The Lebanon advertiser. (Lebanon, Pa.) 1849-1901, June 21, 1865, Image 1

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    tebalunt Pilettiott
M . W1231:33 E.mig3,23oe.Aue...9zrax)a - a.
Neatly 1.17)(1 Proniplly Krecuted, at the
Tuts establishment is now supplied with an extensive
assortment of JOB TYPE, which will be increased as the
patronage demands. lt can now turn out PRINTING, of
every description, in a neat and expeditious manner—
sud on very reasonable tem% Such as
Pamphlets, Cheeks,
Business Cards, Handbills,
Circulars, Labelk,
Bill Headings, Blanks,
Programmes, Bills of Fare,
Invitations, Tickets, dtc., &c.
irjr DEEDS of allkinds, Common and Judgment Bonn&
Achoot, Justices', Constables' audother BLANCO, printed
correctly and neatly on the best paper, constantly kept
for sale at this office, nt prices "to suit the times."
rLette•ffisof .A.cilirortisCixs.g.
81.0. it. at. 3m. Gm. ly.
1 Fquare, 12 lines, $ .50 $l.OO $3.00 $5.00 $ 8.00
2 " 24 lines, 1.00 2.00 5.00 800 12.00
8 " 88 lines, 1.60 300 -7.00 10.00 15.00
For Executor's and Administrator's Notices, 2.00
For Anaignee. Auditor and eimilar Notices, 1.50
For yearly Cards, not exceeding 8 lines, 8.00
For column advertisement, 1 year, 50.00
For 5 column " gl 80.00
. _
kor Y 4, column ~ 61 18.00
Nor Announcing candidates for office, In advanco, 2.00
For Aleut:miming sale, unaccompanied by adv't. 1.00
For Local Notices, Society resointions, As., 8 etc •
per line.
For Bishops or Special Notices, 80 cents per line
por year.
Yearly ndrartisementa for blorehants and Bust
noes men as agreed upon.
o .* Subscription price of the LEBANON ADVERTISER
Ono Dollar and a half a Year.
Address. Wm. M. BRESLIN, Lebanon, Pa.
O B.Wagner.
TNSERTS Artificial Teeth on Gold, Sitter, Vulcanite,
1 at from ssto $4O. Teeth tilled at 75 cents and up
wards. Residence and Office, Cumberland street, East
Lebanon, opposite Benson's lintel, where he has been
practising the last eight years.
Lebanon, April 5, 1865.
Dr. S. H. GIJILFO,4.'D )
._ WWZOT,e.
(Orelbutte of the Penn's,. College of Dental Surgery.)
ROOMS—In C. 'Henry's now building,
..2, 1 opposite the Engle Hotel, Cumberland
street, Lebanon, Pa.
Ined, E n
daesired.nd chloro form admlnle
°v.' tar *he
Lebanon, June 14,1865.-0.
JOllll P.
X) 4s 31. t i t
4,- -•- Kir ROOMS over Mr. Ad
- am Rise's flat Store, °
berland St., Lebanon, P.
Lebanon, Mnrch 29, 1 866
S. T. 111cADAITI,
IIAS REMOVED hie ofliee to Market Street, one door
South of the American House, better known as
A[etthee' lintel.
Lebanon, April 12,1505.
t t 33.ecy - 41. ea,
tFFICE, next door to the First Nntional Bank, (Into
I Deposit Dank.) Cumberland street, Lebanon, Pn.
March 29,1865.
(Late Capt. in the 142 d Pa. V 01.,)
3301.1.33.VY, 13 64 , c5im lams'
Pension Agent.
Lebanon, March 16, 1865 —tf.
BAteLla aaYtto..
.E t 11. co t - vv•
m undersigned, having been licensed to prosecute
1 claims, and having been engaged in the Bounty and
Pension business, offers his services to all those who
e thereto entitled, in accordance with the various
arts of Congress. All such should call or address at
On", and make their applications through
ItASSLIIR. 1101rEtt, Attorney at-Law,
Omen removed to Cumberland St., one
door East of the Lebanon Valley Bank, opposite
the Buck hotel, Lebanon, Pa. Van. 6, '64.
o F s F i l re C t, t w ne it a b oy A o . p ß po . si ß te nut e t, li lall aui ? e u . mberland
Lebanon, February 8,1868.
tAFFICE in Stiebter's Building, Cumberland Street
1 nearly oponotie the Court House, Lebanon.
