritius, and have just cast -anchor here. I have not yet visited Calcutta, that city of palaces, -for yesterday as we came to anchor I felt a most unaccountable and -gloomy weight oh my spirits. Amid all the bustle of quitting the -ship by the passengers and saying good-bye to those who had become so -familiar through a long voyage, this weight lay on me. In the night -I dreamed a most frightful and extraordinary dream. Now you know -that I am not superstitious; that my medical education has made me a -firm believer in the invariable prevalence of law in God’s creation. -Dreams, visions, stories of apparitions, are all to me furniture of -the nursery; and yet how inconsistent I am! Twice in my life I have -had dreams so vivid and life-like that, contrary to the ordinary run -of my dreams, which I rarely remember, they have remained as clearly -and firmly on my mind as actual broad-day facts, and, what is the -more wonderful, they were found each to represent something which at -the same moment was really passing in a distant place. - -“God forbid that this should prove so, but it is exactly of the -same kind, and I feel impelled to tell it you at the risk of being -laughed at. Certainly I do hope that you will be able to laugh at me. -All I ask is that if it be not true, you keep my counsel. - -“Well then, I seemed to be somewhere in the great meadows between -Woodburn and Beeton. The hay was all abroad, and numbers of -people were busily getting it up. It was a splendid, still, -reposing evening. I saw Mr. Drury amongst his work-people on his -well-remembered tall, roan horse.” - -“Oh!” was ejaculated by every one present. - -“How odd too,” said George, looking at the date, “and this dream -occurred on the night following the death of Mr. Drury. But to -proceed.” - -“As I looked round I saw two men cross Wink’s Ferry into the meadows, -one with a hay-fork in his hand. They seated themselves under the -alder bushes near the ferry and on the banks of the river. One -of these men I recognised at once. It was that Nathan Hopcraft, -who lives just below you, and whose powers of gormandising I have -witnessed to my astonishment in your kitchen. His short, thick figure -was exact. As usual in hot weather, his shirt-collar and bosom were -open, displaying his red, sunburnt, and hairy chest, and his thick, -muscular neck, which I remember him once speaking of in his stupid -and cart-before-the-horse-way, saying, ‘I have a bull like a neck,’ -meaning he had a neck like a bull. There he sat in his shirt sleeves, -and with him a man I never saw before. He was a tall, muscular fellow -of about thirty. At first view I thought him a keeper, for he had on -leather leggings and a velveteen shooting-jacket, with ample skirts -and pockets, capable of holding a hare each if necessary. He had -black curly hair, and full black whiskers. His face was burnt brown -with exposure, and on looking closer his expression was sullen and -savage.” - -“Oh, heavens!” exclaimed both Letty and her brother together. -“Scammel! Scammel to the life! How extraordinary!” - -“I soon saw,” continued the letter, “that he was no keeper; but -the man had the look of one who had been degraded from a keeper to -a poacher and ruffian. His clothes were dirty and weather-beaten; -his coat was sun-burnt, of a ruddy brown, his hat was battered and -shapeless. As I again looked towards the hay-field, I saw Mr. Drury -leaving the people and riding towards the ferry. As he did that -the poacher-looking fellow slunk into the bushes and disappeared. -Hopcraft went upon the boat and stood ready to pull it over. As Mr. -Drury rode on to the boat he touched his hat, and Mr. Drury appeared -to say something to him, and then rode towards the prow of the boat, -and sat looking forward ready to issue to the shore. But at the very -moment that the horse set his feet on the boat, the ugly fellow -issued from the bushes armed with the hay-fork, a very heavy one—a -pitchfork for loading the hay on the waggons. He carried his shoes -in his left hand, and set them down softly but quickly on the boat, -and then, with the spring of a tiger, he darted forward, and struck -Mr. Drury on the back of the head a furious blow. I shouted, as it -seemed, as I saw the murderous intention; but the deed was done. -Mr. Drury fell backward from his horse, dragging the saddle round -after him, and would have gone overboard but that he was caught by -the ruffianly looking fellow, and stretched on the deck of the boat. -In the fright the horse reared, and, springing forward, fell into -the river. For some time he seemed embarrassed by the saddle under -his chest, and floundered about as if he would drown, but then he -recovered himself, and got footing in the shallower part of the river. - -“During this time, for I seemed to see both things at once, I saw -the ruffian take Mr. Drury’s watch from his pocket and put it back -again. He then took out a pocket-book from the breast-pocket of -his coat, opened it, looked at some papers, and put the book back. -Then he felt in his small-clothes pockets and drew out what seemed -to be a considerable roll of bank-notes. These he thrust into his -coat-pocket, and seizing the dead man by the shoulders, and Hopcraft -seizing him by the feet, they flung him into the river. The ruffian -then hurriedly slipped on his shoes, whilst Hopcraft pulled the boat -to land. As soon as they set foot on land the ruffian gave some part -of his roll to Hopcraft, who went down the river bank towards his -house, driving the horse further down before him. - -“But whilst seeing all this, in some singular manner, I saw during -the whole transaction, two old people, man and woman, occasionally -peep forth from amongst the bushes near the entrance to the hollow -road leading to the village. The man had the look of a tramp with a -sackcloth wallet on his back. The woman was in an old faded red cloak -and battered black bonnet. Both walked with sticks.” - -During this description the amazement of the listeners had momently -increased, and their exclamations of surprise were continual. Now -they said, “Oh! those are the Shalcrosses—exactly—to a hair! How -wonderful!” - -“But,” said Mr. Woodburn, “Dr. Leroy had heard, or read, in some -newspaper of the affair.” - -George looked forward in the letter, and said, “No; he says, he had -not at the writing of this heard a syllable of news, or received a -single letter, though he hoped for letters at Calcutta, but they -could not possibly convey any such news. For you forget this dream -occurred on the night immediately succeeding the catastrophe at the -ferry.” - -All sat in silent wonder. “Certainly,” said Mr. Woodburn, at length, -“it is the most amazing dream that ever occurred;—but go on, George.” - -“As the ruffian approached the end of the hollow road, these two old -people came out and confronted him. They pointed towards the ferry, -as if telling him that they had seen all, and the man made violent -gestures in return, clenching his fist and seeming to menace them. -Then he took out his roll, gave them some part of it, and they then -hasted along the river-side cart-track, and disappeared together in -the wooded glen above on Mr. Woodburn’s estate. Whilst they were yet -in sight, Mr. Drury’s horse galloped up the river-side and turned -up the hollow road towards the village. In a few minutes more men -appeared looking full of affright, went down to the ferry, and were -evidently seeking Mr. Drury. - -“That was my dream. I trust that it is but a dream. I cannot persuade -myself that any such horrible transaction has taken place: yet, -shall I confess it? the distinctness as of life itself with which the -whole of it was seen, and with which it remains, combined with my two -former experiences of similar, though not so tragical a kind, makes -me uneasy. Write to me, dear George, at the ship agents’, Calcutta, -Messrs. Mac Campbell and Dimsdale; I shall get it, perhaps, as I -come back, for Captain Andrews, of the Aurungzebe, is going to China -with a cargo of opium, to reload there with tea for England, and has -persuaded me to accompany him. He offers me great terms to accompany -him home again, when he expects distinguished passengers, and as I -have taken a great liking to him, perhaps I may,—who knows? Ah, if I -had but one happy word from England, I would accept the invitation -as the message of an angel. But England lies cold on my heart: and I -have flattering prospects held out to me of a practice amongst the -invalids in the Nilgherry Hills. Well, time must decide.” - - * * * * * - -“There are messages of friendship to you all,” said George, “and to -others; the rest we can read another time, but the surprising nature -of this dream makes my head swim.” - -“I believe every word of it,” said Letty, “is as true as gospel. The -facts, as far as they are known, are as exact as if related by an -eye-witness. Why should the rest not be equally exact? That Dr. Leroy -should see in his dream Scammel and the Shalcrosses whom he does not -know, is so extraordinary that it is to me a pledge of the truth. And -did not the Gospel, at breakfast, say that whatever is hidden shall -be revealed?” - -“The coincidence,” said Mr. Woodburn, “is certainly very curious—the -dream is very curious; but would to God that it were anything but a -dream!” - -“Father,” said George, “one thing is certain, it has put us on a -track that we can quickly follow out. We can set on foot a careful, -well arranged inquiry after these people mentioned. I have not -seen Scammel or the Shalcrosses for a long time. If Scammel be the -murderer, he has good reason to avoid the neighbourhood, and to -keep the Shalcrosses away. A fellow more likely to do such an act -I do not know: and another thing strikes me. Hopcraft, who used to -be so famous for his cabbage and potato-garden, his fat pigs and -his hens—look at him now; he has, almost ever since the date of Mr. -Drury’s death, been going back in the world. He killed his pigs at -Christmas, but has not bought any fresh ones, though young pigs -are plentiful and cheap. His hens are gone, and his garden is a -chaos. He seems to have no heart to work it. He has, as you know, -been on the parish these six months, and his wife looks more like a -scarecrow than a woman. I asked him how all this has come about one -day lately, and he said he had no luck. That is true; he has no luck -because his conscience, it is my firm conviction, is not at ease. -But I will ride up to Sir Henry, and show him the letter, and if he -thinks it warrants it, we will set about to sound these fellows.” - -George ordered his horse, and rode off; in less than an hour he and -Sir Henry came riding back together. - -“Well,” said Sir Henry, “this is a very wonderful affair.” - -“You believe it then?” said Mr. Woodburn, who was evidently getting -into a state of great excitement. - -“I believe every word of it, and so does Ann—by the by, she will -be down here directly,” said Sir Henry. “My father would have been -delighted with it. He had been so much in the East, that he had seen -a great deal of the amazing powers of what are called magic, or -the occult, which are exercised there by some of the most powerful -chiefs. The last thing that he would believe was in their fixed -notion of the evil eye; but one day, in Greece, riding a most -valuable and favourite horse, he saw a man sitting by the roadside, -noted and dreaded for the possession of this evil power. On coming -opposite, and the man looking hard at his horse, it dropped suddenly -as if shot, under him, and was stone dead. A wonderful coincidence, -at least, my father used to say. - -“But now, for prosecuting this important inquiry. It must be -cautiously and unobtrusively done. That Joe Scammel is a desperate -fellow, and as wide awake as a hare in March. The slightest -suspicion, and he would be gone far enough, for he ranges over a -great extent of country. I was surprised to find him as well known to -keepers of Staffordshire as he is here. I have an idea which George -approves. This is to set Tom Boddily on this quest. He is the most -knowing fellow I have come across anywhere round here. He is an -old soldier, and his living up and down in quarters has sharpened -his wits. It was but yesterday that he came before us at the county -hall in a very droll way. Our friend, Sylvanus Crook, was sent on -Miss Millicent’s mare to Castleborough on an errand. It was a good -distance from the town-house of the Heritages, where his errand lay. -So instead of Sylvanus taking the mare to their own stable, he put -her up for the time at the Spread Eagle. It was market-day, and the -stables were crowded. When he went back for the mare, behold she was -not there. - -“‘Where is my mare?’ asked Sylvanus in great alarm. - -“‘Mr. Heritage’s groom took her,’ said the hostler, ‘and said you -must ride home this,’ pointing to a wretched animal not worth ten -pounds. Sylvanus asked what sort of a man this groom was, and was -told a man in a drab jockey coat with large buttons and top boots. - -“‘That,’ said Sylvanus, ‘is no groom of ours; it is a hoax. Dear! -dear! what will master, what will Millicent say? Man! man! thou hadst -no business to let any person have my horse till I came.’ - -“Sylvanus hurried off to the bank. The theft and description of the -horse and the thief were cried through the market; and handbills -ordered to placard in all the towns round. You may imagine the -consternation at Fair Manor, and the grief of Miss Heritage at the -loss of her favourite May Dew. But about three o’clock next morning, -Tom Boddily, who lives at a cottage on the green opposite to Fair -Manor gates, sprung up in bed, saying, - -“‘That’s May Dew.’ - -“‘You’re dreaming, Tom,’ said his wife. - -“‘No,’ replied Tom; ‘I heard her neigh. I know that sharp, clear -neigh well enough. And there it is again.’ - -“Tom slipped on his clothes; out and across the green towards the -place whence the sound came, when, to his amazement, he saw May Dew -standing at Fair Manor gates, with her nose put through the bars, -and a great fellow fast asleep on her back, and his head resting on -her neck. Quick as lightning, Tom ran back; with a handful of gravel -woke up Tim Bentley at the Grey Goose, and told him to come down in a -moment. Tim was soon down, wondering what was on foot, when Tom took -him, making motions to keep still, and showed him May Dew with the -fellow on her back. Tom then took May Dew by the bridle, and led her -gently to the door of the Grey Goose. - -“‘Now, Bentley,’ he said, in a whisper, ‘you must have this fellow -in; he has evidently drunk some drugged beer somewhere, and the mare -has come home with him. You must have the fellow in, and let him lie -on the squab till morning. I’ll put up the mare and be back and get -Latter, and we’ll secure the fellow.’ - -“Bentley then shook the fellow. ‘Heigh-ho!’ said he, ‘won’t you get -down, stranger?’ - -“‘What is it?’ asked the fellow, drowsily. - -“‘It is the Grey Goose public-house,’ said Bentley; ‘you’ll put up -your horse, and have your nap out.’” - -“‘Grey Goose?’ said the fellow. ‘Have you oats—have you good ale?’ - -“‘Both,’ said Bentley, and with Tom’s help they got the stupified -fellow down, and into the house. Then he looked about rather more -wakefully, and said— - -“‘It’s queer how I came here; there’s d—d hockley indyberries in this -beer. Landlord, you’ve a good tap, eh?’ - -“‘First-rate!’ said Bentley, ‘no bacca nor hockley-indy in our beer.’ -He fetched the man a pint, who drank it off at a breath, said, -‘You’ve a safe stable, eh?’ and being assured of that, lay along on -the squab, a sort of wooden sofa, and fell asleep again. Meantime, -Tom Boddily led the mare to her own stable, and woke up Job Latter, -who came with his handcuffs and a strap, and secured the fellow as he -still slept in a stupid, drunken sleep. You may imagine the surprise -and joy at Fair Manor in the morning; and I can assure you that -Tom Boddily yesterday won great credit among the justices for his -adroitness, when the case came before them. - -“That really was very clever,” said Mr. Woodburn; “but what is -Boddily to do? Had you not better take up Hopcraft on suspicion?” - -“I doubt that,” said Sir Henry. “We must create no alarm. I would -employ Tom to sound Hopcraft a little without exciting his alarm too -much, and if he thinks him guilty, to set out to beat up Scammel -before we arrest Hopcraft. We can keep an eye on Hopcraft meantime, -he is so stupid a fellow that it won’t be difficult.” - -Sir Henry immediately went up to Fair Manor, and returned, saying, -“Mrs. Heritage believed Dr. Leroy’s letter was the Lord’s work, and -Boddily should be put at once and wholly at our service.” - -Soon after Tom made his appearance, and the matter being explained to -him in confidence, he said at once— - -“That’s it! My word for it, gentlemen, you have hit it. There is -something wrong about that Hopcraft. He is sunk into a wretched -pauper, and have not you noticed he is always looking behind him, -at any little noise, as if he were afraid of a constable after him. -As to that Scammel, I have not seen him for many a month. There’s -something in that. He used to come to the Grey Goose of an evening, -every now and then. But I’ll hunt him up if he is in the land of the -living.” - -As Hopcraft was in the cornfield reaping with other men, it was -thought best not to say anything to him till evening, when he -had gone home. In the meantime, Boddily went to prepare for his -expedition after Scammel. In the course of the day he sent to the -Grange a coarse brown linen bag to wait for him. In the evening he -came hastily into the Grange, and being sent for into the parlour, -where Sir Henry Clavering was again, he said, “It is a case! I have -seen Hopcraft; I looked in as if in passing, and remarked that I -thought he could not be well, his garden was so out of order. He said -no, it was bad luck; he did not know how, but everything went wrong. -I then asked where Scammel was now-a-days, I had not seen him for -long. He was evidently alarmed at the mention of his name. He did -not know, he said, and did not want to know; Scammel was a terrible -fellow. ‘Do you think he had any hand in that murder at the ferry -there?’ said I. - -“‘Murder!’ said Hopcraft, ‘it was no murder—the horse kicked him.’ -‘Well,’ said I, ‘I’ve some queer thoughts about that, and you know, -Hopcraft, there are 300_l._ for any one who can find out who did -that; a pretty sum. Suppose you and I were to go shares at that?’ - -“‘Don’t you meddle with it, Boddily,’ he said, evidently greatly -frightened, ‘Scammel is a devil; he will be down on you like a shower -of rain. Let him alone, I say, let him alone, in the devil’s name.’ - -“‘Then he must be somewhere near, to be so quickly down on one.’ - -“‘I know nothing about that; I say let him alone. Everybody says it -was an accident.’ - -“‘On the contrary,’ said I, ‘a little bird has whispered something to -me. There were two people who saw the whole thing.’ - -“‘What who?’ said Hopcraft, pale and trembling—‘who said so—them -Shalcrosses?’ - -“‘No matter,’ said I, ‘only, Hopcraft, as you live so near and may -have seen something of the real fact, if you and I could bring it -home to Scammel, that 300_l._ would be a very nice thing.’ - -“Hopcraft was now thoroughly frightened. ‘Mind,’ said he, ‘I know -nothing, and I’ve said nothing; so don’t you bring me in any way.’ - -“‘Well,’ said I, ‘how can I, when you know nothing, and have said -nothing?’ - -“‘Well, then,’ said Hopcraft, ‘you won’t say that you have had any -talk with me, eh’?—you won’t, Boddily?’ - -“‘Oh, make yourself easy, Hopcraft,’ I said. ‘As you know nothing, -what is the use of mentioning you? But now I must go, our folks -will be wondering where I am. But, Hopcraft, if ever you _do_ hear -anything, tell me first about it, and let us get the three hundred.’ - -“This seemed to quiet him, and he said, ‘You may trust to me, -Boddily; only be snug, eh? You won’t say a word of this?’ - -“‘What would be the use?’ I said, ‘if we are some day to find out -something. As you say, Snug’s the word.’ And with that I came away, -Hopcraft uneasily watching me through his garden hedge. He’s got a -fright, and it will be well to talk to him a little cheerfully in the -cornfield, occasionally, to allay any suspicions.” - -“At all events,” said Sir Henry, “we will have an eye on him, he -won’t escape us. But his mentioning the Shalcrosses is a settler. We -have the thing by the end now. I congratulate you, dear Mr. Woodburn; -all will soon be cleared up, depend upon it.” - -“God grant it,” said Mr. Woodburn; and all present. - -“And when are you off, Boddily?” asked Sir Henry; but receiving -no answer he looked round, and saw that Boddily had disappeared. -“Where’s Boddily?” he asked. - -“Here!” answered a dirty, grimy, limping, shabby fellow, coming down -the back stairs. All looked in astonishment: could that be Boddily? -It was a regular lounging-looking tramp, in a ragged old surtout, and -ragged drab trousers, worn off very much behind at the heel. A pair -of very slip-shod shoes on, and great holes, or potatoes, according -to Midland county phrase, in his stocking heels. A very old, battered -hat on his head, and a canvas wallet on his back, tied up like a sack -at the top, and suspended over his shoulders by very old cracked -straps. “Can your worships bestow your charity on a poor fellow who -has not tasted bit nor sup these three days?” - -There was one general burst of laughter, for Tom had so completely -metamorphosed himself that nobody knew him till he made this -petition. Then, changing his tone, he said, “Gentlemen, now I am -off—in my wallet I carry a suit of my ordinary clothes. You will hear -from me every few days, and may God prosper us, for I mean to go to -John o’ Groat’s or the Land’s End, but I’ll have that Scammel.” - -With that Tom made a grave bow, put on his hat, and with a shuffling, -limping gait, left the house by the front door, and with a dirty, -ugly stick, very much in keeping with his whole appearance, he went -slowly up the road till he was out of sight. - -“That is a most extraordinary fellow,” said Sir Henry. “I would bet -anything on his success; so now we must wait in patience for news -from him.” With that he shook hands heartily all round, mounted his -horse, and rode home. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - - SCAMMEL’S DEATH. - - -Some days disappeared after Boddily’s departure without news from -him. There came a letter to say he had explored the neighbourhoods -of the Bullockshed, Tenterhook, Sheepshank, and Swagsides estates, -where game abounded, and where Scammel was known to haunt; but he -had disappeared from those places for some time. There was no trace -of him. A week more, and Tom had been through Elvaston and Shipley -woods, and on into the neighbourhood of the preserves of the Dukes -of Devonshire and Rutland, on the borders of the Peak of Derbyshire, -and no news of him of late. Then another like interval, and Tom had -explored the vicinities of the Lords Vernon, Bagot, Anson, and -Gower, in Staffordshire, and still no news. Then he was bending his -course towards Leicestershire. Amongst poachers, where Scammel was -a great leader but a few years ago, he was now missed, and many -thought him dead; but Boddily found nowhere any news of his death. -In the lodging-houses of tramps, who came across all sorts of people -accustomed to ply their daily or nocturnal arts amongst the farms and -villages, no news. Tom was puzzled, but not disheartened. The man, he -felt, had stepped out of his ordinary haunts for concealment. No such -persons as the Shalcrosses were, or had been, seen for a good while -in all the regions of trampdom. Wherever they lay perdu, they were, -he felt sure, together. - -During the time that Boddily was absent, Nathan Hopcraft had -evidently grown more uneasy, and had gone over to Fair Manor one -Sunday to inquire for him. Sylvanus Crook told him Thomas Boddily -was away about his master’s business. He would tell him when he -came back that he, Nathan Hopcraft, had inquired after him. But as -Sylvanus was in the secret of Tom’s absence, to allay Nathan’s fears -he went on to the house, and brought him out a large piece of cold -roast-beef, wrapped in a newspaper, to take home with him—a most -savoury offering to Hopcraft’s gigantic appetite. - -It was towards the end of September when Tom suddenly made his -appearance at the Grange. He had discovered Scammel. Far away in a -heathery glen in Charnwood Forest, in Leicestershire, he had come -upon a gipsies’ camp. It was mid-day, and all the men and younger -women were absent on their rounds; a few old crones only were there, -and an old cur or two, which ran out to a distance to meet and bark -at Boddily. But there was something in Tom’s tramp-like appearance, -and his quiet welcoming of them that soon silenced them, and they -followed him and licked his hands caressingly. On coming up, Tom -squatted down familiarly, and entered into talk with the old women. -He asked them how far to the next village, and the houses best to -call at. This information the old dames readily gave, and offered him -some stew from their kettle on the fire, which sent out a savoury -smell. But just as Tom was about to accept it, his eye casually fell -on an open cabin, formed of sticks bent into hoop shape, and saw, -lying on the straw there, fast asleep, no other than the man of his -search. It was Scammel’s black head and sunburnt sullen face, and -no mistake. Tom nodded familiarly towards him, and said, “The palla -there looks tired.” - -“Yes,” said one of the old women, with a significant smile; “out much -at night—supplies the pot there.” - -“Aha!” said Tom; “a good butty, that; don’t let us disturb him.” - -“You can’t readily do that,” said another old woman: “when he does -sleep a crack o’ thunner would not wake him.” - -Tom despatched his stew, praised it highly, and then said he must -make use of the day while it lasted, and visit some of the farms. -He bade them good-day, and limped off. Tom had found his game, but -he saw difficulties in taking it. Scammel had evidently allied -himself with the gipsies to secure a retreat away from villages -and lodging-houses, amongst which news circulates freely over the -country; and with three hundred pound reward hanging over his head -the fewer companions the better. He could turn out at night, forage -amongst the hares and pheasants, and sleep quietly under watch of the -old crones in the day. They had allowed Tom to approach, from his -orthodoxly trampish look; but how was he to approach by day over that -open heath with men sufficient to take the ruffian napping? - -Tom pondered this point long and anxiously as he strode along. “How -shall I bring Latter, and, say, Ralph Chaddick, Sir Henry’s powerful -head-keeper, to this camp, without starting the game and seeing -Scammel run for it into the next woods? If he were once up, he would -put a couple of bullets from his double-barrel through any two of us -as soon as look at us.” Tom sat on a hill and looked round. Every way -were difficulties. They could not approach the camp in any direction -without coming into full notice from it. Though to-day all the men -were away, it might not be so every day. If any of these were there, -the difficulty was greater. Reflecting on these matters, and putting -them into all possible shapes, Tom reached the next village, and -entered the Cat and Fiddle public-house, and sitting down, called for -his pint. As a tramp he did not presume to enter into conversation -with the two or three farmers who were chatting over their glasses -there. He soon learned that they had all got their harvests over, -and were “taking their ease in their inn” a little, in a state of -comfortable complacency over their good fortune. As Tom seemed to -listen to their discourse with considerable interest, one of them -said— - -“Well, traveller, and have you got your harvest pretty well?” - -“But middling, sir,” said Tom; “my fields lie rather wide asunder.” - -“I reckon so,” said the farmer; “and a pretty good stock of gleaners -in ’em.” - -“True, sir,” said Tom. - -“Yet you manage to get your bread, I daresay?” - -“Well,” said Tom, “if I don’t get bread I manage to get cake, -perhaps, or a piece of cold pudding. I never knew the want of bread, -thank God, but once, and then I made a pretty good shift with -pie-crust.” - -“Oh, you did, eh?” said the man, brightening up; for he saw Tom had -something in him; and a bit of clever talk was rather a novelty down -there. The place was much troubled with stagnation of ideas. - -“You’re not unreasonable, at any rate,” said the farmer, all the rest -kindling up considerably. - -“No,” said Tom, “not quite as unreasonable as a neighbour of mine, -who, when he went home to his dinner, asked his wife why she had not -made a pudding. ‘Because,’ said the wife, ‘there was no flour in the -house.’ ‘Then,’ said the husband, ‘why did not you make a bit of a -dumpling?’” - -“Bread of idleness, I reckon,” said another, “is sweeter to you, -young fellow, than any other, whether white or brown, fine flour or -seconds, with a glass of summat strong occasionally to scare the cold -off your stomach.” - -“Gentlemen,” said Tom, “it’s no idle affair, I can assure you, to -shuffle from town to town with a lame leg;”—and Tom drew his right -foot in with an expression of well-affected pain in his face. “You’ve -heard, no doubt, of the old man on his death-bed that his wife was -giving a lot of messages to carry to her relations in the next world, -when he interrupted her with, ‘Hold thy tongue, old woman; dost think -I can go stumping all over heaven with my lame leg to carry thy -gossip?’ That man knew, gentleman, what a burden a lame leg is.” - -The farmers, who had evidently never heard of the stumping about -heaven story before, laughed heartily. - -“How did you get lamed, young man?” asked one. - -“In service, sir.” - -“What, you’ve bin a sodger, eh?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Ay, ay, that’s where you’ve picked up your knowledge. Now I see. I -reckon you’ve learned th’ Eleventh Commandment?” - -“No,” said Tom, “what’s that?” - -“Not know that, an bin a sodger? Why, th’ Eleventh Commandment is—‘As -new debts come on so fast, thou shalt not pay the old ’uns.’” - -“Well, thank heaven,” said Tom, “I’ve no occasion for book-keeping. -I’ve no credit to give, and I get as little. Blessed are those that -have nothing, for they cannot lose it. Now, I reckon you gentlemen -farmers find many slips betwixt the cup and lip. I can tell you of a -funny thing as happened to an alderman of our town.” - -“Where’s your town? I thought all towns were alike to your trade.” - -“Well, that’s just it,” said Tom; “but Tag-town, in the land of -Green Ginger, where the houses are built of black-puddings and -thatched with pancakes, and with windows that used to be glazed -with barley-sugar, but the lads have broken all the panes. That is -my particular town; and there, as I was going to say, is a jolly -alderman, a big, broadchested, hearty, laughing man he is, and pokes -his fingers in your sides when he tells you a good story. Well, he -has a fine, large garden, and in the middle of it a fine, large lawn, -and in the middle of the lawn is a fine, large oak-tree. Now, the -grass of the lawn had become thin, and the alderman told his gardener -to dig up his lawn, and sow it with barley for the fowls, and next -year they would turf the lawn again. The gardener thought this an -odd fancy, but said he to himself, aldermen arn’t farmers, nor yet -gardeners.” - -“He wor right there,” said the farmers. - -“Nothing would serve our alderman, but the lawn must be dug up and -sown with barley, and so it was at spring. The barley came up and -grew finely, and the alderman said to the gardener, ‘Well, John, we -shall have a fine crop here.’ - -“‘No, sir,’ said the gardener; ‘you’ll excuse me, but you’ll just -have none at all.’” - -“‘None at all; why not?’ said the alderman. ‘It looks very healthy.’ - -“‘It does so,’ said the gardener; ‘but mark my word—you won’t have no -barley here.’ - -“‘Why, how is that?’ demanded the alderman. - -“‘I can’t just say,’ said the gardener, ‘but that’s how it will be.’ - -“The alderman thought the gardener very stupid, and every time he -went round his garden he looked particularly at the barley plot. It -grew and flourished, and as summer came in it shot into ear, and the -alderman said to the gardener, ‘You’re all wrong, John. You never saw -a finer, healthier, more promising crop of barley in your life.’ - -“‘That’s quite true, sir,’ said the gardener; ‘but mark my word, sir, -you’ll never get a bushel of barley out of this plot.’ - -“The alderman was quite exasperated with the gardener, and went away -saying, ‘You’re a fool, John, that’s all.’ The weather grew hot, -and when the alderman went home on Saturday, the barley looked quite -ripe, and he ordered John with much triumph to cut it on Monday. - -“Now, the alderman, after his good dinner on Sunday, got an extra -good Sunday nap in his arm-chair, and very cross was he to be woke up -out of the sweetest sleep by somebody, and to see John, the gardener, -standing in his Sunday suit before him, and with his hat in his hand. - -“‘Hang it, John,’ said he, ‘you are getting more stupid than ever. -Why do you come in and wake me up in this manner?’ - -“‘I beg your worship’s pardon,’ said John, ‘but I want you to come -into the garden, and see a sight.’ - -“‘Be hanged to your sights!’ said the alderman; ‘what is it? Can’t -you say what it is?’ - -“‘I can’t exactly say, sir,’ said John. ‘I’d rather your worship saw -it yourself. You don’t see such a sight in a barley-plot every day.’ - -“At the mention of the barley, up jumped the alderman with a very red -face, and nearly fell on the floor, for his legs were asleep yet; -but, when he got a little right, out he went. - -“‘Come quietly,’ said John, ‘as quietly as possible;’ and he led him -along a grass-walk, and begged him not to speak, nor even to cough, -or he would spoil all. At last, from under cover of the trees, he -points, and the alderman, to his astonishment and consternation, saw -the oak tree in the middle of the barley plot as black as his hat, -all over with rooks, and the barley under was as black as his hat -too. There were thousands and thousands, and they were all as silent -as so many undertakers at a funeral. The alderman could stand it no -longer, but out he rushed and shouted—Shoo! and up went the rooks -with such a sough, and a whistle of wings, and a cacawing, that was -enough to deafen a cataract itself. - -“‘It is that cursed old crow,’ said the gardener, ‘that I seed -perched on the tree yesterday morning at six o’clock when I came to -my work. I knew he would go and tell all the crows round the country -what a pretty barley-plot your worship had got here. I know them -black gentlemen of old, and I’ve been expecting him some time.’ - -“‘Then why didn’t you shoot him?’ said the alderman in a great rage. - -“‘Ha! shoot him!’ said the gardener. ‘I must cotch him first, and -plug his nostrils up, for he can smell powder a mile off. But it is -just what I said—it is all up with the barley.’ - -“‘Have done with your stupid nonsense,’ said the alderman. ‘Hire a -dozen men, and have it all down in half an hour in the morning: but -you had rather see those devils of crows eat it, eh? It would make -your prophesying true.’ - -“‘Not a bit of it,’ said John; ‘I shall miss all this good barley in -the winter for the fowls; but I knew how it would be.’ - -“The alderman went away very crusty: he had lost his nap, and a good -deal of barley. Next morning comes John and three or four men, to mow -and carry away the barley, to secure it from the crows, but the crows -had been there for three hours before John came at six, and had not -left a single ear on the stalks.” - -“Well, seize me,” said one of the farmers, “but that’s a good story, -and just like them rooks.” - -“A deep old file that gardener,” said the others. “You know a thing -or two, young fellow, we can see. Now I dare say as you go on through -the country, you can put a bit of wire in your pocket and snickle a -puss now and then. That makes a good supper at the lodging-house. -There’s rare living there, I hear; jolly beggars all when you getten -together.” - -“There’s a deal of fun there often,” said Tom; “and if you farmers -and the gentlemen landlords could but hear yourselves talked of -by some witty rogues—taken off, as they call it—you’d hardly know -yourselves again. But as to poaching, I can tell you the prettiest -feat of that kind that ever came off, and done by a sort of a -gentleman too.” - -“Let’s have it,” said the farmers, for they had not had such an -entertaining fellow for a very long while to listen to. “Landlord, -another pint for him, to wet his whistle, it mun get dry with so much -talk.” - -“Thank you, gentlemen,” said Tom; “but I never allow myself above a -pint.” - -“Then put this pint to our score, landlord,” said the farmer. “And -this bit of poaching?” - -“It was this,” said Tom. “In the town of C——ff, in South Wales, where -I was once quartered with the regiment, there was a young fellow, -a travelling portrait-painter. He dressed like a gentleman, but -rather, just a bit, seedily, and he wore fine light boots; but one -day I heard him say, as a gentleman was taking him to his house to -paint some young ladies, ‘I see my boots are burst at the side; I am -ashamed to go into a good house, and into the presence of ladies; but -the misfortune is, my feet are so tender I can’t wear good boots.’ -Thinks I, certainly not, but the tenderness is, I guess, in the -pocket. Well this young fellow painted little portraits for lockets -of many of the young gentlemen and their sweethearts, but somehow -he never seemed to get richer. He was well known by staying in the -town some months, and one day, passing a game-dealer’s, he saw a -wonderfully fine woodcock. He stopped, admired it, cheapened it, and -bought it for four-and-sixpence. ‘I’ll call and pay you for it in a -day or two, he said to the dealer, but I will take it and show it to -a friend.’ So he carried it away with him, went straight to one of -the principal inns in the town, showed it to the landlord, and said, -‘See what I have brought you! It is the finest woodcock I ever saw, -and fat too.’ - -“‘Oh, thank you,’ said the landlord; ‘you are very kind; you must -come and partake of it to-morrow.’ - -“‘To-morrow—no, I can’t dine with you to-morrow, but I’ll stay and -dine with you to-day instead, if you ask me; I don’t care myself for -game.’ - -“Said and done. The artist knew that it was then exactly the -landlord’s hour. They dined together, got very friendly over their -wine; the landlord had the woodcock brought in to admire it afresh. - -“‘By-the-by,’ said the painter; ‘it would be a shame to pluck that -bird and not to take a portrait of it. Give me leave to carry it -home, you shall have both it, and a good sketch of it, early in the -morning.’ - -“‘You are very good,’ said the landlord; and the young man carried -off the woodcock when he went. The next day, at the same hour, he -went to another inn, played the same game, got another dinner, -carried back the bird to paint it, but instead of painting it, he now -skinned it, had the bird nicely dressed, cooked, and eat it himself. -Immediately after dinner he carried the skin to a bird-stuffer’s, -ordered him to set it up in his best style, and send it to the museum -of the town. He left written on a paper—‘Presented to the public -Museum of C——ff, by J. D——, Esq.’ - -“All this was done. The two landlords wondered that the woodcock -never came, the bird-stuffer delivered the stuffed bird, and the -label with it, to the keeper of the museum; but when both he and the -game-dealer called for their money, they found that J. D——, Esq., had -left the town immediately after this transaction. He had made three -dinners out of the bird, and had received a vote of thanks from the -committee of the museum, without its having cost him a farthing. -The story is famous in C——ff, and the bird is conspicuous yet in the -museum, and with the label of presentation attached, by J. D——, Esq.” - -“My!” said the farmer; “that’s living by yer wits, and no doubt on’t. -That wor a dead nap, that painter fellow. That woodcock wor worth -keeping for a show.” - -“Yes,” said Tom; “the painter made game of the game-dealer himself, -and stuffed both himself, the landlords, and the bird-stuffer in -first-rate style.” - -“A pretty rogue, though,” said one of the farmers. “He wanted laying -by the heels in the stocks for a few hours, and pelting wi’ mud.” - -“Oh, trust him,” said Tom; “he’d get his deserts in the end. I never -knew a dirty cur that went barking and nibbling horses’ heels, that -did not get a clout on the head some day.” - -As Tom said this, in came a countryman with a two-quart stone bottle, -which he carried by a string tied by the neck. The landlord took the -man’s money without an observation. - -“You see that,” said one of the farmers; “our squire’s keepers -complain dreadful of the decrease of their game in the woods there on -the forest.” - -“Ay, that they do,” said another, “and the cause is plain as -daylight. It’s them gipsies camped there.” - -“It’s one gipsy, a huge, dare-devil looking fellow,” said the first; -“who lies in the straw all day, and turns out only at night. They -should look out for him and nab him.” - -“Ay, faith, but how?” - -“Nothing easier,” said the first farmer. “This woodman lives in the -cottage on the edge of the wood, just behind the gipsy camp. He’s in -league with them, as I know. Every afternoon he calls here for the -man’s ale—that’s his weakness—and every evening, punctually at eight -o’clock, the big black fellow walks down there, and they empty that -bottle together, and then it’s time for the poaching business.” - -“Ay, how came you to find that out?” asked another. - -“No matter,” said the first; “I know it, and any couple of good stout -fellows who would watch for him at eight o’clock would be sure to -find him.” - -“Yes, but they must first know that he poaches, and be able to prove -it on him.” - -“Well, of course; but that’s soon done by a keeper that will have a -quick eye upon him.” - -Tom had now heard enough. His lingering and story-telling here had -been no loss of time. He drank off his beer, made his bow to the -farmers, and shuffled off. He followed the man with the bottle, -saw him take a cart road through the woods, and, keeping within -the trees, followed till he saw the cottage, and the man enter -it. “Good,” said he; “now I know my lesson.” Tom lost no time in -changing his clothes, and washing his face in a pool. He then thrust -his wallet, with the old ragged toggery, into a large gorse-bush, -and, like a smart servant out of livery, and in a neat Glengarry cap -instead of a hat, cut across the country to the great Leicester road, -and by coach next day was at Hillmartin, where he got down and walked -to Woodburn. - -Great was the exultation at Tom’s success. It was soon arranged that -Tom, with Job Latter, the constable blacksmith, Ralph Chaddick, -Sir Henry’s keeper, and Luke Palin, Sir Henry’s groom,—Latter the -strongest, and the two others the most active young fellows of the -neighbourhood,—should set out before light in the morning; two in a -spring cart, and two on horseback, and should make all speed to the -place of Scammel’s retreat. It was calculated that they could reach -the neighbourhood by evening, and, putting up their horses at a -neighbouring village, be ready for the eight o’clock enterprise. All -this they readily accomplished, and so anxious were Sir Henry and -George Woodburn that they rode thither themselves. - -The proximity of the woods to the woodman’s house, rendered it easy -to watch Scammel’s movements, and very little after the time named by -the farmer they saw his well-known tall figure coming down the heath, -and enter the house. “The first thing,” said Sir Henry, “on rushing -into the house, look out for Scammel’s gun, and seize it if you can, -or, if he have time, he will give one of you the charge.” It was now -at the end of September, getting fast dark, and the four men, taking -a little, cautious circuit, came up at the back of the house. The -window-shutters were not closed, and, by the light of the fire, they -saw Scammel seated facing the hearth, with his back towards them. His -gun was laid on a table at his right hand. The woodman and his wife -were seated by the chimney, to the left of Scammel, and had each a -mug of ale in their hands. At once there was a rush. Scammel started -up, but only to be pinioned by Latter’s iron gripe; his gun, towards -which he stretched out his hand, was adroitly drawn back by Luke -Palin. In another moment there was a tremendous struggle. Scammel, -who possessed enormous strength, twisted himself partly loose, by a -violent effort, from Latter’s clutch, and came face to face, but it -was only to be caught in a hug worthy of a great grizzly bear of the -American forests, whilst Palin and Chaddick also closed upon him. -The struggle was then furious. Scammel put forth his huge strength; -he kicked, he bit, he foamed at the mouth, and swore terribly. But -Latter held fast as a vice to him, and Chaddick drew a noose round -his ankles, and forcing them together, prevented his ferocious -kicks. It was, however, like four fierce beasts writhing and raging -together; but at length Scammel was thrown, and Latter fell upon him, -whilst Chaddick and Palin bound faster round his legs their strong -cords; and at length the savage ruffian, giving in as beaten, and -lying stupid and speechless, they managed to roll him over, pinion -his arms securely behind him, and thus had him at their mercy. During -all this time the woodman and his wife stood helpless and trembling. -The light spring cart was soon brought by Boddily and Palin through -the wood and over the heath; Scammel was hoisted in, and Sir Henry -Clavering and George Woodburn came and took a view of him. There the -great strong fellow lay on the straw at the bottom of the cart with -his eyes shut, and his features, rendered almost black with rage, -wore a sullen air of dogged endurance. Having seen their criminal -secured, Sir Henry and George rode away with great satisfaction. - -Before leaving, inquiries were made after the Shalcrosses by Boddily -and his companions, but either the woodman and his wife knew -nothing, or would say nothing, though offered money. - -By the next afternoon the party had managed to reach Cotmanhaye -Manor, where Simon Degge was ready to assist Sir Henry in hearing -the charge against Scammel, for Hopcraft was now arrested, and, on -hearing of Scammel’s being secured, was all eagerness to prove him -the murderer. The magistrates had heard Hopcraft once this forenoon, -who had sworn that Scammel had committed the murder at the Ferry, -precisely as described in Dr. Leroy’s letter, and Hopcraft excused -himself by saying that Scammel had taken him by surprise, and then -swore to murder _him_ too if he said anything. As for himself, he -vowed that he had taken no part in the murder. He had only seen it in -terror and fear of his own life. - -“But,” said the magistrates, “you helped to throw Mr. Drury into the -river, and you accepted part of the money.” - -Hopcraft was dreadfully frightened to hear that this was known, and -said, “But the man was dead when he was thrown into the river, and -what could I do? He would have murdered me if I had refused either -that, or to take some of the money.” Hopcraft was remanded till the -arrival of Scammel, and he was now ordered up. The magistrates were -seated in the library looking on to the lawn. As the afternoon was -one of those so intensely hot about three o’clock in September, one -of the French windows was left open. The prisoner, bound fast in all -the coils of cords in which he had been enveloped on his capture, was -carried in by two of the men and laid in the middle of the floor. -Around stood Palin, Latter, Chaddick, and Boddily, all bearing -obvious traces of their exertions for nearly two days and a night. -Besides, there were several men-servants of the house. - -The prisoner looked like some savage bear borne down by force, -or some demon captured and secured in magic cords. His face was -nearly black with rage and hate, and casting a fierce glance at the -magistrates, he said, “Is this the way you treat men before they are -proved guilty of any crime. Take off the d—d ropes that are cutting -me to the bone, and see the devil’s work your scoundrel men have -done.” - -“As to your crime,” said Mr. Degge, “we have full evidence of that on -the oath of Nathan Hopcraft.” - -“Ha!” said the writhing prisoner with a demon scowl, “that is the way -the wind blows, eh? That is the dirty earth-worm that would swear -away my life, eh? Release me. I will swear not to attempt to escape, -as how could I?”—looking round—“Release me! let me stretch my limbs, -and chafe them, or my heart will burst with rage. I will show you -what that wretch is. I will show who is the murderer.” - -“Show us that,” said Mr. Degge, “and then we will ease your cords.” - -“Never!” said Scammel, with a voice full of fury, “never whilst I am -thus tortured will I speak a word. Release me a few moments to make -my limbs feel alive, and I will tell you all. I don’t want to save -myself; I would rather die and have done with this hell of a world -than not, but that crawling, creeping earth-worm—oh! I will give him -his due.” - -The magistrates consulted a moment and then told Palin and Chaddick -to stand in the open window, and the other men to range themselves in -file round the prisoner. They then bade Latter and Boddily to loose -his cords. This they did promptly, the prisoner groaning as one after -another gave way, the very loosening seeming to send each time a pang -through him. As soon as he was at liberty, he reared himself up a -figure so tall and stalwart as to make even the magistrates feel the -imprudence of their concession. - -“Put the handcuff on the prisoner’s right hand, and secure him to -yourself, Latter,” said Sir Henry. - -“Stop a bit,” said the prisoner, “let me first chafe my limbs a -little,” and with that he threw off his coat, drew up his sleeves, -and showed the deep and livid trenches which the cords had left in -his flesh. He held them up and cried, “Is that British? Is that -Christian treatment?” and with that he began to chafe his arms with -his hands. Then he pulled off his leggings, and began chafing his -legs. Then buttoning his shirt sleeves again, he said, “Now for that -villain that says I did it!” He held out his right hand for Latter -to clasp on the handcuff, but in the same instant he gave a spring -forward, dashed his head into the chest of Luke Palin, who stood in -the open window, sent him spinning to a distance out on the lawn, and -was through the window like a shot. - -“Hold him! seize him!” shouted Sir Henry Clavering, at the same -moment starting up and giving chase without his hat. Boddily, -Chaddick, and several of the young men-servants rushed after him like -a dash of enraged hornets from their hole. Scammel was already across -the lawn, springing over the sunk fence into the park at a bound like -that of a buck, and was in full career towards the other side of -the park where there was a great mass of wood bounding it. The park -descended rapidly on that side towards the river, which, more to the -right, skirted its bottom. It was amazing with what speed Scammel -flew down the hill, considering how his limbs had been corded and -cramped for above twelve hours. But Sir Henry, who ran splendidly, -was gaining fast upon him, spite of the proverb, that a stern chase -is a long chase. Tom Boddily was close upon Sir Henry, and said, “For -God’s sake, Sir Henry, don’t attempt to seize that fellow yourself, -he has the strength of a giant and the will of a devil. With one -blow he would drop you as a butcher drops an ox.” Sir Henry made no -reply, but still put out all his strength to overtake Scammel. Behind -came half a dozen others, running with different speeds. On the lawn -by the house, Simon Degge, Thomas Clavering, and the women servants -were seen eagerly watching this extraordinary chase, and from an -open window above, Lady Clavering might be seen, evidently in great -agitation, watching it also. - -All at once Scammel suddenly altered his course, and wheeling to -the right, made for the river. There was a deep ditch and high park -palings on the side towards which he had been running, and this had -probably flashed on his mind. Boats lay at their moorings in the -river; if he got one, he might yet give them a wild chase across the -meadows or hide himself in some thicket, or amid the flags and weeds -of one of the sluggish streams that crept rather than ran through -them. The sight of Scammel’s change of course changed instantly that -of all the pursuers. Those behind seemed brought nearer to him by -the change, his goal being different. But he was far enough ahead -of even Sir Henry and Boddily to reach the river bank some distance -before them, for he was in everyday training from his predatory and -nocturnal habits. - -There were two boats chained to their posts, but, to his -mortification, the mooring-chains were fast locked. Catching up a -large pebble, he began hammering desperately at one of the locks, and -then plucking violently at the chain. It resisted all his efforts. -The pursuers were at hand; he turned and plunged into the stream. - -The next moment Sir Henry was at the boat, produced a key, and though -with an agitated hand and panting for breath, unlocked the chain, and -whilst he pushed off the boat, gave Tom Boddily the key to unlock -the other. Quickly they were both in the first boat, and were cutting -the water after the fugitive. Sir Henry was a master in handling his -oars, and sent the light skiff forward with an admirable speed. Tom -offered to take an oar. “No, Boddily, take the boat-hook, and mind -that the scoundrel does not come so near as to grapple us; if he do, -we shall entirely be swamped, and must swim for it. If he attempt it, -push him off, and don’t be afraid of pricking him with the spike. -See! the fellow is a knowing one. He won’t battle with the current by -cutting directly across; he is dropping down stream slantwise to the -meadow shore; we must keep him off there at all costs.” - -Away pulled Sir Henry, taking a course somewhat nearer to the -meadow shore on their left hand; and now the other boat was rapidly -advancing, with two rowers and two other strong men in her, and -endeavouring to cut below the swimmer. With stupendous strength and -agility the daring haunter of woods and midnight fields ploughed -his way through the water. His muscular arms sent back waves like a -strong pair of oars, and that black, curly head of his rose at every -vigorous stroke more visibly above the stream. As Sir Henry drew -nearer to him, they could see the savage scowl of his dark eyes, and -the seething wrath with which he blew the clear waves from his lips. - -“He is a dangerous customer, Tom,” said Sir Henry; “we must give him -a wide berth, always guarding against his escape to the shore, till -the other boat is at hand. We must play with our fish, and exhaust -him as much as possible, for, at all odds, he would do some mischief -at close quarters.” - -But now the sound of the oars of the other boat caught Scammel’s -ear. He turned his head hastily that way, and then a darker hue came -over his savage features. The whites of his eyes showed glaringly as -he glanced first at one shore and then at the other. Suddenly he -changed his course, and struck further down the main current. - -“That,” said Sir Henry, “is to ease himself. By throwing himself -on the rapid current, he hopes to ride ahead of us, and then gain -the shallows to the left, not far off, where he could run for it. -But all in vain! The stream carries us with still more ease and -velocity. See! he evidently flags. His strokes are less vigorous; his -body is deeper in the water. He can only keep it out of his mouth -and nostrils by blowing like a porpoise. Ha! he fails. See that -yellow-black hue—that sullen, despairing expression of his face! And -the other boat is just upon him: let us close in.” - -At this moment they were in a rapid, whirling current, caused by -the stream rushing round the projection of an island. At once the -desperate poacher and murderer cast a furious glance on one boat -and then on the other, from which several hands were already -straining to seize him; and throwing aloft his arms over his head, -with a savage, half-drowned exclamation, “Damnation!” he went down -perpendicularly like a stone. There was a burst of horror from all in -the boats. - -“Keep a sharp look-out!” cried Sir Henry; “steady your boats!—don’t -let them drift, if you can help it!” - -All eyes were strained to catch a sight of the black head again -emerging, but it was nowhere to be seen. - -“Mark something on the shore,” said Sir Henry, “to determine the spot -he went down at.” - -“I have done it,” said Boddily. “That ivied tree on the island.” - -Still all were watching for a reappearance of Scammel. Seconds, -minutes—five, ten minutes—went over, when Sir Henry said, “The wretch -has escaped us and the gallows. He will not rise again alive. He -did not mean it when he went down. Go for the drags to the Hall. -Remember, Boddily’s ivied tree. The corpse will be washed more or -less downwards from that mark. The water here is very deep.” - -There was an awed silence amongst the men in the other boat. The -sudden violent death of a human being even of the worst and most -ruffianly of our race, falls with a strange sensation on the mind. -Sir Henry bade the other boat remain on the look-out. Boddily should -put him on shore, and the drags should be quickly brought off. - -By this time, every inhabitant of the Hall and parsonage, except Mr. -Thomas Clavering, had made their way down to the bank of the river, -at the bottom of the park, and some of the house and farm-servants -had crossed to the island, and appeared on its shore, all in -breathless inquiry. As the boat drew near the shore, Sir Henry saw -Lady Clavering in great anxiety and agitation, surrounded by her -maids, and with his uncle and Mr. Degge. - -“Have you got him?” inquired Mr. Degge. - -“No,” replied Sir Henry. - -“What! has he escaped, then?” - -“Yes,” said Sir Henry; “beyond our pursuit. He is drowned.” - -“Drowned!” exclaimed a score of voices; “drowned?” - -“Yes,” said Sir Henry, as he stepped on shore; “he is drowned, sure -enough; he preferred drowning to the gallows. I can understand his -feelings.” - -“Poor fellow!” said Lady Clavering, with tears starting to her eyes. - -“Poor fellow!” said Sir Henry. “My dear Ann, do you recollect what he -was?” - -“Yes, yes!” said Lady Clavering; “but he was a man, and to know that -he has rushed into eternity with all his crimes on his soul, one -cannot help deeply feeling such a thing. But I know what a wretch he -was.” - -Sir Henry made no answer, but gave his arm to his wife; and they -began their way homeward, talking of the singularity of this event as -they ascended. - -“One thing,” said Sir Henry; “I think the news of Scammel’s death -should be kept from Hopcraft, or he may draw in his horns, when he -knows there is no more fear of him. He seemed disposed otherwise to -be communicative.” - -“On the contrary,” said Mr. Degge, “his fear being gone, he may tell -us all he knows of Scammel’s part of the murder, though he will take -care to conceal his own.” - -“Well,” said Sir Henry, “that is of less consequence; we have -his full testimony on oath of Scammel committing the murder, and -plundering the body. Now there is a curious incident come to -light. On the trial of Mr. Woodburn, the suspicion was thrown with -overwhelming force on him, because it was said that it was clear no -robbery had been contemplated. It must, therefore, have been a work -of malice. Yet, here we have proof that robbery was committed. It is -clear to me that Dr. Leroy’s dream is correct in this respect, and -when he saw the murderer take out Mr. Drury’s watch, and then put it -back again, and so by his pocket-book, it was because Scammel had the -shrewdness to apprehend that these might somehow or other lead to his -detection, if taken and made use of.” - -“I see,” said Mr. Degge, “I see. Yes, that is very curious. Now could -not this fact, of a separate amount of money in Mr. Drury’s pocket, -be ascertained by an examination of his accounts?” - -“Right! a good idea!” said Sir Henry. “George Woodburn can, I have no -doubt, clear all that up. The accounts are all in Mr. Drury’s desk at -Bilt’s Farm. I believe he kept most minute and accurate ones. I have -very little question but his Bank pass-book will, in connection with -his day-book, show that perfectly. George must write to Miss Drury, -and get permission to make the examination. Elizabeth will render -every possible aid in working out the solution of this mystery.” - -“Oh, it will be a great pleasure to George, and to us all,” said Lady -Clavering, “to be able to clear our dear father in her eyes. She has -always firmly and nobly declared that such a crime was impossible -from such a quarter.” - -“In the morning,” said Sir Henry, “we will, if convenient to you, Mr. -Degge, bring up Hopcraft again. To-day I don’t feel as if I could go -through anything more.” - -“No,” said Mr. Degge, laughing; “after such a race, and such a -catastrophe, you may well claim a rest. And what a race that was! As -I stood and watched, I thought it was one of the finest things I had -ever seen. That tall, black, brawny fellow making a desperate push -for his life, and going off the ground like a wild Indian; and you! -’pon my word, I could not have imagined that you could run so! The -way you held out was splendid, and shows that your field sports have -given you extraordinary stamina. And that Boddily; why, he seems up -to anything. It was a neck-and-neck affair between yourself and him! -Altogether the event is like a dream to me. I don’t know how I feel. -I shall not be myself till I have slept upon it.” - -“No!” said Lady Clavering, “a week won’t set me right again. I cannot -describe the horror that seized me, when I saw Sir Henry following so -closely on the heels of that desperado. ‘He will turn on him and kill -him!’ I exclaimed, ‘Oh! that some good angel could warn him of his -danger.’” - -“Well then, my dear, you had your wish: a good angel did warn me, and -that was Tom Boddily.” - -“God reward him for it!” said Ann; “and I must reward him, too, -somehow.” - -“That man,” said Mr. Degge, “has his wits about him if any man has. -He is a treasure. I don’t covet my neighbour’s goods, but I do envy -Mr. Heritage the possession of such a servant.” - -“Ay,” said Sir Henry, “look at the tact of Mrs. Heritage, who saw in -a moment, in the poor, ragged haymaker, the trusty and clever fellow -that he is.” - -“True!” said Mr. Degge, with a merry smile, “the spirit moved her, no -doubt.” - -They were now at the Hall; and Mr. Degge, though pressed to stay -dinner, took his horse and rode home. No doubt, he felt the strange -desire there is in every mortal soul of spreading news. He wanted to -tell them at home of this extraordinary occurrence. And he wanted -to call at Woodburn Grange to tell it, for George Woodburn, though -deeply interested in the examination of Scammel, had felt so -excessively wearied with his long ride in Leicestershire and loss of -sleep, that he had gone home. - -The men on the river continued their dragging till it was quite dark, -but without any success. Already the news of this startling affair, -the arrest and drowning of Scammel, had flown round the country, and -to Castleborough, with a multitude of fabulous additions. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - THE SKY BRIGHTENS. - - -In the morning at eleven o’clock Hopcraft was brought up in custody -to Cotmanhaye Manor. He was brought in a covered cart belonging to -Sir Henry Clavering to avoid observation, but the whole neighbourhood -was astir. The events of yesterday were the topic of conversation -throughout both Woodburn and Rockville. The village parliament, as -it was called, at the Grey Goose in Woodburn, in the evening had -been crowded, greatly to the profit of Tim Bentley, the landlord. -The cleverness of Tom Boddily hunting up Scammel in the guise of -a tramp had been loudly applauded. It was declared to be still -grander than his taking the horse-thief asleep on the back of Miss -Heritage’s stolen mare. He was unitedly voted “a long-headed -chap.” The desperate affair of Scammel’s attempt to escape out of -the justice-room at Cotmanhaye Manor; the chase of magistrate and -men after him; his swim for it in the river, and his going down -rather than be taken—all was declared out of the common way, and a -subject to be talked of for the next hundred years. “He was a plucky -fellow, was that Joe Scammel,” said Howell Crusoe; “if he had had an -education, he might have turned out something remarkable.” - -“He could kick remarkable hard,” said Job Latter. “I’ve the marks of -his clouted shoes on my shins yet, i’ aw’ th’ colours of the rainbow.” - -“Ay, by Guy,” said Tim Bentley. “That must have been a tuzzle wi’ him -when you got him in yer grip. It were worth a trifle to ha’ seen it.” - -“I believe you,” said Latter; “it was better to look at than feel. I -verily believe he has spelched actchul pieces out of my shin bones. -The doctor says he’s afeard they are gone green; and he need na’—any -body can see that. They are green, and blue, and every mander of -colour.” - -“What the doctor meant,” said Crusoe, “was, he was afraid of -gangrene—that is, mortification.” - -“Nonsense!” said Latter, rather frightened though; “when a man’s legs -martify they ta’en ’em off, and he’s not going, I can tell him, to -tak’ my legs off. They’re a better pair o’ legs than th’ doctor’s got -his sen, barrin’ these toothry brusses.” - -“No,” said Crusoe, “he does not mean to take your legs off, but to -caustic the mortified flesh, and get it away.” - -“Oh,” said Latter, “if he canna mak a cure on ’em, I can. I’ll lay -some of my green sauve on, such as I dresses hosses wi’. As for -Scammel, poor devil, they canna hang him, anyhow; and I’m rather glad -on’t, as I helped to catch him.” - -With that followed many a story of Scammel’s exploits in the woods -with the keepers, and wonders that he had not had his brains knocked -out years ago. - -“‘Twasn’t so easy,” said old Bobby Powell, the cobbler; “Scammel -was more likely to have knocked out half-a-dozen other people’s. -Bless you! he had a scull as hard as my lapstone; and as for -legs—I’ve seen the paintings on the walls at my Lord Birron’s at -Newstead, of the Red Shanks and Limners, but long as their legs were, -Scammel’s would have outrun ’em.” And Powell had his story of one of -Scammel’s skirmishes in the woods at Annesley, when Squire Musters, -a desperate, strong, active man, and a dozen keepers, armed with -swipples (flails), his favourite weapon with poachers, had to cut and -run from Joe and a little knot of Selston boys. - -Many were the speculations about Nathan Hopcraft. Some thought he was -as guilty as Scammel. “He’s such a hog,” said one; “he would murder -his grandmother, I undertake to say, if he could get a groat by it.” - -“No, no,” said another; “he is such a confounded coward; he’d as soon -attack Farmer Chaffer’s bull, and he’s a savage un’, as attempt to -kill a man.” - -“Ay, coward he may be,” said the wheelwright; “but all cowards is -mean, and he’d be ready enough to help a strong fellow like Scammel. -My notion is, they’ll hang Hopcraft, and sarve him right too.” - -On the morning before Hopcraft was taken to the hall, the news came -that the body of Scammel had been brought up by the drags, and lay -in the barn at Cotmanhaye mill, waiting for the coroner’s inquest. -This added greatly to the excitement, and as the covered cart drove -through the village to Woodburn, everybody was out of doors. - -All said, though they could not see him, “that’s Hopcraft,” for Job -Latter was seen sitting, and looking very solemn, near the opening -in front of the cart. Soon after, Sir Henry Clavering, who had been -early to Castleborough, rode up on his way to the Hall, accompanied -by Mr. Gethin Thorne, the clerk to the magistrates; and Sir Henry -received the most reverential touches of the hat, and curtseys from -the village women; for his chase after Scammel, and his foiling him -in the river till he was obliged to let himself drown, or be taken -and hanged, had made him very much of a hero in their eyes. - -“A fine young fellow is Sir Henry,” said one to another; “and he’s a -heart in him, and he _can_ run too! By Guy! though, if Scammel had -turned on him, I wonder how it would ha’ gone? I should na’ like to -ha’ got a blow of his iron fist.” - -“No; but you’re not so sure as he could have got a blow at Sir Henry. -He’s got the use of his limbs, you may depend. Them young fellows -at college, they practisen’ at what’s caw’d Jim Nasti-sticks—what -that is I know na; but they tell’n me it makes ’em wondrous strong -and agile. They can jump aside and dodge, and catch a man out like a -harlequin.” - -Such was the village discourse while Hopcraft, safely handcuffed -to Job Latter, descended from the cart, and was conducted into the -smoking-room at the manor. There was no open window there for him to -attempt an escape from, even if he had been a likely man for such -an experiment. He looked very much frightened, and yet he stood in -a peculiar position, for Scammel being dead, there was not a single -witness against him; and Mr. Degge told him that he was not bound to -criminate himself, but that anything he had to say they should take -down, but it must be on his oath, and he must understand it would -be brought forward at any future hearing in court. It was expected -that Hopcraft would be very close; and as Scammel was gone, and -could not come against him, would leave the magistrates to find -out anything they could; but the case was quite different. Hopcraft -said, as he was now sure that Scammel could never again come down -on him, he would tell all he knew. He said that Scammel came to him -that afternoon at the ferry, and said he was just come out of prison, -where Mr. Drury had put him, and he vowed vengeance on him. Hopcraft -said he told him to mind what he did, and not to do anything there -and then to bring him into trouble. When he saw Mr. Drury coming -riding towards them, as they sat under the bushes, he said, “Well, -Nathan, as you are such a cursed coward, give me your fork, go you -and pull the fellow over, and then come back again; I’ve something -more to say to you.” With that he skulked into the bushes; but when I -was just beginning to pull the boat, out he jumped, and knocked down -Mr. Drury in a twinkling. I could not cry out for fright; my voice -stuck in my throat.” - -“But you helped to throw the murdered man into the river?” said the -justice’s clerk. - -“Yes, sir,” said Hopcraft; “for he vowed to knock me on the head if I -did not, and throw me after the other body.” - -“And you took some of the money stolen from the murdered man?” - -“That’s a true bill,” said Hopcraft. “But it was only two pounds; -and Scammel swore that if I did not take it, and keep my tongue in -my head, he would do for me in no time. And he would, too, your -worships. He wor na a man to play with, worn’t Scammel. Oh, goodness -gracious me! my life ever sin’ that has been a plague to me. He has -been coming continjally o’ nights and threatening me to peach, and -swear it was aw my doings, if I did not give him this, and that, and -t’other. ‘For, Hopcraft,’ he said; ‘you’re in for it, you know; it’s -all between me and you, and I can hang you any time.’” - -“‘Nay,’ I’ve said; ‘there’s those Shalcrosses; I seed them wi’ you -at th’ lane-end.’ - -“‘Shalcrosses be d—d,’ he would say. ‘Where are they, Hopcraft—where -are they? Tell me that.’ - -“And as nobody ever saw them after the murder I verily thought he’d -murdered them too. God knows, may happen he has.” - -“But he used to come to you of nights. What was that for?” - -“I reckon,” said Hopcraft, “it was to see as all wor safe, and to -threaten me afresh, and to squeeze something out of me. O gentlemen, -everybody’s seen how things have gone wi’ me since th’ murder,—pigs, -hens, cabbages, potatoes, everything; it was Scammel that came and -fetched them. Oh, he was a leech, a blood-sucker! and he’d ha’ had -my very heart’s blood out of me. Monny and monny a time my wife has -said, ‘Go, Hopcraft, go and peach. It wor better to be hanged than -live such a life as this. Aren’t we all starving? neither me nor th’ -childer have hardly a rag on us, and as for living, it is not living, -we are awlis as holler as drums. Let us all be hanged rather than -live o’ thissons.’” - -“And why did not you follow your wife’s good advice?” - -“Why? ‘Coss Scammel was somewhere—God knows where, and would have -been down on me before I could get up to Rockville, and he’d ha’ -murdered me in broad day-light. O gentlemen, you dunna know what a -devil that fellow wor.” - -It was very clear that Hopcraft had lived in an infatuation of terror -of Scammel, and like a bird fascinated by a serpent dared not to -move. There was no proof of his participating in the actual murder, -but he joined in throwing the body into the river, had shared the -spoil, and kept the murderer’s secret; and on those grounds the order -for his committal was made out. No sooner, however, was this done, -than Sir Henry’s valet, who had entered some time before, announced -that there was an old man and woman, tramps, well-known, named -Shalcross, waiting and wanting a hearing in Scammel’s case. - -“How odd,” said Sir Henry, “that they should turn up thus; for they -have eluded all our inquiries after them, and all Boddily’s when out -after Scammel. Let them come in.” - -Presently entered the old couple, the woman first, her husband after -her. The old man made his bow, the old woman her curtseys to the two -gentlemen, one after the other, and a third to the clerk. They were -placed in the centre of the room, in front of the table at which -the gentlemen sat. They were as exactly like their description in -Dr. Leroy’s dream as if they had this moment stepped out of it. The -old man in his shabby, ragged, old blue surtout; his waistcoat tied -with more strings than fastened with buttons, his ragged trousers, -and his pale, thin, feeble-looking face; short, thin, white beard, -and grey hair combed—if it ever were combed—but, at all events, -worn smooth, and hanging downwards from his nearly bald crown. -Altogether, he was a picture of poverty, age, and feeble-mindedness. -As for the old woman, she looked at least seventy. Short, rather -stooping forward, and resting on her stick, which instead of a -hook, had a straight crutch. Her old battered black bonnet, and -dingy faded old red cloak, were just as described in the dream. -Her face, however, was very different from that of her husband. It -was brown and wrinkled, but was full of shrewdness. Her nose was -clear and straight, and you saw that in her youth she must have had -good features. Her eyes were grey and large, and looked out full of -meaning, and keen observation. - -“You are John and Jane Shalcross?” said the clerk. - -“Yes, sir,” said the old woman. - -“Let your husband speak, good woman,” said Gethin Thorne. - -“Your service, sir,” said the old woman, with a deep curtsey. - -“What has brought you here, Shalcross?” said Mr. Degge. - -“It’s about this business, sir, of Joe Scammel.” - -“What about it?” - -“We hearn he’s dead, and we wanten to tell your worship what we -know’d.” - -“What’s that?” - -“About the murder, sir,” said Shalcross. - -“Well, did you know anything about the murder?” - -“Yes, your worship, we seed it.” - -“What! you saw it? You are rather late with your information, then, I -must say. Don’t you know that your concealing it thus all this time -makes you accessories?” - -“Makes what?” said Shalcross, looking at his wife, as if she could -help him. - -“Makes you guilty, too, Shalcross.” - -“God forbid, sir! but what could we do? Scammel swore to murder us if -we said a syllable to any living soul; and he took us off wi’ him.” - -“But,” said Mr. Degge, “you should have seized the very first -opportunity to get away, and inform the magistrates of the murder.” - -“Ay, sir,” said the woman, “that’s what ween done.” - -“Let your husband speak first, Jenny,” said Gethin Thorne, the clerk, -“you’re always so ready with your tongue.” - -“Oh, let her speak, sir,” said the husband. “She can tell you about -it better than I can. It is she as awlis does the talking for us; my -poor head, ’specially since the murder, is just no where at all.” - -“Well, Jenny, speak then,” said Sir Henry Clavering. “You say you -have now come to tell us of the murder; but this is more than a -year after it took place. You must have had plenty of opportunities -before.” - -“No, your worship,” said the old woman; “no, as God knows, never! -That Scammel has had us awlis wi’ him. We were never quite out of -his sight. He trapesed us off after the murder, away, and away; -travelling o’ nights, lying in woods and mosses by day. Oh! how he -did hallecx us about the country; till we came to that Charnwood -Forest where he was taken. There he watched us as a cat watches a -mouse: and he said, savourly, if we ever made the least attempt to -escape, he would just knock our foolish brains out; and he would, -too. If ever the devil was in a man, he was in Scammel.” - -“And how did you live all that time?” - -“Live? Oh, we did not live so badly. Scammel had plenty o’ money: and -wherever there were hares and pheasants, would not Scammel have his -share? I rather guess he would. But our meat did us no good, nor our -bread neither, for we got good bread out of the villages.” - -“Who fetched it?” - -“We did, yer honour.” - -“And could not you have escaped or informed then?” - -“Ay, faith, just as th’ mouse can escape, when the cat lets it go a -little, and lets it run a little, and then gives it a cuff wi’ its -paw, as much as to say, ‘I’m here yet,’ Scammel awlis watched us. He -went with us to the village, and lurked behind some hedge, and if I -did not go into the baker’s, for he awlis sent me, and come direct -out again with the bread, he would give a whistle as made my heart -jump; for it meant, ‘Old woman, another minute, and I’ll murder you -where you are.’ Well, as God would have it, he was taken, and we’ve -followed, as fast as we could, to give information. This morning we -got here, and heard as how the villain had drownded his sen, and so -here we are.” - -“Well,” said Mr. Degge, “I wish you had been here a year or more ago. -You would then have merited well of the country, and would have got -three hundred pounds reward. Now Hopcraft has confessed; and we must -commit you both as accessories after the fact, as you have not come -forward, and given information of the murder.” - -“But how could we, Mr. Degge? I tell you God’s truth—we never could. -We have been actchull prisoners to Scammel; ween lived under daily -threats of murder, and many a night and many a day, in lonely places -ween expected that he’d just kill and bury us. It warn’t in our power -to escape from that almighty Sattan. And you’ll not go for to try to -hang us for what we could no more help than we could fly or swim. -We heard of the three hundred pound. Scammel said there were three -hundred pound set on his head, and he reckoned we should try to get -it; and so he must kill us off to make all safe. Oh, to think of -what ween gone through, and to hang us for it! No, your worships, -don’t you think we’d ha’ got the three hundred pound, if we could? -It stands to reason. And look at me here. I say it as knows it, that -I am as honest a woman as walks in shoe-leather. Nine childer I have -nursed and reared, sons and daughters, and not one of them has ever -got hanged.” - -A smile crossed the features of all present. - -“Well, gentlemen, you may think it an easy matter to bring up nine -childer, and none of them to get hanged. You’ve yer nurses, and -school-masters, and school-misseses to teach ’em, and they’n plenty -of pocket-money, and horses to ride, and coaches to sit in, and -everything they wanten; but it’s different wi’ poor folks in these -wicked times. There’s little or no schooling, and the childer gets -in th’ streets, and hears and sees what they shouldna; and, oh! I’ve -seen the troubles on troubles of some of my neighbours, and I’ve -seen as many as three young strong men strung up in Castleborough of -a row, as I remembered as childer as innocent as th’ lambs i’ th’ -meadows. Well, gentlemen, you may smile; but when I’ve seen such -sights, I’ve blessed God, that not one of mine has ever got hanged.” - -“I see truth in what you say, Jenny Shalcross,” said Mr. Degge. “We, -who are better off, don’t, I feel, allow weight enough to such facts. -Where are your children now?” - -“The wenches are aw married, and struggling on, just scratting their -way through th’ world, some with poor, drunken, good-for-nothing -husbands; and our sons are some here, some there, married and decent -working-men, wi’ families like, and two on ’em are sogers, and have -bled for their king and country.” - -“Were they in the great war?” - -“Oh, yes, your worship, they were to a sartainty. They both had -wounds on the field of honour, as it is called; but where that great -field is, I dunna know. It is somewhere in France, I reckon, where -Bony was; for one has awlis heerd on it, when he was talked of.” - -“Well, Jenny,” said Mr. Simon Degge. “I am sorry to say that we shall -be obliged to send you to the county jail, for not revealing this -murder; but I don’t think you need be much afraid. It is pretty clear -you could not help yourselves.” - -“Well, then,” said Jenny, “pray, your worships, just let us go our -ways till we are wanted. We’ll only tantle about i’ th’ neighbourhood -here; we’ll come when wanted. But to shut us up within stone walls -would kill us. Ween been used to wander and wander for these fifteen -years. It’s second natur to us. We liken to sit and hear the lark -singing over our heads on th’ open moors; and hear th’ wind i’ th’ -trees, and th’ water running i’ th’ brucks; and to smell th’ smell o’ -th’ woods and commons, and to lie and sleep a bit under a tree i’ -th’ pleasant summer dees. Shut us up, and you might as well hang us -off at once. Our lives are of no use to nobody. They are going fast -out, like the down as blows off the dandy-lion. So pray yer just let -us daudle on.” - -“I am sorry,” said Mr. Degge, “that the law does not allow us to -do that. You must pass your time till the March assizes within the -limits of the county jail; but there are airy, large court-yards -there, and the jailer will make you comfortable.” - -“Comfortable!” said the old woman, “and not a blade o’ grass to be -seen, nor a green tree, nothing but stone, stone, stone! Well, what -mun be, mun be. God give us patience, and send us well out of it.” - -The old woman made her curtseys to the gentlemen, and the old man -following her example, made his bows, and they were turning to go out. - -“Latter will take them along with Hopcraft,” said Mr. Degge. “He is -waiting for that purpose.” - -“Take us with Hopcraft!” said the old woman. “No, your worships, you -won’t demean us so, as to take us as criminals. We’ll walk. We’ll -just tantle down by the river side, and give ourselves up. It’s God’s -truth, we shan’t try to get away; and where, indeed, could such poor -owd creeturs get away to?” - -Mr. Degge turned, and said something to Sir Henry, who nodded in -reply. And Mr. Degge said:—“Well, Jenny, you shall have it as you -like. You can go and take your time, so that you give yourselves up -before four o’clock at the county jail, where Latter will take the -warrant.” - -“Thank your worships, kindly,” said the old woman, echoed by her -feeble old husband, and out they toddled. A servant from the -hall-farm was ordered to keep an eye on them from a distance, but -not to let them perceive him. The magistrates felt bound to this -precaution to satisfy the law, though they had not any doubt of the -old couple surrendering themselves. The young man, accordingly, -went along the fields at a distance, as if engaged in looking after -sheep, or the state of the fields, and saw the old couple slowly -wander down to the river, and sit down, and remain for an hour. -Then they went on again, and then staid in some pleasant nook, as -if they were making the most of their liberty, and their beloved -field-life. Thus they went on, till they came to the main ferry, -which they crossed, without seeming to say anything to the ferryman. -When over, instead of taking the direct way to the town, they struck -away to the left into the great meadows, and in a direction towards -a manufacturing suburb. The young man now began to have some fears -that their intention was to cut across, and get into that suburb, -and hide themselves. He prepared to be not far off, and if they -attempted this, to prevent it. But he soon found that they only went -to a meadow stream, where the autumn flowers, the purple loosestrife, -with its tall spikes, and the luscious meadow-sweet, and white -water-ranunculuses were still blowing, and of which the old woman -gathered a nosegay to carry with her into the prison. - -Duly, at four o’clock, the old couple appeared at the prison-door, -and surrendered themselves. They had gone to the house of some poor -acquaintance, and had tea, and borrowed a mug to put their flowers -into water; and now they had voluntarily entered the great and, to -them, dreaded house of bondage. There we may leave them to their -fate for the present, with this reflection, that if they had not the -liberty of the fields and moorlands, they were, at least, relieved -from the daily dread of the murderous hand of Scammel. - -Whilst these events had been taking place, George Woodburn had -written to Elizabeth Drury, to let her know that the mystery of -her father’s end was now cleared up, and to inform her of the fate -of Scammel. He also asked her for the key of her father’s desk, -with permission to examine his books, to discover whether it would -show the absence and amount of the money taken by Scammel from her -father’s pocket. In her reply, which came by return of post, she -said:— - -“Thank God, that the horrible mystery of that dreadful event is at -length cleared up, and that dear Mr. Woodburn is fully cleared from -that most insulting, most impossible accusation. Give my kindest love -and warmest congratulations to him. And that horrid Scammel! How is -it that I never saw that before? That man was the scourge of the -woods of the Bullockshed estate, and of other game-preserving estates -round. Nobody could take him, and my father came to the conclusion -that the keepers did not dare to encounter him. He, therefore, -determined to accompany them, and watch with them. Many a dark wild -night went he out in the woods with them. Oh, what dreadful nights -of anxiety to us! The man conducted his operations with such silence -and dexterity, that the game continued to decrease, and yet no trace -of him could be discovered. There was no sound of discharge of guns, -yet the pheasants went; no crash of hedge, or of forcing a way -through bushes or underwood, yet the hares disappeared. It was clear -that though they could not discover him, he saw them, for wherever -they posted themselves, he was at work in a very different quarter. -Did they quit that post, he was there the next night. Did they post -watches in half a dozen places at once, he lay still; but as this -could not be always done, he was only checked slightly; and even -when this was the case, it was found that he was busy on some other -property. Distance seemed nothing to him. - -“At length my father, with three men, came suddenly face to face with -this ogre of the night in a deep hollow of the woods, where he had -been observed, by his shoe-prints, to cross from one pheasant copse -to another. The villain instantly discharged his gun at my father, -but fortunately missed; a rare thing with him; yet in this case -owing, no doubt, to his sudden surprise. He was raising his piece -again to his shoulder, when it was struck from his hands by a blow -of the butt-end of the gun of one of the keepers, and then began a -most terrible struggle. My father said it was like endeavouring to -bind Proteus, or a Bengal tiger. Desperate and Herculean were the -struggles of the man. But once down, all threw themselves upon him, -and secured him, much as he must have been secured, at last, by your -account. Then, they had to convey him to the hall in a cart, and all -the way he uttered the most fearful oaths, and vows of vengeance -against my father. He was condemned to six months’ labour on the -treadmill, and could only just have come out. Poor father, how often -did we wish that he would not himself meddle with such fearfully -depraved men! - -“I have sent off the key, wrapped in paper to make a packet of -sufficient size not to be easily lost, and dispatched a man with -it to the great north road, to deliver it to the guard of the -mail himself; to pay him handsomely, and to say that the guard -who delivers it safely at Castleborough will be also handsomely -paid, as it contains what is helpful to the full discovery of the -circumstances of the ——, I cannot write the word, of Mr. Drury, late -of Garnside. That alone would insure its safe delivery, for the -indignation is great all round this country at the deed. The packet -is addressed to Mr. Heritage at the bank.” - -No sooner was George Woodburn in possession of the key than he set -to work. He found all Mr. Drury’s accounts in the nicest and most -perfect order. His bill-book showed exactly that the three bills -found in his pocket-book were all that he was in possession of. -These bills had been presented by George Woodburn, soon after the -perpetration of the murder, at the bank of Mr. Heritage, where they -were payable, and they had been duly taken up, and credited to the -account of the late Mr. Drury. The balance at the bank, which was -large, agreed precisely with that in the pass-book; and on referring -to the pay-book of Mr. Drury, he ascertained the time when the amount -of his previous receipt at the bank had been exhausted; and that, -besides the bank-notes in the pocket-book, which were of the several -values of one hundred pounds, fifty pounds, and twenty pounds, he had -received, at his visit to the bank, two days before, fifty pounds in -one-pound notes, clearly for the payment of harvest workmen, had paid -away ten pounds, and must consequently have had in his pocket—for -there was only some small change in his desk—forty pounds at the time -of his death. This must have been the roll of notes carried off by -Scammel. The one hundred and seventy pounds found in his pocket-book -appeared to have been received that very day by Mr. Drury for sale -of corn, and were apparently put there to carry to the bank on the -following day when the three acceptances became due. Thus was the -fact made completely manifest, that the crime committed was both -murder and theft. Singularly enough, on examining Scammel’s body and -clothes at the inquest, twenty pounds of these one-pound bank-notes -were still found upon him in a large old, oblong, iron tobacco-box, -so close-fitting that they were uninjured by the water, and their -numbers clearly identifying them as part of the notes paid to Mr. -Drury at Heritage’s bank on his last visit there. No combination of -circumstances could more perfectly determine the murder to be done -by Scammel. - -These particulars were duly forwarded to Miss Drury, and, by her -order, the bank-notes, amounting to one hundred and seventy pounds, -were paid in to the account of the late Mr. Drury, and the pass-book -made up to that date. The bank-notes found on Scammel were retained -by the coroner to be produced, if necessary, on the trial of -Hopcraft. But another important document was found by George Woodburn -in Mr. Drury’s desk—his will. By this he had left the whole of his -real and personal property to his only daughter, and an annuity, -payable out of it, of five hundred pounds a-year to his widow. There -were, besides, several small bequests to relatives, and sixty pounds -each to the two trustees, whom George, to his great surprise, found -to be himself and Mr. Fairfax of Castleborough. The afflicted wife -and daughter had never had the heart to inquire after the will. They -knew there was one, and believed it was all right. This document -was now duly executed by the trustees, and George found himself the -accredited manager of Bilts’ Farm for the leaseholder, Elizabeth -Drury. Immediately on receiving this authority, George Woodburn made -a formal claim on the coroner for the bank-notes found on Scammel, -they being by their numbers clearly identified as the late Mr. -Drury’s property, and received an engagement to deliver them up to -him immediately after the March assizes. - -The great mystery cleared up of Mr. Drury’s death, a cloud had passed -from Woodburn Grange. Mr. Woodburn lost that depressing melancholy -which had hung upon him, and made him shut himself up in gloomy -moodiness. Once more he could mount his horse, and range over his -farm, and enjoy a chat with his workmen as in past times. Once more -he could meet and salute a neighbour without thinking. “And that -man can suspect me of so foul and beastly a crime as murder!” There -were moments in which the very idea that it had been possible for -any man who had ever known him in the least degree to believe such a -thing of him, made his blood glow with indignation. But all the world -now knew and acknowledged that he had been falsely accused, and thus -most injuriously treated, and that gave him again the possession of -equanimity and of a healthy enjoyment of life. He also reflected with -emotion on the love of his own family, of the affectionate assiduity -of his wife and daughters, on the tender and manly carefulness and -management of George, on the decided and nobly asserted faith in him -of Elizabeth Drury. He had a feeling that Mrs. Drury had not been -so free from suspicion; “but she is a weak creature,” he said, “and -so, no matter.” He thought proudly of the firm and generous truth -of all his friends, and especially of the devoted and untiring -zeal of his new son-in-law, Sir Henry Clavering. Once more he saw -Thorsby, solemn and quiet, pursuing a steady life of business, and -fast regaining the esteem of his townsmen. Once more he could see his -little flaxen-haired, curly-headed namesake and grandson climb his -knee, ride round the room on his walking-stick, and come and look up -in his face with a laughing archness that made him forget his least -remaining touch of sadness. - -Betty Trapps was once more herself again. Betty had been dreadfully -tried by the suspicion cast on her master. That anybody should dare -to think of such a thing of such a man as Mr. Woodburn—to even -him down to common thieves and murderers—it was little short of -blasphemy! “Such men,” she said, “would spit at the sun, and showed -what was in their own nasty stomachs. As for that Hopcraft, to be -concerned in murdering a gentleman, and throwing the blame on a man -like Mr. Woodburn, she’d have him hanged out and out.” “But,” said -Sylvanus Crook one day, “Betty, if we expect mercy ourselves, we must -be willing to wish mercy to others.” - -“Mercy to Hopcraft!” said Betty; “a dirty grub him!—ay, as much -mercy I’d give him, if I were judge and jury, as a gardener has on -a snail—as a miller on a rat that charms[1] his flour-sacks, or a -farmer on a mowdy-warp[2] in his best meadows—as a miser on a thief -or a pickpocket, or a country squire on a fox on hunting day—as a -cat on a mouse, though she plays with it awhile, as the squire does -with the fox. Mercy!—ay, faith, shark’s mercy—hawk’s mercy—leech’s -mercy—fire’s mercy, when it gets the mester on us—watter’s mercy, -when a man’s drowning—lawyer’s mercy—creditor’s mercy—death’s mercy! -Oh! I’d give him mercy enough, I warrant ye, Mester Crook.” - -“But,” said Sylvanus, “thou shouldst make allowances for Nathan -Hopcraft; he is but a poor, ignorant, stupid sort of creature.” - -“Stupid!” said Betty; “he stuffs himself till he is stupid. He’s no -better than one of his own hogs, as used to be. Why, I’ve seen that -man half empty the dish of beans and bacon, at dinner set before the -hungry men, on to his own plate, and pitch it down his throat like -pitching straw through the picking-hole o’ th’ barn. An’ then when -I’ve said I’m afraid you men will run short, the owd porpoise would -sit and blow and look as red as a lobster, and as stupid as a fish, -and say, ‘Nobody wants any more, for I don’t.’ Odrot him! Hang all -such, I say.” - -“Oh, Betty, Betty!” said Sylvanus; “I am afraid thou art not much -better than Sir Roger Rockville. The other day, Tom Baggully was -taken before him on a charge of being drunk. ‘Set Baggully in the -stocks,’ said Sir Roger, without waiting to hear anything at all. -‘But,’ said the clerk, ‘here are several respectable people ready to -swear that he was not drunk.’ ‘No matter,’ said Sir Roger, ‘I fancy -he poaches; so, right or wrong, set Baggully in the stocks.’” - -“Thank you, Sylvanus, for your compliment,” said Betty. - -Betty’s temper had been made none the better by the persecutions of a -suitor, none other than Sam James, the Gotham carrier, who came that -way to Castleborough every few days. This fellow was a close, miserly -churl, who rented a little farm, and lived by himself. He thought -Betty must have saved a good solid sum of money, and so began to be -very gracious to her. But Betty gave him notice to take himself off -without more ado. Sam James came stealing slyly to the kitchen window -evening after evening, and tapping gently when Betty was near it, -to induce her to go out and speak to him. At first she was rather -startled; but peering out into the dark, and catching a gleam of his -face near the pane, she said, out before all the men, one night, -“There’s that hugger-mugger fellow, Sam James, i’ th’ garden. Does he -think I’ll go out to a chap that has na the pluck to come in and show -his sen like a man? Run out, Tom,” to a young lad of seventeen, “and -see how he’ll take to his heels!” - -Tom was only too ready to enjoy the lark; out he ran, and away sprang -James, leaped the garden-wall next the lane, and came down on the -back of a cow, quietly chewing her cud under it. Up started the poor -beast, in a great fright and with a great bellow, and James went -tumbling down the slope to the road. Great and continued was the -laughter of the servants in the kitchen at this adventure, and Betty -laughed as heartily as the rest. - -“But,” said one of the men, “Sam James is rich, Betty; you might make -a worse match.” - -“Match!” said Betty, “with a passionate fool like that! Why, th’ -other day he was gathering sticks in his close, where he had been -trimming th’ hedges, and instead of putting them into his cart, he -tried to stuff them into a sack-bag, and as one end sprung out as he -forced another in, what did the demented norp but seize a hedge-stake -and thresh th’ bag wi’ it like a madman, as he is.” - -“But,” said the man again, “see what a pair of good horses he has!” - -“Ay, and when he was in a passion wi’ one on ’em one day, he up with -his billhook and gave th’ poor dumb creetur a chop! A brute! I’ll -set the dogs on him if he comes sneaking here again.” - -Betty was delighted with putting James to flight; and the story -of his tumbling over Tim Bunting’s cow, which often grazed in the -lanes, was soon through the whole village, from that centre of -intelligence—the Grey Goose; so that Sam James found it convenient -to avoid the chaffing he got at Woodburn, and the kind inquiries -of the women whether he got no hurt when he fell over the Grange -garden-wall, by sending a substitute that way for a long time with -his cart. - -Old times seemed come back again at the Grange. There was frequent -visiting betwixt it and Cotmanhaye Manor—a coming and going without -ceremony, and full of pleasantness. George had made a journey to -Yorkshire to give some account of his stewardship, and there were -wise people who foresaw the return of Elizabeth Drury, at least some -day, to Bilts’ Farm. Thorsby and his once more joyous, handsome -wife, and cherub-looking boy with them, were often driving over, and -again commonly spending the Sundays there. Thorsby again made his -little, familiar visits amongst the cottages of Woodburn Green, and -talked over his travels in America with Howell Crusoe, the inquiring -schoolmaster, who seemed half tempted to migrate thither himself some -day. - -“Well,” said Mr. Woodburn, as Thorsby mentioned this at dinner one -day, “I should be sorry for Crusoe to leave us. He has his faults, -but I don’t know where we should mend him. He has confessedly very -warm Welsh blood, and though naturally amiable and humane, he -has been given to thrashing his boys a little too freely. When I -have reasoned with him, he always quoted Solomon as ungainsayable -authority, ‘Spare the rod, and spoil the child.’ It was in vain -that I told him I would rather spoil the rod and spare the child. -He always used to tell the boys, in the established language of -the schoolmasters, that it hurt him much more to flog a boy than -it hurt the boy. But one day, as he said this to a little boy, who -sat sobbing and snorting, with his eyes, nose, and very red cheeks -all dashed and drowned in tears, the poor lad cried out, ‘I only -wish I could believe it’—at which the whole school burst into an -uncontrollable shout of laughter. Enraged at this, and feeling the -keen satire in the boy’s words, Howell dealt about him, in a regular -Welsh tantrum of passion, with his cane on the heads and shoulders of -the scholars. This settled the riot, except for an isolated burst-up -of smothered merriment, here and there, which he visited with strokes -of lightning. - -“But what was the consequence? The lads who had caught the full fury -of Crusoe’s angry blows, commenced a conspiracy which they cherished -for a proper opportunity; and one Saturday afternoon, when Crusoe -had gone into Cotmanhaye woods to gather nuts, suddenly the whole -school issued from a thicket, and surrounding him, gave him such -a pounding with hazel cudgels, as inspired him with a wonderful -agility in running through the wood, leaping the fence, and scouring -homewards at a pace that vastly amused the troop of little rebels. -It was necessary to send for the doctor, who, being a bit of a wag, -carried the story as a rich morsel of news all round the country. He -enlivened his narrative by making the boys cry, all the time they -thrashed their domine, ‘Well, does it hurt you as much as it does us?’ - -“That is the reason, I suspect, that Crusoe thinks so much of -America. I doubt, however, if he would find the children of Yankees -more passive under his rhabdomancy than those of us Britishers. -For my part, I wish all the boys in the universe would follow the -example of the Woodburn lads. There would then soon be an end of the -villanous practice of a big fellow with a big stick seizing a little, -tender, shrinking boy, who is but a linnet in the claws of an eagle, -and misusing his brute strength to torture the poor little fellow.” - -Thorsby said, “But what of Solomon’s wisdom on the subject?” - -“What of Solomon?” said Mr. Woodburn. “Why, that was wisdom enough -for the Jews of those semi-barbarous ages, who massacred all the -nations round, and stoned to death any old woman who gathered a few -sticks on a Sabbath; but it is not wisdom enough for Christians -who are to do as they would be done by. Would any of these great, -cowardly schoolmasters, who clutch little, shrinking children, and -flog them brutally, like some one twice or three times their own size -and strength to treat them so? Certainly not. Of all the contemptible -examples of cowardice, this is the most contemptible. A big -overpowering fellow thus to mishandle a child, who would learn both -manners and letters ten times better by gentleness and persuasion; he -is a monster, sir, and no man! Violence and injustice, and this is -the worst of injustice, excite only the worst passions in a child’s -heart, and lay the sure foundation of violence and tyranny in those -who are embittered by it. - -“I only hope,” added Mr. Woodburn, “that King Solomon has been set -upon by exasperated schoolboys in the other world, and treated as the -brave Woodburn lads treated Crusoe; and I hope that till this odious -custom is abolished, the boys everywhere will match their strength, -by union, with that of their masters, and let them see how they like -a good cottoning.” - -“Well,” said Thorsby, “but the custom has been made venerable by -time, and sanctioned by all our great schools, and if we may judge -from effects, has answered well, for no country has produced greater -scholars.” - -“Sanctioned!” said Mr. Woodburn, “so have wars and wholesale -robberies, under the name of reprisals in other countries, been -sanctioned. Duelling was an old and venerable institution, and had -the sanction of great names, but this did not make any of these -barbarous and insane practices the less base, or unchristian. My dear -fellow, we must not be led by past sanctions, or by the nose, we must -be led by reason and humanity. Our ancestors were savages, shall we -on that account remain savage? Take my word for it, Thorsby, however -our public schools may have answered, they would have answered much -better, had they been conducted on better principles; and I hope you -don’t call outrage of the weak by the strong a good principle. Let -full-grown men, if they will, be brutes, and stand up in fair fight -against one another, equally matched; but I repeat it, a big man who -assaults a little creature, who cannot help or defend himself, is a -coward of the vilest, the most odious stamp, and ought to be scouted -from society.” With this he stepped to the book-case, took down the -second volume of Addison’s “Spectator,” and opening at No. 157, said, -“now hear what a really enlightened man, who had passed through our -public schools, thought on such things.” Having read that admirable -article, he said:— - -“There! Thorsby, you may lend that to Howell Crusoe if you like.” - -“No, thank you!” said Thorsby, laughing heartily. “I think Crusoe got -his cure in Cotmanhaye Wood.” - -One more symptom we may add of the returning sunshine to Woodburn. -Dr. Leroy has returned, has resumed his practice in Great -Castleborough, and has been seen, more than once, driving towards -Fair Manor, in Mr. Heritage’s carriage, as that gentleman returned -home after business. William Fairfax, meeting David Qualm in the -street, says, “Castleborough is getting all right again. Thorsby -and Dr. Leroy have played out their silly antics, and are really now -going about like men of sense.” To which David nodded assent, for his -words get fewer and fewer every year. - -“I think Frank Leroy dreams a little yet, however,” said William -Fairfax. - -“Dost thou?” said David, with a surprising effort. - -“Yes, he dreams of old times at Fair Manor, I fancy; and dost not -thou think Millicent dreams a little that way, too?” - -“I understand thee,” said David, and walked on smiling, but most -meekly, to himself. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] A midland county phrase for gnawing by rats or mice. - -[2] A mole. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - - THE TRIAL, AND TALK AT WOODBURN. - - -The winter is over. There were pleasant cheery times again at -Woodburn Grange, at Hillmartin Hall, and at Cotmanhaye Manor. There -were splendid dinners at Christmas; and many a one that we know -seated at them; and faces as joyous as could be at the after games -and dances. There were all the Woodburns, but with some of them also -under other names. Mrs. Letty Thorsby, and fair Ann of Cotmanhaye -Manor, and their loving husbands, and the worthy Thomas Clavering, -as fond of a rubber at whist as ever. Ah, it was a bright, happy, -prosperous gathering and intergathering, after dark days and very -strange events. But winter is over, and March assizes have arrived. - -When Hopcraft was brought into court and placed in the dock, all -those who had known him at Woodburn were astonished at the change -in his appearance. Instead of that thick, full-fed person, and -sun-burnt hue, he was become thin, sickly, and feeble-looking. He -gazed about him, on the judge, the barristers, and the crowd, with -a frightened stare. The fact was that he had suffered in his health -from the constant terror under which he lived so long as Scammel was -at large; but since he had been in prison, he had been the victim of -another fear, that of the certainty of being hanged. His poor stupid -intellect could make no distinction in a general fact. He had always -heard murder and hanging linked together in conversation; and he -could imagine nothing from his having been implicated in a murder, -and present at it, but being hanged for it. Though he contended that -he was totally innocent of any intention of assisting Scammel in -the dreadful deed, had warned him against perpetrating it, and was -greatly surprised at the deed he said, and probably quite truly; yet -he had been seen by the Shalcrosses helping to fling the murdered man -into the river, and consenting to share the money with the murderer. -This he himself had admitted to the magistrates, and this was the -vulture that all through the winter was gnawing at his heart. He was -in at the murder, and he must hang for it. - -A word which the magistrates used had also greatly alarmed him. He -had heard one of them say that he was accessory. To his ignorant -imagination this presented itself as something direful and ominous. -He had soon forgotten, if he ever clearly caught the pronunciation, -and it had metamorphosed itself in his mind to “raxery.” He sat in -his cell calling himself a “raxery,” and believing that it sealed his -fate. He ventured once or twice to ask the turnkey what a raxery -meant; and on his shaking his head, and saying he did not know, he -was still more convinced that it meant something very like condemned, -and the man, therefore, would not tell him. - -In this miserable condition poor Hopcraft lost his spirits, but -he never lost his appetite. It was the grand feature of his -constitution—even overtopping his brute strength; had that failed, he -would have collapsed and gone altogether; but his food did him little -good; he moped and lived on, often crying like a child through whole -nights; and now he came forth with the full conviction that he was -only a few days from the gallows. - -The counsel for the crown, in stating the case against Hopcraft, gave -a clear account of the former trial of Mr. Woodburn for the alleged -murder of Mr. Drury, and then of the discovery of the real murderers -in the persons of Scammel and the prisoner. - -At the mention of the prisoner, Hopcraft cried out in a voice of -terror, “No, sir, it wor na me—it wor Scammel!” - -The counsel paused a moment, gave a glance at the prisoner,—the -jailer who stood by the dock told Hopcraft not to interrupt,—and -the barrister went on. He painted in strong colours the desperate -character of Scammel; showed the causes, all now fully brought to -light on the clearest evidence; Scammel’s spirit of revenge against -Mr. Drury; and then described the scene minutely at Wink’s Ferry. - -Here the judge observed to the counsel,—“that he had heard a strange -story of the murder, after being for two years involved in deepest -mystery, and bringing a most respectable and estimable gentleman into -jeopardy and trial for his life, being brought to light by a dream. -Is that so?” he asked, “or am I dreaming, Mr. Whiteman?” - -“It is perfectly true, my lord,” said the barrister. “It was -not only indicated, but absolutely described in detail, every -circumstance as accurately as if the dreamer had been himself on the -spot.” - -“And pray, what highly imaginative old lady could this dreamer be? -But I think you said ‘himself?’” - -“Yes, it was a gentleman of this town, my lord.” - -“His name is not Bunyan, is it?” asked the judge. - -There was a smile on every face both at the bar and in the crowd, and -some slight titters amongst the ladies in the gallery. - -“Possibly the young gentleman may be descended from the great dreamer -of Bedford, but he does not bear his name,” said the counsel; he -also looking rather merry over the matter. “He is a learned, and, I -understand, a very able and accomplished physician here, who has, -moreover, travelled and seen a good deal of the world, moves in the -first society, and would be taken to be most perfectly wide awake in -general.” - -“Very odd,” said the judge. “I would like very much, Mr. Whiteman, to -peruse the account, if you happen to have it.” - -“Certainly, my lord. I have here an attested copy of the letter -containing the dream; and that your lordship may not suppose that the -gentleman dreamed the dream after the event, you will note that the -letter was written in India on the night following the very evening -on which the murder was perpetrated here, so that the gentleman to -whom the vision of the night came upon his bed, could not possibly -have heard anything of it. And another thing I may note, that the -murder was so wholly improbable, that the real perpetrators escaped -all suspicion till this dream, and, as it proved, rightly, threw it -upon them, having previously caused the most unfortunate arrest and -trial of a most unlikely man for a murderer, merely from his having -been last seen on the spot.” - -“Most extraordinary!” said the judge. “Perhaps, Mr. Whiteman, we -don’t understand everything yet, even in this enlightened nineteenth -century.” - -“No, my lord,” said the barrister, “I certainly do not pretend to -understand anything of this sort. I am bound to receive it, as a -thoroughly attested fact, and I have much pleasure in handing up to -your lordship this singular document.” - -The letter was handed across the table by some of the counsel to the -judge, and the barrister proceeded:— - -“The prisoner at the bar, it is admitted by himself in the -depositions taken by the magistrates, and as was and will be also -proved by two eye-witnesses, was in company with the chief criminal, -Scammel. It cannot be proved that he assisted in the murder itself, -but it can that he helped to throw the murdered man into the river, -and shared the money of which the deceased gentleman was plundered; -and that the prisoner never, till arrested for the crime, took any -pains to make the fact known to any one. - -“I don’t see,” said the judge, “how there could be two eye-witnesses, -unless they are partners in the crime who have turned king’s -evidence, and yet the complete concealment of the true perpetrators -of the crime have brought an innocent person into question for it.” - -“Your lordship will soon see the reason when the witnesses are -called.” - -“Very well; go on,” said the judge. - -The depositions were read, and the evidence was then gone through; -and as the counsel called in the two Shalcrosses, he said, “Now, my -lord, you will see the two eye-witnesses.” - -The evidence was that with which our readers are already acquainted. -The jury found Hopcraft guilty on the second count—that of being -accessory to the fact; and on the third—that of concealment; and -Hopcraft was very agreeably surprised to find himself not condemned -to be hanged, but only transported to Botany Bay for the term of -fourteen years. - -When the Shalcrosses were brought up, it was at first separately, -and then together; and the judge, who had evidently read the -depositions of Jenny with much interest, put several questions to -her himself, and both he and the court at large showed themselves -struck by the clearness and shrewdness of her answers. In summing -up, his lordship said, he could not see how these old people could -have acted differently from what they had done. They had evidently -been casual witnesses of the murder, and had from that very moment, -and ever since, been the real prisoners of the murderer—under daily -terror of their own lives. The instant that they found themselves -freed from his _surveillance_, they had hastened to disclose their -knowledge of the crime. He could not himself connect them in any -manner with the murder. The jury, without withdrawing from the box, -pronounced them “Not Guilty,” and they were immediately discharged, -to wander again at will amongst the country villages, and dream out -their few remaining days on sunny commons and by running brooks. Many -a shilling was thrust into their hands as they passed through the -crowd, and issued once more into the open air and unimpeded streets. - -A subscription was raised, to send Hopcraft’s wife and children out -with him, amongst our friends at Woodburn, Hillmartin, Cotmanhaye, -&c., and another of Mr. Woodburn’s labourers was put into his cottage. - -The magistrates of the county, at their next sitting after the -assizes, sent for Tom Boddily, and informed him that the reward of -one hundred pounds offered by Government for the apprehension of -the murderer, Scammel, was awarded to him, and they had received -a Treasury order to pay it to him. The friends of the murdered -gentleman would, no doubt, now pay over to him the two hundred pounds -which they had offered; and the Chairman, holding out a cheque on -the bank for the one hundred, said that he had well earned the whole -amount, and had discharged the duty of tracing out and securing that -notorious criminal in a very praiseworthy manner. He advised Tom to -allow his employers to invest the sum for him, and not let it make -him unsteady, by leading him to the public-house. - -“Sir,” said Tom, respectfully, “I will undertake that the money shall -do me no harm, because I would not touch it if it were a thousand -times the sum. Gentlemen,” he said, “I have done my duty, I hope, in -catching that murdering villain, and I am glad of it; but I never -will, here or anywhere else, touch blood-money.” - -“Blood-money?” said the Chairman. “Why, where is the difference -between catching a murderer and insuring his death, and taking the -reward for it?” - -“That is just all the difference,” said Tom, “to my mind. To secure -a murderer is every man’s bounden duty. To take a reward for getting -a man put out of life—well, gentlemen, it may be all the same, but -I’m an uneducated man, and can’t see it so. Excuse me, but I cannot -accept the money—it would burn my pocket-bottom out in no time. No, -gentlemen, no man shall say I did what I did for money.” - -Tom made his bow, and retired, to the great astonishment of the -whole bench, except Sir Henry Clavering and Mr. Degge; the Chairman -observing, as the door closed after Tom, “A crotchety fellow, after -all.” - -George Woodburn, who had received orders from Miss Drury to pay to -Tom the two hundred pounds offered by herself and mother, said, -“Well, Tom, so you cannot receive this money, then?” - -“No, sir,” said Tom, “I can’t do it, anyhow. I am glad that arch -rogue is out of the way of doing further mischief; but to get rich on -any man’s death—it’s not the thing, somehow.” - -“I can understand you, Tom,” said George, “though the greater part of -the magistrates could not.” - -“And do you know, sir,” said Tom, “I can tell you what I could not -tell them justices? Freddy—the poor boy who taught me to play on the -pipe and the lark-whistle—has been to me again and again in dreams, -and said, ‘Don’t touch that money, Tom—none of it! You’ve done your -duty, and may sleep on it; but don’t let any envious fellow say you -did it to get the three hundred pounds. No, don’t touch it, Tom—don’t -touch it.’ And that is just as it stands, sir. I can’t take it. My -dutiful thanks to Miss Drury, however.” And Tom went off about his -business. - -Tom did not suffer for his conscientiousness, though many, very many -people said he was more nice than wise. Mr. Heritage called Tom the -next morning into the library, praised his disinterested conduct, and -gave him a bit of paper, which, on reading, he found was the promise -of his cottage and garden rent-free for his life, and his wife’s -life, if she survived him. Tom was greatly affected. Without saying -anything to him, Mr. Simon Degge, Sir Henry Clavering, Mr. Woodburn, -Miss Drury, Mr. Heritage, Mr. Fairfax, Mr. Thorsby, and others, -subscribed a sum of money, which they invested, and which would amply -suffice to put out Tom’s children at a proper time, and leave a -provision for his own and his wife’s old age. - -Great was the wonder and the discussion at the village inn, the Grey -Goose, at this refusal of Tom Boddily to take money so honestly his -due. Howell Crusoe, who used to read the Castleborough papers, and -often put in absurd things to mystify his hearers, and once sent -them about saying, on his authority, that the great dog of Venus -(Doge of Venice) was dead, now read all the account of the trials at -Castleborough, and of Tom’s refusal to take the reward. - -“Now that’s out-and-out o’er-dainty of Tom Boddily,” said Tim -Bentley, the landlord. “It does very well for gentlemen to have such -tickle stomachs; but for poor folks like Tom, zounds, it’s a robbing -of his family.” - -“Oh, Tom’s lived so much among gentry,” said Job Latter, “that I -reckon he thinks he’s e’en one.” Job had received a handsome present -from Sir Henry Clavering for his able assistance in capturing -Scammel; and it seemed rather a reflection on him by Tom. “Tom,” -said he, “is getting as ginger as th’ owd mester here at th’ -Grange. I seed him and Samul Davis going to hang th’ owd tarrier -t’other morning in th’ orchard. Th’ owd dog was blind and deaf, and -continyally under everybody’s feet. Well, they hung him up, and th’ -rope broke, and down he came, and began howling as if he did na like -it. But th’ owd mester picks him up, and strokes him, and says, ‘So, -so then, poor old fellow!’ as if he were only going to crop his -ears or so, while Samul Davis ties him up again. They’ve such fine -feelings, gentry han; but Tom is na gentry just yet.” - -“And why should na we lay hold of and put an end to men as would put -an end to us for a trifle?” said farmer Chaffers. “Does na everything -put an end to anything as it can, if it can feed on’t? It’s natur, -and nothing else, and God wills it.” - -“Hold a bit there, Mr. Chaffers,” said Crusoe. “You must read your -Bible better than that. It was not God who made things so, but it -was man and the devil who did it at the fall. God has sent us -Christianity, and that is opposed to all cruelty in man and beast.” - -Hereupon Farmer Chaffers fell into a stout argument with Crusoe, -and there ensued a long and violent debate, which ended, as many -a debate in a more illustrious assembly, where the arguments that -are worth anything are all on one side, and the votes on the -other—three-fourths of that village parliament wishing the money had -been offered to them, and they would have shown a little more sense -than Tom. - -“That would have been a miracle,” said Howell Crusoe, knocking the -ashes out of his pipe, and rising to depart; “for we have not all -together as much sense as Tom Boddily has.” - -“Sense!” said Latter. “Tom has about as much sense as that simple -Quaker of Castleborough, Seth Ward, who is only a poor stockinger, -and had saved twenty pounds by years of hard work and scraping, and -now he has gone and given it all away, by a guinea at a time, to -other poor creatures, because he thought it a sin to be laying up -treasure on earth. If that’s true, then what a sinner Mr. Heritage -must be, and a good many more on ’em!” - -At this there was general laughter, and the Woodburn philosophers -dispersed to their several homes. - -Betty Trapps and Sylvanus Crook got to high words, too, over Tom’s -refusal of the money. Sylvanus had gone down to the Grange with a -note from his mistress; and, while he waited for an answer, Betty -came down sharp on Sylvanus about Tom. - -“So, Mester Crook, you’re making a Quaker of Tom Boddily. He’s too -nice to take money when he’s earned it.” - -“Only what he calls blood-money,” said Sylvanus. - -“Blood-money—stuff! Th’ money is just same as any other money. Does -Boddily know better than Government as offered it?” - -“Perhaps he does,” said Sylvanus, quietly. - -“Perhaps he does not,” retorted Betty, sharply. “He could go and -catch Scammel, and get him hanged, if he had not been drownded; and -then—oh, dear no! he could not take money for doing it! That’s just -like catching varmint, and then letting it go again, because you can -na bear to kill it, poor thing. Tom’s brains is getting addled, and -it’s all through your silly Quakerism.” - -“I think thou can hardly prove that Tom has any concern with -Quakerism, or that it is silly, Betty.” - -“Well, Mester Crook, it does na grow, does na your Quakerism; and a -thing as does na grow is silly or worse. If a system has salvation -in it, it ought to grow, for sin and wickedness grow like weeds, and -spread like wild-fire,—and what’s the use of a religion as goes and -sits still in a corner, and does na move no more nor a post, and -lets souls perish by thousands and millions?—that thinks a cocked -hat and a coat without a collar, or buttons, will stop the devil -when he’s going about like a roaring lion? If it is good, let it -come out and show itself, and not sit huddled up in silence like a -hen that has got the pip. I went one day into th’ Quaker meeting in -Castleborough; and I looked about, and, for the life of me, I could -na see any preacher. They all sat with their hats on, and looked, I -could na tell where. At last, after a plaguy long time, they shook -hands, and started up, and went out. Oh, what a place to call a place -of worship, where there’s neither prayer nor praise!” - -“There thou art wrong,” said Sylvanus; “I hope there is both. For my -own part, I know there is; but thou talkest of things growing and -spreading,—and thou say’st ill weeds spread apace. Well, that is -true; and look thee, Betty, don’t thy people spread so fast as to -remind one rather of weeds? If there are but few that we acknowledge -as fitting members of our Society, does not our Saviour say, ‘Narrow -is the way, and few there be that find it?’ Methodism is so prolific, -it may be compared to the multiplication of vermin, which multiply by -thousands. The lion, the king of beasts, brings forth but one, but -then it is a lion.” - -“What!” exclaimed Betty, greatly exasperated, “are we varmint, and -you Quakers lions? A pretty set of lions, all sitting with their -hats on in a meeting like so many stocks. Sheep, Sylvanus—call them -sheep—that’s more like it. Now I tell you what it is. You won’t take -anybody in lest you should be taken in by them, and they should get -any of your blessed money. You would not take the man who said he was -convinced of Friends’ principles, because he had eleven children, -and heard you took care of all your members. Eh, Sylvanus? Eh? We, -Mester Crook,—we take in all sorts and sizes. Methodism is a general -hospital, it takes in all, and cures as many as it can.” - -“That is the best thing, Betty, thou hast said yet: and may the Lord -enable you to cure many.” - -“I dare to say we shall cure a few, Mr. Crook,” said Betty, not -fully appeased by the last compliment, and always Mr. Crooking him, -when what she called her monkey was up,—“I dare say we shall cure a -few; but no thanks to sitting and samming altogether as if all the -deaf and dumb had been raked up from the four winds. If fish are to -be catched, it is not by sitting on the Trent bank without line and -hook, and wishing for them to jump into your creel. It must be by -praying in season and out of season, and by preaching the word with -unction. If mester niver sowed, he’d niver shear; if he did na mow -his grass, and his woots (oats) he’d have a bare crib in winter, Mr. -Crook; and what’s wisdom here is wisdom in them above, I reckon. As -for saving souls by sitting still on bare benches and twiddling yer -thumbs, it is just as good as telling th’ big miller at Cotmanhaye -mill that his corn will grind if he lets the water-wheel stand still.” - -Sylvanus was prepared with an answer, but had no opportunity of -giving it, for the reply to his mistress’s note came out of the -parlour, and he was requested to deliver it as quickly as he could. - -“There,” said Betty to herself, “let him chew his cud on that as he -goes home, with his lions and his varmint. Varmint, indeed! There’s -a fine fellow for you, who says, when he goes to quarterly meeting, -or other place of Quaker feasting, he looks round the dinner-table -of them rich Friends and takes what he likes least, to mortify his -carnal will! And he’ll never confess as he likes music,—‘Nor does -mester,’ he says. Does not he, though? And Mester Thorsby tells me as -how he’s seen both him and ‘mester’ listening as demurely as owls by -daylight to the barracks band at Castleborough. And did not Mester -Thorsby actchully catch Sylvanus listening to a ballad-singer i’ th’ -street. ‘What, is that you, Sylvanus?’ says Mester Thorsby; and th’ -old sly-boots says, as innocent as th’ parson’s horse, as niver works -o’ Sundays, ‘Yes, Friend Thorsby,’ says he, ‘I just staid a moment -to discover whether the vagabond was singing anything likely to -corrupt the youth.’ Ha, what an old cunning fox!—but he’ll not come -his lions over me again in a hurry, I’ll warrant.” And Betty gave her -milk-pails an extra-scouring; for a “bit of a raffle,” as she called -it, always made her put out her energies, and she laughed to herself -as she thought how she should tell it all to Sukey Priddo, as they -went to Hillmartin chapel together on Sunday; and how Sukey would -roast Sylvanus again about his lions. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - - A QUAKER WEDDING, AND ANOTHER WEDDING. - - -“Well, Frank Leroy is not only back again,” said Thorsby, at the -Grange on Sunday after the trial of Hopcraft, “but he is amazing -jolly. I think some little bird must have whistled to him out in -India there, and sent him home so nimbly; don’t you think so, Letty?” - -“Likelier things have happened,” said Letty, with a merry smile in -her eyes. - -“And unlikelier too,” added Thorsby. “Frank has taken the very -largest and handsomest house in the Park, too, with a charming large -garden and pleasure-grounds running down to the little river, and -looking across to Rockville; and, really, I could fancy we could see -it from here. What does that mean, Letty? Do young bachelors require -now-a-days such great houses?” - -Letty laughed. “Young men are rather ambitious now-a-days, it must be -confessed. Perhaps Dr. Leroy thinks he will secure thy little bird, -which lured him back, in a fine cage before long.” - -“That is just what I was thinking,” said Thorsby; “and somehow I have -been continually meeting Mrs. Heritage and Millicent going about the -town amongst the shops, and Millicent looks as spry as ever,—quite -killing with those dark eyes and eyelashes of hers. It is really -delightful.” - -“They are buying up remnants and bargains, I dare say,” said Letty, -archly, “for making up for the poor against winter.” - -“I dare say,” said Thorsby. “However, I am charmed above everything -to have Frank back.” - -“He must be astonished,” said Mr. Woodburn, “at the exact truth of -his dream. I shall be for ever obliged to him for the effect of it.” - -“Oh,” said Thorsby, “you should have seen him blush the other day in -court, where we were sitting together, when the judge began asking -about it. And when he asked whether the gentleman was called Bunyan! -Frank is rather afraid that _sobriquet_ may stick to him; but no -matter, I can see he will have his consolations. I don’t know when I -have enjoyed myself so much as the other evening when, after dinner -with us, he, I, and Letty put our feet on the fender, and got into a -great talk on old times. The doctor gave us some touches out of his -apprentice days, that were regular fun. You know that great fellow, -Surgeon Green, who rides this way sometimes on a great dark bay -horse. Frank was apprentice to him, and of all the precious cowards, -he is the primest. One night, Frank said he came to his chamber-door, -and said in a whisper, ‘Get up, Frank, directly; there are thieves -in the house! they are in the garret—come in through the skylight, no -doubt. Up in a minute!’ Frank tumbled out all in a tremble, got his -clothes on in the dark, after putting his arm first into one pocket -and then into another, instead of into the sleeves, shaking all over -like a man with an ague. When he got into the passage, there stood -Green, and said, in a scared whisper, ‘Hark! they are in the garret -amongst the bottles!’—(they kept all their stock of physic-bottles -there)—‘Don’t you hear them? There! down goes a lot more! Run up, -Frank, and see how many of them there are.’ - -“‘No, sir,’ said Frank, ‘you had better go. They would not make a -mouthful of me; but you’re so strong.’ - -“‘No,’ said Green, ‘go this instant, and I’ll stop them here if they -offer to come down.’ - -“He struck a light, and gave Frank a candle, and said, ‘Just look -in, and see who is there, and then lock the door outside, if you can.’ - -“Frank went trembling up; the candle wagged about in his hand as if -he had been switching about a whip. His heart was in his mouth every -time he heard a fresh crash amongst the bottles. At length, he was at -the door, but he was too much afraid to open it. ‘Quick! Quick!’ said -his master from below, in a wild, loud whisper. Frank pushed open the -door. Out went his candle with a strong wind, but not before he saw -the cause of all the alarm—their great tom-cat, who had been shut up -in the room, and was trying to find a way out, dart out of the door, -and down the stairs. - -“‘There! he is coming!’ shouted Frank, and the next moment he heard -Dr. Green’s chamber-door slammed to, and the key turned inside. Frank -sat down on the top step of the stairs, and laughed outrageously.” - -“What a coward must that Green be!” said Mr. Woodburn. - -“Another time, Green called up Frank, and said he was sure thieves -were not only in the house this time, but they were murdering the old -cook; he could hear her groans. ‘Run, then!’ said Frank; ‘my dear -sir, don’t let her be murdered!’ - -“‘No,’ said Green, ‘do you run up, Frank. You’re much less than I am. -If they fired at me, they could not possibly miss me. There, run up, -there’s a good fellow. And here’s a pistol for you. Shoot the first -rogue you see, without mercy.’ - -“He thrust a pistol into Frank’s trembling hand, and pushed him -up-stairs. This time it appeared really awful. At the next floor he -distinctly heard frightful groans from the cook’s chamber. The door -stood partly open, and, by the dim light from a window beyond her -bed, he could see something moving to and fro near the bed. ‘They are -murdering the old woman, and no mistake!’ said Frank to himself; and -in a voice so strange with fear that it doubly frightened him to hear -it, he cried out, ‘Who are you, there?’ - -“A shriek from the cook made the blood run through him with an icy -shiver, and a start. - -“‘What is it?’ cried Frank. - -“‘O Lor’, sir,’ said the cook, in a tone of terror, ‘it is only -me, sir! I have such a nasty pain in my—my—stomach, and I’ve been -downstairs for a little peppermint-water.’ - -“‘But what are you doing out of bed now, with a pain in your stomach? -That will only make it worse,’ said Frank. - -“‘Oh, Mr. Frank!’ said the cook, ‘I am only holding on to the -bed-post a little, to help me to abide the pain.’ - -“‘I’ll fetch you something,’ said Frank; but, first of all, he -shouted downstairs to his master. ‘Come hither, directly, master, -for I think it’s all up with the cook.’ Whereupon Green, as he -expected, banged to his chamber-door, and locked it inside, to -Frank’s infinite delight. Presently Frank came up with a good dose of -compound tincture of cardamoms for the cook, which soon set her all -right; and he tumbled into his bed again, to laugh himself asleep.” - -“What an arrant coward,” said Mr. Woodburn again, “is that Green!” - -“When Frank was nearly out of his time,” Thorsby went on, “Green’s -brother—a doctor in a country place in Yorkshire—wanted to go to the -sea-side for a month. And then, the country people being too busy -with their harvests to be sick, he got this valiant Mr. Green of ours -to send Frank Leroy to look after any casual patient that should turn -up. Frank enjoyed it wonderfully. It was a very fine country, and -he had a good horse to ride, and it was quite a treat for him to go -cantering about amongst the jolly farmers there. - -“One day he was sent for to a farm-house, to see some one, and -said he would make up the physic, and they could send a boy for it. -He made it up, and set it in the surgery properly addressed. The -boy came when he was just gone into a neighbour’s, and the servant -sent the lad into the surgery to wait for him. When he came home, -soon after, the servant said the boy had bolted out of the house -as if his head was on fire, and gone away without the medicine. -Frank was a little astonished; but on looking round the surgery, he -soon perceived the cause. The lad, with a lad’s curiosity, had been -looking into things; and, amongst others, had opened a cupboard-door -where hung a skeleton. He had evidently had such a fright, that he -did not stop to shut the door again, or the door of the surgery, or -of the house after him. The medicine had to be sent. - -“A day or two after, as Frank was riding towards the farm to see his -patient again, in a deep, narrow lane, he met the boy coming towards -him. Now, he thought, I shall hear all about it. But he was mistaken; -for the moment the lad recognised the tall, slender figure of the -young doctor, he scrambled up the lofty bank, like a cat or a monkey, -and bolted through the hedge into the field above. - -“‘Hillo, hillo, there, boy!’ cried Frank, ‘I want to speak to you.’ - -“‘Nay, nay,’ cried the boy, ‘I’ll na come near thee. I knaw thee, -I knaw thee! though thou’s got thy claiths on. I seed thee i’ th’ -cupboard!’” - -After a hearty laugh of the whole company, Thorsby said, “Well, take -my word for it, the man who tells such stories, and enjoys them, is -no despairing swain.” - -“Not a bit of it,” said George Woodburn. - -One fine May morning that spring, the sun was shining over the dewy -landscape as genially as it used to shine before the dark days fell -on Woodburn Grange. The larks were caroling as high and inspiringly -in the blue air. The young corn was growing as greenly, and the -weeders were in the midst of it with their spuds, rooting up the -thistles, and with their hands pulling the bright yellow charlock out -of it. From tree to tree rung the notes of the thrush and blackbird, -and the cuckoo shouted her musical, quaint monotone from the new -amber-coloured foliage of the spreading oak. The brooks rippled and -tinkled so sweetly down the shadowy glens to the river, and the river -glid along as fair and as peacefully as if it had never seen a winter -or a crime. There was a glow of flowers along the luxuriant hedge-row -banks. There was a golden fire of flowers all over the pastures, and -a spirit of tranquil joy lay over all the scene, the outward image -of the peace and joy which had once more returned to that pleasant -neighbourhood. - -All at once the bells of Hillmartin burst out with a merry peal, as -if they had caught the contagion of happy nature, and sent their -musical cadences over wood and valley, giving them the voice of -delight, which seemed only wanting to communicate their full tide -of new-born pleasure to the hearts of men. The next instant, the -three old jangling bells of Cotmanhaye broke out into the best music -that they could make, which was but indifferent, but yet had a note -of gladness in it, like the voice of some uncouth labourer, whom -nature never meant for a musician, but who goes homeward over the -dusky slopes of evening, chanting discordantly some rude country -song,—there was a happy heart in its limping clangour, which made -it welcome. The discord mingling with the harmony of the bells of -Hillmartin was toned down into a symphony which was familiar to the -ears of the people of the neighbourhood, who knew that it meant, at -least, rejoicing. At once the weeders in the corn, and the cottagers -in the villages of Hillmartin and Woodburn, stood still, and said, -“What is that for?” And presently, from one quarter or another came -the answer, “It is a peal of welcome for Mr. George Woodburn, who -last night brought home his wife to Bilts’ Farm.” - -“Wife to Bilts’ Farm! Why, what wife?” - -“Why, Miss Drury, to be sure!” was the answer of women’s unerring -instincts. “Who else should it be?” - -“And all forgotten and forgiven?” said the simple people, -thoughtfully. - -“There was nothing to forgive,” said one clear-headed village woman. -“But there are things, no doubt, which can never be forgotten; and -Miss Drury must have a stout heart to come back after what has passed -here.” - -“There’s that in the case,” said an old, grey-headed fellow, “that -has the stoutest heart of all—and that is, true love for a true man; -and if there be a true man, it is our sober, steady, sensible George -Woodburn. May God bless him as he deserves; and He has surely begun -it in giving him such a sweet, brave-hearted wife as Elizabeth Drury. -You may see it in her face, the very first time you look in it, that -she’s one of nature’s true women—loving, and kind, and sensible. -Thank God, for sending another such a lady here.” - -The event was a holiday in Woodburn, and Hillmartin, and Cotmanhaye, -though nobody stopped their work for it; but there was a talking, -and a burst of good wishes, and a flush of pleasure in the women’s -eyes, and a bright, hearty look about the men, that showed that by -everybody’s consent George Woodburn had made the right choice. - -Soon there were seen horsemen, and carriages full of ladies, driving -up towards Bilts’ Farm—Claverings and Woodburns, Heritages and -Thorsbys, Degges and Fairfaxes. Coming and going they were, and -all looking as if some good thing had happened to them all. “Who -could have thought it,” said the villagers, “only two years ago?” -Soon were seen George Woodburn and his tall, buxom, cheery-looking -wife, walking soberly down towards the Grange, and all the heads of -Woodburn Green put out to have a look after the handsome couple. And -to see Letty Thorsby spring out of the porch of the Grange, and fly -half down towards the garden-gate to meet her new sister, and such -an embracing and kissing. And then, little Leonard Thorsby, with his -flaxen locks, like a little burst of sunshine, scampering after his -mother, and snatched up and kissed, and held out at arm’s-length, -and admired, heavy as he was, by George! And then, Mr. and Mrs. -Woodburn hurrying out, and then such hugging and kissing again, and -all hurrying into the house, for George says, laughing, “Do just -look! all the Green is out watching you!” So in they pop in a crowd. -“Well!” say the villagers, “there never was a woman welcome to a -house, if that one is not.” - -But in the midst of Elizabeth Woodburn’s joy, there was a dark spot -from which she shrunk, as it ever and anon came into her mind. There -was somewhere down below the Grange a dreadful place, called Wink’s -Ferry, which she and everyone wished could be obliterated from the -country. All that could be done, George Woodburn had done. He had had -put up a board by the river, with the large words WOODBURN FERRY upon -it; and all the people both there and at Rockville and at Cotmanhaye -were requested never more to utter the hateful word Wink’s. It was to -be buried in deepest oblivion, so that it should never fall like a -sudden knell on the heart of his beloved bride. - -Yet mighty as is the power which says in the heart of woman, “Whither -thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy -people shall be my people, and thy God my God: where thou diest, -will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and -more also, if aught but death part thee and me,”—yet it was many a -long day, yea, long year, before Elizabeth Woodburn could descend to -the river-side below the Grange. There was a spot of horror there -that made her whole nature shrink. There was a dark shadow which hung -over that spot, which was a spectre lurking beneath the otherwise -sunny pleasantness of her fate, which she would have given some years -of her life to have banished. - -Her mother remained in Yorkshire, and would never come near the fatal -neighbourhood. - -But one fine summer’s evening, as Elizabeth and George were wandering -in the orchard of the Grange, Elizabeth said, with a sad seriousness, -to him, “George, I have a mind to go down to the ferry—it haunts -me continually. I cannot get rid of it. I dream of it as dark and -dreadful; and I think, if I could see it on such an evening as this, -I should be less affected by it afterwards.” - -George looked anxiously at her, and then said—“My dear Elizabeth, -weigh well your strength; if you _could_ bear it, I think, too, it -might have a good effect.” He gave her his arm, and they proceeded -down the orchard; he opened the little gate, of which each member -of the family carried a key, and they passed out to the river side. -Without a word, they walked down to the ferry; a more tranquil scene -it was impossible for the human eye to look upon; the river ran -full and peacefully, gliding on, the clear gravel seen through its -translucent waters. On all sides green meadows, and peaceful banks, -overhung with the verdurous trees, the thrush and blackbird chanting -as if the whole were ground hallowed to repose, presented anything -but a revolting aspect. - -Notwithstanding George saw Elizabeth’s eye run excitedly from -object to object, he knew she was calculating where everything had -occurred that she had read of. He felt her shudder by his side; and -he said,—“Let us go back, my dear Elizabeth.” - -“No, no,” said she, in a voice firm, but full of deep feeling; “let -us go on, let us cross, it will do me good.” They went on, George -pulled the boat across, and Elizabeth looked around over those -expansive meadows. She then proposed to return, and in the same -silence they retraced their steps, and went up the orchard to the -summer-house in the garden. Elizabeth sat down, and looked pale and -faint. - -“I will run for some wine,” said George. - -“No, no wine, George; bring me Letty’s Eau-de-Cologne.” - -George was quickly back. Elizabeth bathed her forehead and inhaled -the odour, and then faintly smiling, said,—“I am better, and I shall -be better; I am glad I have forced myself to cross that ferry, it -has given me a different picture in my mind. I shall gradually get to -see that only, and I shall be so much happier.” - -And this eventually became the case. The ferry was not a place that -Elizabeth ever desired to see; there was indeed scarcely any reason -that she should go near it; but in her mind the horrible images of -the fatal event, as she had read them, had now been softened and -concealed, to a certain degree, by the summer evening tranquillity -which she had seen, and in the ordinary life at home, the most -painful sensations had disappeared on any mention of Woodburn Ferry. -“In a country which we both love so much,” she said to her husband, -“I would not have a single thing which can cause me a pang or a -regret.” - -Not many weeks after the marriage of George Woodburn, one morning -there was grave bustle in the streets of Castleborough. The tide -was observed to be tending towards the Friends’ Meeting, and on -arriving there, a number of handsome carriages were seen drawn -up before the usually so quiet door of that simple tabernacle -of silent worshippers. On entering the somewhat large, but very -simple meeting-house, with its white-washed walls and plain deal -benches, a very different congregation to its usually grave-faced -and gravely-dressed one, was seen assembled. Every part of it was -crowded with people whose gay costume, especially those of the -ladies, made the members of the Society, who were scattered amongst -them, look but like little dottings in a lively picture. The walls -of the meeting-house were panelled with plain unpainted deal about -five feet high, and a raised seat ran along them, on which many of -the best known Friends had taken their places, intermingled with -some of the most distinguished people of the town and neighbourhood. -Along the whole front of the meeting-house ran a gallery raised some -steps above the body of the place, breasted in front by a balustered -railing. In this gallery, which was accessible from both the centre -and each end, sat conspicuous in the costliest but plainest of silks, -Mrs. Heritage, and by her side her sister-in-law, a most silential -and antique-looking personage—Dorothy Qualm, wife of that great -professor of Silence, David Qualm, whose solemn face and exactly -triangular hat were seen under this gallery on a seat fronting the -whole of the assembly. In front of this seat stood a rather large -table, with pens and ink and blotting-paper; and a vacancy was left -on the seat itself of considerable extent. - -All was evidently curiosity and expectation. Never had so gay and -crowded a gathering appeared in that house, not even when the most -noted Public Friend, that is, ministering Friend, or preacher, from -London, Ireland, America, or elsewhere, had had the whole town called -together, to hear what he, or she, expected, but was not sure, -that the Spirit would give him or her to say. To-day, the brilliant -assembly appeared pretty certain of something of interest turning -up, and every time that the door behind them opened, there was a -general turning round, and often to a disappointment. At length, -however, there was certainly an unusual bustle in the lobby; the -door was opened with an air of importance by the tall, quaint figure -of William Theobold, the drab three-corner-hatted coachman of the -eccentric Mr. Barthe, dentist and wit; and in walked up the centre -aisle, if it might be so called, no other, arm in arm, than Dr. -Frank Leroy and Miss Millicent Heritage. They were followed by their -immediate relatives, and advanced and seated themselves in the centre -of the seat under the gallery facing the people. There was a general -stir and excitement amongst the whole spectator body, and many bright -smiles and knowing nods to one another amongst the ladies,—soon, -however, subsiding into a deep silence. The bride and bridegroom had -to-day conformed, in a great measure, to the costume of the Society. -Millicent was dressed in a lovely dress of richest white satin, -and a jaunty though Quaker bonnet of the same material. A white -veil covered but did not completely obscure her face, in which her -peculiarly oriental style of beauty appeared the more piquant from -that simple but truly bridal costume. The Doctor had a plain suit of -black, with his coat collarless, certainly, but cut, it might have -been, by a Court tailor, for appearance at a royal levee. He appeared -at once a very handsome, intellectual young man, a gentleman and a -Friend. - -“What a lucky fellow!—such a wife, and such a fortune!” was the -thought of most of the spectators; and there was no doubt that Frank -Leroy thought the same. It was clearly enough written on his grave -but happy face. Around and about the young couple might be seen Mr. -Heritage, Mr. Fairfax, the humorous-looking George Barthe, Sir Henry -and Lady Clavering, Thorsby and his Letty, Mr. and Mrs. Woodburn, and -George and Elizabeth, and with them the Degges. - -After a little pause Mrs. Heritage took off her bonnet, dropped -softly on her knees in the gallery, and put up a short but fervent -prayer for God’s blessing on the ceremony about to take place. Then -another little pause of expectation, and the bridegroom took the -bride by the hand; they rose, and in the simple formula of words -prescribed by the Society, declared that they took each other as -husband and wife, and promised mutual love and fidelity till death -did them part. On sitting down, there was soon a bustle of unrolling -paper on the table, and the clerk of the meeting laid the certificate -of marriage before the contracting parties for their signatures. -Then the parents and immediate relatives signed it in attestation; -after which there was a crowding and a moving up from all quarters -of those who were desirous of appending their names to so peculiar -a document. Whilst this was doing the newly-married pair, and their -nearest of kin, withdrew, and then was heard a rapid rolling away of -carriages. - -After a short time spent amongst the pleasant hills and rocky dales -of Derbyshire, Dr. Leroy and his wife returned to their handsome -house in Castleborough Park. If appearances might be relied on, -Millicent Leroy had, after all, found in Frank Leroy, the man of -her heart. The little season of illusion which had once enwrapped -her had left no traces behind it, but such as time had already very -much obliterated, and which the affection and merits of a most -highly esteemed and popular husband were likely to render ever less -perceptible. A very sunny and velvet path was theirs. Vast wealth, a -married home and a parental one existed for them, for, like Woodburn -Grange, Fair Manor was the resort of the younger branches in almost -daily intercourse. A sphere of great usefulness, as well as of a -splendid future, lay before Dr. and Millicent Leroy; and those who -believe they will show themselves worthy of such superb advantages, -we may venture to prognosticate will not be deceived. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - IT IS ALL OWING TO LETTY. - - -Our history may wind itself up in comfort. The dark cloud which -fell on the happy home at Woodburn has thoroughly dispersed. Though -there is no longer such a cluster of young life there as made its -old shady rooms, and its garden alleys, and its pleasant fields ring -with laughter and merriment in the days of our great hayfield fête, -a sober happiness rests on that now familiar Grange. Mr. and Mrs. -Woodburn live a life of quiet enjoyment, only interrupted by frequent -invasions of children and friends that send a fresh tide of pleasure -around them, and make even the old times seem pale in comparison. - -From the breezy hill of Cotmanhaye come Sir Henry and Lady -Clavering, from Bilts’ Farm walks down the sunny and sensible -Elizabeth, whilst George is ever to and fro, superintending both -farms at the same time. Every few days Letty Thorsby comes driving -over with her children. Children? Yes, did I not tell you that she -has a little fairy-like daughter, bright Ann Woodburn Thorsby, as -well as that sturdy growing Leonard, who is always wanting to go to -Fair Manor, to hear Tom Boddily play on that wonderful pipe and lark -whistle? and on Sundays, over comes Thorsby, and there is a life in -the house with the young people, and children and nurses, comers and -goers, that is better than any of the old times. Thorsby has always -some pleasant story of somebody or other to relate, and the other day -he was amusing them with an account of an old aunt of his, who says -it is a lucky thing her memory fails so. She had heard of a man who -had written a book about the pleasures of memory, but for her part -she thought it was a pleasure to forget. “It is a pleasure that old -age brings,” she says, “for then things come new again to us. It is -because people forget that they tell their old stories over again, -and read their old books. Not to forget would be to be poor; to -forget is to enjoy twice, and sometimes much oftener.” - -But a word about Thorsby and forgetting. There are things that he -has not yet learned to forget, and they keep him sober. Cheerful and -even joyous, as he often seems in his own intimate circle of friends, -there are dark thoughts that often come across him; and at times he -is low, very low and desolate in heart, and it then requires all -Letty’s genial glow of nature’s and affection’s sunshine to keep him -up and keep him going. The days of his folly and his guilt come back -upon him, and he remembers the dark, estranged and even contemptuous -bearing of his most respected townsmen towards him; and he knows, -that if he had not had a Letty Woodburn for his wife, but some proud -and indignant dame who would have spurned the dust of his threshold -from her, and abandoned him to the more than seven devils that were -in his blood, he would now have been a lost man, lost body and soul -for ever. - -It was because of this noble-heartedness of his wife, because she had -drawn him back, and soothed and attracted, instead of exasperating -him, and driving him headlong down the precipice of perdition on -which he was already staggering, that he felt the keenest shame and -remorse at his treatment of her. There was a time, he felt, when -a few words of just reproach from her would have stung him to a -ruinous desperation, and these words had never been spoken. Oh! in -those dreary winter days and nights at Tunckhannock in the far-off -American forests, how these thoughts had come in upon him, and -scorched and wrung him, and made him cry out aloud, “Fool! fool!” -And yet with the spring came the loving letter of that ever-faithful -wife, reminding him of the Redeemer’s heavenly words, “Gather up the -fragments, that nothing be lost!” Nothing, not even a fragment of -anything belonging to that immortal God-derived thing—the soul—was -to be lost, if any effort, any faith could save it; and Thorsby had -then made a vow, that he would devote his life, his strength, his -everything to make a recompense to God and to that faithful woman. -And he had kept it. - -It was long before he could regain the favourable opinion of his -townsmen; and especially of those more noble-minded ones whose esteem -he especially coveted. Dark, cold looks, estranged faces, that did -not deign even a recognition: a leaving out and passing over him, -in all public and benevolent works and subscriptions in the town, -as if his very money were contamination. Yet his wife had prepared -the way for his reception at Woodburn, and had induced her father -and family to meet him in a friendly manner. In his own house in -Castleborough, there was always a bright look, and a pleasant word, -and a cheery hearth, and all the news of the place that could cast a -lively spell over the dinner or the tea-table was detailed in Letty’s -happiest manner. It was like stepping from winter to summer, out of -the streets where some bitter cut had been experienced, or where some -side-long glance of the passer by, had said plainly, “Oh, there goes -that abandoned Thorsby, and he dares to show his face here again!” - -Nothing but this firm, fast, heart-strengthening anchorage of home -could have made Thorsby stand out this time of justly incurred -contempt and reproach. He knew that many said that Thorsby had no -ballast in him, and that some day he would break down again as -intolerably as ever. It was this consciousness, combined with his -sense of the love that had saved him, and that cared for no scorn, -no malicious misconstruction of her actions; no taunts that she -was trying to make a bulrush into a stable tree, so that she could -save him still, that made him resolve to stand firm by the help of -God, and thus give her the reward of a conquest so dearly and nobly -striven after. - -Thorsby found that his affairs, under the careful and conscientious -management of Thomas Barnsdale and Letty, had flourished. The trade -in London had greatly expanded under the judicious control of the -agent whom Mr. Barnsdale had put there, and whom, in the days of -his folly, Thorsby would have dismissed, if the American crisis had -allowed him time. Since his return from New York, his business had -equally prospered in the hands of the new house with which he had -entrusted it. Worldly strength was, therefore, given to him to enable -him to persevere; and even whilst his own character was at a very -low estimate in his native town, he was busily engaged in schemes for -the safeguard of the character of others. - -Whilst he was absent, and Letty attended the warehouse and -counting-house, she observed that in the lobby of the warehouse -there were continually people waiting, who were bringing in work, -or expecting it being given out. There was a considerable number -of young women amongst these, who had to remain there for hours -sometimes amongst men and youths, who did not appear the most -suitable companions for them. On speaking to Thomas Barnsdale about -this, he said that he had long thought they ought to do something -to amend this state of things. He had heard complaints from young -women of the language and conduct of some young men there, and had -dismissed one or two for their doings. - -“But,” said Letty, “cannot we curtail this waiting by establishing -certain regulations, as to the bringing in and sending out work, at -least so far as relates to the town?” - -Thomas Barnsdale thought, at first, this would be difficult of -accomplishment; but Letty went earnestly into the subject, and -soon showed him that by gradual management it might be done. In -the meantime she had a small room, adjoining the lobby, used as a -ware-room, cleared out, a good fire kept in it in winter, some books -laid on the table, and this was made the women’s waiting-room. The -plan gave immense satisfaction to the women, and was soon imitated -in other great establishments. Thorsby was extremely pleased with -this arrangement, and he proposed that a school should be opened for -the children of the work-people, who lived very much in one part of -the town. This was set on foot, and answered well. Mr. G. Dell had -built a very handsome and airy school for poor children, but Thorsby -persuaded him, and some other benevolent people, to join him in a -plan for opening day-schools in all parts of the town where the -working classes lived. A committee was formed for this purpose of -both gentlemen and ladies, who superintended the schools once set on -foot, each of their own sex. The same committee took upon them to -make visits to the houses of the workpeople, in order to see that -they were well drained, and otherwise kept clean and healthy. The -visit of the cholera at this time made both rich and poor acquiescent -in such visits of inspection. Thorsby’s purse was always liberally -open for all those purposes, and the earnest gravity and sound sense -with which he went about these social reforms, did much to restore -him to the good opinion of his most distinguished townsmen and -townswomen. They began to say, amongst themselves, “After all, Mrs. -Thorsby had more sense than we had. What a wonder this will be if -Thorsby holds on as he is acting now.” - -But the foothold that he felt he was gaining made him more -determined than ever. He said to himself, “Rather than fall back -again, I would go off to the woods of Indiana and swing that sobering -hammer for another winter!” He projected a splendid building for a -people’s hall, and put down £4000 for his subscription to it. In -a while he saw this handsome house, with ample and airy rooms for -lectures, for popular public gatherings of the people, for a library, -and news and coffee-rooms, erected in a near suburb, and lighted and -warmed in winter in so comfortable a manner that it became the great -resort of the working men. He himself gave the first opening lecture -on the advantages of education and combination for mutual improvement -amongst the artisan classes; and others of his townsmen followed his -example, and kept up a weekly or fortnightly course of lectures on -suitable subjects. In all these plans he was joined cordially by Mr. -Dell and the son of William Fairfax, who was now coming forward in -all the popular works which had been advocated by his father, who was -now beginning to feel the desire of well-advanced years for rest. -Dr. Leroy was an ever-active coadjutor in the promotion of sanitary -plans, schools, and lectures. He invited the working men, in order -to lead them occasionally into the open air, to bring him plants, -stones, or other objects of nature, on which he gave them scientific -lectures descriptive of their places in Natural History, and their -uses. These became very popular. - -Meantime Mrs. Thorsby, Mrs. Heritage, Mrs. Leroy, and many other -ladies, were now, since Mrs. Leroy’s marriage, become a very strong -party, and were greatly employed in looking after the poor, seeing -that they sent their children to the schools, that they kept their -houses clean and sweet, and that they were provided with all proper -clothing for the winter months. They established homes for young -women who were out of place, and seeking new engagements, which were -also offices of inquiry for servants, which they found of great use, -in not only expediting the procurement of good domestics, but in -preventing much demoralisation during the intervals of services in -young women. Nor did they overlook the old. They found that there was -always a certain number of old, superannuated servants, who, unable -to save sufficient for their latter days, had no resource but the -workhouse, to which they looked with so much repugnance, that they -often continued to linger in wretched lodgings, and suffer incredible -misery and starvation rather than be compelled to go into one of -these last sad scenes of “waiting for death.” For these a suitable -home was opened, where a little maintained them; and where they were, -as far as they were able, employed in such sewing as was needed for -the Dorcas Society, &c. - -In his explorations of the purlieus of the town in prosecution of -these popular objects, Thorsby observed how closely the dwellings -of the poor were jammed upon one another. Every little spot of a -back-yard was bought up for the building of a factory, and every day -the unhealthiness of this crowding was becoming more obvious. Asking -himself what was the remedy for this evil, he immediately remembered -that all round the higher part of the town, the very part most -adapted for building, the land was denied to this important object -by being town land. Every year till “Lammas-tide,” temporary fences -were put up, extremely ugly in themselves, being of hurdles or dead -thorns, the natural hedges being only in fragments, and after the hay -was cut, all these temporary fences were thrown down or withdrawn, -and the whole ground became a desolate, unsightly waste, over which -the rabble ranged in listless idleness, or engaged in boxing and -dog-fighting. The corporation, who deemed themselves most useful and -patriotic conservators of the rights of the freedmen, had maintained -the freedom of these lands from full inclosure most jealously; making -every man who became a member of the corporation take an oath never -to vote for an inclosure. Thorsby saw that whilst no one, except a -few butchers, derived any benefit from the keeping open of these -lands, the greatest evils were inflicted on the town by it; that the -whole of that side of the place was made hideous by it; there was no -longer the necessary room for the natural expansion of the town till -this obstruction was removed. He took his resolve at once. - -At the next vacancy for a town councillor, he presented himself; he -was unanimously returned; and on the presentation of the usual oath -against an inclosure, he begged to decline the taking of it till he -had made a few remarks. The town clerk who offered the oath to him -was very peremptory, and told him he must take it or not take it, -without observation. But Thorsby was as positive, and prevailed. In -a few plain statements he showed to the council the severe injuries -which the town, its beauty, its trade, its health, suffered from -the want of land to extend itself upon; that it possessed the most -admirable ground for houses and gardens, for factories and streets -on these Lammas lands, which did no good to the freedmen, though a -suitable compensation for their right, properly invested, would do -them a permanent good. To the astonishment of the town, the whole -corporation voted for the measure at once. In less than a year -Thorsby had the satisfaction of seeing an act of parliament obtained -for that purpose; and in a few years the whole of those so long -desolated fields covered with handsome villas, gardens, airy streets, -and public edifices; schools, alms-houses for the decayed members of -different trades; a blind asylum in an open, healthy situation, under -the care of the principal ladies and gentlemen of the place, where -the children, under a wise system of instruction, presented one of -the most interesting sights that suffering humanity can offer to the -benevolent heart; and where they were preparing, too, for different -occupations, which such instructions alone made possible to them. - -The success of this great scheme, and the serious and kindly zeal -with which Thorsby had carried it out, completed that regard of -his townsmen which had been gradually reviving towards him. The -steady decorum, the real wisdom of his deportment and life, and -the high regard in which they saw him held by the most eminent of -his townsmen, eminent as much for their virtues as their wealth, -raised Thorsby to a pitch of popularity with the masses which was -an enthusiasm. He was declared to be the pre-eminent friend of the -people, and they determined to send him to parliament. In this idea, -those, indeed, who could at that time send him to parliament, -happened to coincide. Thorsby had grown into a great authority in the -corporation. They saw that he sought nothing for himself, all his -proposals were for the good of the town at large, and had succeeded -wonderfully. But to this honour of representing his native place -Thorsby would not consent. He declared that he lived for his town and -his townspeople, but that he did not aspire to live for the nation. -He would unite with them in selecting the most suitable man to -represent them in the national council, but he would never go there -himself. He felt that he could do little in that national assembly, -as then constituted, but that he could do much in constant work for -the prosperity, improvement, and enlightenment of his own town and -neighbourhood. Beyond that he had no ambition, or rather he knew of -no higher ambition than to prosecute the interests and the happiness -of eighty thousand people, who relied on, and responded to his -exertions. - -Thorsby, once the very black sheep of Castleborough, and hanging by -his torn and mud-drenched fleece over an unfathomable abyss, gently -seized and stoutly withdrawn by a loving hand, is now the most -popular man of a great and busy community. He stands a monument of -what may be done by seeking in order to save, rather than by the -exercise of a bitter though not causeless resentment; and still, as -he goes on his way, planning and diffusing benefits to others, he -says in his own soul, “What can I do in retribution of my faults, in -recompense of a deathless and redeeming love?” By his side he still -sees that gentle embodiment of unpretending wisdom and domestic -sunshine, whose kind glance, if he is low, re-inspires him; if he -is ready, in some momentary flush of his once excitable spirits, -to say or do anything too prominent, steadies and sobers him. With -such a pilot and such a sheet-anchor, we will venture to predict a -safe voyage of life to his mortal bark, and that never again will -the sunshine of peace now lying on Woodburn, on Cotmanhaye Manor, on -Bilts’ Farm, and on Fair Manor be disturbed on his account. And may -the heavens, blue and fair, shine out with their softest sunshine: -may the larks carol above, the flowers wave in the breeze, and the -brooks sing on below, around that little peaceful Arcadia where we -have so many friends, through many and many long years as now,—long, -indeed, after the whole town of Castleborough shall follow in deepest -mourning the remains of their greatest reformer and benefactor to -their honoured resting place—follow the ashes of a great and good -man, who, but for the gentle wisdom of a heart inspired by the -sublime power of devoted conjugal love, would, years ago, have sunk -into a dishonoured grave, burying all this host of blessings with him. - -Oh, woman! woman! what strength is concealed in thy weakness—what -victories are engemmed in thy gentleness! what miracles conferred -on thy truth! As the giant oak lies coiled in the little, brown, -burnished acorn that we pick up and pitch lightly into the thicket; -as the Titan of the winds lies dreaming and poetising in the zephyr; -as the little limpid, sun-bright brooklets inherit the fulness of -the ocean, with its illimitable breadth and stupendous force; as the -clouds and the rivers enshrine themselves in the diamond drops of -morning dew, so in the light and sportive life of girlhood lie powers -that can direct the course of human destiny more effectually than -the little rudder can direct the colossal ship; which can shape the -condition and the fortunes of society, and evoke revolutions more -beneficent or portentous than all the conspirations or parliaments -that ever existed. - -At the root of the tree, buried in unambitious silence, lie the -life-forces, that elaborate and evolve all the pillared and ramified -glories above. In the bosom of the family live the feminine -instincts and harmonies which send forth the masculine majesty of -deeds and doctrines which rule the universe. - -Tears that have wet the floor of solitary dungeons, still more bitter -but for the consciousness of the deathless sympathy of one faithful -bosom somewhere; crimes, arrested by the persuasive voice of woman; -wrongs, goaded to madness but for her soothing whispers; poverty, -pitiless and intolerable, but for her acts and her patient labours; -darkness, unpierced, but by the light of one heaven-kindled smile; -hopes, kept alive only by the eloquence of feminine truth; strength, -born of the weakness of never-vanquished faith; despair, scattered -by the words of one God-inspired bosom, stand forth and testify to -the unproclaimed achievements of the mother-half of mankind! Great -Mother! not only of men and women, but of the energies, hopes, -virtues and triumphs that bloom out of them and their generations, -stand forth! Be the herald of that immortal recognition of this -great truth, which shall have its fullest acknowledgement in that -region of perfect recompense, where sits our Divine Master on the -crystalline throne of immaculate justice, and says to every advancing -hero and heroine who has— - - Done good by stealth and blushed to find it fame— - -“For as much as thou hast done it to the very least of these little -ones, thou hast done it unto Me. Enter into the joy of thy Lord!” - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - - THE LONG LINE AND THIS BOOK END. - - -The time was at hand which should bring the antagonism of Sir Roger -Rockville to our friends in this history to an end. The severity -which he had for so many years exercised towards all sorts of -offenders, independent of his unconquerable repugnance to all the -views and principles of advancing society, had made him the object of -deepest vengeance. Eyes watched for him, ears listened for him, dark -hearts burned in murderous breasts in lonely places, to discharge -upon his head the collected fury of a thousand injuries. In a lonely -hollow of his woods, watching at midnight with two of his men, there -came a sturdy knot of poachers. An affray ensued. The men perceived -that their old enemy, Sir Roger, was there, and the blow of a -hedge-stake stretched him on the earth. His keepers fled. And thus -ignominiously terminated the long line of the Rockvilles. The actual -nature of the catastrophe was concealed at the time from the public, -and the conservative newspaper of Castleborough announced that Sir -Roger had died suddenly in his bed. It was true that he died in his -bed, but it was from the lingering effects of the injury received in -the wood. Sir Roger was the last of his line, but not of his class. -There is a feudal art of sinking, which requires no study, and the -Rockvilles are but one family amongst thousands who have perished in -its practice. - -Scarcely had Sir Roger breathed his last, when his title and estate -fell into litigation. Owing to two generations having passed with -no other issue of the Rockville family than a single son and heir, -the claims, though numerous, were so mingled with obscuring -circumstances, and so equally balanced, that the lawyers raised -quibbles and difficulties enough to keep it in chancery till they -had not only consumed all the ready money and rental, but had made -frightful inroads into the estate itself. To save the remnant, the -contending parties came to a compromise. A neighbouring squire, whose -grandfather had married a Rockville, was allowed to secure the title, -on the condition that the residuum of the estate should be divided -amongst the whole of the claimants. The woods and lands of Rockville -were accordingly announced for sale. - -It was at this juncture that old William Watson reminded Simon Degge -of a conversation in the great grove at Rockville which they had -held at the time that Sir Roger was endeavouring to drive the people -thence. - -“What a divine pleasure,” said Mr. Degge, “might this man enjoy if he -had a heart capable of letting others enjoy themselves. If he could -but see that the laws of property should be maintained in consistency -with the laws of God: that He has given the rentals of the earth to -individuals, but that He has never repealed his great law which gives -the whole earth to the undivided race of man: that the rentals may -be enjoyed by the individual possessors without infringement of the -general enjoyment of the pleasures of nature by society at large. -These different kinds of possession may surely co-exist without one -interfering with the other.” - -“But we talk without the estate,” William Watson had said; “what -might we do if we were tried with it?” - -Mr. Degge, when reminded of this conversation, was silent for -a moment, and then replied, that there was sound philosophy in -William’s remark. He said no more, but went away, and the next day -announced to the astonished old man that he had purchased the groves -and the whole ancient estate of Rockville. - -Simon Degge, the last of a long line of paupers, had become the -possessor of the noble estate of Sir Roger Rockville of Rockville, -the last of a long line of aristocrats! It may be imagined what was -the consternation of the whole Bullockshed and Tenterhook clan; -what the delightful amazement of Woodburn, Cotmanhaye, and all -Castleborough. To the squirearchy of the old school, the audacity -of this purchase surpassed the range of their limited imaginations. -This daring and fortunate quondam pauper, and present manufacturing -millionaire, squatted down, as they expressed it, amid all the woods -and lands, amid all the ancient honours of the line of Rockville. -To them it portended something very like the end of the world. -They saw all the old fixedness of ancestry and soil broken up, and -the despised men of spindles and looms invading everything which -to them was sacred. It seemed that Sir Roger and all his ghostly -forefathers and foremothers must rise up and scare, in the midnight -hours, the plebeian new comers from their hall and possessions of -nearly a thousand years. It seemed as if those stately monuments -and procumbent effigies of so many Rockvilles in armour, ruffs, and -farthingales, must start up from their tombs in the old church, -saturated as it was with the presence and emblazoned with the arms -and glorious epitaphs of the Rockvilles. But they all remained -perfectly quiescent; neither chiselled stone nor ancestral spirit -moved. Nature received these _terræ filii_ with as much equanimity -and indifference as it had received the Norman hordes before. There -was neither storm-wind nor earthquake, but the still small voice -of reason was heard whispering in many quarters, that whenever man -puts forth his powers he makes himself the lord of the circumstances -around him; whenever he sinks into sloth and imbecility, nature -throws him from her weird shoulders, as the vigorous but interloping -young cuckoo throws the hedge-sparrow from its parental nest. The -earth is for the bold. - -In how many a quarter of this island of late years has this same -revolution been developing itself? The sons of industry, risen by it -to wealth, in how many of the seats of the old aristocracy, decayed -through luxury and indolence, do we find them planted? Perhaps the -new blood thus infusing itself may reinvigorate and thus perpetuate -the old race; but at any rate, new ideas, new sentiments, and a more -popular spirit must follow these transformations. _Novi homines_ -cannot rest on their laurels, and to rest solely on their money were -too odious; they must, therefore, proclaim a newer and more popular -creed; and so the world moves on its spiral course. - -To the inmates of Woodburn Grange, of Cotmanhaye Manor, of Fair -Manor, and of the whole population of Castleborough, this was a -delightful event. The old odious antagonism was at an end. The more -earthy squirearchy receded into the distance, and a spirit of a more -genial nature took possession of all this pleasant neighbourhood. - -The following summer, when the hay was lying in fragrant cocks in -the great meadows below Rockville, and on the little islands of the -river, Simon Degge held a grand fête on the occasion of his coming to -reside at Rockville Hall, henceforth the family seat of the Degges. -Simon Degge remained plain Simon Degge. On occasion of going up -to London with an address to the King on some great occasion, the -honour of knighthood had been offered him; and further, it had been -communicated to him through his friend, Lord Netherland, the Recorder -of Castleborough, that his majesty, in consideration of his great -wealth and his public spirit, was disposed graciously to create him -a baronet. Both these intended honours Simon Degge as graciously -declined. He declared that he preferred the simple unadorned name -which he had ever borne, and he desired no honours but such as -naturally sprung from the exercise of virtue and benevolence. - -For the present occasion his house and gardens had all been restored -in the most consummate style. For years Mr. Degge had been a great -purchaser of works of art and literature—painting, statuary, books, -and articles of antiquity, including rich armour and precious works -in ivory and gold. As Mrs. Degge had a particular weakness for -beautiful china, he had gratified her eyes with a grand array of the -most exquisite specimens of the ceramic art. - -First and foremost, he now gave a great banquet to his wealthy -friends—and no man with a million and a half is without them, and in -abundance. In the second place, he gave a substantial dinner to all -his tenantry, from the wealthy farmer of five hundred acres to the -tenant of a cottage. On this occasion he said, “Game is a subject of -great heart-burnings, and of great injustice to the country. It was -the bane of my predecessor, let us take care that it is not ours. -Let every man kill the game on the land that he rents, then he will -neither destroy it utterly, nor allow it to grow into a nuisance. -I am fond of a gun myself, and my sons probably will be more so; -but we shall find game enough in our own fields and woods for our -destructive propensities, without fostering such a swarm of these -animals as may lead us to degenerate into game-butchers. Gentlemen, -I should as soon think of setting up to kill my own oxen, as to kill -game merely for the sake of killing it. The healthy excitement of the -chase vanishes when a very inundation of the animals pursued rolls -under our feet, and a satiating slaughter takes the place of a keen -and vigorous search after it. To hunt!—yes, the word expresses what -field-sports once were—the game had to be hunted out. Now the foreign -name best designates it—battu, beat it up, and knock it ignobly on -the head. Gentlemen, whenever we may occasionally extend our pursuit -of game beyond the fields of the home-farm and the woods, across the -lands of our tenants, it shall not be to carry off the first-fruits -of their feeding, and we will still hold the enjoyment as a favour.” - -We need not say that this speech was applauded most vociferously. - -Thirdly, and lastly, Mr. Degge gave a grand entertainment to all his -work-people, both of the town and country. His house and grounds were -thrown open to the inspection of the whole concourse. The delighted -crowd admired the pictures and pleasant gardens. On the lawn, lying -betwixt the great grove and the hall, an enormous tent was pitched, -or rather a vast canvas canopy erected, open on all sides, in which -was laid a charming banquet. A military band from Castleborough -Barracks played during the time. Here Simon Degge, leaning his hand -on the shoulder of his happy mother,—his worthy father-in-law, -Spires, was gone to his rest,—surveyed the scene with the utmost -delight. His mother, fresh and hale as ever, was seated with William -Watson and her old Castleborough neighbours about her; and as her -son there stood, he made a speech which was as rapturously applauded -as that delivered to the farmers. It was to the effect that all the -old privileges of wandering in the groves, of angling and boating on -the river, were restored. The inn was already rebuilt in a handsome -Elizabethan style, larger than before, and to prevent it ever -becoming a fane of intemperance, he had there placed as landlord, he -hoped for many years to come, his old friend and benefactor, William -Watson. William Watson, he was sure, would protect the inn from riot, -and they themselves the groves and river banks from injury. - -Long and loud was the applause which this announcement occasioned. -The young people turned out upon the green for a dance, and in the -evening, after an excellent tea, the whole company descended the -river in boats and barges decorated with green boughs and flowers, -and singing a song made by William Watson for the occasion, called, -“The Health of Simon Degge, the last and first of his line!” - -Years have rolled on. The groves and river banks, and islands of -Rockville are still greatly frequented, but are never known to be -injured. Poachers are never known, for excellent reasons: nobody -would like to annoy the good Mr. Degge. Game is not very numerous -there; there is no fun in killing it, where there is no resistance, -and it is vastly more amusing to kill it where it is abundant, and is -jealously watched and guarded by the proprietor of the demesnes, and -where there is the chance of a good spree with the keepers. - -And with what different feelings does the good Simon Degge look -down from his lofty eyrie over the princely expanse of meadows, -and over the glittering river, and over the stately woods to where -Great Castleborough still stretches farther and farther its red-brick -walls, its red-tiled roofs, and its tall, smoke-emitting chimneys! -There he sees no haunts of crowded men, enemies to himself or to any -one. No upstarts, no envious opponents, but a vast family of human -beings, all toiling for the good of their families and their country. -All advancing, some faster, some slower, to a better education, a -better social condition, a better conception of the principles of art -and commerce, a clearer recognition of their rights and duties, and a -more cheering faith in the upward tendency of humanity. - -Looking on this interesting scene from his distant and quiet home, -Simon Degge sees what blessings flow—and deeply he feels them in -his own case—from the circulation not only of trade but of human -reciprocities. How this corrects the mischiefs, moral and physical, -of false systems and rusty prejudices, and he ponders not on poachers -and encroachers, but on schemes of no ordinary beauty and beneficence -yet to reach his beloved town through him. He sees lecture halls and -academies, means of sanitary purification and delicious recreation, -in which baths and wash-houses and airy homes figure largely, whilst -the public walks round the town are still farther extended, including -woods, hills, meadows, and rivers, in a circuit of many miles. There -he lives and labours, around him a noble family of sons and daughters -to perpetuate his labours and his virtues. - -And what a change has fallen on all the country and the families, -rich and poor, around! The friends of Sir Roger have fallen out -of the circuit, as it were. The old leaven of heart-burnings and -conflicting principles has died out from amongst those in whom we -are most interested. In that lovely little district, which includes -Cotmanhaye, Woodburn, Rockville, Bilts’ Farm, Fair Manor, and -Castleborough, the abodes of the Claverings, the Woodburns, Degges, -and Heritages, the old sunny and Arcadian days have returned. Young -families are springing up here and there, bringing with them new -floods of happiness, and a spirit of peace and harmony floats over -all that charmed region, and from no cause more conspicuously than -from the simple circumstance of the providential removal of one -single man out of so many thousands—THE LAST OF A LONG LINE. - -No longer antagonist—no longer mutually irritant, the towers and -woods of Rockville look down with an affectionate smile on the russet -roof and green paddocks of WOODBURN GRANGE. - - - THE END. - - - BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. - - - THE HISTORY OF DISCOVERY IN AUSTRALIA, TASMANIA, AND NEW ZEALAND, - FROM THE EARLIEST DATE TO THE PRESENT DAY. By William Howitt, Author - of “Two Years in Victoria,” etc. etc. With Maps of the Recent - Explorations, from Official Sources. In 2 Vols. 20s. London, Longman - and Co. - - - NOTICES OF THE PRESS. - - - TIMES, DEC. 8, 1865. - -We welcome these volumes as giving a full account of the Enterprises -by which Australia has been explored, and as calculated to enlarge -our knowledge respecting this vast and important region. They are -careful, accurate, and succinct epitomes of Australian discovery, and -the results it has produced, and contain a great deal of valuable -information. - - - ATHENÆUM, MAY 6, 1865. - -Mr. Howitt’s volumes comprise the history of Tasmania and New Zealand -as well as that of the Australian Continent. We recommend them to -those who wish for a convenient book of reference on Australian -discovery and exploration, or those who wish to know all that has -been done towards our present acquaintance with New Holland and the -adjacent islands. - - - ILLUSTRATED NEWS. - -Mr. Howitt in this work does, as it seems to us, all the justice in -his power to every gallant explorer; enlivens his history with many -anecdotes, and has enriched his work with excellent maps. - - - LONDON REVIEW, JULY 22, 1865. - -Mr. Howitt possesses a sort of family claim to write on the topics -contained in his book. He has been in Australia; one of his sons, -Alfred, commanded the expedition sent out in quest of Burke and -Wills, whose remains he found and buried; and another, Charlton, -was drowned in New Zealand while trying to make his way across the -country from Canterbury to the Western Coast over the Southern Alps. -The history of the exploration of the New Zealand group is briefly -told, and well. - - - BELL’S MESSENGER, JUNE 17, 1865. - -Mr. William Howitt, of all travellers, is perhaps the very best -person that could have been encouraged to give a history of those -vast colonies, which in little more than a quarter of a century -have vied with the mother country in progress and prosperity. For -some time a resident in one or more of the three great dependencies -whose growth he describes, he is perhaps better adapted than even -many a permanent settler to solve the question so often asked, “How -is it that these enormous districts became annexed to England?” His -object in going thither was not to trade, not to seek for gold at the -“diggings,” not to dispossess a single Maori of his vast pasturage, -and grow his own wool, tallow, and mutton thereon, to the ruin of -the original native holder. He crossed the broad seas, not as a -cosmopolitan, but as a keen observer, a patient investigator, and an -honest student, bent rather upon gathering information that might do -more good to others, in a pecuniary point of view, than to himself, -since the remuneration for his literary work could never bring to -him the return, which the facts he had collected may be the means -of recommending to others. The subject he undertook to deal with is -large; but he has had the power to grasp it; and the simple-minded -manner in which he relates the trials of the first adventurers, -the difficulties they had to surmount, and the results which have -followed upon their enterprise, adds a charm to the book, which will -ensure its popularity. To those desirous of trying their fortune -at the antipodes this will be a book indeed of very considerable -usefulness; not because it abounds with advice to such individuals, -or tells them what to do, and what to avoid, but because it is -suggestive of a host of things that will enable a prudent man to -judge rightly, and act accordingly. Whilst however, the value of Mr. -William Howitt’s experience will do good service in this particular, -it is also calculated to assist the merchant and manufacturer at -home, to tell them many truths it were well for them to know. - - - EXAMINER, APRIL 15, 1865. - -An old friend of the public’s, Mr. William Howitt, who has been -himself to Australia, and whose son has made a name for himself there -in the history of exploration, now adds one more to the number of the -histories of “Discovery in Australia, Tasmania, and New Zealand.” -His book, a history in two octavo volumes, begins at the beginning -and brings down its story to the present day. It is a story that -will bear many a telling, and who will not gladly hear it told by -William Howitt in sympathy with the strong interest he feels in it, -of which he writes, “Having had one son engaged in these researches -in Australia, as the successful discoverer of the lost expedition of -Burke and Wills, and the recoverer of their remains, and having lost -another in assisting to open up the interior of New Zealand, he has -entered on the undertaking as a labour of love.” Such a book from his -hands cannot fail to be attractive. - - - EXAMINER, APRIL 22, 1865. - -Nowhere else, in the history of modern discovery,—save in those -Arctic explorations which have had for chief promoters more than one -man schooled to hardship and perseverance in this southern field of -adventure,—was there so much room for unflinching heroism, with such -abundance of dangers to be overcome and substantial victories to be -gained over the treacherous elements. Names like those of Oxley, -Cunningham, King, Grey, Eyre, Sturt, Stuart, Burke, and Wills have, -in the annals of the present century, a dignity akin to that which -makes the lives of Willoughby and Frobisher, Gilbert, Raleigh, and -a crowd of others, illustrious in Tudor history. Best known, and -noblest of all, is the story of the disastrous expedition of Burke -and Wills in 1860 and 1861, followed, while the fate of the missing -adventurers was unknown, by several memorable journies in quest of -them. Two of these, undertaken by Mr. McKinlay and Mr. Landsborough, -have been described in recent publications. Two others, led by Mr. -Howitt’s own son, are here for the first time made known in detail. - - - OBSERVER, APRIL 16, 1865. - -This book contains a most complete and faithful summary of the -various discoveries that have been made in Australia during the -last 260 years, commencing with those made by the Portuguese in -the north west of Australia before the discovery of the north of -Australia by the Dutch in 1605. It shows, however, that even these -early navigators were not the first discoverers; and that it is -difficult to decide how long Australia had been previously known to -the Chinese. In fact indications exist from the most remote antiquity -of unrecorded voyages, which led the ancients to speak of countries -lying beyond the regions of any positive knowledge then remaining, -and our author cites the passage from Mænilius, who lived in the time -of Tiberius or Augustus, in which the rotundity of the earth and the -existence of antipodes were distinctly referred to. - - - LITERARY GAZETTE, JUNE 10, 1865. - -We are greatly impressed with the value of this work, and cannot -doubt but that it will take rank as a standard authority on all that -pertains to the history of our trans-Pacific possessions. Maps of -Australia, Van Diemen’s Land, and New Zealand, compiled from official -and authentic information, accompany the volumes, which abound -in pictures new and strange, and contain a large number of facts -illustrative of countries which seem destined to become centres of a -new and extensive civilization. - - - AUSTRALIAN AND NEW ZEALAND GAZETTE, APRIL 20, 1865. - -The want of a connected history of the progress of discovery in -Australia has long been felt, but we are glad to find that the delay -has been amply compensated for in the very excellent work which has -just been published by William Howitt, who, in addition to his other -literary claims, has the advantage of not only being personally -connected with the colonies, but also with the subject, for his sons -enjoy a conspicuous position in the illustrious phalanx of Australian -explorers. In conclusion, we can only say that Mr. Howitt is entitled -to the best thanks of the public, both at home and in the colonies, -for the manner in which he has executed his task. - - - MORNING ADVERTISER, APRIL 17, 1865. - -As a graphic and vigorous writer, one who deals with his subject in -an earnest manner, William Howitt requires no eulogy from the pen of -any critic. His present work is the best and most comprehensive which -has yet appeared on the countries it treats of. The author’s personal -knowledge of several of the colonies, and the possession of documents -not yet given to the public, have achieved for his work greater -accuracy than would otherwise have been the case. - - - GUARDIAN, SEPT. 1, 1865. - -The two handsome volumes before us, are really standard, useful -works, and in some respects exhaustive of their subject. There -are, we imagine, few, if any, points of information for which the -intending emigrant, the settler, or the student need search this -history in vain. The maps are clearly and accurately drawn, and are -founded on the most recent discoveries, with which Mr. Howitt has -made himself fully acquainted. The whole subject is well handled, -but perhaps Australia with the greatest fullness and success, as -presenting scenes of danger and of wild romance, of heroic daring and -devoted deaths, such as few countries have to show. - - - DAILY NEWS, JUNE 5, 1865. - -The author of these volumes has well qualified himself to write -upon the subject to which they are devoted. He has had a personal -acquaintance with the country, and written a delightful book about -it: he has had access to all the sources of information in the -possession of both the colonial and home government, and the better -half of his heart has been long given to the great southern land, -upon which he has bestowed two noble sons. One of Mr. Howitt’s sons -perished in an attempt to explore the interior of New Zealand; the -other still lives, and has had the triumph of discovering the remains -of poor Burke and Wills, who perished in the centre of Australia on -their return after having traversed the continent. The history of -this remarkable, and in many respects, anomalous land, could not have -fallen into better hands. It is a work which engages Mr. William -Howitt’s affections as well as his very great talents, and with his -long practised pen the reader may be sure that the interest of the -subject is not diminished by him. - - - THE MORNING HERALD, APRIL 25, 1865. - -The title page of this book rather startles us at first, by the very -magnitude of its subject, being no less than a chronicle of three -hundred years of discovery. But Mr. Howitt is an old and able hand at -condensing, and is able to give us an excellent summary of all that -is really worth knowing. - - - THE GLOBE, MAY 29, 1865. - -The peculiar fitness of the writer for his task—his “labour of love,” -as he himself styles it—need hardly be dilated on. His long residence -in the country, the country as distinguished from the town—the -services and discoveries of his son Alfred, who brought back the -remains of Burke and Wills for honourable burial, and the loss of his -youngest son, Charlton, in the work of exploration and improvement in -New Zealand, add a personal and family interest to that of the mere -encyclopædias of other men’s labours. - - - STANDARD, APRIL 25, 1865. - -This is a story of labours and adventures, of romantic daring and -noble endurance, such as few, if any other countries have to show. -The names of such men as Tasman, Dampier, Cook, King, Fitzroy, -Lushington, Austin, Babbage, Kennedy, Burke and Wills, Howitt and -Walker, suggest to all that are acquainted with Australian discovery -a host of scenes in which Englishmen took a noble and brave part, -and made their names as famous in the wilderness as they have since -become in the world. And when we call to mind that the peoples of -Australia are almost entirely of our own race and kindred, bound to -us by the closest ties of blood, commerce, and common fortunes, it -is clear that a good sketch of their history must possess a deep and -lasting interest for the public. Mr. Howitt is well fitted to be -their historian, not simply by his natural gifts as a writer, but by -his wide and varied experience as a traveller, and by the occupation -of his two sons, one as an explorer in Australia and the other in -New Zealand. He had omitted no fair research or exertion to render -his sketch attractive and complete, and we are bound to add that his -efforts are crowned with success. - - - THE MORNING POST, APRIL 25, 1865. - -The title of this work opens up a vista of adventure, enterprise, -and daring which is without parallel in the world of fiction and -romance. Its heroes are travellers by land and by water, “men of -might and high achievement,” and great pioneers, who made their -age and country famous, and all succeeding time their debtors. For -all sorts and conditions of men the work possesses attractions. -The studious will find it a storehouse of information, carefully -collected and imparted with a graceful and graphic pen; those who -have not outlived the sympathies of youth will, while they peruse -its pages, recall the pleasurable emotions with which in the days -gone by they followed heroic voyagers into seas over which a cloud -of mystery had theretofore hung, and traced their perilous progress -from land to land; while the younger reader will have in the history -an instructive and delightful study. To all it will be a source -of interest to watch the growth of an Anglo-Saxon empire at the -antipodes from feeble infancy to robust youth, and to speculate upon -the probable greatness of its future from the rapid development which -has taken place during its brief career. - - * * * * * - -These are examples of the opinions of the general press, which, -without exception, have been of the most unexampled commendatory -character. - - * * * * * - - Billing, Printer, Guildford. - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes - - pg 2 Added period to: Mr Woodburn, however - pg 47 Added period to: her and Mr - pg 59 Changed no suspicion cou to: could - pg 77 Changed and reach Indianopolis to: Indianapolis - pg 79 Added single quote after: can do a little. - pg 99 Changed ready to issue to th to: the - pg 102 Changed had not at th to: the - pg 107 Removed duplicate word we from: we we will set about - pg 111 Changed Tom then too to: took - pg 112 Added single quote after: have your nap out - pg 114 Changed that it wont to: won’t - pg 127 Changed if I dont to: don’t - pg 149 Added quote after: some of the money. - pg 248 Changed he shouted down-stairs to: downstairs - pg 276 Changed at a very ow to: low - pg 296 Changed present manufacturing millionnaire to: millionaire - pg 302 Added period after: ignobly on the head - Catalog pg 1 Changed The ubject he undertook to: subject - Catalog pg 3 Changed Mr. Howitt it to: is - Hyphenated and non-hyphenated word combinations left as written. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOODBURN GRANGE, VOL. 3 OF -3 *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/69643-0.zip b/old/69643-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 1c52990..0000000 --- a/old/69643-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69643-h.zip b/old/69643-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 27cf27d..0000000 --- a/old/69643-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69643-h/69643-h.htm b/old/69643-h/69643-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 217c5cc..0000000 --- a/old/69643-h/69643-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8386 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8"> - <title> - Woodburn Grange Vol. 3 of 3, by William Howitt—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> - <style> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - text-indent: 1em; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%;} -hr.r30 {width: 30%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 35%; margin-right: 35%;} -hr.r30b {width: 30%; margin-top: -.9em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 35%; margin-right: 35%;} - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -.fs80 {font-size: 80%} -.fs120 {font-size: 120%} -.fs150 {font-size: 150%} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} -table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } - -.tdl {text-align: left;} -.tdr {text-align: right;} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: small; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; - text-indent: 0; - color: #A9A9A9; -} /* page numbers */ - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} - - -/* Images */ - -img { - max-width: 100%; - height: auto; -} - - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - -/* Footnotes */ -.footnotes {border: 1px dashed; margin-top: 2em;} - -.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:small; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; -} - - </style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Woodburn Grange, vol. 3 of 3, by William Howitt</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Woodburn Grange, vol. 3 of 3</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>A story of English country life</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: William Howitt</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 26, 2022 [eBook #69643]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Sonya Schermann, Bob Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOODBURN GRANGE, VOL. 3 OF 3 ***</div> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 55%"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Cover"> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> -<h1>WOODBURN GRANGE.</h1> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - -<p class="center fs150">WOODBURN GRANGE.</p> - -<p class="center fs120">A Story of English Country Life.</p> -<br> -<p class="center fs80">BY</p> -<p class="center">WILLIAM HOWITT.<br> -<br><br> -IN THREE VOLUMES.<br> -<br> -VOL. III.<br> -<br><br> -LONDON:<br> -CHARLES W. WOOD, 13, TAVISTOCK ST., STRAND.<br> -1867.<br> -<br> -[<em>Right of Translation reserved.</em>]<br> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - - -<p class="center"> -LONDON:<br> -BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.<br> -</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</h2> -</div> -<hr class="r5"> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">CHAP.</td> -<td class="tdl"></td> -<td class="tdr">PAGE</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">I.</td> -<td class="tdl">—THE MURDER AT THE FERRY</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">II.</td> -<td class="tdl">—WHO DID IT?</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">III.</td> -<td class="tdl">—A WONDERFUL DREAM</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">IV.</td> -<td class="tdl">—SCAMMEL’S DEATH</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">V.</td> -<td class="tdl">—THE SKY BRIGHTENS</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VI.</td> -<td class="tdl">—THE TRIAL, AND TALK AT WOODBURN</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VII.</td> -<td class="tdl">—A QUAKER WEDDING, AND ANOTHER WEDDING</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_242">242</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VIII.</td> -<td class="tdl">—IT IS ALL OWING TO LETTY</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_269">269</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">IX.</td> -<td class="tdl">—THE LONG LINE AND THIS BOOK END</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_292">292</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> - -<p class="center fs150">WOODBURN GRANGE.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="r30"> -<hr class="r30b"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</h2> - -<p class="center">THE MURDER AT THE FERRY.</p> - - -<p>The circumstances related in our last -chapter fearfully aggravated the state of -things which had now continued two years: -a year after the unfortunate visit of Miss -Heritage to London, and nearly ten months -after the embarkation of Dr. Leroy for India. -The breach between Mr. Trant Drury and -Mr. Leonard Woodburn, as well as that -between different members of the community, -had steadily grown wider and more -irrevocable. The irritation of Mr. Woodburn -against Mr. Drury had become thus more -deeply intensified. As to Mr. Drury himself,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span> -he would never seem to recognise any cause -of offence between them. He would always -accost Mr. Woodburn, when they met, in a -somewhat brusque manner, intended to be -friendly, though he seldom obtained more -than a “good day” from him, and a steady -passing on. These occasions of cursory -speech, in fact, generally added some fresh -touch of irritation to Mr. Woodburn. He -regarded this nonchalant and unabashed -manner of Mr. Drury’s, when he knew the -many offences he had given him, as fresh -offence, and proof of a hard and impudent -character of mind. Yet, in truth, they were -only the result of Mr. Drury’s peculiar temperament, -who meant no offence, but only -the assertion of what, to him, were unimpeachable -truths, that people ought to accept, -and, sooner or later, must accept. To Mr. -Woodburn, however, the position of Mr. -Drury, as a man in much intercourse with -the class of gentry round who were so antagonistic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span> -to all the political views of himself -and most highly esteemed friends, added a -deeper feeling to his dislike.</p> - -<p>A more painful state of things cannot be -conceived. To George Woodburn and Elizabeth -Drury it was a state of perpetual -torture. Mr. Woodburn wished George to -take a house somewhere not far off, get -married, and manage the paternal property. -He named to him a handsome income, -which he would appropriate to him; but -George knew that at such a wedding his -father would never meet Mr. Drury, and -to such a scandal neither he nor Elizabeth -would consent. George proposed to take -a farm in some distant county, and to be -married at some distant place quietly, but -he saw that this caused his parents great -pain, and though Mr. Drury was quite ready -to acquiesce in this plan, George hesitated to -take this only possible step for peace.</p> - -<p>Such was the state of things when hay-harvest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span> -came round again. Every one -thought of that hay-field fête three years -ago, at which Mrs. Heritage had foreseen such -glooms. And greatly had these fallen. On -Fair Manor itself they had fallen. Dr. Leroy -had been enveloped by them, and was on the -other side the globe, all his fair prospects -blighted. Thorsby was away in the wilds of -America. Letters to both Mr. Barnsdale and -his wife had informed them that he had succeeded -in putting his goods in New York -into the hands of the house which apprised -him of his agent’s elopement; a house with -which he had had considerable and satisfactory -transaction; that he was starting on -the trail of the delinquent, who had gone -away in company with a lady, and that he -meant to pursue him to the utmost. Since -then, only one or two letters had been -received from him from the far interior, -detailing his still hopeless pursuit, but undiminished -determination to persevere to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span> -last. Letty was bravely working on with -the business in Castleborough. Mrs. Thorsby -was dead: and little Leonard, growing every -day more interesting, was the great consolation -of Letty’s life. Over Woodburn Grange -lay a dark cloud of care and mortification, -only relieved by the marriage of Ann and -Sir Henry Clavering, which was at last fixed -for the commencement of August, and was -to be followed by a tour on the continent.</p> - -<p>Once more July brought hay-time. The -weather had been cloudy and still, and -thus unfavourable to the drying of the hay. -One morning Mr. Woodburn was with his -work-people in the very hill-field in which the -memorable hay-field fête had been held. He -was standing, leaning on a rake, just above -the hollow road leading down to the river -ferry. The wild roses and eglantine flower-bunches -were breathing sweetly from one of -those luxuriant fences which Mr. Drury desired<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span> -to see cut down to a short and rigid -ugliness. The hay-makers were driving the -hay from beneath the large shadow of hedgerow -trees up the side of the field, into the -middle, to give it more air and sun, if the -sun should look out. At this moment Mr. -Drury himself came riding down the lane. -“Ah! my friend,” he said; “now you see -the nuisance of these tall hedges and trees. -You cannot get an atom of sun or breeze to -your hay, and you must, with much extra -labour, force it into the centre of the field. -Even there it will still feel the effect of these -barriers against free circulation of air and -light.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Woodburn showed instantly his great -irritation. The blood rushed into his face, -and with a dark, stern expression he said, -“Mr. Drury, this is insolence—this is intolerable. -When I need your advice I will ask -for it;” and with that he turned away. Mr. -Drury rode on, only saying, with a sort of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span> -half laugh of triumph, “Well, good morning, -Woodburn.”</p> - -<p>“Is there no good fortune,” said Mr. -Woodburn, unguardedly, as he turned away, -“which will turn up to rid this country of that -nuisance of a man, of his cursed pride, and -conceited meddling with everybody’s business?” -He began working away with his -rake, and it might be seen for a long time -after that he was still thinking on this <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mal-à-propos</i> -salutation of Mr. Drury.</p> - -<p>Four days later Mr. Woodburn returned -home to tea. He had been across Wink’s -Ferry, to his hay meadows on the other side -the river, where he had many people at -work. The weather had cleared up, and a -more lovely evening never lay calmly shining -over the summer earth. Mrs. Woodburn had -the tea set out in the arbour in the garden, -and she and her husband, George and Ann, -were quietly enjoying it, and the sweetness -of the garden around. The bees were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> -humming on the sunlit flowers, the sulphur -and red butterflies were wavering here and -there in the clear air; the roses and wallflowers, -after the late shadowy weather and -occasional showers, were pouring forth their -delicious odours, which came wafted in at -door and window of the summer-house.</p> - -<p>George and his father were talking of the -harvest, and of the arrangements for carrying -the hay on the morrow, and the number of -people who should be at work in the home -fields, and the number in the meadows over -the river, when, at once, came Betty Trapps, -running like a maniac, from the house. Her -face was a face of death in hue and terror. -Her eyes seemed starting from her head.</p> - -<p>“Mester! Mester! George!” she cried, -wildly, shriekingly. “There’s Mester Drury’s -horse gone up the village, all over wet and -sludge, with his saddle turned, the reins -under his feet; and there’s a cry Mr. Drury’s -drowned!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, Mercy!” exclaimed the ladies, starting -up in horror. “Oh! God have mercy, -and send it be not so!”</p> - -<p>George ran headlong from the place, and -Mr. Woodburn followed him, saying, “Be -quiet, women! be quiet! it is only a fancy. -I saw Mr. Drury but half an hour ago, at a -distance, among his haymakers. He may be -thrown, but not drowned.”</p> - -<p>George meantime was out in front of the -house, and saw several men trying to stop the -horse, which was evidently much excited. -“Stop him!” cried George. “Don’t let the -horse run to the farm, it will cause the ladies -such fright!”</p> - -<p>He was glad to see that the men had succeeded -in seizing the fallen reins. They -patted and soothed the alarmed horse, and -brought him back. George saw that he had -evidently had a violent struggle in the river. -He was covered with mud and gravel. The -saddle was turned under his chest, and was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> -torn and scratched. The poor horse trembled -with terror in every limb. George bade the -man put it into the stable, and wash and -clean it well; and he sent another man up the -road to prevent anyone carrying the news to -Bilts’ Farm till the reality was known. He -then ran down to the Ferry. There were -already several men and women there as well -as Mr. Woodburn. The ferry-boat was drawn -to this side of the river, but it betrayed no -marks of any kind which could clear up the -mystery. Mr. Drury was nowhere to be -seen; but on searching down the bank to a -little distance, the place was found where the -horse had reached it, evidently from the river, -and had struggled his way up it to the land.</p> - -<p>“Did no one see what took place at the -boat when Mr. Drury came over?” said Mr. -Woodburn. “I came over myself only half -an hour ago, and then Mr. Drury was with -his people in the meadow on horseback.”</p> - -<p>No one had seen it. The people present<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> -were his own people, who had seen the horse -come galloping up the lane by the hill-field -from the ferry, and some had gone to stop -the horse, and some ran down here. Soon -there were many other people assembled. -Those in the meadow had caught the rumour, -and there was a general running to the ferry. -The river was hunted down on both sides to -some distance, but without effect. The ferry-boat -was then loosed from the chain, poles -were cut to steer it by, and a careful search -was made down the stream, George Woodburn -assisting most anxiously in the exploration, -whilst the rest of the crowd accompanied -the boat along each bank. Long was -the search, but in vain; but, on pushing -the boat up the stream again, and within -five yards of the ferry, it struck on something -soft, and, on looking into the clear -water, it was seen to be the body of Mr. -Drury. Great was the horror at the discovery. -Several men jumped into the stream,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> -which was shallow, and drew forth the corpse, -and laid it streaming on the boat. What a -sight was that! The well-known tall figure -of Mr. Drury, in his well-known blue lapelled -coat, pale yellow waistcoat, kerseymere small-clothes, -and smart top-boots. His riding-whip -was still clenched in his right hand.</p> - -<p>“Is it possible, then,” asked Mr. Woodburn, -“that no one saw anything of this sad catastrophe? -Was no one about when Mr. Drury -came to the ferry?” Not a soul had seen -him at the ferry; not a soul had been seen -about it at the time. “They saw Mr. Woodburn -go to the ferry,” the haymakers said, “and -in awhile after, Mr. Drury ride towards the -ferry, too. That was all that they knew.”</p> - -<p>“It is very strange,” said Mr. Woodburn. -“The question is, how it can have happened? -Can the horse have taken alarm as Mr. -Drury was pulling at the chain, and kicked -him, or pushed him in by backing? A -doctor must be fetched in all haste. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span> -cannot revive him, but he may throw some -light on the mysterious occurrence. The -body must not be moved till he comes, nor -anything about him touched.”</p> - -<p>A guard of trusty men was set over the -body and boat, and George Woodburn went -off to fetch the doctor. The character of -the men set over the body on the boat, which -was put off to midstream, and the number -of spectators on each bank, was sufficient -guarantee that no interference with the -corpse would take place. Mr. Woodburn, -therefore, slowly returned homewards. George, -meantime, had ordered his horse, and, with a -heart overwhelmed with grief and consternation, -had gone to his mother and sister, -who were in a condition not to be described.</p> - -<p>“But,” said George, “there is a duty that -some one must perform—a—a terrible duty; -it is to break this awful event to the -Drurys. I confess that I am unequal to -it, and I must away for the doctor. You,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> -dear mother and sister, cannot bear it.” Both -the ladies shook their heads and groaned in -agony. “No, no,” said Ann, “impossible.” -There was but one person whom George -could think of to perform this awful duty, -and it must be done at once, or it would -reach Bilts’ Farm by a side way—it was -Betty Trapps. But Betty at first stoutly -refused; she was herself lost in tears and -prayers, and said she would sooner be -drowned too than carry such ill-tidings. But -when she saw George’s distress she said, -“Well, what must be, must be,” and at once -put on her bonnet and shawl and set out. -Betty walked on, wrapped up in her trouble, -and making one long prayer the whole way; -but how she did it and how she bore it she -said afterwards she did not know, but one -thing she did know, that nothing should ever -induce her to do such an errand, and see -such a stunning misery burst upon innocent, -loving heads again.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span></p> - -<p>The news of such an event flies fast, and -when the doctor came with George from -Castleborough, for there was none nearer, -there was a great crowd of men, women, and -children surrounding the ferry, and a hundred -different speculations were passing from -mouth to mouth as to the catastrophe -George Woodburn’s horse showed, by his -reeking skin and panting flanks, at what a -rate he had ridden, and the doctor’s smoking -horse at what a rate they had returned.</p> - -<p>A solemn silence fell over the crowd as -the doctor and George walked through it, -and beckoning the boat to the shore, entered -upon it, and then had it put back a little from -the bank again. The doctor had the drowned -man’s vest opened; no wound or bruise was -apparent; he drew off his hat, which still, -though battered down, was upon his head. -A gush of congealing blood followed it, and -the hair was matted with gore.</p> - -<p>“There is the mischief,” said the surgeon.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> -He had a large basin of water brought, -washed the head well, and examined it.</p> - -<p>“By whatever done,” he said, “the blow -is behind. Can it be a kick from his horse? -I think not. It does not show the cut of the -sharp edge of a horse-shoe, but looks like the -blow of some blunt instrument, or of a cudgel. -Can he have struck his head in falling on the -edge of the boat?” He shook his head -thoughtfully. “I think not: but let us -examine his pockets; that may indicate -whether there has been any robbery in the -case.”</p> - -<p>That the watch of the deceased had not -been taken was evident to them all. It was -still attached to its gold chain, and in the -fob of his small-clothes waistband, as watches -were then worn. From his coat pockets were -produced his handkerchief, his spectacles, a -knife of many blades, comb, and other things. -There was found gold and silver untouched -in his purse, and in the breast-pocket his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> -pocket-book, containing some bank-notes of -high value, and two or three acceptances -just coming due, as if he had put them in -his pocket to go to the bank to receive their -contents.</p> - -<p>“Nothing here,” said the doctor, “warrants -the suspicion of any robbery; the thing is a -mystery which time and inquiry may clear -up. The body must be conveyed to the -Grey Goose public-house for the inspection -of the inquest to-morrow; let an exact list -of the articles found upon the body be made, -and kept by Mr. George Woodburn, and I -will produce these, the money, purse, pocket-book, -watch, &c., to the coroner to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>With that the doctor and George Woodburn -returned to the village. The doctor -took his leave, and the body, laid on a door -and covered with a bed-quilt, was carried to -the public-house, followed by the silent crowd.</p> - -<p>It may be imagined what a sensation this -event created, not only in Woodburn but in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span> -the country far round, and also in Castleborough. -Mr. Trant Drury had made himself -a man of too much mark to pass out of -the world in this sudden and mysterious -manner without producing a great shock in -the public mind, and the circumstances of -his death were too peculiar not to excite -the faculties of wonder and curiosity in an -extreme degree.</p> - -<p>The coroner and doctor duly appeared at -the Grey Goose about eleven o’clock the -next day. A jury was got together from -amongst the neighbouring farmers, including -Mr. Howell Crusoe, the schoolmaster, as a -man of superior intelligence. All the circumstances -already related were reviewed, -the doctor produced the purse, watch, pocket-book, -&c., and gave his view as to the wound -on the back of the head not being made by -a kick of the horse; a thorough examination of -the corpse showed no other injury. The jury -then adjourned to the ferry, examined the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span> -boat, the bank where the horse had got out -of the river, and had the spot pointed out to -them where the body was found in it, which -was still marked by a pole which one of the -men thrust down at the time.</p> - -<p>On the return to the Grey Goose, the -evidence of Mr. Woodburn, of George Woodburn, -and a number of the hay-makers, both -from the hill-field and from beyond the river, -was taken, all of which went only to show -that nothing more was known than that Mr. -Drury was seen alive and quite well in the -hay-fields till about half an hour after Mr. -Woodburn left the same meadow and passed -over the same ferry. No one had witnessed -the crossing, at least no one who could be -found or heard of, and there were no evidences -of any robbery having been perpetrated. -The occurrence had taken place on -a fine, bright, calm evening of July. The -coroner asked whether any one was known -to have any feud or had evinced any spirit<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> -of resentment towards Mr. Drury. Perhaps -not a man there who was of the neighbourhood -into whose mind did not flash at that -question the fact that Mr. Woodburn was -known to have a great dislike to Mr. Drury, -and the labourers in the hill-field thought of -the words of Mr. Woodburn but four days -previously, namely, querying why some good -fortune did not remove that troublesome -man from the neighbourhood, attended with -expressions of great vexation; but that Mr. -Woodburn, that man of ancient honour and -quiet virtues, should have had any hand in -such an atrocity was an idea too wild to be -dwelt upon. All were silent on that head. -The jury continued in discussion on the cause -of Mr. Drury’s death, and yet, at length, -swayed by the words used by the surgeon, -came to a verdict of “Wilful murder against -some person or persons unknown.”</p> - -<p>It is impossible for any pen to describe the -deep and strange feeling which rested on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> -people, both gentle and simple, in the country -round and in Castleborough on this sad and -mysterious event. The violent death of so -strong and active a man as Mr. Trant Drury, -in passing that quiet ferry, never before -stained by any human blood or witness to -any human crime, on one of the loveliest -evenings of summer, in brightest sunshine, -and within a few hundred yards of Woodburn -village. It would be equally impossible to -express the great distress which existed -within Woodburn Grange—the still more -agonising and horrified affliction of the wife -and daughter of the deceased. Vast crowds -assembled to witness the funeral of the man -so lately in fullest life, and a strange shiver -of mysterious awe and wonder seemed to -hang over the whole assembly, and as these -crowds dispersed, to fall more profoundly on -Woodburn and its neighbouring fields. Immediately -after the funeral, Elizabeth Drury -and her mother left Bilts’ Farm, and went to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> -reside amongst their relatives in Yorkshire. -Sad and silent was their departure. Elizabeth -wrote short and most affecting notes of -adieu to her dear friends—the Woodburns -and the Heritages—saying that they could -not bear to see any whom they loved so -much. Yet George and Elizabeth had had -a most heartrending interview, and he had -begged earnestly and passionately that they -would not give up the idea of some day, -when their feelings were more calm, coming -once more amongst them. He offered to -overlook the farm, left in the hands of the -bailiff, till they should determine ultimately -what to do; and so it was left.</p> - -<p>After this, a calm seemed to fall on the -neighbourhood and over this event; but this -calm was only apparent. The subject was -discussed everywhere,—in the Grey Goose -amongst its evening circle; in the fields and -woods by the workmen; in the cottages -amongst the women; at the smithy, at Job<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> -Latter’s, where the patriarchs of the village -often congregated to talk with him whilst -he modelled a horse-shoe, or sharpened a -ploughshare or a pick. But no inquiries, -nor all the talk on the affair, had thrown, -after many weeks, a single ray of light upon -it. The doctor’s opinion that there had been -foul play in the matter seemed to be finally -that of every one, but no one had seen any -person or persons about the ferry at that -time. The subject was agitated in the -neighbourhood, and a reward of two hundred -pounds was offered by the family for the discovery -of the supposed murderer or murderers. -To this the Government, at the -representation of the lord-lieutenant of the -county, added another hundred. The constables, -and many another person fond of -gain, urged inquiries far and wide. Repeated -visits to the ferry were made, and conjectures -there thrown out of how the event might -have happened accidentally or otherwise, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> -they produced nothing like a ray of elucidation.</p> - -<p>As these things and discussions went on, -Mr. Woodburn began to manifest considerable -uneasiness, and he suddenly said one day, -as the matter was spoken of:—“You will see, -they will say at last that it was I who did it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, God forbid!” exclaimed both Mrs. -Woodburn and Ann. “What are you saying? -For heaven’s sake do not utter so horrid, so -ridiculous an idea.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you will see,” continued Mr. Woodburn, -“that they will lay the crime on me; -and I would have you prepare for it. I -was the last man who passed that way before -Mr. Drury that evening; and not long before -him; no mortal can be found to have witnessed -how Mr. Drury came to his death; -and as the public mind, following the doctor, -insists on a murder—well then, I am the -man who stands in closest proximity to the -event.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span></p> - -<p>Mr. Woodburn might have added the unfortunate -words which he used in the hayfield -in the hearing of at least half a dozen -men and women; but he would not add to -the horror of the idea he had started to his -wife and children. Their alarm was great, -though they treated any imputation on such -a man as their father and husband as the -most impossible and ridiculous of suppositions. -George said thoughtfully, but yet -with a tone of melancholy, “Your character, -dear father, is enough to protect you -from a dozen of such charges. It will never -be made; if it were, it can never be proved; -because it is clear no mortal saw the -transaction, and it is still more certain that -<em>you</em> never did it.”</p> - -<p>“Of course not,” said Mr. Woodburn; “I -am not such a fool, if I were even such a -villain.”</p> - -<p>But not many weeks elapsed, before the -worst fears of Mr. Woodburn were realised.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> -The “Castleborough Chronicle,” the conservative -journal of the county, and in which the -influence of the Bullockshed, Tenterhook, and -Swagsides class, and that of a much higher -and nobler, the influence of the best aristocracy -of the county, prevailed, had a startling -article. It observed that the continued absence -of any evidence of the perpetration of -the crime of murder at Wink’s Ferry, after -much and vigorous inquiry, led them to revert -to that mysterious fact, by which a man of -much eminence and activity in the county -had somehow lost his life. An event of so -much importance to the security of society, -demanded that it should not be suffered to -drift away into oblivion, without the turning -of every stone which might possibly elicit the -hidden and gloomy truth: and however -painful it might be to prosecute the inquiries -on the subject into quarters otherwise most -respectable, and, therefore, unlikely, impartial -justice, and the dearest interests of the public,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> -made it imperative to endeavour to fathom the -mystery, even though in the process some -most estimable minds might be intensely -pained.</p> - -<p>After this preamble, the article went on to -say that it was well known that the late Mr. -Trant Drury, by his bold innovations and -novel theories of agriculture, and it might be -added, by an enthusiasm which led him -sometimes to be a little too unceremonious -to the long-cherished ideas of others, had -made a number of enemies; or, if that term -were too strong, of persons animated by no -concealed resentment towards him. His introduction -of machinery and other causes -had made him unpopular amongst the class -of agricultural labourers; but the inquiries -of the police had resulted in the clearest -and most positive demonstration that every -man and woman of that class, for many miles -round, could be shown to have been at some -particular place at the hour of this catastrophe,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> -and nearly all of them at work in -the presence of numerous others.</p> - -<p>Now, this well ascertained fact compelled -them to acquit this class of the community; -and to look whether there might be any -member or members of Mr. Drury’s own class -who might have an ill-feeling towards him, -or a motive to wish him out of the way. -They were very sensible of the delicate -ground on which they were entering; but the -paramount interests of truth and humanity -required that they should wave all considerations -of delicacy or respect; and they were -bound to declare that there was a gentleman -and near neighbour of the late Mr. Drury, -who had shown a strong antagonism to him, -which was well known to have gone on -strengthening through a lengthened period; -and who, only a few days before this lamentable -event took place, had publicly, and with -signs of much feeling, expressed a wish that -some cause could remove Mr. Drury from the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span> -neighbourhood. The gentleman referred to -was a man of wealth and position, a man of old -family, of great classical attainments, it was -said, and of a character against which, hitherto, -not a shadow of a shade of suspicion of any -kind could be brought. On the contrary, he -had always borne the most honourable and -admirable reputation. Yet such were the -anomalies of life and human nature, that it -was not impossible but that to such a man, -some sudden contact and words of disagreement -might have occurred, and that in a -moment of sudden anger, he might have -raised his hand and done, what even to himself -an hour before, would have seemed -utterly impossible.</p> - -<p>They did not presume to say that any -such thing had taken place; this gentleman, -honoured and beloved as he was, must be -regarded as innocent till he was fully proved -to be otherwise; but they would submit that -had any poor man lain under the same complication<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> -of circumstances, had long entertained -unfriendly feelings against the deceased—they -did not yet say murdered gentleman—had -he expressed an angry wish for -the removal of the deceased only a few days -previous, and were he the last person seen -near the scene of the catastrophe, nothing -could have prevented him long ago being -summoned to a legal examination on that -head. They thought the gentleman, if innocent, -as they sincerely hoped he was, must -himself desire such an inquiry for the vindication -of his fair fame.</p> - -<p>It may be imagined that the sensation -created by this article was intense. What -its effect was on the inhabitants of Woodburn -Grange, lies not within the compass of human -language. Terror, grief, distraction, astonishment, -were blended into one crushing and -prostrating feeling. It was now that Mrs. -Woodburn and her daughters for the first -time learned that Mr. Woodburn, in the hay-field,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> -had used those unfortunate words towards -Mr. Drury in a moment of irritation. George -had heard of them before, and they had lain -on his heart with a deadly weight. Of his -father’s incapability of committing such a -crime, under any circumstances, he had the -same assurance as he had of his own. He -cast it away from him as ridiculous: but he -foresaw that they would excite much prejudice, -and occasion much trouble under the circumstances. -He received a letter from Elizabeth -Drury, expressing her horror and indignation -at such a frightful imputation or even suspicion -on his father. “Never! never! never! -would she believe it. She would answer -for Mr. Woodburn with her own existence; -but the cruel aspersions, and the misery -and trouble that must arise out of it, had,” -she said, “added fresh poignancy to her -former grief.”</p> - -<p>Words of indignation and of tender sympathy -poured in from friends all around, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> -assurances of any aid that could in any way -be given in defence against such a charge. -Sir Henry Clavering came in haste to express -his unbounded grief and resentment of such -an impossible and unsupportable accusation. -But instant steps, he said, must be taken to -change the current of public opinion. He was -on his way to secure an able refutation of the -article in the paper of opposite politics. This -article appeared the following week, and -denounced so abominable a libel on the -character of a man of the highest and most -unimpeachable reputation for all that was -good and kind, and against whom there was -not a particle of evidence to support such a -foul charge. Words of petty difference of -opinion between gentlemen might, and did, -frequently arise, but none but fools, considering -the character of the speaker, would -attach any serious import to them. Sir -Henry did not wait for the issue of the -paper, but that very day had the walls of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> -town placarded by bills, expressing the same -energetic sentiments in different words.</p> - -<p>But the intention sufficiently manifested -in the “Chronicle” article, was, notwithstanding, -carried out, and in a few days -afterwards a couple of constables presented -themselves at Woodburn Grange, with a mission -no less astounding than that of the -apprehension of Mr. Leonard Woodburn, on a -suspicion of murder; and amid a scene of -distress only to be imagined, he was conveyed -in his own carriage to the county court justice-room -in Castleborough, to answer under -warrant to this charge.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center"><span style="margin-left: -1em;">WHO DID IT?</span></p> - - -<p>If, on that memorable occasion at the hayfield -fête, when Mrs. Heritage was impressed -with a sense of impending calamities, she had -gone a little further and asserted that within -three years Sir Emanuel Clavering, then in -full health and spirits, should be gathered to -his fathers; that a severe dispensation should -fall on the family at Fair Manor; that Dr. -Leroy should suddenly abandon his practice -and his native place, and go to the far East; -that Thorsby should alternately turn reprobate, -preacher, and again reprobate; that -he should marry Letty Woodburn, doat on -her and leave her; that one of the friends -of the Woodburns should be killed in a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> -most mysterious manner at Wink’s Ferry; -and that, as the climax of all, Mr. Leonard -Woodburn should be charged with a wilful -murder, and be put in jeopardy of a public -and ignominious death,—the effect of her -vaticinations would have been lost, and she -would have been pronounced extravagantly -insane. But now, as all these things had -taken place, there was scarcely a person who -was present on that occasion, who did not -recall the fact with astonishment.</p> - -<p>On the morning following the arrest of Mr. -Woodburn, he was brought before the assembled -bench of county magistrates. The -throng collected showed the importance attached -to the case. A number of men had -been suddenly summoned from Woodburn, -and brought up in post-chaises. George -Woodburn, assisted by Sir Henry Clavering, -had also collected a number of men and -women who had been engaged in both hayfields -at the time, and had also brought Mrs.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> -and Miss Woodburn, overwhelmed with grief -as they were.</p> - -<p>There was a formidable array of the Rockville, -Bullockshed and Tenterhook section of -the magistracy on the bench, for Sir Benjamin -Bullockshed, whose steward Mr. Drury had -become, had taken up the matter as a personal -one, and had not hesitated to say -amongst his particular friends, that he would -make an example of Mr. Woodburn, who was -a stiff, impracticable man, and a stout adherent -of the Degge and pauper clique. Had -this speech reached Sir Henry Clavering, -he and Simon Degge would have insisted -that Sir Benjamin should not occupy a place -on the bench on this occasion. Able lawyers -were engaged on each side. To make a short -story of the proceedings, some of Mr. Woodburn’s -own men were brought forward to -prove that he had expressed a wish that Mr. -Drury were removed from the neighbourhood, -and that he was a nuisance. These men, who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> -had talked this matter, as they did every -matter over at the Grey Goose public-house, -without noticing a stranger amongst them, -were astonished and confounded to be brought -against their own respected master. At first -they refused to speak, but they were assured -that if they did not they would be sent to -prison; and Mr. Woodburn, who had no wish -to deny those imprudent words, told them he -wished them to speak out all that they knew, -and said that it was true that he had said -such words, but of course, with no evil intent. -The men, thus having their tongues loosed, -gave evidence, but never having been in a -witness-box before, and being badgered by -the opposing lawyer and by the magistrates, -made a confused mess of it. It was taken -down, as admitted evidence on their part, -that Mr. Woodburn had uttered words of the -sort evincing a strong feeling against Mr. -Drury.</p> - -<p>Evidence was brought from the hay-makers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> -in the meadows to prove that Mr. -Woodburn and Mr. Drury were in the meadows -at the same time; that they both -returned home by the ferry, Mr. Drury soon -after Mr. Woodburn; that they had observed -no other person about the ferry between the -passing of Mr. Woodburn and Mr. Drury. -It was also given in evidence by various persons -summoned, amongst whom, to their -inexpressible mortification, were Howell Crusoe -and Job Latter, the blacksmith, that there -was a sort of misunderstanding betwixt the -two gentlemen. As for Crusoe and Latter, -they added at the same time that they would -sooner believe the moon would fall than that -Mr. Woodburn would hurt a hair of any man -alive.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, evidence was brought -on Mr. Woodburn’s side, that his having anything -to do with the death of Mr. Drury was -impossible, even if such a matter was in any -way likely, because Mr. Woodburn was seen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> -to leave the meadows half an hour before -Mr. Drury, and was seen coming up the -hollow road from the ferry as immediately -following his quitting the meadows as it was -possible in time. It was not possible that he -could have waited to waylay Mr. Drury. -He was on foot, Mr. Drury on horseback. -He was seen walking up the hollow road -by a dozen people in the hill-field, in his -usual quiet way, without any evidence of -excitement about him. George Woodburn, -Betty Trapps and the other maid-servants, -gave evidence that Mr. Woodburn returned -home just at six, in his ordinarily quiet -manner. He took his tea with his family in -the garden, showing no excitement, no exhaustion, -not a single trace on his clothes or -on his person, of any unusual disturbance of -mind or exertion of body, which could not -have been the case had a man of his piety, -his benevolence, his feeling and whole character -been engaged in a murder. The horse<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span> -of Mr. Drury was seen galloping up the -village at half-past six, clearly under the -effect of sudden fright. Whatever was the -cause of Mr. Drury’s death, it had plainly -taken place when Mr. Woodburn was tranquilly -taking tea with his family in his -garden.</p> - -<p>But what produced the greatest sensation -was to see Mrs. Woodburn and her daughter -Ann successively appear and, though sinking -under their grief, as a matter of social duty -substantiate these latter facts. The evidence -being closed, Mr. Woodburn was allowed to -make a few observations. He said that such -an accusation as this, and the situation in -which he stood, appeared to him a dream,—seemed -to his sober senses impossibilities. -Yet, he so highly reverenced human life and -those laws of his country which were established -to protect it, that he did not object to -stand there to answer to any charge of the -nature which circumstances might make in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> -the least degree colourable against him. All -that wounded him was that any man or men -who had known his general character, tone of -mind and life for half a century, should suppose -him capable of lifting his hand, under any circumstances, -against any human being. Now -he was ready to confess that there was that -in the manner and dogmatism of Mr. Drury -which grated on his own feelings, and of late -had held him at a distance from him, and -he admitted that he had uttered a wish in the -hearing of his workpeople, that some <em>fortunate</em> -circumstance would take Mr. Drury out -of the neighbourhood. “It was some <em>fortunate</em> -circumstance, gentlemen, that I especially -spoke of,” said Mr. Woodburn, “and sincerely -wished, namely, that from Mr. Drury’s eminent -abilities in agricultural science, knowledge -of stock, and other things, he might -obtain a stewardship from some nobleman or -great landed gentleman at a distance, which -would remove him out of my immediate<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> -neighbourhood. But that I should have -wished any evil, much less that I should -personally attempt any evil against Mr. Drury, -to whose only daughter my only son was engaged, -or that I should wish, or try to enact -evil against any human creature whatever, I -am sure can never enter the mind of any one of -my neighbours who know my character and -habits. As the circumstances given in evidence -show, moreover, that so far as I was -concerned, the murder of Mr. Drury, if murder -it shall be proved, was an absolute impossibility, -I contend that there is no case against -me. At the same time I trust that no exertions -will be omitted to obtain some clue to the -real causes and perpetrators, if such there be, -of this, by me most deeply deplored event.”</p> - -<p>Numbers of gentlemen, as well as neighbours -of Mr. Woodburn, of different classes, -came forward to bear testimony to the uniformly -high moral character of Mr. Woodburn; -amongst them Mr. Heritage, Mr.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span> -William Fairfax, Mr. Simon Degge, the Rev. -Thomas Clavering, &c.; whilst Sir Henry -Clavering and Mr. Degge gave their opinion -that there was not an atom of a case -against him, and voted for his instant discharge. -A long and warm discussion took -place; the friends of Sir Benjamin Bullockshed -were strong on the bench, and a majority -was obtained for the committal of Mr. Woodburn -for trial at the March Assizes. It was -not a bailable offence, and Mr. Woodburn was -committed to the felons’ side of the county -prison. Sir Henry Clavering and Simon -Degge, however, exerted their influence so -far as to procure him comfortable apartments -in the gaol, and the privilege of admittance -to his immediate connections and intimate -friends. The Rockville faction having so far -obtained their desire for his incarceration and -trial, were willing to make a grace of affording -him all alleviations consistent with his security.</p> - -<p>The sensation in Woodburn and the country<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> -round on the news of this extraordinary -fact exceeded anything known in the memory -of man. Bins’ Farm, deserted by its afflicted -inhabitants, was not so melancholy a place as -Woodburn Grange, whence Mrs. and Miss -Woodburn had fled to be near the beloved -husband and father in Castleborough. George -only was seen occasionally there, giving orders, -and returning hastily to the town. Sir Henry -Clavering was nearly as little at Cotmanhaye, -but in turn occupied with all sorts of thoughts -and plans for the comfort of Mr. Woodburn, -for supporting the dreadfully oppressed minds -of his family, and for prosecuting inquiries in -the country if possible to catch some small -thread, if it were only that of a gossamer, to -lead to a solution of the mystery of Wink’s -Ferry. He inclined to the belief in its being -murder, and that some cause might yet lead -to the detection of the murderer. The only -thing which puzzled him and others was the -absence of any evidence of robbery.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span></p> - -<p>Poor Letty Thorsby! This frightful turn of -affairs had once more broken down the few supports -which she had found in her own prior -affliction to her resolute determination to work -for her husband’s reform. She fell into violent -convulsions on the first news of the astounding -charge, and, when admitted to see her -father, she rushed to his neck with a wild cry -and fainted in his arms. It was many days -before she could rally in her that strong part -of her soul which had borne her so bravely -through so much before. The whole sorrowful -family were at Letty’s, where also Sir -Henry Clavering was almost always. Horrible -fears assailed them lest, after all, the -most terrible result might take place—the -did condemnation of Mr. Woodburn. In vain -Sir Henry scout any such idea, declaring -that there was not a single iota of ground to -go upon against Mr. Woodburn. That, independent -of his character, there was no proof -whatever of his or indeed, yet, of any one’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> -participation in this catastrophe; but, on the -contrary, he had positive proof against it. -But the unhappy sufferers were haunted -by cases of conviction under circumstantial -evidence, and of persons suffering whose -innocence was too late made manifest.</p> - -<p>Sad and agonising were the days which -passed over them—Sir Henry and other -friends exerting all their ingenuity to inspire -them with hope. It was only when they -were with Mr. Woodburn that they forced -themselves to appear cheerful and hopeful. -For himself, he was calm and resigned. He -would not believe that any sentence could be -obtained against him upon such an utter -absence of proof. He begged to have his -favourite books, his Theocritus and Virgil, -whose Idyls and Georgics carried him into -the country; his Plato and Epictetus, whose -philosophy and morals raised him above -despondency; his Homer and Euripides, -whose heroic narratives and dramatic life<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span> -made him forget his actual solitude. Above -all, his Bible and his favourite religious -authors. These were brought, and various -articles of furniture to make his rooms more -agreeable, or to accommodate his friends -who came to cheer him. Amongst these -were often Mr. and Mrs. Heritage, Mr. -William Fairfax, and the different members -of the Degge family. The gaoler, Mr. -Wright, was a man noted for his intelligence -and kindness, and stretched Mr. Woodburn’s -privileges to the utmost limit of his own -responsibility. He contrived to allow Mr. -Woodburn the range of the prison-yard -when the other prisoners were in their -cells, so that he could enjoy sufficient exercise -without being exposed to unwelcome -notice.</p> - -<p>So passed on that long and miserable -autumn, that long and melancholy winter. -During this time Letty received a letter from -her husband, which informed her and Mr.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> -Barnsdale that he had followed on the trail -of the flying miscreant, through New Jersey, -Pennsylvania, Virginia, and into Ohio. The -man seemed possessed by a spirit of unrest, -or of fear of pursuit, which kept him -constantly in motion. Sometimes he had -been on his very heels; sometimes he lost -his trail for weeks. In his lonely journeys -he had met with some strange occurrences, -too numerous to detail; but everywhere he -carried in his pocket-book the severe letter of -Mrs. Heritage, and inflicted a proper penance -on himself by looking at his past image in it, -as in a glass. “Ah!” he said, “it is in these -long, solitary journeys, through deep woods -and through swampy jungles, or amid total -strangers, that the brightness and beauty of -his once heavenly but abused home came -over him with a force which made him curse -his now inconceivable folly. And yet,” added -he, “that will-o’-the-wisp nature in me is not -yet extinct. One day I came upon a great<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span> -camp-meeting in the midst of the woods, and -after witnessing the strange scene for some -time I was seized by a spirit of fire, and -sprung up into a waggon, and poured forth a -harangue on sin and its sorrow; on the -strength of weakness in some souls carrying -them like maniacs into the whirlwinds of -crime and woe; on repentance and backsliding; -on heaven and damnation, in such -a rush and hurricane of passionate speech, -such cries of despair and shouts of ‘Help! -help!’ within me to God and Christ, as -drew the scattered thousands around me, and -flung them into the wildest commotion and -shrieks and ejaculations; which seemed more -like the riot of a raging ocean tempest than -the tumult of human creatures. Suddenly I -dropped down, and disappeared amongst the -trees; but for days and weeks afterwards I -heard of what they called ‘The Wild-fire -Preacher,’ who came and went so mysteriously.”</p> - -<p>Thorsby related that one evening having<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> -made his camp for the night, and cut down -boughs of the hemlock pine for his bed, an -old Friend rode up, and asked leave to pass -the night by his fire. He was a small, light -man in sober home-spun clothes, who having -hobbled out his horse, came and sat down, -and drew from his wallet bread and dried -venison, and invited Thorsby to partake. He -said his name was Jesse Kersey, and that he -was on a religious journey into the back -settlements. After they had conversed till -rather late, the stranger informed Thorsby -that his father had left him a good property. -Thorsby asked him in what it consisted,—in -land? No. In houses? No. In money? -No. In teaching him to live on a little. “He -who has that fortune,” said Jesse Kersey, -“can never want. I would give thee this as a -safe rule of life—</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">‘Keep within compass, and thou wilt be sure</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2.75em;">To shun many evils that others endure.’”</span><br> -</p> - -<p>The old man having said this, tied his handkerchief<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> -round his head for a nightcap, drew -his rug over him, and saying, “Farewell, -friend!” dropped instantly to sleep, and -slept like a child till morning. Thorsby -himself lay long, and thought on the truth of -the old man’s simple philosophy. In the -morning, as they rode on through the deep -forests together, Jesse Kersey dropped gradually -into a silence. Thorsby addressed -to him some remark, but receiving no reply, -he cast a glance at his companion, and observed -that he was deep sunk in reverie. At -length the old man said—</p> - -<p>“Stranger and yet friend, I am drawn by -that life which wells up in the heart like the -spring in the desert, and the soft breeze on the -solitary plain, in tenderness and loving concern -towards thee. Of thy past life or outward -circumstances I know nothing but what -thou hast said, that thou art from the old -country; I am, however, made inwardly sensible -that there are two natures striving in thee<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> -for the mastery. There is the spirit and life of -good, and the spirit and life of vanity, and the -word to thee which arises in me is—Be -prayerful and bewareful. Oh, I see a fire -in thee which might be that of which I have -lately heard in the so-called ‘Wild-fire -Preacher,’ Oh, it is a quick, leaping, overleaping, -perilous fire, capable of causing thee -to spring out of the cool soberness of peace -and wisdom, as it were, into the very pit -of perdition. Friend! beware! beware! -beware! Put thy heart into the hand of -Almighty God. Oh, pray Him fervently, -most fervently to chastise it, and press it -down, and crush out of it this high-leaping -and unruly fire! And the answer in my -spirit is—Yes. God shall so press down the -life within thee; so crush and control thy -spirit by severe labour and discipline, by -passing the waters of affliction over thy -had and by awaking deep searching -thoughts in thy own solitary heart, that this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span> -fire shall be extinguished, and the solid -ground of peaceful wisdom shall be laid -within thee, and thou shalt be made to -experience the beauty of holiness and the -thoughts of him whose heart is stayed on -God.”</p> - -<p>Thorsby added that he himself had here -broken down, and had wept like a child, wept -long and silently as they travelled on, and he -had prayed that every affliction might befall -him which should arm him with this blessed -strength. His heart had been drawn to this -old Friend as to a father, and he had -travelled on with him a fortnight, attended -his meetings, and seen with daily increasing -wonder the loving and single childlike simplicity -and faith of this apostle of the woods. -It was with a violent effort that he had torn -himself away from him, and that he was now -about to penetrate into the woods and hills of -Indiana.</p> - -<p>It may be imagined what a consolation this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span> -letter was to Letty Thorsby amid the dark -days now lowering over her and her whole -family, and she, too, prayed that God would -spare no correction to her husband which -would leave him sobered and strengthened -into permanent stability.</p> - -<p>Spring was once more advancing, but to -the afflicted family and the prisoner at Castleborough -it came only with anxious fears and -dreadfully depressed spirits. The Woodburns, -collected together at Letty’s, were very very -low in heart; and Mr. Woodburn himself, as -time drew on, became very restless and desponding. -He had borne up well, and said -very little about his case, except that it would -be all right. But as the time of trial approached -and no new light whatever had been -cast on the mystery of Mr. Drury’s death, he -began to be very low too.</p> - -<p>Sometimes, after sitting long in silence, he -would suddenly seem to wake out of a -reverie, and say, “It is strange, very strange<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span> -that nothing turns up.” His family would -say, “Very strange, indeed; but we must -trust in God.” And once or twice lately he -had startled them by saying, as if angrily, -“Yes, trust in God, that is always the word; -but is there a God at all?”</p> - -<p>The shock this gave them was dreadful. -Ann exclaimed, “Oh, dear father, don’t, -don’t let go your faith in God! Think what -mercies He has shed on your whole life. Think -on the love by which you are surrounded, -on the influential friends ready to do everything -possible for your defence.”</p> - -<p>“If anything,” said Mr. Woodburn, “would -make me doubt the truth of Christianity, it -is those very ready, flourishing promises that -it abounds in. ‘Whatever ye ask in my -name, believing, ye shall receive.’ ‘Seek, -and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be -opened; ask, and it shall be given you.’ -Now, have I not asked day after day, in the -name of Christ, that the truth might be revealed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> -in this case? Have I not sought, and -knocked, and asked, and all to no purpose?”</p> - -<p>“But, dear father,” said Ann, in the greatest -perturbation, “the time is not yet over and -past. Our time is not God’s time. He may -wish to try us all, and may solve the enigma -even at the last moment.”</p> - -<p>“It may be so,” said Mr. Woodburn, -gloomily; “but what does it mean where it -says that if any man lose houses or land or -wife or children for Christ’s sake, he shall receive -tenfold more in this world of houses, -land, and the rest of it, and in the world to -come life everlasting? Now, Ann, I have -heard of thousands being ruined, and even -burnt and killed for Christ’s sake, but I never -yet heard of one who received tenfold property -for what he lost. These things make -one believe the whole to be a cunningly devised -fable. If the Gospels are not true -altogether, they may not be true at all.”