Lebanon, June 15, 1884.—tf.
Offigkeln a lla d lut c e i tr d e o e o t ;a neatly o
r tinsite rin tLe
a rt n n y l s
Hardware store.
L Amnon, April 0, 1864.-Iy.
1114 S S LER - ii 0 ImER
A.ttor2acy laKr
OFICI removed to Cumberland street, one door
East of the Lebanon Valley Bank. opposite the
Duck Hotel, Lebanon, Pa. [Jon. G,'64.
RANT' VW 111311D111AN,
SPICE. In Cnneoberland street, a few doors east of
1,1 tho Bogle Hotel, In the office late of his father
Capt. John Weidman decd.
Lebanon. Sept. El, ISM.
arigausitic3o of th.© ..IPiffit"C34e.
I tlillll 'subscriber, having been elected Justice of the
Pence, would respectfully inform the public that
lie Is now prepared to attend to the duties of his office,
as well no the writing of 'Peelle, Uoutts, Agreemente,
and all businees pertaining to a Scrivener, at his resi
dence In North Lebanon Township, about two miles
from Lebanon, near the Tatuni, on the Union Forge
!toad. HENRY J. LIMIT.
N. Lebanon township, May 3. 1865.-3 m.
removed hts office to the building, one door ens
of Londerwitch 'itStore, opposite theWashlngton House
Lebanon, Pa.
BOUNTY awl PENSION claims promptly attended
to. [April 8,'&9.-3m.
Market Square, appeal:kik Market douse, Lebanon, Pa.
?UHF. undersigned respectfully inform the public
J_ that he has received an extensive stock of the
choicest and purest Liquors of all descriptions. These
.ggla, Liquors be is invariably disposed to sell at urk ,
..A , 7precedentedly low prices.
Druggists, rarmers, Hotel Keepers, and oth
ers will consult their own interests by buying of the
undersigned. L. It. 'MEG.
Also, for sale, 51181ILER'8 HERB nirrEits-
Lebanon, April 11, 1883.
r IRE subscriber respectfully informs the public
1. that he has commenced the COO MILING Iluel.
nose at his residence on Plank Road
lAk street, about a square south or the
A L.:.___ _-_.' IF Stands, Barrels, Hogsheads, Casks,
or anything in his line made er RE
PAIRED at short notice and on rea
sonable terms. Its solicits the patronage of the pub
lin., feeling confident that Ills work will compare fav
orably In workmanship and price with any other.
Lebanon, April 5, 1565.
'lilt NEW BAKERY ,
'iUi% undersigned would respectfully Inform the cit.
zens of Lebanon, that he has commenced the BAR-
I:4B BUSINESS, in all its varieties, at his stand, in
Cumberland street, Lehman, nearly opposite the Buck
Lime', and will supply customers with the best BREAD,
CAKES, &c., &c. Flour received from onatomers and
returned to them In bread atshort notice.
of all kinds, fresh and of the best quality, constantly
on hand, and furnished at the lowest prices,
Th 4 public is invited UP give We a Irish
, Lab non, May 4,186 k. P. EL EBPB,
`cb anon
VOL. 16--NO. 52.
tt . ,4oirt Roftvq.
co, don't go in to-night, John—
Now, husband, don't go in !
To spend our only shilling, 'John,
Would bo a cruel sin.
There's not a loaf at home, John—
There's not a coal, you know—
Though with hunger I am fa ia t, John,
And cold comes down the snow.
Then don't to-night !
Ah, John, you must remember—
And, John, I can't forget,
When never afoot of yours, John,
Was in the alehouse set.
Ah, those were happy times, John,
No quarrels then we knew,
And none were happier in our lane
Than I, dear John, and yea.
Then don't go in to-night.
You will not go !—John, John, I mind,
. When we were courting, few
Had arm as strong, or stop as firm,
Or cheek as.rod as you ;
But drink has stolen your s trength John,
And paled your cheek to white,
Has tottering made your young, firm trend,
And bowed your manly height.
You'll not go in to-night?
You'll not go in ? Think on the day
That made me, John, your wife;
What pleasant talk that day we had
Of all our future life !
Of bow your steady earnings, John,
No wasting should consume,
But weekly some now comfort bring
To deck our happy home ;
Then don't go in to-night?
To see us, John, no then we dressed,
So tidy, clean, and neat,
Brought out all eyes to follow us
As we went dovra the street.
Ah, little thought our neighbors then,
And we as little thought
That ever, John, to rage like these,
By drink we should be brought ;
You won't go in to night
And will you go ? If not for me,
Yot for your baby stay ;
You know, John, not a taste of food
Ilas passed my lips to-day.;
And tell your father, little one,
Tis mine your life hangs on ;
You will not spend the shilling, John ?
You'll give it him ? Come John,
Come home with us to-night?
About six onelock one autumn eve.
ning two men pushed their way
through the furze bushes which bor.
dere(' aby road running from Quid
hampton to Harnham. There was
not much difference in their outward
appearance, yet one was nothing but
a woodman, and the other was Squire
Winter, the owner of Stockton Park
and most of the land near it. They
had both been engaged, all day in"
marking trees which were to be cut
down to thin the young plantation;
and Squire Winter still held in his
hand the heavy knee-edged knife, al.
most as heavy as a hatchet, which
he had been using for this purpose.—
The air had been getting more and
more damp for several hours, and
just before the time I have mentioned
a light rain began to fall. As he had
been walking all day and was still
nearly a mile and a 'half from his
house the squire told the woodman
to go across to the Pheasant, an inn
which was about four or five hundred
yards distant, and tell the landlord
to saddle his horse for him, and he
would send a groom back with it the
following morning. The squire him
self crossed over to another 'planta
tion, on the opposite side of the road,
to see whether that too wanted trim
ming. In a few minutes he came
out and walked down to the inn,
where he found the landlord waiting
far him with the horse ready saddled,'
and looking with its, drooping head
and lank ears as if it were keenly
alive to the miserable state of the
The squire looked at the animal,
and said: "I think I might as well
walk as ride that seedy looking ani
mal, Jackson. HoWeyer, I suppose I
can get something like a trot out of
him for a shorn distance." Of course
the landlord said he could, and Squire
Winter mounted and rode off.
We are very apt to say that a sec
ond thought is the best, and certainly
it would have been well for the
squire if on this evening he had given
up his idea of riding, as he was tempt
ed to do when he saw the horse that
was brought 'mit for him, because in
that case ho-would have been accom
panied almost to his house by the
woodman, who occupied a lodge at
one of the gates opening into the
perk, and he would in all probability
have escaped the catastrophe which
betel him. The path be took was
narrow, and for some distance ran
through a haze copse. The landlord
of the Pheasant watched him till he
was bidden by the trees and under
wood, and then went indoors. It
was too early for him to have cus
tomers in his house; indeed, it was
not very likely that he would have
any at all on such a night; and he
sat down by the tap-room fire and
lighted a pipe. He had not been Bit
ting there many minutes when he
heard the sound of a horse galloping
up to his door- He got up and went
out, expecting to find somebody there
who required refreshment, but to his
astonishment, and somewhat to his
alarm, ho found his own horse stand
ing there without a rider. He was
disposed to believe, as he afterwards
said, that the squire had got off on
reaching his house, and loft the ani
mal standing at the door for the
groom to come and take it away, and
that, finding itself free to go which
way it pleased, it had turned round
and started off for its own stable.—
Still he thought it just possible that
some accident had happened to the
squire, especially when -he had passed
his hand down the horse's forelegs,
and found that one of the shoulders
was bleeding from a gash in it, which
might have been caused by a stake in
the -hedge through which it had
forced its way, though it seemed too
clean for that. To make sure, he de
termined to go to the house and in
quire ; he was certain, if no evil had
befallen the squire, that he would be
invited to share a good supper with
the servants, and would receive a
more liberal remuneration for the
hire of his horse. After washing the
wound with cold water till the bleed
ing had ceased, he led the animal in
to the stable, and then put on his
hat and walked down the same path
which the squire had taken. The
rain had left off, but the air was still
so dark and heavy that, though the
moon was up, tho light was not suffi
cient to enable him to see far before
him; and it was not until ho was
within about a doz.en yards of it that
he could see that a dark object which.
lay before him was the body of a
man. It lay with its cheek resting
on the wet ground; and on stooping
over it, he saw, what the dress and
appearance had already told him,
that it was the body of Squire Win
The squire was dead for the heart
had ceased to beat, though the body
was still warm beneath the clothes.