</p> - -<p>Ann sat and wept bitterly for a long<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> -time; then getting up and throwing her arms -round her father’s neck, and looking with -her streaming eyes into his face, she said, -“Oh, father, if you let go your faith in our -dear Redeemer, you let go everything, and -make us all miserable beyond words. Wait, -wait a little, and I feel sure all will be well. -For myself, I would rather lose life, liberty, -fame, everything, than my trust in God.”</p> - -<p>“But why should God,” added Mr. Woodburn, -“treat his servants worse than the devil -and the world treat theirs? I see continually -those who neither think nor care about religion -flourishing like green bay trees, and the -good left to all sorts of troubles.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t talk in that manner!” exclaimed -Ann. “Shall we expect an eternity -of good, and shall we shrink from a trial for -a few years? Shall we serve and trust -in God only for selfish ends? Oh, no, indeed; -we do need refining by fire. But, -dear father, your mind and health are hurt<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> -by this confinement and suspense. But, I -say, and ever will say, ‘Fear not, little flock, -for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give -you the kingdom.’ Remember God has an -eternal recompense to offer for all our sorrows -here, but the devil and the world have -nothing to offer us after this little life.”</p> - -<p>These moments of despair in Mr. Woodburn -were the severest trial of all to his disconsolate -family. But the March assizes -were at hand, and the preparations which -his friends were making for his defence tended -to occupy his mind and relieve his spirits. -Sir Henry Clavering never for a moment -doubted of his instant and complete acquittal, -and his steady, cheerful views and -active exertions acted as a great solace to -the Woodburns. He and George, assisted -most zealously by Simon Degge, Mr. Heritage, -and Mr. Fairfax, had arranged a considerable -amount of evidence, which though it brought -no nearer to the light the real perpetrator of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> -the murder, if it were one, showed, they -thought, sufficiently that no suspicion could -fall on Mr. Woodburn.</p> - -<p>The assizes had at length arrived. Mr. -Baron Garrow had arrived and opened his -commission. Mr. Woodburn’s case, as it -occurred immediately after the midsummer -assizes, was the first on the calendar. Vast -was the excitement connected with it. The -singular mystery of the affair, the character -and position of the prisoner, were circumstances -sure to awake a most lively interest. -The town was crowded by people from all -parts of the country round, and the county -court was filled in a few minutes to repletion. -Most of the families of distinction of the -county and town were in the galleries. We -will not go at great length into the details of -the trial. Mr. Sergeant Giffard was the -counsel for the crown against Mr. Woodburn, -and he was defended by his old friend, Mr. -Balguy of Derbyshire. Sir Henry Clavering<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> -had entreated him to have other and very -celebrated counsel from London, but Mr. -Woodburn steadily refused. He said, “No, -he had perfect reliance on his friend Balguy; -though he practised only as a provincial -barrister, he was a man of the soundest judgment, -one who had known him all his life, -and could speak personally to his character. -Besides, he would not have it imagined for a -moment that his case required the subtle lights -and arts of a brilliant oratory. He wanted -merely a plain statement of plain facts.”</p> - -<p>When Mr. Woodburn was brought in and -placed in the dock, there was a silence like -death throughout the court. The sensation -was profound. He was attended by his son -and Sir Henry Clavering, who were accommodated -at each side of the dock; so that -they could encourage him, and communicate -for him with his counsel, seated just under -him. Mr. Woodburn looked calm, but somewhat -pale, and his intelligent, thoughtful, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> -amiable aspect was anything but that of a -murderer. “That man,” said many a lady -to her friend near her, “never committed a -murder.” “No,” some gentleman replied, -“one would not think it; but one cannot tell -what a growing animosity may stir a man to, -in some unguarded moment.”</p> - -<p>The case was opened, the indictment read, -and Mr. Serjeant Giffard rose. He called -first witnesses to show that there had been a -considerable and, as he termed it, a bitter -feud betwixt the prisoner and Mr. Drury; -he proved the unguarded expressions of Mr. -Woodburn in the hay-field, and that the -prisoner was the last man seen coming from -the ferry where Mr. Drury was found, as he -said, in his blood. In his address, which -followed, he dwelt on these proofs of an -animus in Mr. Woodburn’s mind against Mr. -Drury, and treated his words only four days -before the catastrophe as words of menace, -or at least of a wish to have Mr. Drury put<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span> -away. The catastrophe following on the -immediate heels of these words, what could it -be deemed but the direct result of them? -Then the fact that no amount of inquiry, nor -the offered reward of 300<em>l.</em>, had been able to -elicit a single atom of evidence implicating -any other person, must be held, in his -opinion, as most decisive. Why had no such -evidence transpired? The answer in his own -mind, said the counsel, was that no such -evidence existed; and that the fair and -damning inference was that the man, who -was known to have a standing feud with the -murdered man; who had uttered words of a -vindictive and even minatory character; the -man who was last seen coming from the fatal -spot, and that only just before the discovery -of the horrible circumstance, was the person -guilty of that deadly crime. He had wished -the country might be fortunately rid of the -person so offensive to him, and there was the -finale. He dwelt especially on the fact, that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> -no robbery had been committed; it was -clearly a case of vengeance in a mind where -money offered no temptation.</p> - -<p>It was with a deep and breathless feeling -that the spectators saw the counsel for the -defence rise. He observed that his learned -friend had galloped to a conclusion, for which -there was not a single atom of foundation. -He had talked of a murder, yet there was no -proof of a murder. An unhappy accident in -crossing the ferry; a fright on the part of -the horse, and a kick on the head of the -unfortunate owner as he stooped to pull the -chain, would probably explain it all. Now -he had known Mr. Woodburn all his life from -his school-days, and he would pledge his -whole character, conscience, and existence -to the jury, that Mr. Woodburn was as -incapable of a murder as he was of flying. -No, he would not tread on a worm if he knew -it. He would call evidence to show that it -was as improbable as it was, in fact, impossible.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> -His learned friend had talked of a -feud betwixt Mr. Woodburn and Mr. Drury. -Why, this feud was of so mild a kind that -the only son of Mr. Woodburn was on the -point at the moment of the catastrophe -of being married to the only daughter of -Mr. Drury. His learned friend had left it to -be inferred that Mr. Woodburn was the only -man in the neighbourhood who felt any antagonism -to Mr. Drury. He would bring -forward proofs that Mr. Drury had made -many bitter enemies, he would not say justly, -but simply by the introduction of new -machines, and new fashions of farming, and -by his active, energetic, and, perhaps, somewhat -peremptory and exacting character; he -had made those enemies amongst the lower -and more ignorant class, who were far more -likely to commit an outrage in their revenge -than a gentleman of Mr. Woodburn’s well-known -character—than a gentleman whose -family was on the very point of forming the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> -most intimate ties with the family of Mr. -Drury. As to the question of crossing the -ferry, he would show that it was impossible -that Mr. Woodburn could have been present at -the catastrophe, for he had witnesses to prove -that Mr. Drury did not leave the hay-meadow -beyond the river till nearly half an hour after -Mr. Woodburn was seated quietly with his -family at tea in his own garden.</p> - -<p>This last assertion produced an instant -and evident sensation throughout the whole -place. The judge on the bench, with whom -were seated several noblemen and gentlemen -of the county, the counsel at the bar, the -people throughout the court, were engaged in -conversation on it. There was a general buzz -and murmur of voices in the court, when the -clerk of the arraigns called, “Silence!” and -Mr. Balguy began with his witnesses. He -produced a number of farmers of the neighbourhood, -who declared that they had heard -the severest language of hatred used by their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> -labourers against Mr. Drury, adding they -would not be in his shoes for a trifle. They -said this was not only on account of his using -so much machinery, but on account of his -timing them, and docking their wages, and -his slave-driving way, as they called it. -Many labourers were called who gave the -same evidence. Mr. Balguy then called -several haymakers to show that Mr. Woodburn’s -words were, not that he wished something -would fortunately rid the country of -Mr. Drury, but that some fortunate circumstance -would take him somewhere else. He -next showed by the evidence of Mr. -Drury’s own bailiff, who was in the meadows -when Mr. Drury left, that it was half-past -six o’clock by his watch, and then by the -evidence of George Woodburn and Betty -Trapps that Mr. Woodburn entered the house -exactly as the old cuckoo clock in the hall -struck six. That the time of the bailiff and -of the clock at Woodburn Grange agreed,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> -was also proved by the people of both farms -going to and returning from work at exactly -the same hour, morning, noon and evening.</p> - -<p>This evidence having been gone through, -Mr. Balguy said that little more was required. -He would only remark that it was -shown that there were many persons in the -neighbourhood hostile to Mr. Drury. That -Mr. Woodburn’s words in the hay-field were -meant by him to express a wish that some -stewardship, such as his eminent agricultural -talents warranted, might call Mr. Drury from -a neighbourhood where his views were not -favourably received. That was the “fortunate” -circumstance which Mr. Woodburn -alluded to. Then, as he had shown by a -complete <em>alibi</em> that Mr. Woodburn could not -possibly be at Wink’s Ferry when Mr. Drury -lost his life, he contended first, that if that -catastrophe were a murder, it could not have -been perpetrated by Mr. Woodburn; and -secondly, that it had yet to be shown that it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span> -was a murder at all. He was, therefore, sure -that the jury would acquit his client instantly -and entirely.</p> - -<p>The judge in summing up, came to the -same conclusion. It was, he said, for the -jury to decide, whether what had been shown -to be impossible, if the respectable evidence -of Mr. Drury’s own bailiff, and of the family -of the prisoner as to time, was to be believed, -could be possible: for his own part he did -not believe in impossibilities. The jury consulted -for a moment, and the foreman arose -and declared the unanimous verdict to be—<span class="smcap">Not -Guilty!</span></p> - -<p>The effect of these words was an instant -burst of uproarious applause throughout the -court. Hats were waved violently; white -handkerchiefs were waved as actively; the -friends of the prisoner were shaking hands -with one another, and rushing to shake hands -with him, and all the time the judge was -looking half-menacingly, half-laughingly, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> -saying something that nobody could hear, -and the clerk of arraigns was shouting -“Order! order!” with all his might. Of -course the judge was trying to tell the offenders -that if they did not keep quiet he must -order them into custody, which was such an -excellent joke, the offenders being the whole -assembly, except a few of the Rockville and -Bullockshed clan, who looked dark and significant -of dissent, that old Baron Garrow, who -dearly loved a joke, enjoyed the uproar as -much as any of them.</p> - -<p>Sir Henry Clavering had slipped away by -a private door from the court, and run to -carry the news to the family of Mr. Woodburn, -who were awaiting in direst anxiety -the result of the trial. They were standing -at the window ready to catch the first sign -of an approaching messenger, when a triumphant -wave of his hat made them aware that -all was right, and he rushed into the house -to find himself caught and embraced and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> -kissed and wet all over with tears of joy by -every one there. Quickly came Sir Henry’s -carriage, bringing Mr. Woodburn and George. -We must leave the reader to imagine the -scenes that followed. The husband and -father stood amongst them once more, freed -from every charge or shadow of suspicion of -the odious crime imputed to him. That -same evening a long train of carriages was -seen driving from Mrs. Thorsby’s house out -of the town, and taking the way towards -Woodburn. There were those of Mr. Degge, -of Mr. Heritage, Mr. Fairfax, Sir Henry Clavering, -and the worthy Counsellor Balguy, as -he was commonly called all through the -Midland Counties. The bells were ringing -in the steeples of Castleborough, and they -were ringing at Cotmanhaye—Woodburn had -no church—for Sir Henry Clavering had -previously arranged all that in a most liberal -manner, and that evening Mr. Woodburn -stood once more under his own roof a free<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> -and unblemished man. All through Woodburn -flags and garlands of evergreens, and -shouting men, and women all tears and -smiles, had made the drive a triumph. When -these accompanying friends had taken their -leave, and the happy family were left to -themselves as in some strange dream, Ann -came and softly dropped on her knees by her -father, and taking his hand said, amidst tears -of gladness—“Well, dearest father, God’s -time is come!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Woodburn stooped and kissed her -affectionately, and said, “True, dear child, -true—let us forget the hour and the power of -darkness. You are far wiser than I am.”</p> - -<p>“No, dear father,” said Ann. “No—the -truth is, you have been tried far more -than I have. But thank God that all this -is over!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center"><span style="margin-left: -1em;">A WONDERFUL DREAM.</span></p> - - -<p>In the flush of happiness which immediately -followed the acquittal of Mr. Woodburn, -the long-deferred marriage of Ann -Woodburn was celebrated. Sir Henry Clavering -had proved himself a most noble and indefatigable -friend through the whole dark -season, and all were eager to confer on him -his long and patiently sought prize, and to -claim him as one of the family of the Grange. -It was a pleasant morning in April when the -wedding took place, the ceremony being performed -by Sir Henry’s worthy uncle, Thomas -Clavering, assisted by Mr. Markham, who, to -his honour be it said, had most heartily protested -against what he termed the atrocious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> -prosecution of Mr. Woodburn. Not only was -the outward spring breaking forth with her -buds and dews and violets, but the inner -spring of peace and joy was come back to the -lovely fields of Woodburn. We need not -say that all Woodburn, many friends from -Castleborough, Cotmanhaye Manor, and all -round there, some even from Rockville, had -flocked to this auspicious scene, and many a -warm wish was sent after the happy pair -as they dashed away after the breakfast at -the Grange, in Sir Henry’s carriage, on -their way towards Paris. God’s blessing -go with them, was the fervent prayer -of the crowd of felicitating friends, as it is -ours.</p> - -<p>When they were gone, and the friends too, -and that silence and strange vacancy fell on -the house, which is deep in proportion to the -love for the fair inmate carried away, Letty, -who had worn on that morning something of -her former bloom and gaiety, dashed with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> -happy tears, said to her mother and father -as they sat together in their old sitting-room, -“None of us will ever forget the presentiment -of Mrs. Heritage at our memorable May -fête, for how strangely has it been realised? -But perhaps you have forgotten that she -pointed to an afterglow, and said that the -days after the gloom should be more lovely -and happy than before. As that dear, good -woman spoke truth in one part of her prediction, -I shall believe that she did in the -other. Is not the present happy issue of -that hideous, odious darkness a proof and a -commencement of it? Is not this happy -day another proof? And now I will read you -a letter from my husband, which, though it -may seem to you sad, is to me full of the -happiest confidence.”</p> - -<p>“What! have you at last heard from -Thorsby again?” said her mother.</p> - -<p>“Yes, dear mother; it is now seven months -since I heard, and I began to have some<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span> -serious fears of what might have befallen -him: but you shall hear:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="right">“Cincinnati, March 7th, 18—.</p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">My Dearest Letty</span>,—Probably you have -thought me dead, and were not very sorry -for it. No; you have always, even in the worst -periods of my wretched life, shown such an -admirable love for me, so undeserved, so badly -requited; you have had such a wonderful -faith in my coming some day right side uppermost, -that I still flatter myself that you -will be glad to see my hand-writing again. -But the truth is, I have been at Death’s door, -and all but in his ancient house. When I -wrote to you in the autumn, I said I was -going into Indiana. I had heard rumours of -a man who very much resembled the one I -was wanting to come up with, though out of -no love to him, and was making my way to -Indianopolis. I had reached a village not far -from the Wabash, in a deep valley, and -amongst enormous woods, where clearings and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> -cultivation are but partial and scattered. I put -up at a rude wooden public-house, where I was -very miserably accommodated, but that was -nothing new to me. When I came out of my -room in the morning, which was on the ground-floor, -my landlord, a tall, lanky woodsman, -said, ‘Stranger, I guess I have but poor -news for you. Some one in the night has -entered the shed, and ridden off with your -horse.’</p> - -<p>“In my astonishment and consternation, I -asked him why he thought so. ‘Just,’ said -he, ‘because the crittur is not there.’ I -rushed out as if I would be satisfied, but my -horse, saddle, and bridle had disappeared, -and my landlord, for my consolation, assured -me that such scamps going through the -country were often showing such a preference -of riding over walking, at any one’s expense. -The horror of my situation may be conceived. -I had not money with me sufficient -to purchase another horse, and to wait for an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> -answer and remittance from New York would -throw me into the winter. I determined to -set out and reach Indianapolis on foot. For -days I walked on in extreme anxiety, through -woods, marshes, and intricate hills. Wet -through and through, I at length took up my -quarters for the night in the inn of another -hamlet. The next morning I staggered forward -on rising out of bed, from excessive -dizziness, and in two or three days lost my -consciousness in a delirious attack of fever. -A week after that I awoke, weak beyond expression, -and unable to move. I was told I -had been in a raging condition, and corded -down on my bed. It was some time before -I could get out of bed, and on looking for my -clothes, found my coat gone, and with it the -whole of my money. I could get no satisfaction. -The people of the house said there -had been many strangers coming and going, -and some one of them had clearly been a -thief.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span></p> - -<p>“What a situation! Here was I, above six -hundred miles from New York, without a -dollar, and without a full suit of clothing! My -watch, too, was gone! I sat down in a mood -of absolute despair, and wished I had died in -my delirium. The people bade me cheer up, -they said they would not charge me anything -for their trouble. My inmost conviction was -that they need not—they had paid themselves -too well out of my property. But -what was I to do? The man gave me an old -coarse rough coat of his own: I accepted it, -for it would prevent me from perishing. But -how should I live? Winter was coming down, -there was no work, but that of felling timber, -and ploughing the new enclosures, and I had -no strength for it; besides, the deep snow -would soon put an end to that. But there was -sufficient food to be had; the people of the inn -said I might stay and recruit myself a little. -I did so. I believed I owed them nothing, -that the balance was really to my credit.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span></p> - -<p>“But there was one man always busy, that -was the blacksmith. I heard his hammer -ringing on the anvil long before it was light -in a morning, and often till late at night. In -my lack of anything to occupy my time with, -I wandered to his forge, and fell into conversation -with him. He had heard my case, -and rough as he seemed, he said he felt for -me. ‘I wish I could swing a hammer like -you,’ I said, ‘I would come and help you, for -you seem to have too much to do.’</p> - -<p>“‘I wish you could then,’ said he, ‘for I -want a help dreadfully. But why should -not you soon?’</p> - -<p>“I shook my head. ‘I am too weak yet,’ -I said.</p> - -<p>“‘But there’s strength in hominy and -pork and peach-brandy,’ he said. ‘Come to -my log-hut; you can rest and feed till you -feel your strength, and by-and-by, you can -do a little.’</p> - -<p>“I accepted his offer. Our living was, as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span> -he said, almost literally hominy and pork, -but these suited my reduced system excellently, -and in a few weeks I was strong -enough to strike with the hammer against -him. He had plough-shares and all the -irons for ploughs and harrows, shoes for -horses, and tiring and bushes for drays for -the farmers around to make, and having -nothing much else to do in the winter, they -were always coming to demand them.</p> - -<p>“Well, to make a short story of it, by -degrees I became capable of striking with -the big hammer against him. Day after day, -from early morning till night, I thus toiled -and sweltered. Oh, what mortal weariness, -what aching bones were mine! Many a night -I could not sleep for aching, bone-weary -fatigue. There was a young child which -cried continually in the room next to my -little cabin of a place, and though the stout -blacksmith snored through it all, it kept me -awake when I could have slept. Through<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> -the long dreary winter I continued to beat -the anvil, and earn my hominy and pork, -hominy and molasses, hominy and milk. -These were my chief articles of diet, and my -three dollars a-week. There was no help for -it. The forests around were impassable for -snow; there was no communication with -New York.</p> - -<p>“But in those long laborious days, those -dreary nights, in that dreary village of -Tunckhannock, the scenes of my past life -came before me in very different colours. Oh! -what an idiot I saw myself to have been. -The letter of Mrs. Heritage, which the thief -had carried off in my coat—may it do him -the good he greatly needs!—but which was -engraven on my memory, and the words of -that good old Jesse Kersey, they stood as if -written in fire on my soul. I acknowledged -the hand that had thus led me into this -school of hard discipline, which had stripped -me, and bruised me to the very core, and I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> -poured out my soul in tears and wrestling -prayers for the gifts of soberness and -wisdom. If I am not greatly deceived, -the fire-spirit, as Jesse Kersey called it, is -beaten out of me. That big hammer and -its ever-straining blows have tamed the wild -blood in me. I feel another, ‘a sadder but a -wiser man.’</p> - -<p>“The favour of God, indeed, seems to be -returning to me. In this city of the west, -at the principal inn, whom should I discover -but the man of my long and vain search. -As I entered the room I saw him at a table -opposite. He was no longer the brown-headed, -sandy-whiskered man, but one with a -head of raven hair, a clean-shaven face, and -spectacles,—but I could never mistake those -features. I cautiously withdrew and returned -with a constable. My man very coolly -assured us we were entirely mistaken in him. -‘If I am,’ I said, ‘this black hair is not -false,’ and with that I lifted off his wig, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> -showed the brown crop beneath. We now -searched his portmanteau, found papers fully -identifying him, and to my joyful surprise -three thousand pounds of my own money. -A good Providence seemed to have compelled -him to wander like a Cain, and to carry his -spoil always with him.</p> - -<p>“I have stayed to see him put on the treadmill -of the prison for three years, and now I -am about to travel on to New York. Boat -and carriage are now at my command. In -the summer I trust once more to see England, -and a wife who will add to all her other -undeserved goodness that of receiving her -repentant and for-ever sobered</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Henry Thorsby</span>.”</p> -</div> - -<p>“Well,” said Mr. Woodburn, “God grant -that he may be as completely sobered as he -says. That big hammer is one of the best -things for taming a man I ever heard of. If -it has effected a cure, as we will hope it has,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> -Thorsby ought to have it emblazoned in his -arms.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, truly,” said Mrs. Woodburn; “and -I pray that it may have done that good work -with all my heart.”</p> - -<p>“And you can still forgive him, Letty?” -said Mr. Woodburn.</p> - -<p>“My dear father,” said Letty, smiling, “do -you think I never say the Lord’s Prayer?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! as to that,” said Mr. Woodburn, -“I know scores who say it every night and -morning, and yet never forgive anybody. -They hug their spites like dear babies, and -remember a small offence ten or twenty -years after as keenly as they felt it the -moment it occurred.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t understand such people,” said Letty.</p> - -<p>“They don’t understand themselves,” said -her father. “Many of these people think -themselves admirable Christians.”</p> - -<p>“But,” said Letty, “if I am required by -my Redeemer to forgive a brother, not seven<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> -times, but seventy times seven, how many -times should I forgive a husband, whom I -have sworn to take for better for worse? -My notion is that so long as you can hope -to reform and save a fellow-creature, you -should not only forgive, but work hard for his -restoration. If God permits me to reclaim -an immortal being that He has thought it -good to make, I don’t think I can be better -employed.”</p> - -<p>“Nor I, neither,” said Mr. Woodburn.</p> - -<p>As time had worn on, after Mr. Woodburn’s -acquittal, the first satisfaction of it had -given way in his mind to deeper and deeper -reflections on the brand which his neighbours -had put upon him, in publicly accusing him -of so atrocious a crime as murder. The more -he pondered on it, the more it appeared like -an ugly dream. No single trace of an explanation -had yet shown itself of the real nature -of the catastrophe. He knew that the Rockville -faction still amongst themselves deemed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span> -him guilty of the death of Mr. Drury, and -denominated the result of the trial a lucky -escape for him. These reflections were intolerable -to him, and he became extremely -low and depressed. He did not like to be -seen in public. He spent much time in hoeing -and weeding in his garden, where he was out -of the way of observation. Whenever he took -a ride it was down the hollow road and up -the narrow hedge-embowered cart-road by the -river to Cotmanhaye Mill, and so out into Sir -Henry Clavering’s fields. He sat for whole -days together over his old classical authors, -and in the society of his family fell into long -and deep silences. All noticed this state of -things, and became anxious on account of its -effect both on his mind and his health.</p> - -<p>Towards midsummer Sir Henry and Lady -Clavering returned to Cotmanhaye Manor, -and it was delightful to her family and -friends to see her in her new home all brightness -and happiness. A lovely home it was,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span> -and Sir Henry seemed proud of it because -it gave so much pleasure to his wife. -A series of dinners and fêtes were given after -the reception days, at which all their friends -from town and country assembled, and not -only Letty appeared there with much of her -early gaiety, but Millicent Heritage was observed -to be cheerful and soberly happy. At -these fêtes, however, Mr. Woodburn was -rarely seen, he preferred walking up and -talking with Sir Henry, his daughter, and the -Rector in quiet hours, when they were alone. -It was clear that unless some light could be -thrown on the tragedy of Wink’s Ferry, his -spirits never again could regain their wonted -buoyancy; he must be a retiring and melancholy -man: which was a heavy weight on the -hearts of his family.</p> - -<p>One day, towards the end of July, a traveller -dropped from the top of the Derby -coach at the manufacturing village of Beeton, -and took his way across the wide meadows in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> -the direction of Woodburn. The hay had -been cleared, and numerous herds of cattle -were grazing in them on the new-springing -grass. The flowers of the meadow-sweet yet -breathed out their fragrance as the traveller -walked on by the long hedge sides, and along -the dry footpath, with his eyes fixed on the -distant heights of Woodburn and the woods of -Rockville. He had evidently chosen this -path that he might not be much seen; and as -he observed some peasants coming along the -footpath towards him, he crossed a gate, and -sat down under the fence until they had -passed. He then recrossed and pursued his -way. This traveller was Henry Thorsby; -but what a change! Instead of that bustling, -mercurial air, he looked grave, and even sad. -He was wondering, after all, notwithstanding -Letty’s goodness, what sort of a reception he -would meet with. He knew that he deserved -nothing but reproach, and all the causes of -such reproach rose up in his memory as he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span> -walked on. He had learned, too, from Letty’s -letters, and the English newspapers, the whole -strange story of Mr. Woodburn’s arrest and -trial. It seemed that he was drawing near -to a very different Woodburn from that of -past times; and on reaching the river he -hesitated whether to cross and go boldly on -to the Grange, or sit down and spend his -time in the solitary fields till he could steal -away unnoticed to his house in Castleborough. -But he knew that Letty was at the -Grange, where she spent most of her time in -endeavouring to cheer the spirits of her -father. He resolved, therefore, to go resolutely -on. If he were coldly received by -the family, he knew that he deserved it, -and he was prepared to endure his just -punishment.</p> - -<p>At Wink’s Ferry he paused and looked -round, revolving in his mind the strange -occurrence of Mr. Drury’s death. All looked -calm, and serenely smiling as ever. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> -pulled himself over, and passing through the -branches of a great old hazel-bush—a way -well known to him and George Woodburn—entered -the orchard, and so proceeded -through the garden to the house. With a -hesitating step and beating heart he entered -the well-known sitting-room, and the next -moment found himself with a wild cry of joy -in the arms of his wife. Mr. and Mrs. Woodburn -stood in silent surprise, and with feelings -that it would be in vain to attempt to describe. -Over that sacred scene of the Return -of the Prodigal Son, and the forgiving hands -that were extended to him, let us draw the -veil of domesticity, and of silence.</p> - -<p>For some time Thorsby remained at the -Grange, and only ventured to take the -secluded path in the dusk of evening towards -Cotmanhaye Manor, where he was cordially -received. The letters he had written to Letty, -and the altered appearance of his person, -where the solidity of middle age seemed to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> -reign, and the subdued tone of his mind, had -produced a great revulsion in his favour. It -was some weeks before Letty could inspirit -him to face Castleborough and all the comments -of his old townsmen, but at length -even this was effected; and people saw with -astonishment Thorsby going with sober steps -from his house to his warehouse. The surprise -of this re-appearance was extreme; and -afforded subject for abundance of discussion. -Thorsby sought no recognition from his old -acquaintances; when he met them, spoke -passingly to them; and when anyone offered -him a hand he took it cordially; but there -was a gravity about him that strangely impressed -even those of the greatest levity. He -looked like a man who had passed through -some severe furnace of affliction, some profound -trouble of which the shadow still -haunted him. All thought he looked ten -years older; and by degrees his steady devotion -to business, and the assurances of Mr.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> -Barnesdale that he was a wonderfully changed -man, began to give him a new status in public -opinion. His wife seemed as happy as if no -grief had ever passed over her, and she -and her husband, with their now lovely flaxen-curled -little boy between them, might be seen -driving after business hours towards Woodburn. -There it was that Thorsby seemed -most at home, except in his own house. He -felt deeply grateful for the kind reception he -had met from every one of the family, and -was very anxious to contribute all he could -towards diverting that load of melancholy -which weighed more and more on the spirits -of Mr. Woodburn.</p> - -<p>It was on a beautiful morning in August -that Mr. and Mrs. Woodburn, George and -Letty were sitting in the cool old house-place. -Breakfast was just over, and Letty had -nodded a loving greeting to her husband as -he rode past the front garden on his way to -business, holding up in her arms little Leonard,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> -to make his greetings with a pair of -little chubby but active hands. George had -taken down the Bible, for they had adopted -the custom of the Friends of Fair Manor, of -reading a chapter after breakfast. He had -just commenced the reading of the twelfth -chapter of St. Luke, and reached the second -verse,—“For there is nothing covered, that -shall not be revealed; neither hid, that shall -not be known.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Woodburn did not wait for the conclusion -of the reading, but said, “Ay, see -there now! that is one of those promises -which are so freely made in these Gospels, -and that are not fulfilled. We know that too -well.”</p> - -<p>George paused, and was about to go on -again, for such remarks were too frequent -from Mr. Woodburn to be immediately replied -to, when there came the postman’s rat-tat -at the door, and Letty sprung up with -all a woman’s eagerness for letters, opened<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> -the door and took in a letter. She looked at -it a moment, and said,</p> - -<p>“For you, dear George. Bless me, a ship -letter, and, as I live, from Dr. Leroy! Why, -that is the first news of him that has reached -England, so far as I know.”</p> - -<p>She handed it to George, who began running -it over to himself.</p> - -<p>“He is well, I hope,” said two or three -voices at once.</p> - -<p>“But I have scarcely read a line,” said -George. “How can I tell? You will hear -all presently. It is dated from on board the -Aurungzebe, in the Hoogly. Yes, he says -he is quite well.” And George read on in -silence again. Suddenly they saw a deeper -interest expressed in his face. He read on -with a sort of hurrying avidity.</p> - -<p>“What is it? What is it?” asked the -impatient Letty.</p> - -<p>“What is it?” said George. “It is most -extraordinary, and yet it is only a dream.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span></p> - -<p>“A dream? Oh, a dream only, and does -that so astonish you George, as I see it does?” -continued Letty.</p> - -<p>“Listen then,” said George; “listen, father. -It is the most extraordinary thing I ever -heard of, though it is but a dream. One thing, -however, I observe, the letter must have lain -somewhere a good while, it is much out of -date.”</p> - -<p class="fs80"> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">“On board the ‘Aurungzebe’ in the Hoogly,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 11em;">July 4th, 18—.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">My Dear George Woodburn</span>,—I write -to you the first line of a letter that I have -sent to any one since leaving England; you -will see why. We have had a long, but a -prosperous voyage. We discharged part -cargo at the Cape, and another at the Mauritius, -and have just cast anchor here. I -have not yet visited Calcutta, that city of -palaces, for yesterday as we came to anchor I -felt a most unaccountable and gloomy weight -oh my spirits. Amid all the bustle of quitting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span> -the ship by the passengers and saying good-bye -to those who had become so familiar -through a long voyage, this weight lay on -me. In the night I dreamed a most frightful -and extraordinary dream. Now you know -that I am not superstitious; that my medical -education has made me a firm believer in the -invariable prevalence of law in God’s creation. -Dreams, visions, stories of apparitions, -are all to me furniture of the nursery; and -yet how inconsistent I am! Twice in my -life I have had dreams so vivid and life-like -that, contrary to the ordinary run of my -dreams, which I rarely remember, they have -remained as clearly and firmly on my mind as -actual broad-day facts, and, what is the more -wonderful, they were found each to represent -something which at the same moment -was really passing in a distant place.</p> - -<p>“God forbid that this should prove so, but -it is exactly of the same kind, and I feel impelled -to tell it you at the risk of being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span> -laughed at. Certainly I do hope that you -will be able to laugh at me. All I ask is -that if it be not true, you keep my counsel.</p> - -<p>“Well then, I seemed to be somewhere in -the great meadows between Woodburn and -Beeton. The hay was all abroad, and numbers -of people were busily getting it up. It -was a splendid, still, reposing evening. I saw -Mr. Drury amongst his work-people on his -well-remembered tall, roan horse.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” was ejaculated by every one -present.</p> - -<p>“How odd too,” said George, looking at -the date, “and this dream occurred on the -night following the death of Mr. Drury. But -to proceed.”</p> - -<p>“As I looked round I saw two men cross -Wink’s Ferry into the meadows, one with a -hay-fork in his hand. They seated themselves -under the alder bushes near the ferry -and on the banks of the river. One of these -men I recognised at once. It was that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span> -Nathan Hopcraft, who lives just below you, -and whose powers of gormandising I have -witnessed to my astonishment in your kitchen. -His short, thick figure was exact. As usual -in hot weather, his shirt-collar and bosom -were open, displaying his red, sunburnt, and -hairy chest, and his thick, muscular neck, -which I remember him once speaking of in -his stupid and cart-before-the-horse-way, saying, -‘I have a bull like a neck,’ meaning -he had a neck like a bull. There he sat in -his shirt sleeves, and with him a man I never -saw before. He was a tall, muscular fellow -of about thirty. At first view I thought -him a keeper, for he had on leather leggings -and a velveteen shooting-jacket, with -ample skirts and pockets, capable of holding -a hare each if necessary. He had black curly -hair, and full black whiskers. His face was -burnt brown with exposure, and on looking -closer his expression was sullen and savage.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, heavens!” exclaimed both Letty and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span> -her brother together. “Scammel! Scammel -to the life! How extraordinary!”</p> - -<p>“I soon saw,” continued the letter, “that -he was no keeper; but the man had the look of -one who had been degraded from a keeper to a -poacher and ruffian. His clothes were dirty -and weather-beaten; his coat was sun-burnt, -of a ruddy brown, his hat was battered and -shapeless. As I again looked towards the hay-field, -I saw Mr. Drury leaving the people and -riding towards the ferry. As he did that -the poacher-looking fellow slunk into the -bushes and disappeared. Hopcraft went upon -the boat and stood ready to pull it over. As -Mr. Drury rode on to the boat he touched his -hat, and Mr. Drury appeared to say something -to him, and then rode towards the -prow of the boat, and sat looking forward -ready to issue to the shore. But at the very -moment that the horse set his feet on the -boat, the ugly fellow issued from the bushes -armed with the hay-fork, a very heavy one—a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span> -pitchfork for loading the hay on the -waggons. He carried his shoes in his left -hand, and set them down softly but quickly -on the boat, and then, with the spring of a -tiger, he darted forward, and struck Mr. -Drury on the back of the head a furious blow. -I shouted, as it seemed, as I saw the murderous -intention; but the deed was done. -Mr. Drury fell backward from his horse, -dragging the saddle round after him, and -would have gone overboard but that he was -caught by the ruffianly looking fellow, and -stretched on the deck of the boat. In the -fright the horse reared, and, springing forward, -fell into the river. For some time he -seemed embarrassed by the saddle under his -chest, and floundered about as if he would -drown, but then he recovered himself, and got -footing in the shallower part of the river.</p> - -<p>“During this time, for I seemed to see -both things at once, I saw the ruffian take -Mr. Drury’s watch from his pocket and put it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> -back again. He then took out a pocket-book -from the breast-pocket of his coat, opened it, -looked at some papers, and put the book -back. Then he felt in his small-clothes -pockets and drew out what seemed to be a -considerable roll of bank-notes. These he -thrust into his coat-pocket, and seizing the -dead man by the shoulders, and Hopcraft -seizing him by the feet, they flung him into the -river. The ruffian then hurriedly slipped on -his shoes, whilst Hopcraft pulled the boat to -land. As soon as they set foot on land the -ruffian gave some part of his roll to Hopcraft, -who went down the river bank towards his -house, driving the horse further down before -him.</p> - -<p>“But whilst seeing all this, in some singular -manner, I saw during the whole transaction, -two old people, man and woman, -occasionally peep forth from amongst the -bushes near the entrance to the hollow road -leading to the village. The man had the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span> -look of a tramp with a sackcloth wallet on -his back. The woman was in an old faded -red cloak and battered black bonnet. Both -walked with sticks.”</p> - -<p>During this description the amazement of -the listeners had momently increased, and -their exclamations of surprise were continual. -Now they said, “Oh! those are the -Shalcrosses—exactly—to a hair! How -wonderful!”</p> - -<p>“But,” said Mr. Woodburn, “Dr. Leroy -had heard, or read, in some newspaper of the -affair.”</p> - -<p>George looked forward in the letter, and -said, “No; he says, he had not at the -writing of this heard a syllable of news, or -received a single letter, though he hoped for -letters at Calcutta, but they could not possibly -convey any such news. For you forget -this dream occurred on the night immediately -succeeding the catastrophe at the ferry.”</p> - -<p>All sat in silent wonder. “Certainly,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> -said Mr. Woodburn, at length, “it is the most -amazing dream that ever occurred;—but go -on, George.”</p> - -<p>“As the ruffian approached the end of -the hollow road, these two old people came -out and confronted him. They pointed towards -the ferry, as if telling him that they had -seen all, and the man made violent gestures -in return, clenching his fist and seeming to -menace them. Then he took out his roll, gave -them some part of it, and they then hasted -along the river-side cart-track, and disappeared -together in the wooded glen above on -Mr. Woodburn’s estate. Whilst they were -yet in sight, Mr. Drury’s horse galloped up -the river-side and turned up the hollow road -towards the village. In a few minutes more -men appeared looking full of affright, went -down to the ferry, and were evidently seeking -Mr. Drury.</p> - -<p>“That was my dream. I trust that it is -but a dream. I cannot persuade myself that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span> -any such horrible transaction has taken place: -yet, shall I confess it? the distinctness as of -life itself with which the whole of it was seen, -and with which it remains, combined with my -two former experiences of similar, though not -so tragical a kind, makes me uneasy. Write -to me, dear George, at the ship agents’, -Calcutta, Messrs. Mac Campbell and Dimsdale; -I shall get it, perhaps, as I come back, for -Captain Andrews, of the Aurungzebe, is -going to China with a cargo of opium, to -reload there with tea for England, and has -persuaded me to accompany him. He offers -me great terms to accompany him home -again, when he expects distinguished passengers, -and as I have taken a great liking to -him, perhaps I may,—who knows? Ah, if I -had but one happy word from England, I -would accept the invitation as the message of -an angel. But England lies cold on my heart: -and I have flattering prospects held out to -me of a practice amongst the invalids in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span> -the Nilgherry Hills. Well, time must decide.”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>“There are messages of friendship to you -all,” said George, “and to others; the rest -we can read another time, but the surprising -nature of this dream makes my head swim.”</p> - -<p>“I believe every word of it,” said Letty, -“is as true as gospel. The facts, as far as -they are known, are as exact as if related by -an eye-witness. Why should the rest not be -equally exact? That Dr. Leroy should see -in his dream Scammel and the Shalcrosses -whom he does not know, is so extraordinary -that it is to me a pledge of the truth. And -did not the Gospel, at breakfast, say that -whatever is hidden shall be revealed?”</p> - -<p>“The coincidence,” said Mr. Woodburn, “is -certainly very curious—the dream is very -curious; but would to God that it were anything -but a dream!”</p> - -<p>“Father,” said George, “one thing is certain,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> -it has put us on a track that we can -quickly follow out. We can set on foot a careful, -well arranged inquiry after these people -mentioned. I have not seen Scammel or the -Shalcrosses for a long time. If Scammel be -the murderer, he has good reason to avoid -the neighbourhood, and to keep the Shalcrosses -away. A fellow more likely to do -such an act I do not know: and another -thing strikes me. Hopcraft, who used to be -so famous for his cabbage and potato-garden, -his fat pigs and his hens—look at him now; -he has, almost ever since the date of Mr. -Drury’s death, been going back in the world. -He killed his pigs at Christmas, but has not -bought any fresh ones, though young pigs are -plentiful and cheap. His hens are gone, and -his garden is a chaos. He seems to have no -heart to work it. He has, as you know, been -on the parish these six months, and his wife -looks more like a scarecrow than a woman. -I asked him how all this has come about one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> -day lately, and he said he had no luck. That -is true; he has no luck because his conscience, -it is my firm conviction, is not at ease. But -I will ride up to Sir Henry, and show him -the letter, and if he thinks it warrants it, we -will set about to sound these fellows.”</p> - -<p>George ordered his horse, and rode off; -in less than an hour he and Sir Henry came -riding back together.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Sir Henry, “this is a very -wonderful affair.”</p> - -<p>“You believe it then?” said Mr. Woodburn, -who was evidently getting into a state of -great excitement.</p> - -<p>“I believe every word of it, and so does -Ann—by the by, she will be down here -directly,” said Sir Henry. “My father would -have been delighted with it. He had been -so much in the East, that he had seen a great -deal of the amazing powers of what are called -magic, or the occult, which are exercised there -by some of the most powerful chiefs. The last<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> -thing that he would believe was in their fixed -notion of the evil eye; but one day, in Greece, -riding a most valuable and favourite horse, -he saw a man sitting by the roadside, noted -and dreaded for the possession of this evil -power. On coming opposite, and the man -looking hard at his horse, it dropped suddenly -as if shot, under him, and was stone dead. A -wonderful coincidence, at least, my father -used to say.</p> - -<p>“But now, for prosecuting this important -inquiry. It must be cautiously and unobtrusively -done. That Joe Scammel is a desperate -fellow, and as wide awake as a hare in -March. The slightest suspicion, and he would -be gone far enough, for he ranges over a -great extent of country. I was surprised to -find him as well known to keepers of Staffordshire -as he is here. I have an idea which -George approves. This is to set Tom Boddily -on this quest. He is the most knowing fellow -I have come across anywhere round here.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span> -He is an old soldier, and his living up and -down in quarters has sharpened his wits. It -was but yesterday that he came before us at the -county hall in a very droll way. Our friend, -Sylvanus Crook, was sent on Miss Millicent’s -mare to Castleborough on an errand. It was -a good distance from the town-house of the -Heritages, where his errand lay. So instead -of Sylvanus taking the mare to their own -stable, he put her up for the time at the -Spread Eagle. It was market-day, and the -stables were crowded. When he went back -for the mare, behold she was not there.</p> - -<p>“‘Where is my mare?’ asked Sylvanus in -great alarm.</p> - -<p>“‘Mr. Heritage’s groom took her,’ said the -hostler, ‘and said you must ride home this,’ -pointing to a wretched animal not worth ten -pounds. Sylvanus asked what sort of a man -this groom was, and was told a man in a drab -jockey coat with large buttons and top -boots.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span></p> - -<p>“‘That,’ said Sylvanus, ‘is no groom of -ours; it is a hoax. Dear! dear! what will -master, what will Millicent say? Man! man! -thou hadst no business to let any person have -my horse till I came.’</p> - -<p>“Sylvanus hurried off to the bank. The -theft and description of the horse and the thief -were cried through the market; and handbills -ordered to placard in all the towns round. -You may imagine the consternation at Fair -Manor, and the grief of Miss Heritage at the -loss of her favourite May Dew. But about -three o’clock next morning, Tom Boddily, -who lives at a cottage on the green opposite -to Fair Manor gates, sprung up in bed, -saying,</p> - -<p>“‘That’s May Dew.’</p> - -<p>“‘You’re dreaming, Tom,’ said his wife.</p> - -<p>“‘No,’ replied Tom; ‘I heard her neigh. -I know that sharp, clear neigh well enough. -And there it is again.’</p> - -<p>“Tom slipped on his clothes; out and across<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> -the green towards the place whence the -sound came, when, to his amazement, he -saw May Dew standing at Fair Manor gates, -with her nose put through the bars, and a -great fellow fast asleep on her back, and his -head resting on her neck. Quick as lightning, -Tom ran back; with a handful of -gravel woke up Tim Bentley at the Grey -Goose, and told him to come down in a -moment. Tim was soon down, wondering -what was on foot, when Tom took him, -making motions to keep still, and showed -him May Dew with the fellow on her back. -Tom then took May Dew by the bridle, -and led her gently to the door of the Grey -Goose.</p> - -<p>“‘Now, Bentley,’ he said, in a whisper, -‘you must have this fellow in; he has evidently -drunk some drugged beer somewhere, -and the mare has come home with him. -You must have the fellow in, and let him lie -on the squab till morning. I’ll put up the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span> -mare and be back and get Latter, and we’ll -secure the fellow.’</p> - -<p>“Bentley then shook the fellow. ‘Heigh-ho!’ -said he, ‘won’t you get down, -stranger?’</p> - -<p>“‘What is it?’ asked the fellow, drowsily.</p> - -<p>“‘It is the Grey Goose public-house,’ -said Bentley; ‘you’ll put up your horse, and -have your nap out.’”</p> - -<p>“‘Grey Goose?’ said the fellow. ‘Have -you oats—have you good ale?’</p> - -<p>“‘Both,’ said Bentley, and with Tom’s -help they got the stupified fellow down, and -into the house. Then he looked about rather -more wakefully, and said—</p> - -<p>“‘It’s queer how I came here; there’s -d—d hockley indyberries in this beer. -Landlord, you’ve a good tap, eh?’</p> - -<p>“‘First-rate!’ said Bentley, ‘no bacca -nor hockley-indy in our beer.’ He fetched -the man a pint, who drank it off at a breath, -said, ‘You’ve a safe stable, eh?’ and being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span> -assured of that, lay along on the squab, a sort -of wooden sofa, and fell asleep again. Meantime, -Tom Boddily led the mare to her own -stable, and woke up Job Latter, who came -with his handcuffs and a strap, and secured -the fellow as he still slept in a stupid, -drunken sleep. You may imagine the surprise -and joy at Fair Manor in the morning; -and I can assure you that Tom Boddily yesterday -won great credit among the justices -for his adroitness, when the case came before -them.</p> - -<p>“That really was very clever,” said Mr. -Woodburn; “but what is Boddily to do? -Had you not better take up Hopcraft on -suspicion?”</p> - -<p>“I doubt that,” said Sir Henry. “We must -create no alarm. I would employ Tom to -sound Hopcraft a little without exciting his -alarm too much, and if he thinks him guilty, -to set out to beat up Scammel before we -arrest Hopcraft. We can keep an eye on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> -Hopcraft meantime, he is so stupid a fellow -that it won’t be difficult.”</p> - -<p>Sir Henry immediately went up to Fair -Manor, and returned, saying, “Mrs. Heritage -believed Dr. Leroy’s letter was the Lord’s -work, and Boddily should be put at once and -wholly at our service.”</p> - -<p>Soon after Tom made his appearance, and -the matter being explained to him in confidence, -he said at once—</p> - -<p>“That’s it! My word for it, gentlemen, -you have hit it. There is something wrong -about that Hopcraft. He is sunk into a -wretched pauper, and have not you noticed -he is always looking behind him, at any little -noise, as if he were afraid of a constable after -him. As to that Scammel, I have not seen -him for many a month. There’s something -in that. He used to come to the Grey Goose -of an evening, every now and then. But I’ll -hunt him up if he is in the land of the living.”</p> - -<p>As Hopcraft was in the cornfield reaping<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span> -with other men, it was thought best not to -say anything to him till evening, when he -had gone home. In the meantime, Boddily -went to prepare for his expedition after -Scammel. In the course of the day he sent -to the Grange a coarse brown linen bag to -wait for him. In the evening he came -hastily into the Grange, and being sent for -into the parlour, where Sir Henry Clavering -was again, he said, “It is a case! I have -seen Hopcraft; I looked in as if in passing, -and remarked that I thought he could not be -well, his garden was so out of order. He -said no, it was bad luck; he did not know -how, but everything went wrong. I then -asked where Scammel was now-a-days, I had -not seen him for long. He was evidently -alarmed at the mention of his name. He -did not know, he said, and did not want to -know; Scammel was a terrible fellow. ‘Do -you think he had any hand in that murder -at the ferry there?’ said I.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span></p> - -<p>“‘Murder!’ said Hopcraft, ‘it was no -murder—the horse kicked him.’ ‘Well,’ -said I, ‘I’ve some queer thoughts about that, -and you know, Hopcraft, there are 300<em>l.</em> for -any one who can find out who did that; a -pretty sum. Suppose you and I were to go -shares at that?’</p> - -<p>“‘Don’t you meddle with it, Boddily,’ he -said, evidently greatly frightened, ‘Scammel -is a devil; he will be down on you like a -shower of rain. Let him alone, I say, let -him alone, in the devil’s name.’</p> - -<p>“‘Then he must be somewhere near, to be -so quickly down on one.’</p> - -<p>“‘I know nothing about that; I say let him -alone. Everybody says it was an accident.’</p> - -<p>“‘On the contrary,’ said I, ‘a little bird -has whispered something to me. There were -two people who saw the whole thing.’</p> - -<p>“‘What who?’ said Hopcraft, pale and -trembling—‘who said so—them Shalcrosses?’</p> - -<p>“‘No matter,’ said I, ‘only, Hopcraft, as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> -you live so near and may have seen something -of the real fact, if you and I could -bring it home to Scammel, that 300<em>l.</em> would -be a very nice thing.’</p> - -<p>“Hopcraft was now thoroughly frightened. -‘Mind,’ said he, ‘I know nothing, and I’ve said -nothing; so don’t you bring me in any way.’</p> - -<p>“‘Well,’ said I, ‘how can I, when you -know nothing, and have said nothing?’</p> - -<p>“‘Well, then,’ said Hopcraft, ‘you won’t -say that you have had any talk with me, eh’?—you -won’t, Boddily?’</p> - -<p>“‘Oh, make yourself easy, Hopcraft,’ I -said. ‘As you know nothing, what is the use -of mentioning you? But now I must go, -our folks will be wondering where I am. But, -Hopcraft, if ever you <em>do</em> hear anything, tell -me first about it, and let us get the three -hundred.’</p> - -<p>“This seemed to quiet him, and he said, -‘You may trust to me, Boddily; only be -snug, eh? You won’t say a word of this?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span></p> - -<p>“‘What would be the use?’ I said, ‘if we -are some day to find out something. As -you say, Snug’s the word.’ And with that -I came away, Hopcraft uneasily watching me -through his garden hedge. He’s got a fright, -and it will be well to talk to him a little -cheerfully in the cornfield, occasionally, to -allay any suspicions.”</p> - -<p>“At all events,” said Sir Henry, “we will -have an eye on him, he won’t escape us. -But his mentioning the Shalcrosses is a -settler. We have the thing by the end now. -I congratulate you, dear Mr. Woodburn; all -will soon be cleared up, depend upon it.”</p> - -<p>“God grant it,” said Mr. Woodburn; and -all present.</p> - -<p>“And when are you off, Boddily?” asked -Sir Henry; but receiving no answer he looked -round, and saw that Boddily had disappeared. -“Where’s Boddily?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Here!” answered a dirty, grimy, limping, -shabby fellow, coming down the back<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> -stairs. All looked in astonishment: could -that be Boddily? It was a regular lounging-looking -tramp, in a ragged old surtout, and -ragged drab trousers, worn off very much -behind at the heel. A pair of very slip-shod -shoes on, and great holes, or potatoes, according -to Midland county phrase, in his stocking -heels. A very old, battered hat on his -head, and a canvas wallet on his back, tied -up like a sack at the top, and suspended over -his shoulders by very old cracked straps. -“Can your worships bestow your charity on -a poor fellow who has not tasted bit nor sup -these three days?”</p> - -<p>There was one general burst of laughter, for -Tom had so completely metamorphosed himself -that nobody knew him till he made this -petition. Then, changing his tone, he said, -“Gentlemen, now I am off—in my wallet I -carry a suit of my ordinary clothes. You -will hear from me every few days, and may -God prosper us, for I mean to go to John<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span> -o’ Groat’s or the Land’s End, but I’ll have that -Scammel.”</p> - -<p>With that Tom made a grave bow, put on -his hat, and with a shuffling, limping gait, -left the house by the front door, and with a -dirty, ugly stick, very much in keeping with -his whole appearance, he went slowly up the -road till he was out of sight.</p> - -<p>“That is a most extraordinary fellow,” -said Sir Henry. “I would bet anything on his -success; so now we must wait in patience -for news from him.” With that he shook -hands heartily all round, mounted his horse, -and rode home.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">SCAMMEL’S DEATH.</p> - - -<p>Some days disappeared after Boddily’s departure -without news from him. There came -a letter to say he had explored the neighbourhoods -of the Bullockshed, Tenterhook, Sheepshank, -and Swagsides estates, where game -abounded, and where Scammel was known -to haunt; but he had disappeared from those -places for some time. There was no trace of -him. A week more, and Tom had been -through Elvaston and Shipley woods, and on -into the neighbourhood of the preserves of -the Dukes of Devonshire and Rutland, on -the borders of the Peak of Derbyshire, and -no news of him of late. Then another like -interval, and Tom had explored the vicinities<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span> -of the Lords Vernon, Bagot, Anson, and -Gower, in Staffordshire, and still no news. -Then he was bending his course towards -Leicestershire. Amongst poachers, where -Scammel was a great leader but a few -years ago, he was now missed, and many -thought him dead; but Boddily found nowhere -any news of his death. In the lodging-houses -of tramps, who came across all sorts -of people accustomed to ply their daily or -nocturnal arts amongst the farms and villages, -no news. Tom was puzzled, but not disheartened. -The man, he felt, had stepped -out of his ordinary haunts for concealment. -No such persons as the Shalcrosses were, or -had been, seen for a good while in all the -regions of trampdom. Wherever they lay -perdu, they were, he felt sure, together.</p> - -<p>During the time that Boddily was absent, -Nathan Hopcraft had evidently grown more -uneasy, and had gone over to Fair Manor one -Sunday to inquire for him. Sylvanus Crook<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> -told him Thomas Boddily was away about -his master’s business. He would tell him -when he came back that he, Nathan Hopcraft, -had inquired after him. But as Sylvanus was -in the secret of Tom’s absence, to allay -Nathan’s fears he went on to the house, and -brought him out a large piece of cold roast-beef, -wrapped in a newspaper, to take home -with him—a most savoury offering to Hopcraft’s -gigantic appetite.</p> - -<p>It was towards the end of September when -Tom suddenly made his appearance at the -Grange. He had discovered Scammel. Far -away in a heathery glen in Charnwood Forest, -in Leicestershire, he had come upon a gipsies’ -camp. It was mid-day, and all the men and -younger women were absent on their rounds; -a few old crones only were there, and an old -cur or two, which ran out to a distance to -meet and bark at Boddily. But there was -something in Tom’s tramp-like appearance, -and his quiet welcoming of them that soon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span> -silenced them, and they followed him and -licked his hands caressingly. On coming up, -Tom squatted down familiarly, and entered -into talk with the old women. He asked -them how far to the next village, and the -houses best to call at. This information the -old dames readily gave, and offered him some -stew from their kettle on the fire, which sent -out a savoury smell. But just as Tom was -about to accept it, his eye casually fell on an -open cabin, formed of sticks bent into hoop -shape, and saw, lying on the straw there, -fast asleep, no other than the man of his -search. It was Scammel’s black head and -sunburnt sullen face, and no mistake. Tom -nodded familiarly towards him, and said, -“The palla there looks tired.