The laborers' cottages were not far
off, and to those he ran for help to
carry the body to the house. One of
the laborers he sent for the doctor,
and with some others he returned to
the spot where the body was lying,
and putting it on a hurdle, they car
ried it to the house, and laid it down
iu the hall, to wait the doctor's ar.
rival, who came in a few minutes af
terwards, and having, unfastened the
clothes discovered that death had
been caused by a bullet which had
entered the stomach, and taking an
upward course, had lodged in some
vital organ.
Fortunately, the Squire had no wife
to regret his loss, but he had one
Sot who, the servants said had gone
to Winchester to be present at a pig
eon shooting match. A groom with
out waiting for directions from any
body, had ridden off before the doc
tor had had time to ask any ques
tions; and on inquiring at the bar
racks, he was told that his master
had left that place several hours
since, and might have stopped at
Stockton Park if he had n'ot called
anywhere on his road. It was then
so late that the groom determined on
remaining in Winchester that night,
not doubting, that as ho had not met
his master on his way there thatgen•
tleman bad Called at one Of the many
country houses which stand between
the two places, and would long since
have reached home. Starting early
the next morning, he might have
been back at Stockton Park while
the day was still young; but he felt
so sure that he would find his master
at home, that he took advantage of
the state of confusion caused by the
old squire's murder to spend some
hours with other grooms with whom
he was acquainted, so that it, was not
until three or four o'clock in the at%
ternoon that he made his appearance
at Stockton Park. Up to this time,
no uneasiness or surprise had been
felt at the young squire's absence.—
His habits were well known to the
servants, and they took it for grant
ed that the groom had been unable
to find him on the preceding night,
and that they would return together
in the course of the morning. But
now that the groom had returned
with the news that their master had
left Winchester early the day before,
the doctor, who still remained in the
house, and exercised authority-in di
recting what was to he done, sent
servants . and laborers to every place
they could think of to search for him.
The young squire, as ho was called,
to distinguish him from his father,
and not because he was really a
young man—for he bad passed his
fortieth year—was not liked by any.
body. Neither be nor his father
cared about the society of young men;
the men of their own age who lived
near them were generally married,
and Stockton Park was one of those
houses to which men do not like to
take their wives. Occasionally, men
came from the barracks at Winches
ter or from Portsmouth for two or
three days' shooting; but they sel
dom came a second time. The game
was plentiful, but the evenings are
long in the autumn ; and the bicker
ings between father and son, which
not even strangers could check, made
a visit to the Park so unpleasant,
that visitors usually found a pretext
fez. shortening their stay. The con
duct of the younger Winter towards
his father was so bad, that men who .
Made no pretence of respecting any
thing because it was good, agreed
that he was a snob and a brute, and
showed no inclination to cultivate
his acquaintance.
- The whole of that day passed, and
nothing was heard of him; but next
morning the man whose business it
was to fetch the letters from the
post office at Salisbury brought a let
ter addressed to the deceased squire,
which was at once seen to be in the
handwriting of his son. Under these
circumstances the doctor considered
himselfjustified in opening it to see
if it contained an address. The post
mark.showed it came from London,
and the contents gave no further in
formation of the place from whence
it was written. To judge from the
language, there must have been a
more than usually serious quarrel be
tween the late squire and his son, for
the letter referred to a blow received
on the night preceeing his visit to
Winchester, and went on to say that
it was now impossible that they could
live in the same house ; therefore his
father was not to be surprised when
he found that•his account had been
drawn upon to the amount of three
thousand pounds, whiCh he 'would
soon recover by not haying to pay
his (the writer's) alloiYance, for he
was on the point ofStarting • for the
Cape of Good Hope, Where he in
tended to lac;(1, and make a. journey
into the interior of Africa. No ad-.
dress was given where a letter Would
reach him; and letters which were
subsequently addressed to him at the
Cape were returned with the endorse
ment that mrperson Of the name of
Winter had ever'ealled at the post
office for letters, bit that it was be
lieved that a Mr. Winter had gone
into the interior with a supply of
guns and ammunition on a himting
expedition, w' , h had not returned,
and of i>rt.,hing had sinee.'been
heard. : .
- All the efforts made to discover
the murderer of Squire Winter were
fruitless for several months. It was
generally , supposed that it was the
work of a poacher, a class of men for
whom thelate squire nourished the
deepest abhorrence.
One Saturday evening a man
named Ward was drinking at the
Pheasant in company with several
laborers. He was a big, burly fellow
of a reckless character, and made no
secret of his 'exploits in poaching;
indeed, the tales he told of his suc
cess in this way had induced many
young fellows to follow his example,
who would otherwise have, in all
probability, led an honest life. On
the particular evening referred to, be
had drank more spirits' than usual,
and had become quarrelsome. At
last, provoked by another man equal
'ly disposed to quarrel, he drew the
barrel of a gun out of a deep pocket
in the inside of a velvateen coat he
bad on, and proceeded to fit it into a
l stock which be took from another
I pocket; saying at the same time that
he would serve his ! antagonist as he
had served old Winter. Those pres
ent got hold of him, and after a sharp
struggle, took away his gun. But
the expression he had so imprudent
ly uttered was not forgotten ; the
villagers talked of it, and at last it
reached the ears of one of the justi
ces, who made inquiries, and finding
there was so many witnesses to prove
the expression, issued a . warrant for
his apprehension; and after an ex
amination, at which some further ev
idence was given tending to prove
that he was really guilty of the crime
he was charged with on his own con-
fession, he , was. committed... Ai:, „fmko
his trial at the 4Ssiiee; and heie be
gins my connection with the case.
The brief was in the first instance
offered to a friend of mine who went
the same circuit; but he being enga„al.
ed in a heavy civil case, recommend
ed me to undertake the defence of the
criminal. It was accordingly given
to me by Ward's attorney, who told
me of the affair just as I have related
it, with the addition, that though his
client steadfastly denied his guilt, the
ease was strongly against him, apart
from his well-known character as a
poacher, which had already caused
his imprisonment on several occa
sions, and would of course tell heavi
ly against him with the jury, all of
whom were aware of his reputation.
The trial came on in due course. The
evidence that he had made use of the
expression that he would serve the
man he was quarreling with at the
Pheasant as he had served old Win
ter, and that he had accompanied the
expression by pulling out a gun, evi
dently with the intention of shoot
ing him, was proved by so many wit
nesses, that no efforts of mine to' make
the jury believe that what he really
did say was "that he would serve him
as old Winter had been served,"
were of any avail. Moreover, to sup
port the statement imputed to him,
evidence was given that he bad been
seen lurking about the wood in which
the murdered man was marking
the trees on the same afternoon.—
This, taken with his well-known an
tecedents, made the case so strong
against him that I should Not have
been surpised if the jury had return
ed a verdict of willful murder ; and I
obtained some credit from the fact
that they took a, more merciful view
of the case, and only convicted him . of
manslaughter. The judge, after tell
ing the prisoner that he entirely con
curred in the finding of the jury, and
that if they had found him guilty of
the capital charge, he would have
been bound to sentence him to be
hanged without holding out a hope of
mercy, ordered him to be transported
for life.
I bad gone the circuit many times,
and had bad many briefs from the
same attorney from whom I had re
ceived that for the defence of Ward,
so that a kind of intimacy was es
tablished between us ; and whenever
he, visited London he came to my
chambers, and not unfrequently,
when his stay in town did not ex
ceed a clay or two, he took up his
quarters with me instead of going to
a hotel. On one of these occasions
he brought some papers relating to
an action against Squire Winter for
shooting a valuable dog which bad
strayed from the road along which
its owner was riding into one of the
woods belonging to the former.—
This was the first time I had heard
his name mentioned since I had been
engaged in defending the murderer
of his father. I found that be bad
not long returned from his African
expedition ; during which lie had been
so unfortunate as to lose his left hand
froM the bursting of a gun. On ar
riving at Salisbury I went to my
friend tho attorney, who returned
my hospitality by giving me aceom-
Abu crtistr.
modation in his house while the as
sizes-lasted in that city. On one of
these occasions I required the assist•
ance of.oue of my friend's clerks in
arranging the documents in a case of
some intricacy, and it was necessary
to search the parish record's for doc
uments. On receiving a message
from the clerk that he had found
what was wanted ; I went to the ves
try to .read them. To see if there
were any others bearing on the same
subject I continued the search, and
among those I opened was a deed re
ferring to an exchange of a piece of
land belonging to the parrishioners,
called the Croft, for another piece
nearer the village, and further from
Squire . Winter's 'estate. The deed
was of old date,,and was emblazoned
with a singular looking device, which
the clerk no sooner saw than he ex
"Why, the same crest that
was on' the ring Ellen Jackson show
He stopped himself, and I said :
"The same crest that was on the
ring Ellen Jackson showed you, is
it r,'
After a little hesitation, he answer
ed :
"Yes. The crest was a very Curi
ous one, being four arms arranged in
a semicircle, the hands grasping dag
gers, which were pointed upwards."