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said one of the old women, with a -significant smile; “out much at night—supplies -the pot there.”</p> - -<p>“Aha!” said Tom; “a good butty, that; -don’t let us disturb him.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span></p> - -<p>“You can’t readily do that,” said another -old woman: “when he does sleep a crack o’ -thunner would not wake him.”</p> - -<p>Tom despatched his stew, praised it highly, -and then said he must make use of the day -while it lasted, and visit some of the farms. -He bade them good-day, and limped off. -Tom had found his game, but he saw difficulties -in taking it. Scammel had evidently -allied himself with the gipsies to secure a -retreat away from villages and lodging-houses, -amongst which news circulates freely over the -country; and with three hundred pound reward -hanging over his head the fewer companions -the better. He could turn out at -night, forage amongst the hares and pheasants, -and sleep quietly under watch of the -old crones in the day. They had allowed -Tom to approach, from his orthodoxly trampish -look; but how was he to approach by day -over that open heath with men sufficient to -take the ruffian napping?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span></p> - -<p>Tom pondered this point long and anxiously -as he strode along. “How shall I bring -Latter, and, say, Ralph Chaddick, Sir Henry’s -powerful head-keeper, to this camp, without -starting the game and seeing Scammel run -for it into the next woods? If he were once -up, he would put a couple of bullets from his -double-barrel through any two of us as soon -as look at us.” Tom sat on a hill and looked -round. Every way were difficulties. They -could not approach the camp in any direction -without coming into full notice from it. -Though to-day all the men were away, it -might not be so every day. If any of these -were there, the difficulty was greater. Reflecting -on these matters, and putting them -into all possible shapes, Tom reached the -next village, and entered the Cat and Fiddle -public-house, and sitting down, called for his -pint. As a tramp he did not presume to -enter into conversation with the two or three -farmers who were chatting over their glasses<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> -there. He soon learned that they had all -got their harvests over, and were “taking -their ease in their inn” a little, in a state of -comfortable complacency over their good fortune. -As Tom seemed to listen to their discourse -with considerable interest, one of them -said—</p> - -<p>“Well, traveller, and have you got your -harvest pretty well?”</p> - -<p>“But middling, sir,” said Tom; “my -fields lie rather wide asunder.”</p> - -<p>“I reckon so,” said the farmer; “and a -pretty good stock of gleaners in ’em.”</p> - -<p>“True, sir,” said Tom.</p> - -<p>“Yet you manage to get your bread, I -daresay?”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Tom, “if I don’t get bread -I manage to get cake, perhaps, or a piece of -cold pudding. I never knew the want of -bread, thank God, but once, and then I made -a pretty good shift with pie-crust.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you did, eh?” said the man, brightening<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span> -up; for he saw Tom had something in -him; and a bit of clever talk was rather a -novelty down there. The place was much -troubled with stagnation of ideas.</p> - -<p>“You’re not unreasonable, at any rate,” -said the farmer, all the rest kindling up considerably.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Tom, “not quite as unreasonable -as a neighbour of mine, who, when he -went home to his dinner, asked his wife why -she had not made a pudding. ‘Because,’ -said the wife, ‘there was no flour in the -house.’ ‘Then,’ said the husband, ‘why did -not you make a bit of a dumpling?’”</p> - -<p>“Bread of idleness, I reckon,” said another, -“is sweeter to you, young fellow, than any -other, whether white or brown, fine flour or -seconds, with a glass of summat strong occasionally -to scare the cold off your stomach.”</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen,” said Tom, “it’s no idle -affair, I can assure you, to shuffle from town -to town with a lame leg;”—and Tom drew<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> -his right foot in with an expression of well-affected -pain in his face. “You’ve heard, no -doubt, of the old man on his death-bed that -his wife was giving a lot of messages to carry -to her relations in the next world, when he -interrupted her with, ‘Hold thy tongue, old -woman; dost think I can go stumping all -over heaven with my lame leg to carry thy -gossip?’ That man knew, gentleman, what -a burden a lame leg is.”</p> - -<p>The farmers, who had evidently never heard -of the stumping about heaven story before, -laughed heartily.</p> - -<p>“How did you get lamed, young man?” -asked one.</p> - -<p>“In service, sir.”</p> - -<p>“What, you’ve bin a sodger, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, ay, that’s where you’ve picked up -your knowledge. Now I see. I reckon -you’ve learned th’ Eleventh Commandment?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Tom, “what’s that?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span></p> - -<p>“Not know that, an bin a sodger? Why, -th’ Eleventh Commandment is—‘As new -debts come on so fast, thou shalt not pay the -old ’uns.’”</p> - -<p>“Well, thank heaven,” said Tom, “I’ve no -occasion for book-keeping. I’ve no credit to -give, and I get as little. Blessed are those -that have nothing, for they cannot lose it. -Now, I reckon you gentlemen farmers find -many slips betwixt the cup and lip. I can tell -you of a funny thing as happened to an alderman -of our town.”</p> - -<p>“Where’s your town? I thought all towns -were alike to your trade.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s just it,” said Tom; “but -Tag-town, in the land of Green Ginger, where -the houses are built of black-puddings and -thatched with pancakes, and with windows -that used to be glazed with barley-sugar, but -the lads have broken all the panes. That is -my particular town; and there, as I was -going to say, is a jolly alderman, a big, broadchested,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> -hearty, laughing man he is, and pokes -his fingers in your sides when he tells you a -good story. Well, he has a fine, large garden, -and in the middle of it a fine, large lawn, and -in the middle of the lawn is a fine, large oak-tree. -Now, the grass of the lawn had become -thin, and the alderman told his gardener to -dig up his lawn, and sow it with barley for -the fowls, and next year they would turf the -lawn again. The gardener thought this an -odd fancy, but said he to himself, aldermen -arn’t farmers, nor yet gardeners.”</p> - -<p>“He wor right there,” said the farmers.</p> - -<p>“Nothing would serve our alderman, but -the lawn must be dug up and sown with -barley, and so it was at spring. The barley -came up and grew finely, and the alderman -said to the gardener, ‘Well, John, we shall -have a fine crop here.’</p> - -<p>“‘No, sir,’ said the gardener; ‘you’ll -excuse me, but you’ll just have none at -all.’”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span></p> - -<p>“‘None at all; why not?’ said the alderman. -‘It looks very healthy.’</p> - -<p>“‘It does so,’ said the gardener; ‘but -mark my word—you won’t have no barley -here.’</p> - -<p>“‘Why, how is that?’ demanded the alderman.</p> - -<p>“‘I can’t just say,’ said the gardener, ‘but -that’s how it will be.’</p> - -<p>“The alderman thought the gardener very -stupid, and every time he went round his -garden he looked particularly at the barley -plot. It grew and flourished, and as summer -came in it shot into ear, and the alderman -said to the gardener, ‘You’re all wrong, John. -You never saw a finer, healthier, more promising -crop of barley in your life.’</p> - -<p>“‘That’s quite true, sir,’ said the gardener; -‘but mark my word, sir, you’ll never get a -bushel of barley out of this plot.’</p> - -<p>“The alderman was quite exasperated with -the gardener, and went away saying, ‘You’re<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> -a fool, John, that’s all.’ The weather grew -hot, and when the alderman went home on -Saturday, the barley looked quite ripe, and he -ordered John with much triumph to cut it on -Monday.</p> - -<p>“Now, the alderman, after his good dinner -on Sunday, got an extra good Sunday nap in -his arm-chair, and very cross was he to be -woke up out of the sweetest sleep by somebody, -and to see John, the gardener, standing -in his Sunday suit before him, and with his -hat in his hand.</p> - -<p>“‘Hang it, John,’ said he, ‘you are getting -more stupid than ever. Why do you -come in and wake me up in this manner?’</p> - -<p>“‘I beg your worship’s pardon,’ said John, -‘but I want you to come into the garden, and -see a sight.’</p> - -<p>“‘Be hanged to your sights!’ said the -alderman; ‘what is it? Can’t you say what -it is?’</p> - -<p>“‘I can’t exactly say, sir,’ said John. ‘I’d<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> -rather your worship saw it yourself. You -don’t see such a sight in a barley-plot every -day.’</p> - -<p>“At the mention of the barley, up jumped -the alderman with a very red face, and nearly -fell on the floor, for his legs were asleep yet; -but, when he got a little right, out he went.</p> - -<p>“‘Come quietly,’ said John, ‘as quietly as -possible;’ and he led him along a grass-walk, -and begged him not to speak, nor even -to cough, or he would spoil all. At last, -from under cover of the trees, he points, and -the alderman, to his astonishment and consternation, -saw the oak tree in the middle of -the barley plot as black as his hat, all over -with rooks, and the barley under was as black -as his hat too. There were thousands and -thousands, and they were all as silent as so -many undertakers at a funeral. The alderman -could stand it no longer, but out he -rushed and shouted—Shoo! and up went the -rooks with such a sough, and a whistle of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span> -wings, and a cacawing, that was enough to -deafen a cataract itself.</p> - -<p>“‘It is that cursed old crow,’ said the gardener, -‘that I seed perched on the tree yesterday -morning at six o’clock when I came to -my work. I knew he would go and tell all -the crows round the country what a pretty -barley-plot your worship had got here. I -know them black gentlemen of old, and I’ve -been expecting him some time.’</p> - -<p>“‘Then why didn’t you shoot him?’ said -the alderman in a great rage.</p> - -<p>“‘Ha! shoot him!’ said the gardener. ‘I -must cotch him first, and plug his nostrils up, -for he can smell powder a mile off. But it is -just what I said—it is all up with the barley.’</p> - -<p>“‘Have done with your stupid nonsense,’ -said the alderman. ‘Hire a dozen men, and -have it all down in half an hour in the morning: -but you had rather see those devils of -crows eat it, eh? It would make your prophesying -true.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span></p> - -<p>“‘Not a bit of it,’ said John; ‘I shall miss -all this good barley in the winter for the -fowls; but I knew how it would be.’</p> - -<p>“The alderman went away very crusty: he -had lost his nap, and a good deal of barley. -Next morning comes John and three or four -men, to mow and carry away the barley, to -secure it from the crows, but the crows had -been there for three hours before John came at -six, and had not left a single ear on the stalks.”</p> - -<p>“Well, seize me,” said one of the farmers, -“but that’s a good story, and just like them -rooks.”</p> - -<p>“A deep old file that gardener,” said the -others. “You know a thing or two, young -fellow, we can see. Now I dare say as you -go on through the country, you can put a bit -of wire in your pocket and snickle a puss now -and then. That makes a good supper at the -lodging-house. There’s rare living there, I -hear; jolly beggars all when you getten together.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span></p> - -<p>“There’s a deal of fun there often,” said -Tom; “and if you farmers and the gentlemen -landlords could but hear yourselves -talked of by some witty rogues—taken off, as -they call it—you’d hardly know yourselves -again. But as to poaching, I can tell you the -prettiest feat of that kind that ever came off, -and done by a sort of a gentleman too.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s have it,” said the farmers, for -they had not had such an entertaining fellow -for a very long while to listen to. “Landlord, -another pint for him, to wet his whistle, -it mun get dry with so much talk.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, gentlemen,” said Tom; “but -I never allow myself above a pint.”</p> - -<p>“Then put this pint to our score, landlord,” -said the farmer. “And this bit of -poaching?”</p> - -<p>“It was this,” said Tom. “In the town -of C——ff, in South Wales, where I was once -quartered with the regiment, there was a -young fellow, a travelling portrait-painter.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> -He dressed like a gentleman, but rather, -just a bit, seedily, and he wore fine light -boots; but one day I heard him say, as a -gentleman was taking him to his house to -paint some young ladies, ‘I see my boots are -burst at the side; I am ashamed to go into -a good house, and into the presence of ladies; -but the misfortune is, my feet are so tender I -can’t wear good boots.’ Thinks I, certainly -not, but the tenderness is, I guess, in the -pocket. Well this young fellow painted little -portraits for lockets of many of the young gentlemen -and their sweethearts, but somehow -he never seemed to get richer. He was well -known by staying in the town some months, -and one day, passing a game-dealer’s, he saw -a wonderfully fine woodcock. He stopped, -admired it, cheapened it, and bought it for -four-and-sixpence. ‘I’ll call and pay you for -it in a day or two, he said to the dealer, -but I will take it and show it to a friend.’ -So he carried it away with him, went straight<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span> -to one of the principal inns in the town, -showed it to the landlord, and said, ‘See what -I have brought you! It is the finest woodcock -I ever saw, and fat too.’</p> - -<p>“‘Oh, thank you,’ said the landlord; ‘you -are very kind; you must come and partake of -it to-morrow.’</p> - -<p>“‘To-morrow—no, I can’t dine with you -to-morrow, but I’ll stay and dine with you -to-day instead, if you ask me; I don’t care -myself for game.’</p> - -<p>“Said and done. The artist knew that it was -then exactly the landlord’s hour. They dined -together, got very friendly over their wine; -the landlord had the woodcock brought in to -admire it afresh.</p> - -<p>“‘By-the-by,’ said the painter; ‘it would -be a shame to pluck that bird and not to take -a portrait of it. Give me leave to carry it -home, you shall have both it, and a good -sketch of it, early in the morning.’</p> - -<p>“‘You are very good,’ said the landlord;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span> -and the young man carried off the woodcock -when he went. The next day, at the same -hour, he went to another inn, played the same -game, got another dinner, carried back the -bird to paint it, but instead of painting it, he -now skinned it, had the bird nicely dressed, -cooked, and eat it himself. Immediately after -dinner he carried the skin to a bird-stuffer’s, -ordered him to set it up in his best style, and -send it to the museum of the town. He left -written on a paper—‘Presented to the public -Museum of C——ff, by J. D——, Esq.’</p> - -<p>“All this was done. The two landlords -wondered that the woodcock never came, the -bird-stuffer delivered the stuffed bird, and the -label with it, to the keeper of the museum; -but when both he and the game-dealer called -for their money, they found that J. D——, -Esq., had left the town immediately after this -transaction. He had made three dinners out -of the bird, and had received a vote of thanks -from the committee of the museum, without<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> -its having cost him a farthing. The story is -famous in C——ff, and the bird is conspicuous -yet in the museum, and with the label -of presentation attached, by J. D——, Esq.”</p> - -<p>“My!” said the farmer; “that’s living by -yer wits, and no doubt on’t. That wor a -dead nap, that painter fellow. That woodcock -wor worth keeping for a show.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Tom; “the painter made -game of the game-dealer himself, and stuffed -both himself, the landlords, and the bird-stuffer -in first-rate style.”</p> - -<p>“A pretty rogue, though,” said one of the -farmers. “He wanted laying by the heels in -the stocks for a few hours, and pelting wi’ -mud.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, trust him,” said Tom; “he’d get his -deserts in the end. I never knew a dirty cur -that went barking and nibbling horses’ heels, -that did not get a clout on the head some day.”</p> - -<p>As Tom said this, in came a countryman -with a two-quart stone bottle, which he carried<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> -by a string tied by the neck. The landlord -took the man’s money without an observation.</p> - -<p>“You see that,” said one of the farmers; -“our squire’s keepers complain dreadful of -the decrease of their game in the woods there -on the forest.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, that they do,” said another, “and -the cause is plain as daylight. It’s them -gipsies camped there.”</p> - -<p>“It’s one gipsy, a huge, dare-devil looking -fellow,” said the first; “who lies in the straw -all day, and turns out only at night. They -should look out for him and nab him.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, faith, but how?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing easier,” said the first farmer. -“This woodman lives in the cottage on the -edge of the wood, just behind the gipsy -camp. He’s in league with them, as I know. -Every afternoon he calls here for the man’s -ale—that’s his weakness—and every evening, -punctually at eight o’clock, the big black<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> -fellow walks down there, and they empty -that bottle together, and then it’s time for -the poaching business.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, how came you to find that out?” -asked another.</p> - -<p>“No matter,” said the first; “I know it, -and any couple of good stout fellows who -would watch for him at eight o’clock would -be sure to find him.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but they must first know that he -poaches, and be able to prove it on him.”</p> - -<p>“Well, of course; but that’s soon done by -a keeper that will have a quick eye upon him.”</p> - -<p>Tom had now heard enough. His lingering -and story-telling here had been no loss of time. -He drank off his beer, made his bow to the -farmers, and shuffled off. He followed the -man with the bottle, saw him take a cart -road through the woods, and, keeping within -the trees, followed till he saw the cottage, and -the man enter it. “Good,” said he; “now I -know my lesson.” Tom lost no time in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> -changing his clothes, and washing his face in a -pool. He then thrust his wallet, with the old -ragged toggery, into a large gorse-bush, and, -like a smart servant out of livery, and in a neat -Glengarry cap instead of a hat, cut across the -country to the great Leicester road, and by -coach next day was at Hillmartin, where he -got down and walked to Woodburn.</p> - -<p>Great was the exultation at Tom’s success. -It was soon arranged that Tom, with Job -Latter, the constable blacksmith, Ralph Chaddick, -Sir Henry’s keeper, and Luke Palin, Sir -Henry’s groom,—Latter the strongest, and the -two others the most active young fellows of the -neighbourhood,—should set out before light -in the morning; two in a spring cart, and two -on horseback, and should make all speed to -the place of Scammel’s retreat. It was calculated -that they could reach the neighbourhood -by evening, and, putting up their horses -at a neighbouring village, be ready for the -eight o’clock enterprise. All this they readily<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span> -accomplished, and so anxious were Sir Henry -and George Woodburn that they rode thither -themselves.</p> - -<p>The proximity of the woods to the woodman’s -house, rendered it easy to watch Scammel’s -movements, and very little after the -time named by the farmer they saw his well-known -tall figure coming down the heath, and -enter the house. “The first thing,” said Sir -Henry, “on rushing into the house, look out -for Scammel’s gun, and seize it if you can, -or, if he have time, he will give one of you -the charge.” It was now at the end of September, -getting fast dark, and the four men, -taking a little, cautious circuit, came up at -the back of the house. The window-shutters -were not closed, and, by the light of the fire, -they saw Scammel seated facing the hearth, -with his back towards them. His gun was laid -on a table at his right hand. The woodman -and his wife were seated by the chimney, to -the left of Scammel, and had each a mug of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span> -ale in their hands. At once there was a rush. -Scammel started up, but only to be pinioned -by Latter’s iron gripe; his gun, towards which -he stretched out his hand, was adroitly drawn -back by Luke Palin. In another moment -there was a tremendous struggle. Scammel, -who possessed enormous strength, twisted -himself partly loose, by a violent effort, from -Latter’s clutch, and came face to face, but it -was only to be caught in a hug worthy of a -great grizzly bear of the American forests, -whilst Palin and Chaddick also closed upon -him. The struggle was then furious. Scammel -put forth his huge strength; he kicked, -he bit, he foamed at the mouth, and swore -terribly. But Latter held fast as a vice to -him, and Chaddick drew a noose round his -ankles, and forcing them together, prevented -his ferocious kicks. It was, however, like -four fierce beasts writhing and raging together; -but at length Scammel was thrown, -and Latter fell upon him, whilst Chaddick<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> -and Palin bound faster round his legs their -strong cords; and at length the savage -ruffian, giving in as beaten, and lying stupid -and speechless, they managed to roll him -over, pinion his arms securely behind him, -and thus had him at their mercy. During all -this time the woodman and his wife stood -helpless and trembling. The light spring -cart was soon brought by Boddily and Palin -through the wood and over the heath; Scammel -was hoisted in, and Sir Henry Clavering -and George Woodburn came and took a view of -him. There the great strong fellow lay on the -straw at the bottom of the cart with his eyes -shut, and his features, rendered almost black -with rage, wore a sullen air of dogged endurance. -Having seen their criminal secured, -Sir Henry and George rode away with great -satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Before leaving, inquiries were made after -the Shalcrosses by Boddily and his companions, -but either the woodman and his wife<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span> -knew nothing, or would say nothing, though -offered money.</p> - -<p>By the next afternoon the party had -managed to reach Cotmanhaye Manor, where -Simon Degge was ready to assist Sir Henry -in hearing the charge against Scammel, for -Hopcraft was now arrested, and, on hearing -of Scammel’s being secured, was all eagerness -to prove him the murderer. The magistrates -had heard Hopcraft once this forenoon, -who had sworn that Scammel had committed -the murder at the Ferry, precisely as described -in Dr. Leroy’s letter, and Hopcraft excused -himself by saying that Scammel had taken -him by surprise, and then swore to murder -<em>him</em> too if he said anything. As for himself, -he vowed that he had taken no part in the -murder. He had only seen it in terror and -fear of his own life.</p> - -<p>“But,” said the magistrates, “you helped -to throw Mr. Drury into the river, and you -accepted part of the money.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span></p> - -<p>Hopcraft was dreadfully frightened to hear -that this was known, and said, “But the man -was dead when he was thrown into the river, -and what could I do? He would have murdered -me if I had refused either that, or to -take some of the money.” Hopcraft was remanded -till the arrival of Scammel, and he -was now ordered up. The magistrates were -seated in the library looking on to the -lawn. As the afternoon was one of those so -intensely hot about three o’clock in September, -one of the French windows was left -open. The prisoner, bound fast in all the -coils of cords in which he had been enveloped -on his capture, was carried in by two of the -men and laid in the middle of the floor. -Around stood Palin, Latter, Chaddick, and -Boddily, all bearing obvious traces of their -exertions for nearly two days and a night. -Besides, there were several men-servants of -the house.</p> - -<p>The prisoner looked like some savage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span> -bear borne down by force, or some demon -captured and secured in magic cords. His -face was nearly black with rage and hate, and -casting a fierce glance at the magistrates, he -said, “Is this the way you treat men before -they are proved guilty of any crime. Take -off the d—d ropes that are cutting me to the -bone, and see the devil’s work your scoundrel -men have done.”</p> - -<p>“As to your crime,” said Mr. Degge, “we -have full evidence of that on the oath of -Nathan Hopcraft.”</p> - -<p>“Ha!” said the writhing prisoner with a -demon scowl, “that is the way the wind -blows, eh? That is the dirty earth-worm -that would swear away my life, eh? Release -me. I will swear not to attempt to escape, -as how could I?”—looking round—“Release -me! let me stretch my limbs, and chafe them, -or my heart will burst with rage. I will show -you what that wretch is. I will show who is -the murderer.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span></p> - -<p>“Show us that,” said Mr. Degge, “and -then we will ease your cords.”</p> - -<p>“Never!” said Scammel, with a voice full -of fury, “never whilst I am thus tortured will -I speak a word. Release me a few moments -to make my limbs feel alive, and I will tell -you all. I don’t want to save myself; I would -rather die and have done with this hell of -a world than not, but that crawling, creeping -earth-worm—oh! I will give him his due.”</p> - -<p>The magistrates consulted a moment and -then told Palin and Chaddick to stand in the -open window, and the other men to range -themselves in file round the prisoner. They -then bade Latter and Boddily to loose his -cords. This they did promptly, the prisoner -groaning as one after another gave way, the -very loosening seeming to send each time a -pang through him. As soon as he was -at liberty, he reared himself up a figure so -tall and stalwart as to make even the magistrates -feel the imprudence of their concession.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span></p> - -<p>“Put the handcuff on the prisoner’s right -hand, and secure him to yourself, Latter,” -said Sir Henry.</p> - -<p>“Stop a bit,” said the prisoner, “let me -first chafe my limbs a little,” and with that -he threw off his coat, drew up his sleeves, and -showed the deep and livid trenches which the -cords had left in his flesh. He held them up -and cried, “Is that British? Is that Christian -treatment?” and with that he began to chafe -his arms with his hands. Then he pulled off -his leggings, and began chafing his legs. -Then buttoning his shirt sleeves again, he -said, “Now for that villain that says I did -it!” He held out his right hand for Latter -to clasp on the handcuff, but in the same -instant he gave a spring forward, dashed his -head into the chest of Luke Palin, who stood -in the open window, sent him spinning to a -distance out on the lawn, and was through -the window like a shot.</p> - -<p>“Hold him! seize him!” shouted Sir<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> -Henry Clavering, at the same moment starting -up and giving chase without his hat. -Boddily, Chaddick, and several of the young -men-servants rushed after him like a dash of -enraged hornets from their hole. Scammel -was already across the lawn, springing over -the sunk fence into the park at a bound like -that of a buck, and was in full career towards -the other side of the park where there -was a great mass of wood bounding it. The -park descended rapidly on that side towards -the river, which, more to the right, skirted -its bottom. It was amazing with what speed -Scammel flew down the hill, considering how -his limbs had been corded and cramped for -above twelve hours. But Sir Henry, who -ran splendidly, was gaining fast upon him, -spite of the proverb, that a stern chase is a -long chase. Tom Boddily was close upon Sir -Henry, and said, “For God’s sake, Sir -Henry, don’t attempt to seize that fellow -yourself, he has the strength of a giant and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span> -the will of a devil. With one blow he would -drop you as a butcher drops an ox.” Sir -Henry made no reply, but still put out all his -strength to overtake Scammel. Behind came -half a dozen others, running with different -speeds. On the lawn by the house, -Simon Degge, Thomas Clavering, and the -women servants were seen eagerly watching -this extraordinary chase, and from an open -window above, Lady Clavering might be seen, -evidently in great agitation, watching it also.</p> - -<p>All at once Scammel suddenly altered his -course, and wheeling to the right, made for -the river. There was a deep ditch and high -park palings on the side towards which he -had been running, and this had probably -flashed on his mind. Boats lay at their -moorings in the river; if he got one, he -might yet give them a wild chase across the -meadows or hide himself in some thicket, or -amid the flags and weeds of one of the -sluggish streams that crept rather than ran<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> -through them. The sight of Scammel’s -change of course changed instantly that of -all the pursuers. Those behind seemed -brought nearer to him by the change, his -goal being different. But he was far enough -ahead of even Sir Henry and Boddily to reach -the river bank some distance before them, for -he was in everyday training from his predatory -and nocturnal habits.</p> - -<p>There were two boats chained to their -posts, but, to his mortification, the mooring-chains -were fast locked. Catching up a -large pebble, he began hammering desperately -at one of the locks, and then plucking -violently at the chain. It resisted all his -efforts. The pursuers were at hand; he -turned and plunged into the stream.</p> - -<p>The next moment Sir Henry was at the -boat, produced a key, and though with an -agitated hand and panting for breath, unlocked -the chain, and whilst he pushed off -the boat, gave Tom Boddily the key to unlock<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span> -the other. Quickly they were both in the -first boat, and were cutting the water after -the fugitive. Sir Henry was a master in -handling his oars, and sent the light skiff -forward with an admirable speed. Tom -offered to take an oar. “No, Boddily, take -the boat-hook, and mind that the scoundrel -does not come so near as to grapple us; if -he do, we shall entirely be swamped, and -must swim for it. If he attempt it, push -him off, and don’t be afraid of pricking him -with the spike. See! the fellow is a knowing -one. He won’t battle with the current by -cutting directly across; he is dropping down -stream slantwise to the meadow shore; we -must keep him off there at all costs.”</p> - -<p>Away pulled Sir Henry, taking a course -somewhat nearer to the meadow shore on -their left hand; and now the other boat was -rapidly advancing, with two rowers and two -other strong men in her, and endeavouring -to cut below the swimmer. With stupendous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> -strength and agility the daring haunter of -woods and midnight fields ploughed his -way through the water. His muscular arms -sent back waves like a strong pair of oars, -and that black, curly head of his rose at -every vigorous stroke more visibly above the -stream. As Sir Henry drew nearer to him, -they could see the savage scowl of his dark -eyes, and the seething wrath with which he -blew the clear waves from his lips.</p> - -<p>“He is a dangerous customer, Tom,” said -Sir Henry; “we must give him a wide berth, -always guarding against his escape to the -shore, till the other boat is at hand. We -must play with our fish, and exhaust him as -much as possible, for, at all odds, he would -do some mischief at close quarters.”</p> - -<p>But now the sound of the oars of the other -boat caught Scammel’s ear. He turned his -head hastily that way, and then a darker hue -came over his savage features. The whites -of his eyes showed glaringly as he glanced<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span> -first at one shore and then at the other. -Suddenly he changed his course, and struck -further down the main current.</p> - -<p>“That,” said Sir Henry, “is to ease himself. -By throwing himself on the rapid current, -he hopes to ride ahead of us, and then -gain the shallows to the left, not far off, -where he could run for it. But all in vain! -The stream carries us with still more ease -and velocity. See! he evidently flags. His -strokes are less vigorous; his body is deeper -in the water. He can only keep it out of his -mouth and nostrils by blowing like a porpoise. -Ha! he fails. See that yellow-black -hue—that sullen, despairing expression of his -face! And the other boat is just upon him: -let us close in.”</p> - -<p>At this moment they were in a rapid, -whirling current, caused by the stream rushing -round the projection of an island. At -once the desperate poacher and murderer cast -a furious glance on one boat and then on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> -other, from which several hands were already -straining to seize him; and throwing aloft -his arms over his head, with a savage, -half-drowned exclamation, “Damnation!” he -went down perpendicularly like a stone. -There was a burst of horror from all in the -boats.</p> - -<p>“Keep a sharp look-out!” cried Sir Henry; -“steady your boats!—don’t let them drift, if -you can help it!”</p> - -<p>All eyes were strained to catch a sight of -the black head again emerging, but it was -nowhere to be seen.</p> - -<p>“Mark something on the shore,” said Sir -Henry, “to determine the spot he went -down at.”</p> - -<p>“I have done it,” said Boddily. “That -ivied tree on the island.”</p> - -<p>Still all were watching for a reappearance -of Scammel. Seconds, minutes—five, ten -minutes—went over, when Sir Henry said, -“The wretch has escaped us and the gallows.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span> -He will not rise again alive. He did -not mean it when he went down. Go for -the drags to the Hall. Remember, Boddily’s -ivied tree. The corpse will be washed more -or less downwards from that mark. The -water here is very deep.”</p> - -<p>There was an awed silence amongst the -men in the other boat. The sudden violent -death of a human being even of the worst and -most ruffianly of our race, falls with a strange -sensation on the mind. Sir Henry bade the -other boat remain on the look-out. Boddily -should put him on shore, and the drags -should be quickly brought off.</p> - -<p>By this time, every inhabitant of the Hall -and parsonage, except Mr. Thomas Clavering, -had made their way down to the bank of the -river, at the bottom of the park, and some of -the house and farm-servants had crossed to -the island, and appeared on its shore, all in -breathless inquiry. As the boat drew near -the shore, Sir Henry saw Lady Clavering in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> -great anxiety and agitation, surrounded by -her maids, and with his uncle and Mr. Degge.</p> - -<p>“Have you got him?” inquired Mr. Degge.</p> - -<p>“No,” replied Sir Henry.</p> - -<p>“What! has he escaped, then?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Sir Henry; “beyond our pursuit. -He is drowned.”</p> - -<p>“Drowned!” exclaimed a score of voices; -“drowned?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Sir Henry, as he stepped on -shore; “he is drowned, sure enough; he preferred -drowning to the gallows. I can understand -his feelings.”</p> - -<p>“Poor fellow!” said Lady Clavering, with -tears starting to her eyes.</p> - -<p>“Poor fellow!” said Sir Henry. “My -dear Ann, do you recollect what he was?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes!” said Lady Clavering; “but -he was a man, and to know that he has -rushed into eternity with all his crimes on his -soul, one cannot help deeply feeling such a -thing. But I know what a wretch he was.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span></p> - -<p>Sir Henry made no answer, but gave his -arm to his wife; and they began their way -homeward, talking of the singularity of this -event as they ascended.</p> - -<p>“One thing,” said Sir Henry; “I think -the news of Scammel’s death should be kept -from Hopcraft, or he may draw in his horns, -when he knows there is no more fear of him. -He seemed disposed otherwise to be communicative.”</p> - -<p>“On the contrary,” said Mr. Degge, “his -fear being gone, he may tell us all he knows -of Scammel’s part of the murder, though he -will take care to conceal his own.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Sir Henry, “that is of less -consequence; we have his full testimony on -oath of Scammel committing the murder, -and plundering the body. Now there is a -curious incident come to light. On the trial -of Mr. Woodburn, the suspicion was thrown -with overwhelming force on him, because it -was said that it was clear no robbery had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> -been contemplated. It must, therefore, have -been a work of malice. Yet, here we have -proof that robbery was committed. It is -clear to me that Dr. Leroy’s dream is correct -in this respect, and when he saw the murderer -take out Mr. Drury’s watch, and then put it -back again, and so by his pocket-book, it was -because Scammel had the shrewdness to apprehend -that these might somehow or other -lead to his detection, if taken and made -use of.”</p> - -<p>“I see,” said Mr. Degge, “I see. Yes, -that is very curious. Now could not this -fact, of a separate amount of money in Mr. -Drury’s pocket, be ascertained by an examination -of his accounts?”</p> - -<p>“Right! a good idea!” said Sir Henry. -“George Woodburn can, I have no doubt, clear -all that up. The accounts are all in Mr. -Drury’s desk at Bilt’s Farm. I believe he -kept most minute and accurate ones. I have -very little question but his Bank pass-book<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> -will, in connection with his day-book, show -that perfectly. George must write to Miss -Drury, and get permission to make the examination. -Elizabeth will render every possible -aid in working out the solution of this -mystery.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it will be a great pleasure to George, -and to us all,” said Lady Clavering, “to be -able to clear our dear father in her eyes. She -has always firmly and nobly declared that such -a crime was impossible from such a quarter.”</p> - -<p>“In the morning,” said Sir Henry, “we -will, if convenient to you, Mr. Degge, bring -up Hopcraft again. To-day I don’t feel as if -I could go through anything more.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Mr. Degge, laughing; “after -such a race, and such a catastrophe, you -may well claim a rest. And what a race -that was! As I stood and watched, I -thought it was one of the finest things I -had ever seen. That tall, black, brawny -fellow making a desperate push for his life,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> -and going off the ground like a wild Indian; -and you! ’pon my word, I could not have -imagined that you could run so! The way -you held out was splendid, and shows that -your field sports have given you extraordinary -stamina. And that Boddily; why, he -seems up to anything. It was a neck-and-neck -affair between yourself and him! Altogether -the event is like a dream to me. I -don’t know how I feel. I shall not be myself -till I have slept upon it.”</p> - -<p>“No!” said Lady Clavering, “a week -won’t set me right again. I cannot describe -the horror that seized me, when I saw Sir -Henry following so closely on the heels -of that desperado. ‘He will turn on him -and kill him!’ I exclaimed, ‘Oh! that -some good angel could warn him of his -danger.’”</p> - -<p>“Well then, my dear, you had your wish: -a good angel did warn me, and that was -Tom Boddily.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span></p> - -<p>“God reward him for it!” said Ann; “and -I must reward him, too, somehow.”</p> - -<p>“That man,” said Mr. Degge, “has his -wits about him if any man has. He is a -treasure. I don’t covet my neighbour’s goods, -but I do envy Mr. Heritage the possession of -such a servant.”</p> - -<p>“Ay,” said Sir Henry, “look at the tact of -Mrs. Heritage, who saw in a moment, in the -poor, ragged haymaker, the trusty and clever -fellow that he is.”</p> - -<p>“True!” said Mr. Degge, with a merry -smile, “the spirit moved her, no doubt.”</p> - -<p>They were now at the Hall; and Mr. Degge, -though pressed to stay dinner, took his horse -and rode home. No doubt, he felt the strange -desire there is in every mortal soul of spreading -news. He wanted to tell them at home -of this extraordinary occurrence. And he -wanted to call at Woodburn Grange to tell it, -for George Woodburn, though deeply interested -in the examination of Scammel, had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span> -felt so excessively wearied with his long ride -in Leicestershire and loss of sleep, that he had -gone home.</p> - -<p>The men on the river continued their dragging -till it was quite dark, but without any -success. Already the news of this startling -affair, the arrest and drowning of Scammel, -had flown round the country, and to Castleborough, -with a multitude of fabulous additions.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">THE SKY BRIGHTENS.</p> - - -<p>In the morning at eleven o’clock Hopcraft -was brought up in custody to Cotmanhaye -Manor. He was brought in a covered cart -belonging to Sir Henry Clavering to avoid -observation, but the whole neighbourhood was -astir. The events of yesterday were the topic -of conversation throughout both Woodburn -and Rockville. The village parliament, as it -was called, at the Grey Goose in Woodburn, -in the evening had been crowded, greatly to -the profit of Tim Bentley, the landlord. The -cleverness of Tom Boddily hunting up Scammel -in the guise of a tramp had been loudly -applauded. It was declared to be still grander -than his taking the horse-thief asleep on the -back of Miss Heritage’s stolen mare. He was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> -unitedly voted “a long-headed chap.” The -desperate affair of Scammel’s attempt to -escape out of the justice-room at Cotmanhaye -Manor; the chase of magistrate and men after -him; his swim for it in the river, and his -going down rather than be taken—all was -declared out of the common way, and a -subject to be talked of for the next hundred -years. “He was a plucky fellow, was that -Joe Scammel,” said Howell Crusoe; “if he -had had an education, he might have turned -out something remarkable.”</p> - -<p>“He could kick remarkable hard,” said -Job Latter. “I’ve the marks of his clouted -shoes on my shins yet, i’ aw’ th’ colours of -the rainbow.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, by Guy,” said Tim Bentley. “That -must have been a tuzzle wi’ him when you -got him in yer grip. It were worth a trifle -to ha’ seen it.”</p> - -<p>“I believe you,” said Latter; “it was better -to look at than feel. I verily believe he has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span> -spelched actchul pieces out of my shin bones. -The doctor says he’s afeard they are gone green; -and he need na’—any body can see that. They -are green, and blue, and every mander of colour.”</p> - -<p>“What the doctor meant,” said Crusoe, -“was, he was afraid of gangrene—that is, -mortification.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense!” said Latter, rather frightened -though; “when a man’s legs martify they -ta’en ’em off, and he’s not going, I can tell -him, to tak’ my legs off. They’re a better -pair o’ legs than th’ doctor’s got his sen, -barrin’ these toothry brusses.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Crusoe, “he does not mean to -take your legs off, but to caustic the mortified -flesh, and get it away.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” said Latter, “if he canna mak a -cure on ’em, I can. I’ll lay some of my green -sauve on, such as I dresses hosses wi’. As for -Scammel, poor devil, they canna hang him, -anyhow; and I’m rather glad on’t, as I -helped to catch him.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span></p> - -<p>With that followed many a story of Scammel’s -exploits in the woods with the keepers, -and wonders that he had not had his brains -knocked out years ago.</p> - -<p>“‘Twasn’t so easy,” said old Bobby Powell, -the cobbler; “Scammel was more likely to -have knocked out half-a-dozen other people’s. -Bless you! he had a scull as hard as my -lapstone; and as for legs—I’ve seen the -paintings on the walls at my Lord Birron’s -at Newstead, of the Red Shanks and -Limners, but long as their legs were, Scammel’s -would have outrun ’em.” And Powell -had his story of one of Scammel’s skirmishes -in the woods at Annesley, when Squire -Musters, a desperate, strong, active man, and a -dozen keepers, armed with swipples (flails), his -favourite weapon with poachers, had to cut and -run from Joe and a little knot of Selston boys.</p> - -<p>Many were the speculations about Nathan -Hopcraft. Some thought he was as guilty as -Scammel. “He’s such a hog,” said one;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> -“he would murder his grandmother, I undertake -to say, if he could get a groat by it.”</p> - -<p>“No, no,” said another; “he is such a -confounded coward; he’d as soon attack -Farmer Chaffer’s bull, and he’s a savage un’, -as attempt to kill a man.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, coward he may be,” said the wheelwright; -“but all cowards is mean, and he’d -be ready enough to help a strong fellow like -Scammel. My notion is, they’ll hang Hopcraft, -and sarve him right too.”</p> - -<p>On the morning before Hopcraft was -taken to the hall, the news came that the -body of Scammel had been brought up by -the drags, and lay in the barn at Cotmanhaye -mill, waiting for the coroner’s inquest. -This added greatly to the excitement, and as -the covered cart drove through the village to -Woodburn, everybody was out of doors.</p> - -<p>All said, though they could not see him, -“that’s Hopcraft,” for Job Latter was seen -sitting, and looking very solemn, near the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span> -opening in front of the cart. Soon after, Sir -Henry Clavering, who had been early to -Castleborough, rode up on his way to the -Hall, accompanied by Mr. Gethin Thorne, the -clerk to the magistrates; and Sir Henry received -the most reverential touches of the hat, -and curtseys from the village women; for -his chase after Scammel, and his foiling him -in the river till he was obliged to let himself -drown, or be taken and hanged, had made -him very much of a hero in their eyes.</p> - -<p>“A fine young fellow is Sir Henry,” said -one to another; “and he’s a heart in him, -and he <em>can</em> run too! By Guy! though, if -Scammel had turned on him, I wonder how -it would ha’ gone? I should na’ like to ha’ -got a blow of his iron fist.”</p> - -<p>“No; but you’re not so sure as he could -have got a blow at Sir Henry. He’s got the -use of his limbs, you may depend. Them -young fellows at college, they practisen’ at -what’s caw’d Jim Nasti-sticks—what that is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> -I know na; but they tell’n me it makes ’em -wondrous strong and agile. They can jump -aside and dodge, and catch a man out like a -harlequin.”</p> - -<p>Such was the village discourse while Hopcraft, -safely handcuffed to Job Latter, descended -from the cart, and was conducted -into the smoking-room at the manor. There -was no open window there for him to attempt -an escape from, even if he had been a likely -man for such an experiment. He looked very -much frightened, and yet he stood in a peculiar -position, for Scammel being dead, there was -not a single witness against him; and Mr. -Degge told him that he was not bound to criminate -himself, but that anything he had to -say they should take down, but it must be -on his oath, and he must understand it would -be brought forward at any future hearing in -court. It was expected that Hopcraft would -be very close; and as Scammel was gone, and -could not come against him, would leave the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span> -magistrates to find out anything they could; -but the case was quite different. Hopcraft -said, as he was now sure that Scammel could -never again come down on him, he would tell -all he knew. He said that Scammel came -to him that afternoon at the ferry, and said -he was just come out of prison, where Mr. -Drury had put him, and he vowed vengeance -on him. Hopcraft said he told him to mind -what he did, and not to do anything there -and then to bring him into trouble. When -he saw Mr. Drury coming riding towards -them, as they sat under the bushes, he said, -“Well, Nathan, as you are such a cursed -coward, give me your fork, go you and pull the -fellow over, and then come back again; I’ve -something more to say to you.” With that -he skulked into the bushes; but when I was -just beginning to pull the boat, out he jumped, -and knocked down Mr. Drury in a twinkling. -I could not cry out for fright; my voice stuck -in my throat.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span></p> - -<p>“But you helped to throw the murdered -man into the river?” said the justice’s clerk.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” said Hopcraft; “for he vowed -to knock me on the head if I did not, and -throw me after the other body.”</p> - -<p>“And you took some of the money stolen -from the murdered man?”</p> - -<p>“That’s a true bill,” said Hopcraft. “But it -was only two pounds; and Scammel swore -that if I did not take it, and keep my tongue -in my head, he would do for me in no time. -And he would, too, your worships. He wor -na a man to play with, worn’t Scammel. -Oh, goodness gracious me! my life ever sin’ -that has been a plague to me. He has been -coming continjally o’ nights and threatening -me to peach, and swear it was aw my doings, if -I did not give him this, and that, and t’other. -‘For, Hopcraft,’ he said; ‘you’re in for it, you -know; it’s all between me and you, and I can -hang you any time.’”</p> - -<p>“‘Nay,’ I’ve said; ‘there’s those Shalcrosses;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> -I seed them wi’ you at th’ lane-end.’</p> - -<p>“‘Shalcrosses be d—d,’ he would say. -‘Where are they, Hopcraft—where are they? -Tell me that.’</p> - -<p>“And as nobody ever saw them after the -murder I verily thought he’d murdered them -too. God knows, may happen he has.”</p> - -<p>“But he used to come to you of nights. -What was that for?”</p> - -<p>“I reckon,” said Hopcraft, “it was to see as -all wor safe, and to threaten me afresh, and -to squeeze something out of me. O gentlemen, -everybody’s seen how things have -gone wi’ me since th’ murder,—pigs, hens, -cabbages, potatoes, everything; it was Scammel -that came and fetched them. Oh, he -was a leech, a blood-sucker! and he’d ha’ -had my very heart’s blood out of me. Monny -and monny a time my wife has said, ‘Go, -Hopcraft, go and peach. It wor better to -be hanged than live such a life as this. Aren’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span> -we all starving? neither me nor th’ childer -have hardly a rag on us, and as for living, it is -not living, we are awlis as holler as drums. -Let us all be hanged rather than live o’ -thissons.’”</p> - -<p>“And why did not you follow your wife’s -good advice?”</p> - -<p>“Why? ‘Coss Scammel was somewhere—God -knows where, and would have been down -on me before I could get up to Rockville, and -he’d ha’ murdered me in broad day-light. O -gentlemen, you dunna know what a devil that -fellow wor.”</p> - -<p>It was very clear that Hopcraft had lived in -an infatuation of terror of Scammel, and like -a bird fascinated by a serpent dared not to -move. There was no proof of his participating -in the actual murder, but he joined -in throwing the body into the river, had -shared the spoil, and kept the murderer’s -secret; and on those grounds the order for -his committal was made out. No sooner,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span> -however, was this done, than Sir Henry’s -valet, who had entered some time before, announced -that there was an old man and -woman, tramps, well-known, named Shalcross, -waiting and wanting a hearing in Scammel’s -case.</p> - -<p>“How odd,” said Sir Henry, “that they -should turn up thus; for they have eluded all -our inquiries after them, and all Boddily’s -when out after Scammel. Let them come in.”</p> - -<p>Presently entered the old couple, the woman -first, her husband after her. The old man -made his bow, the old woman her curtseys to -the two gentlemen, one after the other, and a -third to the clerk. They were placed in the -centre of the room, in front of the table at -which the gentlemen sat. They were as -exactly like their description in Dr. Leroy’s -dream as if they had this moment stepped -out of it. The old man in his shabby, ragged, -old blue surtout; his waistcoat tied with -more strings than fastened with buttons, his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span> -ragged trousers, and his pale, thin, feeble-looking -face; short, thin, white beard, and -grey hair combed—if it ever were combed—but, -at all events, worn smooth, and hanging -downwards from his nearly bald crown. Altogether, -he was a picture of poverty, age, and -feeble-mindedness. As for the old woman, she -looked at least seventy. Short, rather stooping -forward, and resting on her stick, which -instead of a hook, had a straight crutch. -Her old battered black bonnet, and dingy -faded old red cloak, were just as described in -the dream. Her face, however, was very different -from that of her husband. It was brown -and wrinkled, but was full of shrewdness. -Her nose was clear and straight, and you saw -that in her youth she must have had good features. -Her eyes were grey and large, and looked -out full of meaning, and keen observation.</p> - -<p>“You are John and Jane Shalcross?” said -the clerk.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” said the old woman.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span></p> - -<p>“Let your husband speak, good woman,” -said Gethin Thorne.</p> - -<p>“Your service, sir,” said the old woman, -with a deep curtsey.</p> - -<p>“What has brought you here, Shalcross?” -said Mr. Degge.</p> - -<p>“It’s about this business, sir, of Joe -Scammel.”</p> - -<p>“What about it?”</p> - -<p>“We hearn he’s dead, and we wanten to -tell your worship what we know’d.”</p> - -<p>“What’s that?”</p> - -<p>“About the murder, sir,” said Shalcross.</p> - -<p>“Well, did you know anything about the -murder?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, your worship, we seed it.”</p> - -<p>“What! you saw it? You are rather late -with your information, then, I must say. -Don’t you know that your concealing it thus -all this time makes you accessories?”</p> - -<p>“Makes what?” said Shalcross, looking at -his wife, as if she could help him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span></p> - -<p>“Makes you guilty, too, Shalcross.”</p> - -<p>“God forbid, sir! but what could we do? -Scammel swore to murder us if we said a -syllable to any living soul; and he took us off -wi’ him.”</p> - -<p>“But,” said Mr. Degge, “you should have -seized the very first opportunity to get -away, and inform the magistrates of the -murder.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, sir,” said the woman, “that’s what -ween done.”</p> - -<p>“Let your husband speak first, Jenny,” -said Gethin Thorne, the clerk, “you’re always -so ready with your tongue.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, let her speak, sir,” said the husband. -“She can tell you about it better than I can. -It is she as awlis does the talking for us; my -poor head, ’specially since the murder, is just -no where at all.”</p> - -<p>“Well, Jenny, speak then,” said Sir Henry -Clavering. “You say you have now come to -tell us of the murder; but this is more than<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> -a year after it took place. You must have -had plenty of opportunities before.”</p> - -<p>“No, your worship,” said the old woman; -“no, as God knows, never! That Scammel -has had us awlis wi’ him. We were never -quite out of his sight. He trapesed us off -after the murder, away, and away; travelling -o’ nights, lying in woods and mosses by -day. Oh! how he did hallecx us about the -country; till we came to that Charnwood -Forest where he was taken. There he watched -us as a cat watches a mouse: and he said, -savourly, if we ever made the least attempt to -escape, he would just knock our foolish brains -out; and he would, too. If ever the devil was -in a man, he was in Scammel.”</p> - -<p>“And how did you live all that time?”</p> - -<p>“Live? Oh, we did not live so badly. -Scammel had plenty o’ money: and wherever -there were hares and pheasants, would not -Scammel have his share? I rather guess he -would. But our meat did us no good, nor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> -our bread neither, for we got good bread out -of the villages.”</p> - -<p>“Who fetched it?”</p> - -<p>“We did, yer honour.”</p> - -<p>“And could not you have escaped or informed -then?”</p> - -<p>“Ay, faith, just as th’ mouse can escape, -when the cat lets it go a little, and lets it run -a little, and then gives it a cuff wi’ its paw, -as much as to say, ‘I’m here yet,’ Scammel -awlis watched us. He went with us to the -village, and lurked behind some hedge, and -if I did not go into the baker’s, for he awlis -sent me, and come direct out again with -the bread, he would give a whistle as made -my heart jump; for it meant, ‘Old woman, -another minute, and I’ll murder you where -you are.’ Well, as God would have it, he -was taken, and we’ve followed, as fast as we -could, to give information. This morning -we got here, and heard as how the villain -had drownded his sen, and so here we are.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span></p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mr. Degge, “I wish you -had been here a year or more ago. You -would then have merited well of the country, -and would have got three hundred pounds -reward. Now Hopcraft has confessed; and -we must commit you both as accessories after -the fact, as you have not come forward, and -given information of the murder.”</p> - -<p>“But how could we, Mr. Degge? I tell -you God’s truth—we never could. We have -been actchull prisoners to Scammel; ween -lived under daily threats of murder, and many -a night and many a day, in lonely places ween -expected that he’d just kill and bury us. It -warn’t in our power to escape from that -almighty Sattan. And you’ll not go for to -try to hang us for what we could no more -help than we could fly or swim. We heard -of the three hundred pound. Scammel said -there were three hundred pound set on his -head, and he reckoned we should try to get -it; and so he must kill us off to make all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> -safe. Oh, to think of what ween gone -through, and to hang us for it! No, your -worships, don’t you think we’d ha’ got the three -hundred pound, if we could? It stands to -reason. And look at me here. I say it as -knows it, that I am as honest a woman as -walks in shoe-leather. Nine childer I have -nursed and reared, sons and daughters, and -not one of them has ever got hanged.”</p> - -<p>A smile crossed the features of all present.</p> - -<p>“Well, gentlemen, you may think it an -easy matter to bring up nine childer, and none -of them to get hanged. You’ve yer nurses, -and school-masters, and school-misseses to -teach ’em, and they’n plenty of pocket-money, -and horses to ride, and coaches to sit in, and -everything they wanten; but it’s different wi’ -poor folks in these wicked times. There’s -little or no schooling, and the childer gets in -th’ streets, and hears and sees what they -shouldna; and, oh! I’ve seen the troubles on -troubles of some of my neighbours, and I’ve<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> -seen as many as three young strong men -strung up in Castleborough of a row, as I remembered -as childer as innocent as th’ lambs -i’ th’ meadows. Well, gentlemen, you may -smile; but when I’ve seen such sights, I’ve -blessed God, that not one of mine has ever -got hanged.”</p> - -<p>“I see truth in what you say, Jenny Shalcross,” -said Mr. Degge. “We, who are better -off, don’t, I feel, allow weight enough to such -facts. Where are your children now?”</p> - -<p>“The wenches are aw married, and struggling -on, just scratting their way through th’ -world, some with poor, drunken, good-for-nothing -husbands; and our sons are some here, -some there, married and decent working-men, -wi’ families like, and two on ’em are sogers, -and have bled for their king and country.”</p> - -<p>“Were they in the great war?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, your worship, they were to a -sartainty. They both had wounds on the field -of honour, as it is called; but where that great<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span> -field is, I dunna know. It is somewhere in -France, I reckon, where Bony was; for one -has awlis heerd on it, when he was talked -of.”</p> - -<p>“Well, Jenny,” said Mr. Simon Degge. -“I am sorry to say that we shall be obliged -to send you to the county jail, for not revealing -this murder; but I don’t think you need -be much afraid. It is pretty clear you could -not help yourselves.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then,” said Jenny, “pray, your -worships, just let us go our ways till we are -wanted. We’ll only tantle about i’ th’ neighbourhood -here; we’ll come when wanted. -But to shut us up within stone walls would -kill us. Ween been used to wander and -wander for these fifteen years. It’s second -natur to us. We liken to sit and hear the -lark singing over our heads on th’ open -moors; and hear th’ wind i’ th’ trees, and th’ -water running i’ th’ brucks; and to smell -th’ smell o’ th’ woods and commons, and to lie<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span> -and sleep a bit under a tree i’ th’ pleasant -summer dees. Shut us up, and you might as -well hang us off at once. Our lives are of no -use to nobody. They are going fast out, like -the down as blows off the dandy-lion. So -pray yer just let us daudle on.”</p> - -<p>“I am sorry,” said Mr. Degge, “that the -law does not allow us to do that. You must -pass your time till the March assizes within -the limits of the county jail; but there are airy, -large court-yards there, and the jailer will make -you comfortable.”</p> - -<p>“Comfortable!” said the old woman, “and -not a blade o’ grass to be seen, nor a green -tree, nothing but stone, stone, stone! Well, -what mun be, mun be. God give us patience, -and send us well out of it.”</p> - -<p>The old woman made her curtseys to the -gentlemen, and the old man following her -example, made his bows, and they were turning -to go out.</p> - -<p>“Latter will take them along with Hopcraft,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span> -said Mr. Degge. “He is waiting for -that purpose.”</p> - -<p>“Take us with Hopcraft!” said the old -woman. “No, your worships, you won’t demean -us so, as to take us as criminals. We’ll -walk. We’ll just tantle down by the river -side, and give ourselves up. It’s God’s truth, -we shan’t try to get away; and where, indeed, -could such poor owd creeturs get -away to?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Degge turned, and said something to -Sir Henry, who nodded in reply. And Mr. -Degge said:—“Well, Jenny, you shall have it -as you like. You can go and take your time, -so that you give yourselves up before four -o’clock at the county jail, where Latter will -take the warrant.”</p> - -<p>“Thank your worships, kindly,” said the old -woman, echoed by her feeble old husband, -and out they toddled. A servant from the -hall-farm was ordered to keep an eye on them -from a distance, but not to let them perceive<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> -him. The magistrates felt bound to this precaution -to satisfy the law, though they had not -any doubt of the old couple surrendering themselves. -The young man, accordingly, went -along the fields at a distance, as if engaged in -looking after sheep, or the state of the fields, -and saw the old couple slowly wander down to -the river, and sit down, and remain for an -hour. Then they went on again, and then -staid in some pleasant nook, as if they were -making the most of their liberty, and their -beloved field-life. Thus they went on, till -they came to the main ferry, which they -crossed, without seeming to say anything to -the ferryman. When over, instead of taking -the direct way to the town, they struck -away to the left into the great meadows, -and in a direction towards a manufacturing -suburb. The young man now began to have -some fears that their intention was to cut -across, and get into that suburb, and hide -themselves. He prepared to be not far off,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span> -and if they attempted this, to prevent it. -But he soon found that they only went to a -meadow stream, where the autumn flowers, -the purple loosestrife, with its tall spikes, and -the luscious meadow-sweet, and white water-ranunculuses -were still blowing, and of which -the old woman gathered a nosegay to carry -with her into the prison.