"Is the Ellen Jackson you referred
to the daughter of the landlord of the
Pheasant ? I seem to remember a
young woman of that name who gave
evidence on Ward's trial." •
"Yes,.' was his answer.
"And did Miss Jackson tell you
where she got such an uncommon
ring ?"
"Yes-no. Well, the fact is, the
ring was on a hand. She showed it
to me one morning when I- called
there in passing, when her father was
out shooting. This Squire Winter is
not such a man as his father was ; he
lets Jackson shoot over his estate as
much as he pleases."
"The ring was on a hand ; I sup
pose you mean on her hand."
"No I don't. It was on a hand as
dry and shrivelled as though it were
a-hundred years old."
'And where did she get this hand
from ? Is it left lying about' where
her father's customers can see it ?"
Re blushed for some reason, as he
replied : "I don't think it is. She
took it from a box in her father's
bedroom, in which he keepS his pa
pers and other things. I saw it
when she was looking for a paper re
lating to some property left by her
.faint, about which she wanted to ask
melt question, and asked her to Jet
me look at it."
At this moment I dronped upon
another paper relative to the matter
in hand, and all my attention was
given to that, so that I asked
no more questions at the time.—
But in the course of the evening,
when ray friend and I were smoking
cigars, in the absence of any more in
teresting subject to talk about, 1
"Your clerk tells me that Jackson,
the landlord of the Pheasant, has got
a ring with the peculiar crest of the
Winters on it. Where do you sup
pose he got it from?"
"Heaven knows ! or possibly, the
present squire may have given it to
him : I hear they are remarkable in
"But neither of those hypotheses
accounts fbr it being on a hand sever
ed from the body."
"Severed from the body! That is
singular, certainly. Why, Winter
has lost one hand. Surely he would
not have brought his hand all the
way from Africa to make a publican
a present of it."
"Not very likely, I sbould say."
After some further observations
had been exchanged on the singulari
ty of the circumstance, the conversa
tion turned on matters in which we
were more immediately interested.
I had a hard day's work in court
On Saturday, and feeling a Tittle fa
tigued, instead of going to church
th next morning, I went round by
the cathedral to arnham, and from
thence I wandered along a road
which brought me to a public house.
On loooking up at the sign board, I
saw that it was 'the Pheasant. The
day was a hot one, and the sign re
minded me that there was a bridle
road which led through the wood in
which poor old Winter had been
murdered. I was warm and getting
tired; and thinking that a rest among
the hazel-wood would be pleasant, I
turned into the path, and at the first
opening I came to (which happened
to be quite close to a stone cross, so
covered with a species of moss, that
I had some difficulty in making out
that the inscription on it stated that
this was the spot where the squire's
body had been found,) I turned out
of it again and found myself in a
small open space. Here I lay down,
with my face turned toward the
bright blue sky, and watched the cu
rious forms which the light clouds
assumed as they followed each other
across the confined space which com
prised my field of view. Presently 1
fancied that my back was getting
cold, and that this might be caused
by the dampness of the ground on
which I was lying. I got up and
pegged away with the heel of my
boot to break through the grass to
ascertain if the ground beneath was
damp. I tried two or three places,
and the last time it struck against the
butt of a pistol causinf , the muzzle to
turn upwards. I picked t it up, and
wiped the dirt off with some grass.