</p> - -<p>Duly, at four o’clock, the old couple appeared -at the prison-door, and surrendered -themselves. They had gone to the house of -some poor acquaintance, and had tea, and -borrowed a mug to put their flowers into -water; and now they had voluntarily entered -the great and, to them, dreaded house of -bondage. There we may leave them to their -fate for the present, with this reflection, -that if they had not the liberty of the fields -and moorlands, they were, at least, relieved -from the daily dread of the murderous hand -of Scammel.</p> - -<p>Whilst these events had been taking place,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> -George Woodburn had written to Elizabeth -Drury, to let her know that the mystery of -her father’s end was now cleared up, and to -inform her of the fate of Scammel. He also -asked her for the key of her father’s desk, with -permission to examine his books, to discover -whether it would show the absence and amount -of the money taken by Scammel from her -father’s pocket. In her reply, which came by -return of post, she said:—</p> - -<p>“Thank God, that the horrible mystery of -that dreadful event is at length cleared up, -and that dear Mr. Woodburn is fully cleared -from that most insulting, most impossible accusation. -Give my kindest love and warmest -congratulations to him. And that horrid -Scammel! How is it that I never saw that -before? That man was the scourge of the -woods of the Bullockshed estate, and of other -game-preserving estates round. Nobody could -take him, and my father came to the conclusion -that the keepers did not dare to encounter<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> -him. He, therefore, determined to accompany -them, and watch with them. Many a dark -wild night went he out in the woods with -them. Oh, what dreadful nights of anxiety -to us! The man conducted his operations -with such silence and dexterity, that the game -continued to decrease, and yet no trace of him -could be discovered. There was no sound of -discharge of guns, yet the pheasants went; -no crash of hedge, or of forcing a way -through bushes or underwood, yet the hares -disappeared. It was clear that though they -could not discover him, he saw them, for wherever -they posted themselves, he was at work -in a very different quarter. Did they quit -that post, he was there the next night. Did -they post watches in half a dozen places at -once, he lay still; but as this could not be -always done, he was only checked slightly; -and even when this was the case, it was found -that he was busy on some other property. -Distance seemed nothing to him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span></p> - -<p>“At length my father, with three men, -came suddenly face to face with this ogre of the -night in a deep hollow of the woods, where -he had been observed, by his shoe-prints, -to cross from one pheasant copse to another. -The villain instantly discharged his gun at my -father, but fortunately missed; a rare thing -with him; yet in this case owing, no doubt, -to his sudden surprise. He was raising his -piece again to his shoulder, when it was struck -from his hands by a blow of the butt-end of -the gun of one of the keepers, and then began -a most terrible struggle. My father said it -was like endeavouring to bind Proteus, or a -Bengal tiger. Desperate and Herculean were -the struggles of the man. But once down, all -threw themselves upon him, and secured him, -much as he must have been secured, at last, -by your account. Then, they had to convey -him to the hall in a cart, and all the way he -uttered the most fearful oaths, and vows of -vengeance against my father. He was condemned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span> -to six months’ labour on the treadmill, -and could only just have come out. Poor -father, how often did we wish that he -would not himself meddle with such fearfully -depraved men!</p> - -<p>“I have sent off the key, wrapped in -paper to make a packet of sufficient size -not to be easily lost, and dispatched a man -with it to the great north road, to deliver it to -the guard of the mail himself; to pay him -handsomely, and to say that the guard who -delivers it safely at Castleborough will be -also handsomely paid, as it contains what is -helpful to the full discovery of the circumstances -of the ——, I cannot write the word, -of Mr. Drury, late of Garnside. That alone -would insure its safe delivery, for the indignation -is great all round this country at the -deed. The packet is addressed to Mr. Heritage -at the bank.”</p> - -<p>No sooner was George Woodburn in possession -of the key than he set to work. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span> -found all Mr. Drury’s accounts in the nicest -and most perfect order. His bill-book showed -exactly that the three bills found in his pocket-book -were all that he was in possession of. -These bills had been presented by George -Woodburn, soon after the perpetration of -the murder, at the bank of Mr. Heritage, -where they were payable, and they had been -duly taken up, and credited to the account -of the late Mr. Drury. The balance at the -bank, which was large, agreed precisely with -that in the pass-book; and on referring to -the pay-book of Mr. Drury, he ascertained the -time when the amount of his previous receipt -at the bank had been exhausted; and that, -besides the bank-notes in the pocket-book, -which were of the several values of one hundred -pounds, fifty pounds, and twenty pounds, -he had received, at his visit to the bank, two -days before, fifty pounds in one-pound notes, -clearly for the payment of harvest workmen, -had paid away ten pounds, and must consequently<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> -have had in his pocket—for there was -only some small change in his desk—forty -pounds at the time of his death. This must -have been the roll of notes carried off by -Scammel. The one hundred and seventy -pounds found in his pocket-book appeared -to have been received that very day by Mr. -Drury for sale of corn, and were apparently -put there to carry to the bank on the following -day when the three acceptances became -due. Thus was the fact made completely -manifest, that the crime committed was both -murder and theft. Singularly enough, on -examining Scammel’s body and clothes at -the inquest, twenty pounds of these one-pound -bank-notes were still found upon -him in a large old, oblong, iron tobacco-box, -so close-fitting that they were uninjured -by the water, and their numbers clearly identifying -them as part of the notes paid to -Mr. Drury at Heritage’s bank on his last -visit there. No combination of circumstances<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> -could more perfectly determine the murder to -be done by Scammel.</p> - -<p>These particulars were duly forwarded -to Miss Drury, and, by her order, the -bank-notes, amounting to one hundred and -seventy pounds, were paid in to the account -of the late Mr. Drury, and the pass-book -made up to that date. The bank-notes -found on Scammel were retained by the -coroner to be produced, if necessary, on the -trial of Hopcraft. But another important -document was found by George Woodburn in -Mr. Drury’s desk—his will. By this he had -left the whole of his real and personal property -to his only daughter, and an annuity, -payable out of it, of five hundred pounds -a-year to his widow. There were, besides, -several small bequests to relatives, and sixty -pounds each to the two trustees, whom -George, to his great surprise, found to be -himself and Mr. Fairfax of Castleborough. -The afflicted wife and daughter had never<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> -had the heart to inquire after the will. They -knew there was one, and believed it was all -right. This document was now duly executed -by the trustees, and George found himself -the accredited manager of Bilts’ Farm for the -leaseholder, Elizabeth Drury. Immediately -on receiving this authority, George Woodburn -made a formal claim on the coroner for the -bank-notes found on Scammel, they being by -their numbers clearly identified as the late -Mr. Drury’s property, and received an engagement -to deliver them up to him immediately -after the March assizes.</p> - -<p>The great mystery cleared up of Mr. Drury’s -death, a cloud had passed from Woodburn -Grange. Mr. Woodburn lost that depressing -melancholy which had hung upon him, -and made him shut himself up in gloomy -moodiness. Once more he could mount his -horse, and range over his farm, and enjoy a -chat with his workmen as in past times. -Once more he could meet and salute a neighbour<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> -without thinking. “And that man can -suspect me of so foul and beastly a crime -as murder!” There were moments in which -the very idea that it had been possible for -any man who had ever known him in the -least degree to believe such a thing of him, -made his blood glow with indignation. But -all the world now knew and acknowledged -that he had been falsely accused, and thus -most injuriously treated, and that gave him -again the possession of equanimity and -of a healthy enjoyment of life. He also reflected -with emotion on the love of his own -family, of the affectionate assiduity of his -wife and daughters, on the tender and manly -carefulness and management of George, on -the decided and nobly asserted faith in him -of Elizabeth Drury. He had a feeling that -Mrs. Drury had not been so free from suspicion; -“but she is a weak creature,” he -said, “and so, no matter.” He thought -proudly of the firm and generous truth of all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> -his friends, and especially of the devoted and -untiring zeal of his new son-in-law, Sir Henry -Clavering. Once more he saw Thorsby, -solemn and quiet, pursuing a steady life of -business, and fast regaining the esteem of -his townsmen. Once more he could see his -little flaxen-haired, curly-headed namesake -and grandson climb his knee, ride round the -room on his walking-stick, and come and -look up in his face with a laughing archness -that made him forget his least remaining -touch of sadness.</p> - -<p>Betty Trapps was once more herself again. -Betty had been dreadfully tried by the suspicion -cast on her master. That anybody -should dare to think of such a thing of such -a man as Mr. Woodburn—to even him down -to common thieves and murderers—it was little -short of blasphemy! “Such men,” she said, -“would spit at the sun, and showed what -was in their own nasty stomachs. As for -that Hopcraft, to be concerned in murdering<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> -a gentleman, and throwing the blame on a -man like Mr. Woodburn, she’d have him -hanged out and out.” “But,” said Sylvanus -Crook one day, “Betty, if we expect mercy -ourselves, we must be willing to wish mercy -to others.”</p> - -<p>“Mercy to Hopcraft!” said Betty; “a -dirty grub him!—ay, as much mercy I’d give -him, if I were judge and jury, as a gardener -has on a snail—as a miller on a rat that -charms<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> his flour-sacks, or a farmer on a -mowdy-warp<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> in his best meadows—as a -miser on a thief or a pickpocket, or a -country squire on a fox on hunting day—as -a cat on a mouse, though she plays with -it awhile, as the squire does with the fox. -Mercy!—ay, faith, shark’s mercy—hawk’s -mercy—leech’s mercy—fire’s mercy, when it -gets the mester on us—watter’s mercy, when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> -a man’s drowning—lawyer’s mercy—creditor’s -mercy—death’s mercy! Oh! I’d give -him mercy enough, I warrant ye, Mester -Crook.”</p> - -<p>“But,” said Sylvanus, “thou shouldst -make allowances for Nathan Hopcraft; he -is but a poor, ignorant, stupid sort of -creature.”</p> - -<p>“Stupid!” said Betty; “he stuffs himself -till he is stupid. He’s no better than -one of his own hogs, as used to be. Why, -I’ve seen that man half empty the dish of -beans and bacon, at dinner set before the -hungry men, on to his own plate, and pitch it -down his throat like pitching straw through -the picking-hole o’ th’ barn. An’ then when -I’ve said I’m afraid you men will run short, -the owd porpoise would sit and blow and -look as red as a lobster, and as stupid as -a fish, and say, ‘Nobody wants any more, -for I don’t.’ Odrot him! Hang all such, I -say.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, Betty, Betty!” said Sylvanus; “I -am afraid thou art not much better than Sir -Roger Rockville. The other day, Tom Baggully -was taken before him on a charge of -being drunk. ‘Set Baggully in the stocks,’ -said Sir Roger, without waiting to hear anything -at all. ‘But,’ said the clerk, ‘here are -several respectable people ready to swear that -he was not drunk.’ ‘No matter,’ said Sir -Roger, ‘I fancy he poaches; so, right or -wrong, set Baggully in the stocks.’”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Sylvanus, for your compliment,” -said Betty.</p> - -<p>Betty’s temper had been made none the -better by the persecutions of a suitor, none -other than Sam James, the Gotham carrier, -who came that way to Castleborough every few -days. This fellow was a close, miserly churl, -who rented a little farm, and lived by himself. -He thought Betty must have saved a good -solid sum of money, and so began to be very -gracious to her. But Betty gave him notice<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> -to take himself off without more ado. Sam -James came stealing slyly to the kitchen -window evening after evening, and tapping -gently when Betty was near it, to induce her -to go out and speak to him. At first she -was rather startled; but peering out into the -dark, and catching a gleam of his face near -the pane, she said, out before all the men, -one night, “There’s that hugger-mugger fellow, -Sam James, i’ th’ garden. Does he -think I’ll go out to a chap that has na the -pluck to come in and show his sen like a -man? Run out, Tom,” to a young lad of -seventeen, “and see how he’ll take to his -heels!”</p> - -<p>Tom was only too ready to enjoy the lark; -out he ran, and away sprang James, leaped -the garden-wall next the lane, and came down -on the back of a cow, quietly chewing her -cud under it. Up started the poor beast, in -a great fright and with a great bellow, and -James went tumbling down the slope to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span> -road. Great and continued was the laughter -of the servants in the kitchen at this adventure, -and Betty laughed as heartily as the -rest.</p> - -<p>“But,” said one of the men, “Sam James -is rich, Betty; you might make a worse -match.”</p> - -<p>“Match!” said Betty, “with a passionate -fool like that! Why, th’ other day he was -gathering sticks in his close, where he had -been trimming th’ hedges, and instead of -putting them into his cart, he tried to stuff -them into a sack-bag, and as one end sprung -out as he forced another in, what did the -demented norp but seize a hedge-stake and -thresh th’ bag wi’ it like a madman, as -he is.”</p> - -<p>“But,” said the man again, “see what a -pair of good horses he has!”</p> - -<p>“Ay, and when he was in a passion wi’ -one on ’em one day, he up with his billhook -and gave th’ poor dumb creetur a chop!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> -A brute! I’ll set the dogs on him if he -comes sneaking here again.”</p> - -<p>Betty was delighted with putting James to -flight; and the story of his tumbling over Tim -Bunting’s cow, which often grazed in the lanes, -was soon through the whole village, from that -centre of intelligence—the Grey Goose; so -that Sam James found it convenient to avoid -the chaffing he got at Woodburn, and the -kind inquiries of the women whether he got -no hurt when he fell over the Grange garden-wall, -by sending a substitute that way for a -long time with his cart.</p> - -<p>Old times seemed come back again at the -Grange. There was frequent visiting betwixt -it and Cotmanhaye Manor—a coming and -going without ceremony, and full of pleasantness. -George had made a journey to Yorkshire -to give some account of his stewardship, -and there were wise people who foresaw the -return of Elizabeth Drury, at least some day, -to Bilts’ Farm. Thorsby and his once more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span> -joyous, handsome wife, and cherub-looking -boy with them, were often driving over, and -again commonly spending the Sundays there. -Thorsby again made his little, familiar visits -amongst the cottages of Woodburn Green, -and talked over his travels in America with -Howell Crusoe, the inquiring schoolmaster, -who seemed half tempted to migrate thither -himself some day.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mr. Woodburn, as Thorsby -mentioned this at dinner one day, “I should -be sorry for Crusoe to leave us. He has his -faults, but I don’t know where we should -mend him. He has confessedly very warm -Welsh blood, and though naturally amiable -and humane, he has been given to thrashing -his boys a little too freely. When I have -reasoned with him, he always quoted Solomon -as ungainsayable authority, ‘Spare the rod, -and spoil the child.’ It was in vain that I -told him I would rather spoil the rod and -spare the child. He always used to tell the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> -boys, in the established language of the -schoolmasters, that it hurt him much more -to flog a boy than it hurt the boy. But one -day, as he said this to a little boy, who sat -sobbing and snorting, with his eyes, nose, -and very red cheeks all dashed and drowned -in tears, the poor lad cried out, ‘I only wish -I could believe it’—at which the whole school -burst into an uncontrollable shout of laughter. -Enraged at this, and feeling the keen satire -in the boy’s words, Howell dealt about him, -in a regular Welsh tantrum of passion, with -his cane on the heads and shoulders of the -scholars. This settled the riot, except for an -isolated burst-up of smothered merriment, -here and there, which he visited with strokes -of lightning.</p> - -<p>“But what was the consequence? The -lads who had caught the full fury of Crusoe’s -angry blows, commenced a conspiracy which -they cherished for a proper opportunity; and -one Saturday afternoon, when Crusoe had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span> -gone into Cotmanhaye woods to gather nuts, -suddenly the whole school issued from a -thicket, and surrounding him, gave him such -a pounding with hazel cudgels, as inspired -him with a wonderful agility in running -through the wood, leaping the fence, and -scouring homewards at a pace that vastly -amused the troop of little rebels. It was -necessary to send for the doctor, who, being a -bit of a wag, carried the story as a rich -morsel of news all round the country. He -enlivened his narrative by making the boys -cry, all the time they thrashed their domine, -‘Well, does it hurt you as much as it does -us?’</p> - -<p>“That is the reason, I suspect, that Crusoe -thinks so much of America. I doubt, however, -if he would find the children of Yankees -more passive under his rhabdomancy than -those of us Britishers. For my part, I wish -all the boys in the universe would follow the -example of the Woodburn lads. There would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span> -then soon be an end of the villanous practice -of a big fellow with a big stick seizing a little, -tender, shrinking boy, who is but a linnet in -the claws of an eagle, and misusing his brute -strength to torture the poor little fellow.”</p> - -<p>Thorsby said, “But what of Solomon’s -wisdom on the subject?”</p> - -<p>“What of Solomon?” said Mr. Woodburn. -“Why, that was wisdom enough for the Jews -of those semi-barbarous ages, who massacred -all the nations round, and stoned to death any -old woman who gathered a few sticks on a -Sabbath; but it is not wisdom enough for -Christians who are to do as they would be -done by. Would any of these great, cowardly -schoolmasters, who clutch little, shrinking -children, and flog them brutally, like some one -twice or three times their own size and strength -to treat them so? Certainly not. Of all the -contemptible examples of cowardice, this is -the most contemptible. A big overpowering -fellow thus to mishandle a child, who would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span> -learn both manners and letters ten times better -by gentleness and persuasion; he is a monster, -sir, and no man! Violence and injustice, and -this is the worst of injustice, excite only the -worst passions in a child’s heart, and lay the -sure foundation of violence and tyranny in -those who are embittered by it.</p> - -<p>“I only hope,” added Mr. Woodburn, -“that King Solomon has been set upon by -exasperated schoolboys in the other world, -and treated as the brave Woodburn lads -treated Crusoe; and I hope that till this -odious custom is abolished, the boys everywhere -will match their strength, by union, with -that of their masters, and let them see how -they like a good cottoning.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Thorsby, “but the custom -has been made venerable by time, and sanctioned -by all our great schools, and if we may -judge from effects, has answered well, for no -country has produced greater scholars.”</p> - -<p>“Sanctioned!” said Mr. Woodburn, “so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span> -have wars and wholesale robberies, under the -name of reprisals in other countries, been -sanctioned. Duelling was an old and venerable -institution, and had the sanction of -great names, but this did not make any of -these barbarous and insane practices the less -base, or unchristian. My dear fellow, we must -not be led by past sanctions, or by the nose, -we must be led by reason and humanity. -Our ancestors were savages, shall we on that -account remain savage? Take my word for -it, Thorsby, however our public schools -may have answered, they would have answered -much better, had they been conducted -on better principles; and I hope you don’t -call outrage of the weak by the strong a -good principle. Let full-grown men, if they -will, be brutes, and stand up in fair fight -against one another, equally matched; but -I repeat it, a big man who assaults a little -creature, who cannot help or defend himself, -is a coward of the vilest, the most odious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span> -stamp, and ought to be scouted from society.” -With this he stepped to the book-case, took -down the second volume of Addison’s “Spectator,” -and opening at No. 157, said, “now -hear what a really enlightened man, who had -passed through our public schools, thought on -such things.” Having read that admirable -article, he said:—</p> - -<p>“There! Thorsby, you may lend that to -Howell Crusoe if you like.”</p> - -<p>“No, thank you!” said Thorsby, laughing -heartily. “I think Crusoe got his cure in Cotmanhaye -Wood.”</p> - -<p>One more symptom we may add of the -returning sunshine to Woodburn. Dr. Leroy -has returned, has resumed his practice in -Great Castleborough, and has been seen, more -than once, driving towards Fair Manor, in Mr. -Heritage’s carriage, as that gentleman returned -home after business. William Fairfax, meeting -David Qualm in the street, says, “Castleborough -is getting all right again. Thorsby<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span> -and Dr. Leroy have played out their silly -antics, and are really now going about like -men of sense.” To which David nodded -assent, for his words get fewer and fewer -every year.</p> - -<p>“I think Frank Leroy dreams a little yet, -however,” said William Fairfax.</p> - -<p>“Dost thou?” said David, with a surprising -effort.</p> - -<p>“Yes, he dreams of old times at Fair Manor, -I fancy; and dost not thou think Millicent -dreams a little that way, too?”</p> - -<p>“I understand thee,” said David, and -walked on smiling, but most meekly, to himself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span></p> - - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> A midland county phrase for gnawing by rats or -mice.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> A mole.</p> - -</div> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">THE TRIAL, AND TALK AT WOODBURN.</p> - - -<p>The winter is over. There were pleasant -cheery times again at Woodburn Grange, at -Hillmartin Hall, and at Cotmanhaye Manor. -There were splendid dinners at Christmas; -and many a one that we know seated at -them; and faces as joyous as could be at -the after games and dances. There were all -the Woodburns, but with some of them also -under other names. Mrs. Letty Thorsby, -and fair Ann of Cotmanhaye Manor, and -their loving husbands, and the worthy Thomas -Clavering, as fond of a rubber at whist as -ever. Ah, it was a bright, happy, prosperous -gathering and intergathering, after<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span> -dark days and very strange events. But winter -is over, and March assizes have arrived.</p> - -<p>When Hopcraft was brought into court -and placed in the dock, all those who had -known him at Woodburn were astonished at -the change in his appearance. Instead of -that thick, full-fed person, and sun-burnt hue, -he was become thin, sickly, and feeble-looking. -He gazed about him, on the judge, the -barristers, and the crowd, with a frightened -stare. The fact was that he had suffered in -his health from the constant terror under -which he lived so long as Scammel was at -large; but since he had been in prison, he had -been the victim of another fear, that of the -certainty of being hanged. His poor stupid -intellect could make no distinction in a general -fact. He had always heard murder and -hanging linked together in conversation; and -he could imagine nothing from his having -been implicated in a murder, and present at -it, but being hanged for it. Though he contended<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span> -that he was totally innocent of any intention -of assisting Scammel in the dreadful -deed, had warned him against perpetrating it, -and was greatly surprised at the deed he said, -and probably quite truly; yet he had been -seen by the Shalcrosses helping to fling the -murdered man into the river, and consenting -to share the money with the murderer. This -he himself had admitted to the magistrates, -and this was the vulture that all through the -winter was gnawing at his heart. He was in -at the murder, and he must hang for it.</p> - -<p>A word which the magistrates used had -also greatly alarmed him. He had heard one -of them say that he was accessory. To his -ignorant imagination this presented itself as -something direful and ominous. He had -soon forgotten, if he ever clearly caught the -pronunciation, and it had metamorphosed -itself in his mind to “raxery.” He sat in his -cell calling himself a “raxery,” and believing -that it sealed his fate. He ventured once<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span> -or twice to ask the turnkey what a raxery -meant; and on his shaking his head, and -saying he did not know, he was still more -convinced that it meant something very like -condemned, and the man, therefore, would -not tell him.</p> - -<p>In this miserable condition poor Hopcraft -lost his spirits, but he never lost his appetite. -It was the grand feature of his constitution—even -overtopping his brute strength; had -that failed, he would have collapsed and gone -altogether; but his food did him little good; -he moped and lived on, often crying like a -child through whole nights; and now he -came forth with the full conviction that he -was only a few days from the gallows.</p> - -<p>The counsel for the crown, in stating the -case against Hopcraft, gave a clear account -of the former trial of Mr. Woodburn for the -alleged murder of Mr. Drury, and then of the -discovery of the real murderers in the persons -of Scammel and the prisoner.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span></p> - -<p>At the mention of the prisoner, Hopcraft -cried out in a voice of terror, “No, sir, it wor -na me—it wor Scammel!”</p> - -<p>The counsel paused a moment, gave a -glance at the prisoner,—the jailer who stood -by the dock told Hopcraft not to interrupt,—and -the barrister went on. He painted in -strong colours the desperate character of -Scammel; showed the causes, all now fully -brought to light on the clearest evidence; -Scammel’s spirit of revenge against Mr. -Drury; and then described the scene minutely -at Wink’s Ferry.</p> - -<p>Here the judge observed to the counsel,—“that -he had heard a strange story of the -murder, after being for two years involved in -deepest mystery, and bringing a most respectable -and estimable gentleman into jeopardy -and trial for his life, being brought to -light by a dream. Is that so?” he asked, -“or am I dreaming, Mr. Whiteman?”</p> - -<p>“It is perfectly true, my lord,” said the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span> -barrister. “It was not only indicated, but -absolutely described in detail, every circumstance -as accurately as if the dreamer had -been himself on the spot.”</p> - -<p>“And pray, what highly imaginative old -lady could this dreamer be? But I think -you said ‘himself?’”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it was a gentleman of this town, my -lord.”</p> - -<p>“His name is not Bunyan, is it?” asked -the judge.</p> - -<p>There was a smile on every face both at the -bar and in the crowd, and some slight titters -amongst the ladies in the gallery.</p> - -<p>“Possibly the young gentleman may be -descended from the great dreamer of Bedford, -but he does not bear his name,” said the -counsel; he also looking rather merry over -the matter. “He is a learned, and, I understand, -a very able and accomplished physician -here, who has, moreover, travelled and seen a -good deal of the world, moves in the first<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span> -society, and would be taken to be most perfectly -wide awake in general.”</p> - -<p>“Very odd,” said the judge. “I would -like very much, Mr. Whiteman, to peruse the -account, if you happen to have it.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, my lord. I have here an -attested copy of the letter containing the -dream; and that your lordship may not -suppose that the gentleman dreamed the -dream after the event, you will note that -the letter was written in India on the -night following the very evening on which -the murder was perpetrated here, so that the -gentleman to whom the vision of the night -came upon his bed, could not possibly -have heard anything of it. And another -thing I may note, that the murder was so -wholly improbable, that the real perpetrators -escaped all suspicion till this dream, and, -as it proved, rightly, threw it upon them, -having previously caused the most unfortunate -arrest and trial of a most unlikely man for a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span> -murderer, merely from his having been last -seen on the spot.”</p> - -<p>“Most extraordinary!” said the judge. -“Perhaps, Mr. Whiteman, we don’t understand -everything yet, even in this enlightened -nineteenth century.”</p> - -<p>“No, my lord,” said the barrister, “I -certainly do not pretend to understand anything -of this sort. I am bound to receive it, -as a thoroughly attested fact, and I have much -pleasure in handing up to your lordship this -singular document.”</p> - -<p>The letter was handed across the table by -some of the counsel to the judge, and the -barrister proceeded:—</p> - -<p>“The prisoner at the bar, it is admitted by -himself in the depositions taken by the magistrates, -and as was and will be also proved by -two eye-witnesses, was in company with the -chief criminal, Scammel. It cannot be proved -that he assisted in the murder itself, but it -can that he helped to throw the murdered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span> -man into the river, and shared the money of -which the deceased gentleman was plundered; -and that the prisoner never, till arrested for -the crime, took any pains to make the fact -known to any one.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see,” said the judge, “how there -could be two eye-witnesses, unless they are -partners in the crime who have turned king’s -evidence, and yet the complete concealment -of the true perpetrators of the crime have -brought an innocent person into question -for it.”</p> - -<p>“Your lordship will soon see the reason -when the witnesses are called.”</p> - -<p>“Very well; go on,” said the judge.</p> - -<p>The depositions were read, and the evidence -was then gone through; and as the counsel -called in the two Shalcrosses, he said, “Now, -my lord, you will see the two eye-witnesses.”</p> - -<p>The evidence was that with which our -readers are already acquainted. The jury -found Hopcraft guilty on the second count—that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span> -of being accessory to the fact; and on -the third—that of concealment; and Hopcraft -was very agreeably surprised to find himself -not condemned to be hanged, but only transported -to Botany Bay for the term of fourteen -years.</p> - -<p>When the Shalcrosses were brought up, it -was at first separately, and then together; -and the judge, who had evidently read the -depositions of Jenny with much interest, put -several questions to her himself, and both he -and the court at large showed themselves -struck by the clearness and shrewdness of her -answers. In summing up, his lordship said, -he could not see how these old people could -have acted differently from what they had -done. They had evidently been casual witnesses -of the murder, and had from that very -moment, and ever since, been the real prisoners -of the murderer—under daily terror of their -own lives. The instant that they found themselves -freed from his <em>surveillance</em>, they had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span> -hastened to disclose their knowledge of the -crime. He could not himself connect them -in any manner with the murder. The jury, -without withdrawing from the box, pronounced -them “Not Guilty,” and they were immediately -discharged, to wander again at will -amongst the country villages, and dream out -their few remaining days on sunny commons -and by running brooks. Many a shilling was -thrust into their hands as they passed through -the crowd, and issued once more into the open -air and unimpeded streets.</p> - -<p>A subscription was raised, to send Hopcraft’s -wife and children out with him, -amongst our friends at Woodburn, Hillmartin, -Cotmanhaye, &c., and another of Mr. Woodburn’s -labourers was put into his cottage.</p> - -<p>The magistrates of the county, at their next -sitting after the assizes, sent for Tom Boddily, -and informed him that the reward of one -hundred pounds offered by Government for -the apprehension of the murderer, Scammel,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span> -was awarded to him, and they had received a -Treasury order to pay it to him. The friends -of the murdered gentleman would, no doubt, -now pay over to him the two hundred pounds -which they had offered; and the Chairman, -holding out a cheque on the bank for the one -hundred, said that he had well earned the -whole amount, and had discharged the duty -of tracing out and securing that notorious -criminal in a very praiseworthy manner. He -advised Tom to allow his employers to invest -the sum for him, and not let it make him -unsteady, by leading him to the public-house.</p> - -<p>“Sir,” said Tom, respectfully, “I will undertake -that the money shall do me no harm, -because I would not touch it if it were a -thousand times the sum. Gentlemen,” he -said, “I have done my duty, I hope, in catching -that murdering villain, and I am glad of -it; but I never will, here or anywhere else, -touch blood-money.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span></p> - -<p>“Blood-money?” said the Chairman. -“Why, where is the difference between catching -a murderer and insuring his death, and -taking the reward for it?”</p> - -<p>“That is just all the difference,” said Tom, -“to my mind. To secure a murderer is -every man’s bounden duty. To take a reward -for getting a man put out of life—well, gentlemen, -it may be all the same, but I’m an -uneducated man, and can’t see it so. Excuse -me, but I cannot accept the money—it would -burn my pocket-bottom out in no time. No, -gentlemen, no man shall say I did what I did -for money.”</p> - -<p>Tom made his bow, and retired, to the -great astonishment of the whole bench, except -Sir Henry Clavering and Mr. Degge; the -Chairman observing, as the door closed after -Tom, “A crotchety fellow, after all.”</p> - -<p>George Woodburn, who had received orders -from Miss Drury to pay to Tom the two -hundred pounds offered by herself and mother,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span> -said, “Well, Tom, so you cannot receive this -money, then?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir,” said Tom, “I can’t do it, anyhow. -I am glad that arch rogue is out of -the way of doing further mischief; but to get -rich on any man’s death—it’s not the thing, -somehow.”</p> - -<p>“I can understand you, Tom,” said George, -“though the greater part of the magistrates -could not.”</p> - -<p>“And do you know, sir,” said Tom, “I -can tell you what I could not tell them justices? -Freddy—the poor boy who taught -me to play on the pipe and the lark-whistle—has -been to me again and again in dreams, -and said, ‘Don’t touch that money, Tom—none -of it! You’ve done your duty, and -may sleep on it; but don’t let any envious -fellow say you did it to get the three hundred -pounds. No, don’t touch it, Tom—don’t -touch it.’ And that is just as it stands, sir. -I can’t take it. My dutiful thanks to Miss<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span> -Drury, however.” And Tom went off about -his business.</p> - -<p>Tom did not suffer for his conscientiousness, -though many, very many people said he -was more nice than wise. Mr. Heritage -called Tom the next morning into the library, -praised his disinterested conduct, and gave -him a bit of paper, which, on reading, he -found was the promise of his cottage and -garden rent-free for his life, and his wife’s -life, if she survived him. Tom was greatly -affected. Without saying anything to him, -Mr. Simon Degge, Sir Henry Clavering, Mr. -Woodburn, Miss Drury, Mr. Heritage, Mr. -Fairfax, Mr. Thorsby, and others, subscribed -a sum of money, which they invested, and -which would amply suffice to put out Tom’s -children at a proper time, and leave a provision -for his own and his wife’s old age.</p> - -<p>Great was the wonder and the discussion -at the village inn, the Grey Goose, at this -refusal of Tom Boddily to take money so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span> -honestly his due. Howell Crusoe, who used -to read the Castleborough papers, and often -put in absurd things to mystify his hearers, -and once sent them about saying, on his -authority, that the great dog of Venus (Doge -of Venice) was dead, now read all the account -of the trials at Castleborough, and of Tom’s -refusal to take the reward.</p> - -<p>“Now that’s out-and-out o’er-dainty of -Tom Boddily,” said Tim Bentley, the landlord. -“It does very well for gentlemen to -have such tickle stomachs; but for poor folks -like Tom, zounds, it’s a robbing of his -family.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Tom’s lived so much among gentry,” -said Job Latter, “that I reckon he thinks he’s -e’en one.” Job had received a handsome -present from Sir Henry Clavering for his able -assistance in capturing Scammel; and it -seemed rather a reflection on him by Tom. -“Tom,” said he, “is getting as ginger as th’ -owd mester here at th’ Grange. I seed him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span> -and Samul Davis going to hang th’ owd -tarrier t’other morning in th’ orchard. Th’ -owd dog was blind and deaf, and continyally -under everybody’s feet. Well, they hung -him up, and th’ rope broke, and down he -came, and began howling as if he did na like -it. But th’ owd mester picks him up, and -strokes him, and says, ‘So, so then, poor old -fellow!’ as if he were only going to crop his -ears or so, while Samul Davis ties him up -again. They’ve such fine feelings, gentry han; -but Tom is na gentry just yet.”</p> - -<p>“And why should na we lay hold of and -put an end to men as would put an end to us -for a trifle?” said farmer Chaffers. “Does -na everything put an end to anything as it -can, if it can feed on’t? It’s natur, and -nothing else, and God wills it.”</p> - -<p>“Hold a bit there, Mr. Chaffers,” said -Crusoe. “You must read your Bible better -than that. It was not God who made things -so, but it was man and the devil who did it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span> -at the fall. God has sent us Christianity, -and that is opposed to all cruelty in man and -beast.”</p> - -<p>Hereupon Farmer Chaffers fell into a stout -argument with Crusoe, and there ensued a -long and violent debate, which ended, as -many a debate in a more illustrious assembly, -where the arguments that are worth anything -are all on one side, and the votes on the -other—three-fourths of that village parliament -wishing the money had been offered to them, -and they would have shown a little more -sense than Tom.</p> - -<p>“That would have been a miracle,” said -Howell Crusoe, knocking the ashes out of his -pipe, and rising to depart; “for we have not -all together as much sense as Tom Boddily -has.”</p> - -<p>“Sense!” said Latter. “Tom has about -as much sense as that simple Quaker of -Castleborough, Seth Ward, who is only a -poor stockinger, and had saved twenty pounds<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span> -by years of hard work and scraping, and now -he has gone and given it all away, by a -guinea at a time, to other poor creatures, -because he thought it a sin to be laying up -treasure on earth. If that’s true, then what a -sinner Mr. Heritage must be, and a good -many more on ’em!”</p> - -<p>At this there was general laughter, and -the Woodburn philosophers dispersed to their -several homes.</p> - -<p>Betty Trapps and Sylvanus Crook got to -high words, too, over Tom’s refusal of the -money. Sylvanus had gone down to the -Grange with a note from his mistress; and, -while he waited for an answer, Betty came -down sharp on Sylvanus about Tom.</p> - -<p>“So, Mester Crook, you’re making a -Quaker of Tom Boddily. He’s too nice to -take money when he’s earned it.”</p> - -<p>“Only what he calls blood-money,” said -Sylvanus.</p> - -<p>“Blood-money—stuff! Th’ money is just<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span> -same as any other money. Does Boddily -know better than Government as offered it?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps he does,” said Sylvanus, quietly.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps he does not,” retorted Betty, -sharply. “He could go and catch Scammel, -and get him hanged, if he had not been -drownded; and then—oh, dear no! he could -not take money for doing it! That’s just -like catching varmint, and then letting it go -again, because you can na bear to kill it, poor -thing. Tom’s brains is getting addled, and -it’s all through your silly Quakerism.”</p> - -<p>“I think thou can hardly prove that Tom -has any concern with Quakerism, or that it is -silly, Betty.”</p> - -<p>“Well, Mester Crook, it does na grow, -does na your Quakerism; and a thing as does -na grow is silly or worse. If a system has -salvation in it, it ought to grow, for sin and -wickedness grow like weeds, and spread like -wild-fire,—and what’s the use of a religion as -goes and sits still in a corner, and does na<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span> -move no more nor a post, and lets souls -perish by thousands and millions?—that -thinks a cocked hat and a coat without a -collar, or buttons, will stop the devil when -he’s going about like a roaring lion? If it is -good, let it come out and show itself, and not -sit huddled up in silence like a hen that has -got the pip. I went one day into th’ Quaker -meeting in Castleborough; and I looked -about, and, for the life of me, I could na see -any preacher. They all sat with their hats -on, and looked, I could na tell where. At -last, after a plaguy long time, they shook -hands, and started up, and went out. Oh, -what a place to call a place of worship, where -there’s neither prayer nor praise!”</p> - -<p>“There thou art wrong,” said Sylvanus; -“I hope there is both. For my own part, -I know there is; but thou talkest of things -growing and spreading,—and thou say’st ill -weeds spread apace. Well, that is true; and -look thee, Betty, don’t thy people spread so fast<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span> -as to remind one rather of weeds? If there -are but few that we acknowledge as fitting -members of our Society, does not our Saviour -say, ‘Narrow is the way, and few there be -that find it?’ Methodism is so prolific, it -may be compared to the multiplication of -vermin, which multiply by thousands. The -lion, the king of beasts, brings forth but one, -but then it is a lion.”</p> - -<p>“What!” exclaimed Betty, greatly exasperated, -“are we varmint, and you Quakers -lions? A pretty set of lions, all sitting with -their hats on in a meeting like so many stocks. -Sheep, Sylvanus—call them sheep—that’s -more like it. Now I tell you what it is. -You won’t take anybody in lest you should -be taken in by them, and they should get any -of your blessed money. You would not take -the man who said he was convinced of Friends’ -principles, because he had eleven children, and -heard you took care of all your members. -Eh, Sylvanus? Eh? We, Mester Crook,—we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span> -take in all sorts and sizes. Methodism is -a general hospital, it takes in all, and cures -as many as it can.”</p> - -<p>“That is the best thing, Betty, thou hast -said yet: and may the Lord enable you to -cure many.”</p> - -<p>“I dare to say we shall cure a few, Mr. -Crook,” said Betty, not fully appeased by the -last compliment, and always Mr. Crooking -him, when what she called her monkey was -up,—“I dare say we shall cure a few; but -no thanks to sitting and samming altogether -as if all the deaf and dumb had been raked -up from the four winds. If fish are to be -catched, it is not by sitting on the Trent bank -without line and hook, and wishing for them -to jump into your creel. It must be by -praying in season and out of season, and by -preaching the word with unction. If mester -niver sowed, he’d niver shear; if he did na -mow his grass, and his woots (oats) he’d have -a bare crib in winter, Mr. Crook; and what’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span> -wisdom here is wisdom in them above, I -reckon. As for saving souls by sitting still -on bare benches and twiddling yer thumbs, -it is just as good as telling th’ big miller at -Cotmanhaye mill that his corn will grind if -he lets the water-wheel stand still.”</p> - -<p>Sylvanus was prepared with an answer, -but had no opportunity of giving it, for the -reply to his mistress’s note came out of the -parlour, and he was requested to deliver it -as quickly as he could.</p> - -<p>“There,” said Betty to herself, “let him -chew his cud on that as he goes home, with -his lions and his varmint. Varmint, indeed! -There’s a fine fellow for you, who says, when -he goes to quarterly meeting, or other place -of Quaker feasting, he looks round the dinner-table -of them rich Friends and takes what he -likes least, to mortify his carnal will! And -he’ll never confess as he likes music,—‘Nor -does mester,’ he says. Does not he, though? -And Mester Thorsby tells me as how he’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</span> -seen both him and ‘mester’ listening as -demurely as owls by daylight to the barracks -band at Castleborough. And did not Mester -Thorsby actchully catch Sylvanus listening to -a ballad-singer i’ th’ street. ‘What, is that -you, Sylvanus?’ says Mester Thorsby; and -th’ old sly-boots says, as innocent as th’ parson’s -horse, as niver works o’ Sundays, ‘Yes, -Friend Thorsby,’ says he, ‘I just staid a -moment to discover whether the vagabond -was singing anything likely to corrupt the -youth.’ Ha, what an old cunning fox!—but -he’ll not come his lions over me again in a -hurry, I’ll warrant.” And Betty gave her -milk-pails an extra-scouring; for a “bit of a -raffle,” as she called it, always made her put -out her energies, and she laughed to herself -as she thought how she should tell it all to -Sukey Priddo, as they went to Hillmartin -chapel together on Sunday; and how Sukey -would roast Sylvanus again about his lions.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">A QUAKER WEDDING, AND ANOTHER WEDDING.</p> - - -<p>“Well, Frank Leroy is not only back -again,” said Thorsby, at the Grange on Sunday -after the trial of Hopcraft, “but he is -amazing jolly. I think some little bird must -have whistled to him out in India there, and -sent him home so nimbly; don’t you think -so, Letty?”</p> - -<p>“Likelier things have happened,” said Letty, -with a merry smile in her eyes.</p> - -<p>“And unlikelier too,” added Thorsby. -“Frank has taken the very largest and handsomest -house in the Park, too, with a charming -large garden and pleasure-grounds running -down to the little river, and looking across to -Rockville; and, really, I could fancy we could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span> -see it from here. What does that mean, -Letty? Do young bachelors require now-a-days -such great houses?”</p> - -<p>Letty laughed. “Young men are rather -ambitious now-a-days, it must be confessed. -Perhaps Dr. Leroy thinks he will secure thy -little bird, which lured him back, in a fine cage -before long.”</p> - -<p>“That is just what I was thinking,” said -Thorsby; “and somehow I have been continually -meeting Mrs. Heritage and Millicent -going about the town amongst the shops, and -Millicent looks as spry as ever,—quite killing -with those dark eyes and eyelashes of hers. -It is really delightful.”</p> - -<p>“They are buying up remnants and bargains, -I dare say,” said Letty, archly, “for -making up for the poor against winter.”</p> - -<p>“I dare say,” said Thorsby. “However, -I am charmed above everything to have Frank -back.”</p> - -<p>“He must be astonished,” said Mr. Woodburn,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span> -“at the exact truth of his dream. I shall -be for ever obliged to him for the effect of it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” said Thorsby, “you should have -seen him blush the other day in court, where -we were sitting together, when the judge -began asking about it. And when he asked -whether the gentleman was called Bunyan! -Frank is rather afraid that <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">sobriquet</i> may -stick to him; but no matter, I can see he will -have his consolations. I don’t know when I -have enjoyed myself so much as the other -evening when, after dinner with us, he, I, -and Letty put our feet on the fender, and got -into a great talk on old times. The doctor -gave us some touches out of his apprentice -days, that were regular fun. You know that -great fellow, Surgeon Green, who rides this -way sometimes on a great dark bay horse. -Frank was apprentice to him, and of all the -precious cowards, he is the primest. One -night, Frank said he came to his chamber-door, -and said in a whisper, ‘Get up, Frank,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span> -directly; there are thieves in the house! they -are in the garret—come in through the skylight, -no doubt. Up in a minute!’ Frank -tumbled out all in a tremble, got his clothes on -in the dark, after putting his arm first into one -pocket and then into another, instead of into -the sleeves, shaking all over like a man with -an ague. When he got into the passage, -there stood Green, and said, in a scared whisper, -‘Hark! they are in the garret amongst -the bottles!’—(they kept all their stock of -physic-bottles there)—‘Don’t you hear them? -There! down goes a lot more! Run up, -Frank, and see how many of them there -are.’</p> - -<p>“‘No, sir,’ said Frank, ‘you had better go. -They would not make a mouthful of me; but -you’re so strong.’</p> - -<p>“‘No,’ said Green, ‘go this instant, and -I’ll stop them here if they offer to come -down.’</p> - -<p>“He struck a light, and gave Frank a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span> -candle, and said, ‘Just look in, and see who -is there, and then lock the door outside, if -you can.’</p> - -<p>“Frank went trembling up; the candle -wagged about in his hand as if he had been -switching about a whip. His heart was in -his mouth every time he heard a fresh crash -amongst the bottles. At length, he was at -the door, but he was too much afraid to open -it. ‘Quick! Quick!’ said his master from -below, in a wild, loud whisper. Frank pushed -open the door. Out went his candle with a -strong wind, but not before he saw the cause -of all the alarm—their great tom-cat, who had -been shut up in the room, and was trying to -find a way out, dart out of the door, and -down the stairs.</p> - -<p>“‘There! he is coming!’ shouted Frank, -and the next moment he heard Dr. Green’s -chamber-door slammed to, and the key turned -inside. Frank sat down on the top step of -the stairs, and laughed outrageously.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span></p> - -<p>“What a coward must that Green be!” -said Mr. Woodburn.</p> - -<p>“Another time, Green called up Frank, -and said he was sure thieves were not only in -the house this time, but they were murdering -the old cook; he could hear her groans. -‘Run, then!’ said Frank; ‘my dear sir, -don’t let her be murdered!’</p> - -<p>“‘No,’ said Green, ‘do you run up, Frank. -You’re much less than I am. If they fired at -me, they could not possibly miss me. There, -run up, there’s a good fellow. And here’s a -pistol for you. Shoot the first rogue you see, -without mercy.’</p> - -<p>“He thrust a pistol into Frank’s trembling -hand, and pushed him up-stairs. This time -it appeared really awful. At the next floor -he distinctly heard frightful groans from the -cook’s chamber. The door stood partly open, -and, by the dim light from a window beyond -her bed, he could see something moving to -and fro near the bed. ‘They are murdering<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</span> -the old woman, and no mistake!’ said Frank -to himself; and in a voice so strange with -fear that it doubly frightened him to hear it, -he cried out, ‘Who are you, there?’</p> - -<p>“A shriek from the cook made the blood -run through him with an icy shiver, and a start.</p> - -<p>“‘What is it?’ cried Frank.</p> - -<p>“‘O Lor’, sir,’ said the cook, in a tone of -terror, ‘it is only me, sir! I have such a -nasty pain in my—my—stomach, and I’ve -been downstairs for a little peppermint-water.’</p> - -<p>“‘But what are you doing out of bed now, -with a pain in your stomach? That will only -make it worse,’ said Frank.</p> - -<p>“‘Oh, Mr. Frank!’ said the cook, ‘I am -only holding on to the bed-post a little, to -help me to abide the pain.’</p> - -<p>“‘I’ll fetch you something,’ said Frank; -but, first of all, he shouted downstairs to his -master. ‘Come hither, directly, master, for I -think it’s all up with the cook.’ Whereupon -Green, as he expected, banged to his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</span> -chamber-door, and locked it inside, to Frank’s -infinite delight. Presently Frank came up -with a good dose of compound tincture of -cardamoms for the cook, which soon set her -all right; and he tumbled into his bed again, -to laugh himself asleep.”</p> - -<p>“What an arrant coward,” said Mr. -Woodburn again, “is that Green!”</p> - -<p>“When Frank was nearly out of his -time,” Thorsby went on, “Green’s brother—a -doctor in a country place in Yorkshire—wanted -to go to the sea-side for a month. -And then, the country people being too busy -with their harvests to be sick, he got this -valiant Mr. Green of ours to send Frank -Leroy to look after any casual patient that -should turn up. Frank enjoyed it wonderfully. -It was a very fine country, and he had -a good horse to ride, and it was quite a treat -for him to go cantering about amongst the -jolly farmers there.</p> - -<p>“One day he was sent for to a farm-house,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</span> -to see some one, and said he would make up -the physic, and they could send a boy for it. -He made it up, and set it in the surgery -properly addressed. The boy came when he -was just gone into a neighbour’s, and the -servant sent the lad into the surgery to wait -for him. When he came home, soon after, -the servant said the boy had bolted out of the -house as if his head was on fire, and gone -away without the medicine. Frank was a -little astonished; but on looking round the -surgery, he soon perceived the cause. The -lad, with a lad’s curiosity, had been looking -into things; and, amongst others, had opened -a cupboard-door where hung a skeleton. He -had evidently had such a fright, that he did -not stop to shut the door again, or the door -of the surgery, or of the house after him. The -medicine had to be sent.</p> - -<p>“A day or two after, as Frank was riding -towards the farm to see his patient again, in a -deep, narrow lane, he met the boy coming<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</span> -towards him. Now, he thought, I shall hear -all about it. But he was mistaken; for the -moment the lad recognised the tall, slender -figure of the young doctor, he scrambled up -the lofty bank, like a cat or a monkey, and -bolted through the hedge into the field above.</p> - -<p>“‘Hillo, hillo, there, boy!’ cried Frank, -‘I want to speak to you.’</p> - -<p>“‘Nay, nay,’ cried the boy, ‘I’ll na come -near thee. I knaw thee, I knaw thee! though -thou’s got thy claiths on. I seed thee i’ th’ -cupboard!’”</p> - -<p>After a hearty laugh of the whole company, -Thorsby said, “Well, take my word for it, -the man who tells such stories, and enjoys -them, is no despairing swain.”</p> - -<p>“Not a bit of it,” said George Woodburn.</p> - -<p>One fine May morning that spring, the sun -was shining over the dewy landscape as -genially as it used to shine before the dark -days fell on Woodburn Grange. The larks -were caroling as high and inspiringly in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</span> -blue air. The young corn was growing as -greenly, and the weeders were in the midst of -it with their spuds, rooting up the thistles, -and with their hands pulling the bright yellow -charlock out of it. From tree to tree rung -the notes of the thrush and blackbird, and the -cuckoo shouted her musical, quaint monotone -from the new amber-coloured foliage of the -spreading oak. The brooks rippled and -tinkled so sweetly down the shadowy glens -to the river, and the river glid along as fair -and as peacefully as if it had never seen a -winter or a crime. There was a glow of -flowers along the luxuriant hedge-row banks. -There was a golden fire of flowers all over the -pastures, and a spirit of tranquil joy lay over -all the scene, the outward image of the peace -and joy which had once more returned to that -pleasant neighbourhood.</p> - -<p>All at once the bells of Hillmartin burst -out with a merry peal, as if they had caught -the contagion of happy nature, and sent their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</span> -musical cadences over wood and valley, giving -them the voice of delight, which seemed only -wanting to communicate their full tide of -new-born pleasure to the hearts of men. -The next instant, the three old jangling -bells of Cotmanhaye broke out into the best -music that they could make, which was but -indifferent, but yet had a note of gladness -in it, like the voice of some uncouth -labourer, whom nature never meant for a -musician, but who goes homeward over the -dusky slopes of evening, chanting discordantly -some rude country song,—there was a happy -heart in its limping clangour, which made it -welcome. The discord mingling with the -harmony of the bells of Hillmartin was toned -down into a symphony which was familiar to -the ears of the people of the neighbourhood, -who knew that it meant, at least, rejoicing. -At once the weeders in the corn, and the -cottagers in the villages of Hillmartin and -Woodburn, stood still, and said, “What is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</span> -that for?” And presently, from one quarter -or another came the answer, “It is a peal of -welcome for Mr. George Woodburn, who last -night brought home his wife to Bilts’ Farm.”</p> - -<p>“Wife to Bilts’ Farm! Why, what -wife?”</p> - -<p>“Why, Miss Drury, to be sure!” was the -answer of women’s unerring instincts. “Who -else should it be?”</p> - -<p>“And all forgotten and forgiven?” said -the simple people, thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“There was nothing to forgive,” said one -clear-headed village woman. “But there are -things, no doubt, which can never be forgotten; -and Miss Drury must have a stout -heart to come back after what has passed -here.”</p> - -<p>“There’s that in the case,” said an old, -grey-headed fellow, “that has the stoutest -heart of all—and that is, true love for a true -man; and if there be a true man, it is our -sober, steady, sensible George Woodburn.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</span> -May God bless him as he deserves; and He -has surely begun it in giving him such a -sweet, brave-hearted wife as Elizabeth Drury. -You may see it in her face, the very first time -you look in it, that she’s one of nature’s true -women—loving, and kind, and sensible. -Thank God, for sending another such a lady -here.”</p> - -<p>The event was a holiday in Woodburn, and -Hillmartin, and Cotmanhaye, though nobody -stopped their work for it; but there was a -talking, and a burst of good wishes, and a -flush of pleasure in the women’s eyes, and a -bright, hearty look about the men, that -showed that by everybody’s consent George -Woodburn had made the right choice.</p> - -<p>Soon there were seen horsemen, and carriages -full of ladies, driving up towards Bilts’ -Farm—Claverings and Woodburns, Heritages -and Thorsbys, Degges and Fairfaxes. Coming -and going they were, and all looking as if -some good thing had happened to them all.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</span> -“Who could have thought it,” said the -villagers, “only two years ago?” Soon were -seen George Woodburn and his tall, buxom, -cheery-looking wife, walking soberly down -towards the Grange, and all the heads of -Woodburn Green put out to have a look after -the handsome couple. And to see Letty -Thorsby spring out of the porch of the -Grange, and fly half down towards the -garden-gate to meet her new sister, and such -an embracing and kissing. And then, little -Leonard Thorsby, with his flaxen locks, like a -little burst of sunshine, scampering after his -mother, and snatched up and kissed, and held -out at arm’s-length, and admired, heavy -as he was, by George! And then, Mr. -and Mrs. Woodburn hurrying out, and then -such hugging and kissing again, and all -hurrying into the house, for George says, -laughing, “Do just look! all the Green is out -watching you!” So in they pop in a crowd. -“Well!” say the villagers, “there never was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</span> -a woman welcome to a house, if that one is -not.”</p> - -<p>But in the midst of Elizabeth Woodburn’s -joy, there was a dark spot from which she -shrunk, as it ever and anon came into her -mind. There was somewhere down below -the Grange a dreadful place, called Wink’s -Ferry, which she and everyone wished could -be obliterated from the country. All that -could be done, George Woodburn had done. -He had had put up a board by the river, with -the large words <span class="smcap">Woodburn Ferry</span> upon it; -and all the people both there and at Rockville -and at Cotmanhaye were requested -never more to utter the hateful word Wink’s. -It was to be buried in deepest oblivion, so -that it should never fall like a sudden knell -on the heart of his beloved bride.</p> - -<p>Yet mighty as is the power which says in -the heart of woman, “Whither thou goest, I -will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: -thy people shall be my people, and thy God<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</span> -my God: where thou diest, will I die, and -there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, -and more also, if aught but death part thee -and me,”—yet it was many a long day, yea, -long year, before Elizabeth Woodburn could -descend to the river-side below the Grange. -There was a spot of horror there that made -her whole nature shrink. There was a dark -shadow which hung over that spot, which -was a spectre lurking beneath the otherwise -sunny pleasantness of her fate, which she -would have given some years of her life to -have banished.</p> - -<p>Her mother remained in Yorkshire, and -would never come near the fatal neighbourhood.</p> - -<p>But one fine summer’s evening, as Elizabeth -and George were wandering in the orchard of -the Grange, Elizabeth said, with a sad seriousness, -to him, “George, I have a mind to go -down to the ferry—it haunts me continually. -I cannot get rid of it. I dream of it as dark<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</span> -and dreadful; and I think, if I could see it -on such an evening as this, I should be less -affected by it afterwards.”</p> - -<p>George looked anxiously at her, and then -said—“My dear Elizabeth, weigh well your -strength; if you <em>could</em> bear it, I think, too, -it might have a good effect.” He gave her -his arm, and they proceeded down the -orchard; he opened the little gate, of which -each member of the family carried a key, and -they passed out to the river side. Without a -word, they walked down to the ferry; a more -tranquil scene it was impossible for the human -eye to look upon; the river ran full and -peacefully, gliding on, the clear gravel seen -through its translucent waters. On all sides -green meadows, and peaceful banks, overhung -with the verdurous trees, the thrush and -blackbird chanting as if the whole were -ground hallowed to repose, presented anything -but a revolting aspect.</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding George saw Elizabeth’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</span> -eye run excitedly from object to object, he -knew she was calculating where everything -had occurred that she had read of. He felt -her shudder by his side; and he said,—“Let -us go back, my dear Elizabeth.”</p> - -<p>“No, no,” said she, in a voice firm, but -full of deep feeling; “let us go on, let us -cross, it will do me good.” They went on, -George pulled the boat across, and Elizabeth -looked around over those expansive meadows. -She then proposed to return, and in the same -silence they retraced their steps, and went -up the orchard to the summer-house in the -garden. Elizabeth sat down, and looked pale -and faint.</p> - -<p>“I will run for some wine,” said George.</p> - -<p>“No, no wine, George; bring me Letty’s -Eau-de-Cologne.”</p> - -<p>George was quickly back. Elizabeth -bathed her forehead and inhaled the odour, -and then faintly smiling, said,—“I am better, -and I shall be better; I am glad I have forced<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</span> -myself to cross that ferry, it has given me a -different picture in my mind. I shall gradually -get to see that only, and I shall be so -much happier.”</p> - -<p>And this eventually became the case. The -ferry was not a place that Elizabeth ever desired -to see; there was indeed scarcely any -reason that she should go near it; but in her -mind the horrible images of the fatal event, as -she had read them, had now been softened and -concealed, to a certain degree, by the summer -evening tranquillity which she had seen, and -in the ordinary life at home, the most painful -sensations had disappeared on any mention of -Woodburn Ferry. “In a country which we -both love so much,” she said to her husband, -“I would not have a single thing which can -cause me a pang or a regret.”</p> - -<p>Not many weeks after the marriage of -George Woodburn, one morning there was -grave bustle in the streets of Castleborough. -The tide was observed to be tending towards<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</span> -the Friends’ Meeting, and on arriving there, a -number of handsome carriages were seen -drawn up before the usually so quiet door of -that simple tabernacle of silent worshippers. -On entering the somewhat large, but very -simple meeting-house, with its white-washed -walls and plain deal benches, a very different -congregation to its usually grave-faced and -gravely-dressed one, was seen assembled. -Every part of it was crowded with people -whose gay costume, especially those of the -ladies, made the members of the Society, who -were scattered amongst them, look but like -little dottings in a lively picture. The walls of -the meeting-house were panelled with plain -unpainted deal about five feet high, and a -raised seat ran along them, on which many of -the best known Friends had taken their places, -intermingled with some of the most distinguished -people of the town and neighbourhood. -Along the whole front of the meeting-house -ran a gallery raised some steps above<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</span> -the body of the place, breasted in front -by a balustered railing. In this gallery, -which was accessible from both the centre and -each end, sat conspicuous in the costliest but -plainest of silks, Mrs. Heritage, and by her -side her sister-in-law, a most silential and -antique-looking personage—Dorothy Qualm, -wife of that great professor of Silence, David -Qualm, whose solemn face and exactly triangular -hat were seen under this gallery on a -seat fronting the whole of the assembly. In -front of this seat stood a rather large table, -with pens and ink and blotting-paper; and a -vacancy was left on the seat itself of considerable -extent.</p> - -<p>All was evidently curiosity and expectation. -Never had so gay and crowded a gathering -appeared in that house, not even when the -most noted Public Friend, that is, ministering -Friend, or preacher, from London, Ireland, -America, or elsewhere, had had the whole -town called together, to hear what he, or she,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</span> -expected, but was not sure, that the Spirit -would give him or her to say. To-day, the -brilliant assembly appeared pretty certain of -something of interest turning up, and every -time that the door behind them opened, there -was a general turning round, and often to a -disappointment. At length, however, there -was certainly an unusual bustle in the lobby; -the door was opened with an air of importance -by the tall, quaint figure of William -Theobold, the drab three-corner-hatted coachman -of the eccentric Mr. Barthe, dentist and -wit; and in walked up the centre aisle, if it -might be so called, no other, arm in arm, -than Dr. Frank Leroy and Miss Millicent -Heritage. They were followed by their immediate -relatives, and advanced and seated -themselves in the centre of the seat under the -gallery facing the people. There was a -general stir and excitement amongst the -whole spectator body, and many bright smiles -and knowing nods to one another amongst<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</span> -the ladies,—soon, however, subsiding into a -deep silence. The bride and bridegroom had -to-day conformed, in a great measure, to the -costume of the Society. Millicent was dressed -in a lovely dress of richest white satin, and a -jaunty though Quaker bonnet of the same -material. A white veil covered but did not -completely obscure her face, in which her -peculiarly oriental style of beauty appeared -the more piquant from that simple -but truly bridal costume. The Doctor had a -plain suit of black, with his coat collarless, -certainly, but cut, it might have been, by a -Court tailor, for appearance at a royal levee. -He appeared at once a very handsome, intellectual -young man, a gentleman and a -Friend.</p> - -<p>“What a lucky fellow!—such a wife, and -such a fortune!” was the thought of most of -the spectators; and there was no doubt that -Frank Leroy thought the same. It was -clearly enough written on his grave but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</span> -happy face. Around and about the young -couple might be seen Mr. Heritage, Mr. -Fairfax, the humorous-looking George Barthe, -Sir Henry and Lady Clavering, Thorsby and -his Letty, Mr. and Mrs. Woodburn, and -George and Elizabeth, and with them the -Degges.</p> - -<p>After a little pause Mrs. Heritage took off -her bonnet, dropped softly on her knees in -the gallery, and put up a short but fervent -prayer for God’s blessing on the ceremony -about to take place. Then another little -pause of expectation, and the bridegroom -took the bride by the hand; they rose, and -in the simple formula of words prescribed by -the Society, declared that they took each other -as husband and wife, and promised mutual -love and fidelity till death did them part. On -sitting down, there was soon a bustle of unrolling -paper on the table, and the clerk of the -meeting laid the certificate of marriage before -the contracting parties for their signatures.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</span> -Then the parents and immediate relatives -signed it in attestation; after which there was -a crowding and a moving up from all quarters -of those who were desirous of appending their -names to so peculiar a document. Whilst -this was doing the newly-married pair, and -their nearest of kin, withdrew, and then was -heard a rapid rolling away of carriages.</p> - -<p>After a short time spent amongst the pleasant -hills and rocky dales of Derbyshire, Dr. -Leroy and his wife returned to their handsome -house in Castleborough Park. If appearances -might be relied on, Millicent Leroy had, after -all, found in Frank Leroy, the man of her -heart. The little season of illusion which had -once enwrapped her had left no traces behind -it, but such as time had already very much -obliterated, and which the affection and merits -of a most highly esteemed and popular husband -were likely to render ever less perceptible. -A very sunny and velvet path was -theirs. Vast wealth, a married home and a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</span> -parental one existed for them, for, like Woodburn -Grange, Fair Manor was the resort of the -younger branches in almost daily intercourse. -A sphere of great usefulness, as well as of a -splendid future, lay before Dr. and Millicent -Leroy; and those who believe they will show -themselves worthy of such superb advantages, -we may venture to prognosticate will not be -deceived.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">IT IS ALL OWING TO LETTY.</p> - - -<p>Our history may wind itself up in comfort. -The dark cloud which fell on the happy -home at Woodburn has thoroughly dispersed. -Though there is no longer such a cluster of -young life there as made its old shady rooms, -and its garden alleys, and its pleasant fields -ring with laughter and merriment in the days -of our great hayfield fête, a sober happiness -rests on that now familiar Grange. Mr. and -Mrs. Woodburn live a life of quiet enjoyment, -only interrupted by frequent invasions -of children and friends that send a fresh tide -of pleasure around them, and make even the -old times seem pale in comparison.</p> - -<p>From the breezy hill of Cotmanhaye come<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</span> -Sir Henry and Lady Clavering, from Bilts’ -Farm walks down the sunny and sensible -Elizabeth, whilst George is ever to and -fro, superintending both farms at the same -time. Every few days Letty Thorsby comes -driving over with her children. Children? -Yes, did I not tell you that she has a little -fairy-like daughter, bright Ann Woodburn -Thorsby, as well as that sturdy growing Leonard, -who is always wanting to go to Fair -Manor, to hear Tom Boddily play on that -wonderful pipe and lark whistle? and on -Sundays, over comes Thorsby, and there is a -life in the house with the young people, and -children and nurses, comers and goers, that is -better than any of the old times. Thorsby -has always some pleasant story of somebody -or other to relate, and the other day he was -amusing them with an account of an old aunt -of his, who says it is a lucky thing her -memory fails so. She had heard of a man -who had written a book about the pleasures of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</span> -memory, but for her part she thought it was -a pleasure to forget. “It is a pleasure that -old age brings,” she says, “for then things -come new again to us. It is because people -forget that they tell their old stories over -again, and read their old books. Not to -forget would be to be poor; to forget is to -enjoy twice, and sometimes much oftener.”</p> - -<p>But a word about Thorsby and forgetting. -There are things that he has not yet learned -to forget, and they keep him sober. Cheerful -and even joyous, as he often seems in his own -intimate circle of friends, there are dark -thoughts that often come across him; and at -times he is low, very low and desolate in -heart, and it then requires all Letty’s genial -glow of nature’s and affection’s sunshine to -keep him up and keep him going. The days -of his folly and his guilt come back upon -him, and he remembers the dark, estranged -and even contemptuous bearing of his most respected -townsmen towards him; and he knows,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</span> -that if he had not had a Letty Woodburn for -his wife, but some proud and indignant dame -who would have spurned the dust of his -threshold from her, and abandoned him to the -more than seven devils that were in his blood, -he would now have been a lost man, lost body -and soul for ever.</p> - -<p>It was because of this noble-heartedness -of his wife, because she had drawn him back, -and soothed and attracted, instead of exasperating -him, and driving him headlong down -the precipice of perdition on which he was -already staggering, that he felt the keenest -shame and remorse at his treatment of her. -There was a time, he felt, when a few words -of just reproach from her would have stung -him to a ruinous desperation, and these words -had never been spoken. Oh! in those dreary -winter days and nights at Tunckhannock in -the far-off American forests, how these thoughts -had come in upon him, and scorched and -wrung him, and made him cry out aloud,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</span> -“Fool! fool!” And yet with the spring -came the loving letter of that ever-faithful wife, -reminding him of the Redeemer’s heavenly -words, “Gather up the fragments, that nothing -be lost!” Nothing, not even a fragment of -anything belonging to that immortal God-derived -thing—the soul—was to be lost, if -any effort, any faith could save it; and -Thorsby had then made a vow, that he would -devote his life, his strength, his everything to -make a recompense to God and to that faithful -woman. And he had kept it.</p> - -<p>It was long before he could regain the -favourable opinion of his townsmen; and -especially of those more noble-minded ones -whose esteem he especially coveted. Dark, -cold looks, estranged faces, that did not deign -even a recognition: a leaving out and passing -over him, in all public and benevolent -works and subscriptions in the town, as if his -very money were contamination. Yet his wife -had prepared the way for his reception at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</span> -Woodburn, and had induced her father and -family to meet him in a friendly manner. In -his own house in Castleborough, there was -always a bright look, and a pleasant word, -and a cheery hearth, and all the news of the -place that could cast a lively spell over the -dinner or the tea-table was detailed in Letty’s -happiest manner. It was like stepping from -winter to summer, out of the streets where -some bitter cut had been experienced, or where -some side-long glance of the passer by, had -said plainly, “Oh, there goes that abandoned -Thorsby, and he dares to show his face here -again!”</p> - -<p>Nothing but this firm, fast, heart-strengthening -anchorage of home could have made -Thorsby stand out this time of justly incurred -contempt and reproach. He knew that many -said that Thorsby had no ballast in him, and -that some day he would break down again as -intolerably as ever. It was this consciousness, -combined with his sense of the love that had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</span> -saved him, and that cared for no scorn, no -malicious misconstruction of her actions; no -taunts that she was trying to make a bulrush -into a stable tree, so that she could save him -still, that made him resolve to stand firm by -the help of God, and thus give her the -reward of a conquest so dearly and nobly -striven after.</p> - -<p>Thorsby found that his affairs, under the -careful and conscientious management of -Thomas Barnsdale and Letty, had flourished. -The trade in London had greatly expanded -under the judicious control of the agent whom -Mr. Barnsdale had put there, and whom, in -the days of his folly, Thorsby would have dismissed, -if the American crisis had allowed -him time. Since his return from New York, -his business had equally prospered in the -hands of the new house with which he had -entrusted it. Worldly strength was, therefore, -given to him to enable him to persevere; and -even whilst his own character was at a very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</span> -low estimate in his native town, he was busily -engaged in schemes for the safeguard of the -character of others.</p> - -<p>Whilst he was absent, and Letty attended -the warehouse and counting-house, she -observed that in the lobby of the warehouse -there were continually people waiting, who -were bringing in work, or expecting it being -given out. There was a considerable number -of young women amongst these, who had to -remain there for hours sometimes amongst -men and youths, who did not appear the most -suitable companions for them. On speaking -to Thomas Barnsdale about this, he said that -he had long thought they ought to do something -to amend this state of things. He had -heard complaints from young women of the -language and conduct of some young men -there, and had dismissed one or two for their -doings.</p> - -<p>“But,” said Letty, “cannot we curtail this -waiting by establishing certain regulations, as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</span> -to the bringing in and sending out work, at -least so far as relates to the town?”</p> - -<p>Thomas Barnsdale thought, at first, this -would be difficult of accomplishment; but -Letty went earnestly into the subject, and -soon showed him that by gradual management -it might be done. In the meantime she had a -small room, adjoining the lobby, used as a -ware-room, cleared out, a good fire kept in it -in winter, some books laid on the table, and -this was made the women’s waiting-room. The -plan gave immense satisfaction to the women, -and was soon imitated in other great establishments. -Thorsby was extremely pleased -with this arrangement, and he proposed that -a school should be opened for the children -of the work-people, who lived very much in -one part of the town. This was set on foot, -and answered well. Mr. G. Dell had built a -very handsome and airy school for poor children, -but Thorsby persuaded him, and some -other benevolent people, to join him in a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</span> -plan for opening day-schools in all parts of the -town where the working classes lived. A -committee was formed for this purpose of -both gentlemen and ladies, who superintended -the schools once set on foot, each of their own -sex. The same committee took upon them to -make visits to the houses of the workpeople, in -order to see that they were well drained, and -otherwise kept clean and healthy. The visit -of the cholera at this time made both rich and -poor acquiescent in such visits of inspection. -Thorsby’s purse was always liberally open for -all those purposes, and the earnest gravity -and sound sense with which he went about -these social reforms, did much to restore him -to the good opinion of his most distinguished -townsmen and townswomen. They began to -say, amongst themselves, “After all, Mrs. -Thorsby had more sense than we had. What -a wonder this will be if Thorsby holds on as -he is acting now.”</p> - -<p>But the foothold that he felt he was gaining<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</span> -made him more determined than ever. He -said to himself, “Rather than fall back again, -I would go off to the woods of Indiana and -swing that sobering hammer for another winter!” -He projected a splendid building for -a people’s hall, and put down £4000 for his -subscription to it. In a while he saw this -handsome house, with ample and airy rooms -for lectures, for popular public gatherings of -the people, for a library, and news and coffee-rooms, -erected in a near suburb, and lighted -and warmed in winter in so comfortable a -manner that it became the great resort of the -working men. He himself gave the first -opening lecture on the advantages of education -and combination for mutual improvement -amongst the artisan classes; and others -of his townsmen followed his example, and -kept up a weekly or fortnightly course of -lectures on suitable subjects. In all these -plans he was joined cordially by Mr. Dell -and the son of William Fairfax, who was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</span> -now coming forward in all the popular works -which had been advocated by his father, who -was now beginning to feel the desire of well-advanced -years for rest. Dr. Leroy was an -ever-active coadjutor in the promotion of -sanitary plans, schools, and lectures. He -invited the working men, in order to lead -them occasionally into the open air, to bring -him plants, stones, or other objects of nature, -on which he gave them scientific lectures descriptive -of their places in Natural History, -and their uses. These became very popular.</p> - -<p>Meantime Mrs. Thorsby, Mrs. Heritage, -Mrs. Leroy, and many other ladies, were now, -since Mrs. Leroy’s marriage, become a very -strong party, and were greatly employed in -looking after the poor, seeing that they -sent their children to the schools, that they -kept their houses clean and sweet, and that -they were provided with all proper clothing -for the winter months. They established -homes for young women who were out of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</span> -place, and seeking new engagements, which -were also offices of inquiry for servants, -which they found of great use, in not only -expediting the procurement of good domestics, -but in preventing much demoralisation -during the intervals of services in young -women. Nor did they overlook the old. They -found that there was always a certain number -of old, superannuated servants, who, unable -to save sufficient for their latter days, had -no resource but the workhouse, to which they -looked with so much repugnance, that they -often continued to linger in wretched lodgings, -and suffer incredible misery and starvation -rather than be compelled to go into one -of these last sad scenes of “waiting for death.” -For these a suitable home was opened, where -a little maintained them; and where they -were, as far as they were able, employed in -such sewing as was needed for the Dorcas -Society, &c.</p> - -<p>In his explorations of the purlieus of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</span> -town in prosecution of these popular objects, -Thorsby observed how closely the dwellings -of the poor were jammed upon one another. -Every little spot of a back-yard was bought -up for the building of a factory, and every -day the unhealthiness of this crowding was -becoming more obvious. Asking himself -what was the remedy for this evil, he immediately -remembered that all round the higher -part of the town, the very part most adapted -for building, the land was denied to this important -object by being town land. Every -year till “Lammas-tide,” temporary fences -were put up, extremely ugly in themselves, -being of hurdles or dead thorns, the natural -hedges being only in fragments, and after the -hay was cut, all these temporary fences were -thrown down or withdrawn, and the whole -ground became a desolate, unsightly waste, -over which the rabble ranged in listless idleness, -or engaged in boxing and dog-fighting. -The corporation, who deemed themselves most<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</span> -useful and patriotic conservators of the rights -of the freedmen, had maintained the freedom -of these lands from full inclosure most jealously; -making every man who became a -member of the corporation take an oath never -to vote for an inclosure. Thorsby saw that -whilst no one, except a few butchers, derived -any benefit from the keeping open of these -lands, the greatest evils were inflicted on the -town by it; that the whole of that side of the -place was made hideous by it; there was no -longer the necessary room for the natural -expansion of the town till this obstruction was -removed. He took his resolve at once.</p> - -<p>At the next vacancy for a town councillor, -he presented himself; he was unanimously -returned; and on the presentation of the usual -oath against an inclosure, he begged to decline -the taking of it till he had made a few -remarks. The town clerk who offered the -oath to him was very peremptory, and told -him he must take it or not take it, without<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</span> -observation. But Thorsby was as positive, -and prevailed. In a few plain statements he -showed to the council the severe injuries -which the town, its beauty, its trade, its -health, suffered from the want of land to -extend itself upon; that it possessed the most -admirable ground for houses and gardens, for -factories and streets on these Lammas lands, -which did no good to the freedmen, though a -suitable compensation for their right, properly -invested, would do them a permanent good. -To the astonishment of the town, the whole -corporation voted for the measure at once. -In less than a year Thorsby had the satisfaction -of seeing an act of parliament obtained -for that purpose; and in a few years the -whole of those so long desolated fields covered -with handsome villas, gardens, airy streets, -and public edifices; schools, alms-houses for -the decayed members of different trades; a -blind asylum in an open, healthy situation, -under the care of the principal ladies and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</span> -gentlemen of the place, where the children, -under a wise system of instruction, presented -one of the most interesting sights that suffering -humanity can offer to the benevolent -heart; and where they were preparing, too, -for different occupations, which such instructions -alone made possible to them.</p> - -<p>The success of this great scheme, and the -serious and kindly zeal with which Thorsby -had carried it out, completed that regard of -his townsmen which had been gradually reviving -towards him. The steady decorum, the -real wisdom of his deportment and life, and -the high regard in which they saw him held -by the most eminent of his townsmen, eminent -as much for their virtues as their wealth, -raised Thorsby to a pitch of popularity with -the masses which was an enthusiasm. He -was declared to be the pre-eminent friend of -the people, and they determined to send him -to parliament. In this idea, those, indeed, -who could at that time send him to parliament,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</span> -happened to coincide. Thorsby had -grown into a great authority in the corporation. -They saw that he sought nothing for -himself, all his proposals were for the good of -the town at large, and had succeeded wonderfully. -But to this honour of representing his -native place Thorsby would not consent. He -declared that he lived for his town and his -townspeople, but that he did not aspire to -live for the nation. He would unite with -them in selecting the most suitable man to represent -them in the national council, but he -would never go there himself. He felt that -he could do little in that national assembly, -as then constituted, but that he could do much -in constant work for the prosperity, improvement, -and enlightenment of his own town and -neighbourhood. Beyond that he had no ambition, -or rather he knew of no higher ambition -than to prosecute the interests and the -happiness of eighty thousand people, who -relied on, and responded to his exertions.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</span></p> - -<p>Thorsby, once the very black sheep of -Castleborough, and hanging by his torn and -mud-drenched fleece over an unfathomable -abyss, gently seized and stoutly withdrawn -by a loving hand, is now the most popular -man of a great and busy community. He -stands a monument of what may be done -by seeking in order to save, rather than by -the exercise of a bitter though not causeless -resentment; and still, as he goes on his way, -planning and diffusing benefits to others, -he says in his own soul, “What can I do -in retribution of my faults, in recompense -of a deathless and redeeming love?” By his -side he still sees that gentle embodiment of -unpretending wisdom and domestic sunshine, -whose kind glance, if he is low, re-inspires -him; if he is ready, in some momentary flush -of his once excitable spirits, to say or do anything -too prominent, steadies and sobers him. -With such a pilot and such a sheet-anchor, -we will venture to predict a safe voyage of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</span> -life to his mortal bark, and that never again -will the sunshine of peace now lying on -Woodburn, on Cotmanhaye Manor, on Bilts’ -Farm, and on Fair Manor be disturbed on his -account. And may the heavens, blue and -fair, shine out with their softest sunshine: -may the larks carol above, the flowers wave in -the breeze, and the brooks sing on below, -around that little peaceful Arcadia where -we have so many friends, through many -and many long years as now,—long, indeed, -after the whole town of Castleborough shall -follow in deepest mourning the remains of -their greatest reformer and benefactor to their -honoured resting place—follow the ashes of a -great and good man, who, but for the gentle -wisdom of a heart inspired by the sublime -power of devoted conjugal love, would, years -ago, have sunk into a dishonoured grave, -burying all this host of blessings with him.</p> - -<p>Oh, woman! woman! what strength is concealed -in thy weakness—what victories are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</span> -engemmed in thy gentleness! what miracles -conferred on thy truth! As the giant oak -lies coiled in the little, brown, burnished -acorn that we pick up and pitch lightly into -the thicket; as the Titan of the winds lies -dreaming and poetising in the zephyr; as the -little limpid, sun-bright brooklets inherit the -fulness of the ocean, with its illimitable -breadth and stupendous force; as the clouds -and the rivers enshrine themselves in the diamond -drops of morning dew, so in the light -and sportive life of girlhood lie powers that -can direct the course of human destiny more -effectually than the little rudder can direct the -colossal ship; which can shape the condition -and the fortunes of society, and evoke revolutions -more beneficent or portentous than all the -conspirations or parliaments that ever existed.</p> - -<p>At the root of the tree, buried in unambitious -silence, lie the life-forces, that elaborate -and evolve all the pillared and ramified glories -above. In the bosom of the family live the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</span> -feminine instincts and harmonies which send -forth the masculine majesty of deeds and doctrines -which rule the universe.</p> - -<p>Tears that have wet the floor of solitary dungeons, -still more bitter but for the consciousness -of the deathless sympathy of one faithful -bosom somewhere; crimes, arrested by the -persuasive voice of woman; wrongs, goaded -to madness but for her soothing whispers; -poverty, pitiless and intolerable, but for her -acts and her patient labours; darkness, unpierced, -but by the light of one heaven-kindled -smile; hopes, kept alive only by the -eloquence of feminine truth; strength, born of -the weakness of never-vanquished faith; -despair, scattered by the words of one God-inspired -bosom, stand forth and testify to the -unproclaimed achievements of the mother-half -of mankind! Great Mother! not only of -men and women, but of the energies, hopes, -virtues and triumphs that bloom out of them -and their generations, stand forth! Be the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</span> -herald of that immortal recognition of this -great truth, which shall have its fullest -acknowledgement in that region of perfect -recompense, where sits our Divine Master on -the crystalline throne of immaculate justice, -and says to every advancing hero and heroine -who has—</p> - -<p class="fs80"><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"> -Done good by stealth and blushed to find it fame—<br> -</span></p> - -<p>“For as much as thou hast done it to the -very least of these little ones, thou hast done -it unto Me. Enter into the joy of thy -Lord!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">THE LONG LINE AND THIS BOOK END.</p> - - -<p>The time was at hand which should bring -the antagonism of Sir Roger Rockville to our -friends in this history to an end. The severity -which he had for so many years exercised -towards all sorts of offenders, independent of -his unconquerable repugnance to all the views -and principles of advancing society, had made -him the object of deepest vengeance. Eyes -watched for him, ears listened for him, dark -hearts burned in murderous breasts in lonely -places, to discharge upon his head the collected -fury of a thousand injuries. In a -lonely hollow of his woods, watching at midnight -with two of his men, there came a -sturdy knot of poachers. An affray ensued.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</span> -The men perceived that their old enemy, Sir -Roger, was there, and the blow of a hedge-stake -stretched him on the earth. His -keepers fled. And thus ignominiously terminated -the long line of the Rockvilles. The -actual nature of the catastrophe was concealed -at the time from the public, and the conservative -newspaper of Castleborough announced -that Sir Roger had died suddenly in his bed. -It was true that he died in his bed, but it -was from the lingering effects of the injury -received in the wood. Sir Roger was the -last of his line, but not of his class. There is a -feudal art of sinking, which requires no study, -and the Rockvilles are but one family amongst -thousands who have perished in its practice.</p> - -<p>Scarcely had Sir Roger breathed his last, -when his title and estate fell into litigation. -Owing to two generations having passed -with no other issue of the Rockville family -than a single son and heir, the claims, though -numerous, were so mingled with obscuring<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</span> -circumstances, and so equally balanced, that -the lawyers raised quibbles and difficulties -enough to keep it in chancery till they had -not only consumed all the ready money and -rental, but had made frightful inroads into -the estate itself. To save the remnant, the -contending parties came to a compromise. A -neighbouring squire, whose grandfather had -married a Rockville, was allowed to secure the -title, on the condition that the residuum of -the estate should be divided amongst the -whole of the claimants. The woods and lands -of Rockville were accordingly announced for -sale.</p> - -<p>It was at this juncture that old William -Watson reminded Simon Degge of a conversation -in the great grove at Rockville which -they had held at the time that Sir Roger was -endeavouring to drive the people thence.</p> - -<p>“What a divine pleasure,” said Mr. Degge, -“might this man enjoy if he had a heart -capable of letting others enjoy themselves. If<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</span> -he could but see that the laws of property -should be maintained in consistency with the -laws of God: that He has given the rentals -of the earth to individuals, but that He has -never repealed his great law which gives the -whole earth to the undivided race of man: -that the rentals may be enjoyed by the individual -possessors without infringement of the -general enjoyment of the pleasures of nature -by society at large. These different kinds of -possession may surely co-exist without one -interfering with the other.”</p> - -<p>“But we talk without the estate,” William -Watson had said; “what might we do if we -were tried with it?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Degge, when reminded of this conversation, -was silent for a moment, and then replied, -that there was sound philosophy in William’s -remark. He said no more, but went away, -and the next day announced to the astonished -old man that he had purchased the groves and -the whole ancient estate of Rockville.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</span></p> - -<p>Simon Degge, the last of a long line of -paupers, had become the possessor of the noble -estate of Sir Roger Rockville of Rockville, the -last of a long line of aristocrats! It may be -imagined what was the consternation of the -whole Bullockshed and Tenterhook clan; what -the delightful amazement of Woodburn, Cotmanhaye, -and all Castleborough. To the -squirearchy of the old school, the audacity of -this purchase surpassed the range of their -limited imaginations. This daring and fortunate -quondam pauper, and present manufacturing -millionaire, squatted down, as they -expressed it, amid all the woods and lands, -amid all the ancient honours of the line of -Rockville. To them it portended something -very like the end of the world. They saw all -the old fixedness of ancestry and soil broken -up, and the despised men of spindles and -looms invading everything which to them was -sacred. It seemed that Sir Roger and all his -ghostly forefathers and foremothers must rise<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</span> -up and scare, in the midnight hours, the -plebeian new comers from their hall and possessions -of nearly a thousand years. It -seemed as if those stately monuments and -procumbent effigies of so many Rockvilles in -armour, ruffs, and farthingales, must start -up from their tombs in the old church, saturated -as it was with the presence and emblazoned -with the arms and glorious epitaphs -of the Rockvilles. But they all remained perfectly -quiescent; neither chiselled stone nor -ancestral spirit moved. Nature received these -<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">terræ filii</i> with as much equanimity and indifference -as it had received the Norman hordes -before. There was neither storm-wind nor -earthquake, but the still small voice of reason -was heard whispering in many quarters, that -whenever man puts forth his powers he makes -himself the lord of the circumstances around -him; whenever he sinks into sloth and imbecility, -nature throws him from her weird -shoulders, as the vigorous but interloping<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</span> -young cuckoo throws the hedge-sparrow from -its parental nest. The earth is for the bold.</p> - -<p>In how many a quarter of this island of -late years has this same revolution been developing -itself? The sons of industry, risen -by it to wealth, in how many of the seats of -the old aristocracy, decayed through luxury -and indolence, do we find them planted? -Perhaps the new blood thus infusing itself -may reinvigorate and thus perpetuate the old -race; but at any rate, new ideas, new sentiments, -and a more popular spirit must follow -these transformations. <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Novi homines</i> cannot -rest on their laurels, and to rest solely on their -money were too odious; they must, therefore, -proclaim a newer and more popular creed; -and so the world moves on its spiral course.</p> - -<p>To the inmates of Woodburn Grange, of -Cotmanhaye Manor, of Fair Manor, and of -the whole population of Castleborough, this -was a delightful event. The old odious antagonism -was at an end. The more earthy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</span> -squirearchy receded into the distance, and a -spirit of a more genial nature took possession -of all this pleasant neighbourhood.</p> - -<p>The following summer, when the hay was -lying in fragrant cocks in the great meadows -below Rockville, and on the little islands of -the river, Simon Degge held a grand fête on -the occasion of his coming to reside at Rockville -Hall, henceforth the family seat of the -Degges. Simon Degge remained plain Simon -Degge. On occasion of going up to London -with an address to the King on some great -occasion, the honour of knighthood had been -offered him; and further, it had been communicated -to him through his friend, Lord -Netherland, the Recorder of Castleborough, -that his majesty, in consideration of his great -wealth and his public spirit, was disposed -graciously to create him a baronet. Both -these intended honours Simon Degge as -graciously declined. He declared that he -preferred the simple unadorned name which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</span> -he had ever borne, and he desired no honours -but such as naturally sprung from the exercise -of virtue and benevolence.</p> - -<p>For the present occasion his house and -gardens had all been restored in the most -consummate style. For years Mr. Degge had -been a great purchaser of works of art and -literature—painting, statuary, books, and -articles of antiquity, including rich armour -and precious works in ivory and gold. As -Mrs. Degge had a particular weakness for -beautiful china, he had gratified her eyes -with a grand array of the most exquisite -specimens of the ceramic art.</p> - -<p>First and foremost, he now gave a great -banquet to his wealthy friends—and no man -with a million and a half is without them, -and in abundance. In the second place, he -gave a substantial dinner to all his tenantry, -from the wealthy farmer of five hundred acres -to the tenant of a cottage. On this occasion -he said, “Game is a subject of great heart-burnings,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</span> -and of great injustice to the country. -It was the bane of my predecessor, let us take -care that it is not ours. Let every man kill -the game on the land that he rents, then he -will neither destroy it utterly, nor allow it -to grow into a nuisance. I am fond of a -gun myself, and my sons probably will be -more so; but we shall find game enough in -our own fields and woods for our destructive -propensities, without fostering such a -swarm of these animals as may lead us to -degenerate into game-butchers. Gentlemen, -I should as soon think of setting up to kill -my own oxen, as to kill game merely for the -sake of killing it. The healthy excitement of -the chase vanishes when a very inundation of -the animals pursued rolls under our feet, and -a satiating slaughter takes the place of a keen -and vigorous search after it. To hunt!—yes, -the word expresses what field-sports once -were—the game had to be hunted out. Now -the foreign name best designates it—battu,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</span> -beat it up, and knock it ignobly on the head. -Gentlemen, whenever we may occasionally -extend our pursuit of game beyond the fields -of the home-farm and the woods, across the -lands of our tenants, it shall not be to carry -off the first-fruits of their feeding, and we will -still hold the enjoyment as a favour.”</p> - -<p>We need not say that this speech was -applauded most vociferously.</p> - -<p>Thirdly, and lastly, Mr. Degge gave a grand -entertainment to all his work-people, both of -the town and country. His house and grounds -were thrown open to the inspection of the -whole concourse. The delighted crowd admired -the pictures and pleasant gardens. On -the lawn, lying betwixt the great grove and -the hall, an enormous tent was pitched, or -rather a vast canvas canopy erected, open on -all sides, in which was laid a charming banquet. -A military band from Castleborough -Barracks played during the time. Here Simon -Degge, leaning his hand on the shoulder of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</span> -his happy mother,—his worthy father-in-law, -Spires, was gone to his rest,—surveyed the scene -with the utmost delight. His mother, fresh -and hale as ever, was seated with William -Watson and her old Castleborough neighbours -about her; and as her son there stood, he -made a speech which was as rapturously -applauded as that delivered to the farmers. -It was to the effect that all the old privileges -of wandering in the groves, of angling and -boating on the river, were restored. The -inn was already rebuilt in a handsome Elizabethan -style, larger than before, and to prevent -it ever becoming a fane of intemperance, -he had there placed as landlord, he hoped for -many years to come, his old friend and benefactor, -William Watson. William Watson, -he was sure, would protect the inn from riot, -and they themselves the groves and river banks -from injury.</p> - -<p>Long and loud was the applause which -this announcement occasioned. The young<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</span> -people turned out upon the green for a dance, -and in the evening, after an excellent tea, the -whole company descended the river in boats -and barges decorated with green boughs and -flowers, and singing a song made by William -Watson for the occasion, called, “The Health -of Simon Degge, the last and first of his -line!”</p> - -<p>Years have rolled on. The groves and river -banks, and islands of Rockville are still greatly -frequented, but are never known to be injured. -Poachers are never known, for excellent reasons: -nobody would like to annoy the good Mr. -Degge. Game is not very numerous there; -there is no fun in killing it, where there is no -resistance, and it is vastly more amusing to -kill it where it is abundant, and is jealously -watched and guarded by the proprietor of the -demesnes, and where there is the chance of a -good spree with the keepers.</p> - -<p>And with what different feelings does the -good Simon Degge look down from his lofty<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</span> -eyrie over the princely expanse of meadows, -and over the glittering river, and over the -stately woods to where Great Castleborough -still stretches farther and farther its red-brick -walls, its red-tiled roofs, and its tall, smoke-emitting -chimneys! There he sees no haunts -of crowded men, enemies to himself or to any -one. No upstarts, no envious opponents, but -a vast family of human beings, all toiling for -the good of their families and their country. -All advancing, some faster, some slower, to a -better education, a better social condition, a -better conception of the principles of art and -commerce, a clearer recognition of their rights -and duties, and a more cheering faith in the -upward tendency of humanity.</p> - -<p>Looking on this interesting scene from his -distant and quiet home, Simon Degge sees -what blessings flow—and deeply he feels them -in his own case—from the circulation not only -of trade but of human reciprocities. How -this corrects the mischiefs, moral and physical,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</span> -of false systems and rusty prejudices, and he -ponders not on poachers and encroachers, but -on schemes of no ordinary beauty and beneficence -yet to reach his beloved town through -him. He sees lecture halls and academies, -means of sanitary purification and delicious -recreation, in which baths and wash-houses -and airy homes figure largely, whilst the -public walks round the town are still farther -extended, including woods, hills, meadows, -and rivers, in a circuit of many miles. There -he lives and labours, around him a noble -family of sons and daughters to perpetuate -his labours and his virtues.</p> - -<p>And what a change has fallen on all the -country and the families, rich and poor, -around! The friends of Sir Roger have fallen -out of the circuit, as it were. The old leaven -of heart-burnings and conflicting principles -has died out from amongst those in whom we -are most interested. In that lovely little -district, which includes Cotmanhaye, Woodburn,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</span> -Rockville, Bilts’ Farm, Fair Manor, and -Castleborough, the abodes of the Claverings, -the Woodburns, Degges, and Heritages, the old -sunny and Arcadian days have returned. -Young families are springing up here and -there, bringing with them new floods of happiness, -and a spirit of peace and harmony floats -over all that charmed region, and from no -cause more conspicuously than from the simple -circumstance of the providential removal of -one single man out of so many thousands—<span class="allsmcap">THE -LAST OF A LONG LINE</span>.</p> - -<p>No longer antagonist—no longer mutually -irritant, the towers and woods of Rockville -look down with an affectionate smile on the -russet roof and green paddocks of <span class="smcap">Woodburn -Grange</span>.</p> -<br> - -<p class="center">THE END.</p><br> - - -<p class="center fs80">BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<p class="fs120"><span style="margin-left: -1em;"><span class="smcap">The History of Discovery in Australia, Tasmania,</span></span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">and New Zealand, from the earliest date to the</span></span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">present day.</span> By William Howitt, Author of “Two</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Years in Victoria,” etc. etc. With Maps of the Recent</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Explorations, from Official Sources. In 2 Vols. 20s. London,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Longman and Co.</span></p> - - -<p class="center">NOTICES OF THE PRESS.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Times, Dec. 8, 1865.</span></p> - -<p>We welcome these volumes as giving a full account of the Enterprises by -which Australia has been explored, and as calculated to enlarge our knowledge -respecting this vast and important region. They are careful, accurate, -and succinct epitomes of Australian discovery, and the results it has produced, -and contain a great deal of valuable information.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Athenæum, May 6, 1865.</span></p> - -<p>Mr. Howitt’s volumes comprise the history of Tasmania and New Zealand -as well as that of the Australian Continent. We recommend them to those -who wish for a convenient book of reference on Australian discovery and -exploration, or those who wish to know all that has been done towards our -present acquaintance with New Holland and the adjacent islands.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Illustrated News.</span></p> - -<p>Mr. Howitt in this work does, as it seems to us, all the justice in his -power to every gallant explorer; enlivens his history with many anecdotes, -and has enriched his work with excellent maps.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">London Review, July 22, 1865.</span></p> - -<p>Mr. Howitt possesses a sort of family claim to write on the topics contained -in his book. He has been in Australia; one of his sons, Alfred, -commanded the expedition sent out in quest of Burke and Wills, whose -remains he found and buried; and another, Charlton, was drowned in New -Zealand while trying to make his way across the country from Canterbury -to the Western Coast over the Southern Alps. The history of the exploration -of the New Zealand group is briefly told, and well.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bell’s Messenger, June 17, 1865.</span></p> - -<p>Mr. William Howitt, of all travellers, is perhaps the very best person -that could have been encouraged to give a history of those vast colonies, -which in little more than a quarter of a century have vied with the mother -country in progress and prosperity. For some time a resident in one or -more of the three great dependencies whose growth he describes, he is -perhaps better adapted than even many a permanent settler to solve the -question so often asked, “How is it that these enormous districts became -annexed to England?” His object in going thither was not to trade, not -to seek for gold at the “diggings,” not to dispossess a single Maori of his -vast pasturage, and grow his own wool, tallow, and mutton thereon, to the -ruin of the original native holder. He crossed the broad seas, not as a -cosmopolitan, but as a keen observer, a patient investigator, and an honest -student, bent rather upon gathering information that might do more good -to others, in a pecuniary point of view, than to himself, since the remuneration -for his literary work could never bring to him the return, which the -facts he had collected may be the means of recommending to others. The -subject he undertook to deal with is large; but he has had the power to -grasp it; and the simple-minded manner in which he relates the trials of -the first adventurers, the difficulties they had to surmount, and the results -which have followed upon their enterprise, adds a charm to the book, which -will ensure its popularity. To those desirous of trying their fortune at the -antipodes this will be a book indeed of very considerable usefulness; not -because it abounds with advice to such individuals, or tells them what to -do, and what to avoid, but because it is suggestive of a host of things that -will enable a prudent man to judge rightly, and act accordingly. Whilst -however, the value of Mr. William Howitt’s experience will do good service -in this particular, it is also calculated to assist the merchant and -manufacturer at home, to tell them many truths it were well for them to -know.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Examiner, April 15, 1865.</span></p> - -<p>An old friend of the public’s, Mr. William Howitt, who has been himself -to Australia, and whose son has made a name for himself there in the -history of exploration, now adds one more to the number of the histories -of “Discovery in Australia, Tasmania, and New Zealand.” His book, a -history in two octavo volumes, begins at the beginning and brings down its -story to the present day. It is a story that will bear many a telling, and -who will not gladly hear it told by William Howitt in sympathy with -the strong interest he feels in it, of which he writes, “Having had one son -engaged in these researches in Australia, as the successful discoverer of -the lost expedition of Burke and Wills, and the recoverer of their remains, -and having lost another in assisting to open up the interior of New -Zealand, he has entered on the undertaking as a labour of love.” Such -a book from his hands cannot fail to be attractive.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Examiner, April 22, 1865.</span></p> - -<p>Nowhere else, in the history of modern discovery,—save in those Arctic -explorations which have had for chief promoters more than one man schooled -to hardship and perseverance in this southern field of adventure,—was -there so much room for unflinching heroism, with such abundance of -dangers to be overcome and substantial victories to be gained over the -treacherous elements. Names like those of Oxley, Cunningham, King, -Grey, Eyre, Sturt, Stuart, Burke, and Wills have, in the annals of the -present century, a dignity akin to that which makes the lives of Willoughby -and Frobisher, Gilbert, Raleigh, and a crowd of others, illustrious in Tudor -history. Best known, and noblest of all, is the story of the disastrous -expedition of Burke and Wills in 1860 and 1861, followed, while the fate -of the missing adventurers was unknown, by several memorable journies in -quest of them. Two of these, undertaken by Mr. McKinlay and Mr. -Landsborough, have been described in recent publications. Two others, -led by Mr. Howitt’s own son, are here for the first time made known in -detail.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Observer, April 16, 1865.</span></p> - -<p>This book contains a most complete and faithful summary of the various -discoveries that have been made in Australia during the last 260 years, -commencing with those made by the Portuguese in the north west of -Australia before the discovery of the north of Australia by the Dutch in -1605. It shows, however, that even these early navigators were not the -first discoverers; and that it is difficult to decide how long Australia had -been previously known to the Chinese. In fact indications exist from the -most remote antiquity of unrecorded voyages, which led the ancients to -speak of countries lying beyond the regions of any positive knowledge then -remaining, and our author cites the passage from Mænilius, who lived in -the time of Tiberius or Augustus, in which the rotundity of the earth and -the existence of antipodes were distinctly referred to.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Literary Gazette, June 10, 1865.</span></p> - -<p>We are greatly impressed with the value of this work, and cannot doubt -but that it will take rank as a standard authority on all that pertains to the -history of our trans-Pacific possessions. Maps of Australia, Van Diemen’s -Land, and New Zealand, compiled from official and authentic information, -accompany the volumes, which abound in pictures new and strange, and -contain a large number of facts illustrative of countries which seem destined -to become centres of a new and extensive civilization.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Australian and New Zealand Gazette, April 20, 1865.</span></p> - -<p>The want of a connected history of the progress of discovery in Australia -has long been felt, but we are glad to find that the delay has been amply -compensated for in the very excellent work which has just been published -by William Howitt, who, in addition to his other literary claims, has the -advantage of not only being personally connected with the colonies, but -also with the subject, for his sons enjoy a conspicuous position in the -illustrious phalanx of Australian explorers. In conclusion, we can only -say that Mr. Howitt is entitled to the best thanks of the public, both at -home and in the colonies, for the manner in which he has executed his -task.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Morning Advertiser, April 17, 1865.</span></p> - -<p>As a graphic and vigorous writer, one who deals with his subject in an -earnest manner, William Howitt requires no eulogy from the pen of any -critic. His present work is the best and most comprehensive which has -yet appeared on the countries it treats of. The author’s personal knowledge -of several of the colonies, and the possession of documents not yet -given to the public, have achieved for his work greater accuracy than -would otherwise have been the case.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Guardian, Sept. 1, 1865.</span></p> - -<p>The two handsome volumes before us, are really standard, useful works, -and in some respects exhaustive of their subject. There are, we imagine, -few, if any, points of information for which the intending emigrant, the -settler, or the student need search this history in vain. The maps are -clearly and accurately drawn, and are founded on the most recent discoveries, -with which Mr. Howitt has made himself fully acquainted. The -whole subject is well handled, but perhaps Australia with the greatest fullness -and success, as presenting scenes of danger and of wild romance, of -heroic daring and devoted deaths, such as few countries have to show.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Daily News, June 5, 1865.</span></p> - -<p>The author of these volumes has well qualified himself to write upon the -subject to which they are devoted. He has had a personal acquaintance -with the country, and written a delightful book about it: he has had -access to all the sources of information in the possession of both the colonial -and home government, and the better half of his heart has been long given -to the great southern land, upon which he has bestowed two noble sons. -One of Mr. Howitt’s sons perished in an attempt to explore the interior of -New Zealand; the other still lives, and has had the triumph of discovering -the remains of poor Burke and Wills, who perished in the centre of Australia -on their return after having traversed the continent. The history of -this remarkable, and in many respects, anomalous land, could not have -fallen into better hands. It is a work which engages Mr. William Howitt’s -affections as well as his very great talents, and with his long practised pen -the reader may be sure that the interest of the subject is not diminished by -him.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Morning Herald, April 25, 1865.</span></p> - -<p>The title page of this book rather startles us at first, by the very magnitude -of its subject, being no less than a chronicle of three hundred years of -discovery. But Mr. Howitt is an old and able hand at condensing, and is -able to give us an excellent summary of all that is really worth knowing.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Globe, May 29, 1865.</span></p> - -<p>The peculiar fitness of the writer for his task—his “labour of love,” as -he himself styles it—need hardly be dilated on. His long residence in the -country, the country as distinguished from the town—the services and discoveries -of his son Alfred, who brought back the remains of Burke and -Wills for honourable burial, and the loss of his youngest son, Charlton, in -the work of exploration and improvement in New Zealand, add a personal -and family interest to that of the mere encyclopædias of other men’s labours.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Standard, April 25, 1865.</span></p> - -<p>This is a story of labours and adventures, of romantic daring and noble -endurance, such as few, if any other countries have to show. The names -of such men as Tasman, Dampier, Cook, King, Fitzroy, Lushington, -Austin, Babbage, Kennedy, Burke and Wills, Howitt and Walker, suggest -to all that are acquainted with Australian discovery a host of scenes in -which Englishmen took a noble and brave part, and made their names as -famous in the wilderness as they have since become in the world. And -when we call to mind that the peoples of Australia are almost entirely of -our own race and kindred, bound to us by the closest ties of blood, commerce, -and common fortunes, it is clear that a good sketch of their history -must possess a deep and lasting interest for the public. Mr. Howitt is well -fitted to be their historian, not simply by his natural gifts as a writer, but -by his wide and varied experience as a traveller, and by the occupation of -his two sons, one as an explorer in Australia and the other in New Zealand. -He had omitted no fair research or exertion to render his sketch attractive -and complete, and we are bound to add that his efforts are crowned with -success.</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Morning Post, April 25, 1865.</span></p> - -<p>The title of this work opens up a vista of adventure, enterprise, and -daring which is without parallel in the world of fiction and romance. Its -heroes are travellers by land and by water, “men of might and high -achievement,” and great pioneers, who made their age and country famous, -and all succeeding time their debtors. For all sorts and conditions of men -the work possesses attractions. The studious will find it a storehouse of -information, carefully collected and imparted with a graceful and graphic -pen; those who have not outlived the sympathies of youth will, while they -peruse its pages, recall the pleasurable emotions with which in the days -gone by they followed heroic voyagers into seas over which a cloud of -mystery had theretofore hung, and traced their perilous progress from land -to land; while the younger reader will have in the history an instructive -and delightful study. To all it will be a source of interest to watch the -growth of an Anglo-Saxon empire at the antipodes from feeble infancy to -robust youth, and to speculate upon the probable greatness of its future -from the rapid development which has taken place during its brief career.</p> - -<hr class="r5"> - -<p>These are examples of the opinions of the general press, which, without -exception, have been of the most unexampled commendatory character.</p> - -<hr class="r5"> - -<p class="center fs80">Billing, Printer, Guildford.</p><br> -<br> - - - - -<div class="transnote"> -<h2>Transcriber’s Notes</h2> - -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 2 Added period to: Mr Woodburn, however</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 47 Added period to: her and Mr</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 59 Changed no suspicion cou to: could</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 77 Changed and reach Indianopolis to: Indianapolis</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 79 Added single quote after: can do a little.</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 99 Changed ready to issue to th to: the</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 102 Changed had not at th to: the</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 107 Removed duplicate word we from: we we will set about</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 111 Changed Tom then too to: took</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 112 Added single quote after: have your nap out</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 114 Changed that it wont to: won’t</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 127 Changed if I dont to: don’t</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 149 Added quote after: some of the money.</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 248 Changed he shouted down-stairs to: downstairs</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 276 Changed at a very ow to: low</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 296 Changed present manufacturing millionnaire to: millionaire</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 302 Added period after: ignobly on the head</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">Catalog pg 1 Changed The ubject he undertook to: subject</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">Catalog pg 3 Changed Mr. Howitt it to: is</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">Hyphenated and non-hyphenated word combinations left as written.</span><br> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOODBURN GRANGE, VOL. 3 OF 3 ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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