The barrel was very rusty; but there
was a small plate of silver behind the
hammer, which I soon rubbed clean
enough to see that it was engraved;
and a little additional friction ena
bled me to perceive that it was with
the peculiar crest of the Winter's.—
To a man of my profession, the vicin
ity of the spot where Winter had
been murdered naturally suggested
that this pistol was the weapon by
which the crime bad been perpetra
ted. One idea followed another, un
til r WaS led to connect together the
murder, the hand and ring possessed
by Jackson, the hand lost by the
present owner of Stockton Park, and
the intimacy between the two men,
so unusual between persons of such
different grades. I walked to the
stone cross While these things Were
passing through my mind, and lean
ing on it, I pondered over each idea
as it occured to me, linking one with
the other, till I believed I had arriv
ed at a
. clear comprehension of the
whole affair
At first I thought I would consult
my friend the •attorney before I did
anything in the matter ; but on sec
ond thoughts, I determined on strik
ing a blow, while I was on the spot,
and had some leisure. The door of
the Pheasant was shut, as a sort of
compliment to the day, I suppose,
certainly not to keep out customers.
I remembered the man directly I
walked in and saw the landlord.—
Ile was in the act of cleaning his gun,
and without waiting to be question.
ed, I said : "Are you aware, Mr.
Jackson, of the penalty to which an
accessory to a murder, either before
or after the fact, is liable ?"
Ho stared, and seemed quite stu
pified by the question. I kept my
eyes fixed steadfastly upon him, and
at last he stammered out : "What
do you ask me such a question for."
"You don't remember me, perhaps.
I defended poor Ward, who had such
a narrow escape of being hanged,
through your not telling the truth
at the trial."
I could see that he-was tempted to
deny what I said, but the positive
tone in which I spoke puzzled him so
much, that after a brief attempt at
consideration, be seemed to conclude
that I had got my information from
Winter, for he said : I suppose
Squire Winter is a friend of yours
and be has got you to come and try
to frighten me off."
I told him it was not so, and urg.
ed him to make such a statement as
would enable me to get Wars releas
ed ;in which case I promised be
should be dealt with as leniently as
possible, otherwise I. would have
him taken into custody at once as a
party concerned. Intimidated by
my threats, and not knowing how far
I might be able to carry them into
execution, but probably imagining
tbe worst from what I said with re
spect to the hand and ring in his
possession, he at last consented to
tell me all about it.
"The evening the old squire was
murdered, Stephen Quain, the wood
man came across from the plantation
yonder, and told me the squire
wanted my horse to ride home. I
got it ready as fast as I could, and
brought him round. Two or
minutes afterwards. the squire came
up. Ike didn't much like the look of
the beast, and_ said so ;
but he was a
very good horse for all that, only he
didn't get as much rubbing as the
squire's own horses did. However,
he got on him; and rode off down
the bridle-road through the hazel
copse. I was sitting by the fire smok
ing my pipe ; and I remember I was
wondering whether be would catch
sight of Ward 'who had been up here
about an hour before, and went away
seen after I told him that the squire
was close by marking the trees.—
Presentiy I heard a horse gallop up
to the door, and went out to see if
one of the grooms bad brought mine
back.. I found it was my horse, but
there was nobody on his back. I
wondered what bad happened, and
guessed that the squire had got off
and gone in-doors, thinking the horse
would stand there till a groom came
to ride him up here, and that the
horse had trotted off, and found his
way home. I rubbed my hand down
his legs to Bee if he bad run against
anything; and whon I touched- his
off-shoulder, ho started away ; and at
the same time, I felt :that my band
was wet, I looked at it, and it was
just light enough to see that my
band was bloody, and that the horse's
!Shoulder had been cut. I took hold
of the bridle to lead him into the sta
ble, and found there was something
dangling from the ring of the bit and
check-strap ; and it gave me a turn
vs - hen I saw it was a man's band, cut
off clean at the wrist. I unfastened
the fingers, and carried it with me in
to the stable and put it in the corn
bin, while I went to get a lantern.—
As soon as I took it out again, and
held it to the light, I know it was the
young squire's by the ring that was
on one of his fingers.. I was a good
bit frightened ; but I thought it was
best to say nothing about it then, so
I hid the hand under the thatch, and
went down to the house to see what
had happened. As I was going
through the hazelcopse, I saw some
thing dark lying in the path. What
we call the hunter's moon was pretty
near the full ; but it was such a hazy
night that 1 could but just make out
the face ; and instead of being the
young squire as I thought it must be,
I found it was the squire himself."-,--
[lt is not necessary to repeat what I
have already said of what ho did on
making the discovery.] "I didn't tell
anybody what I knew ; but if Ward
had been sentenced to be hanged I
should have done so. .When his trial
came on, and be was only to be trans
ported for life, I thought to myself
that I was a very poor man, and bad
got a . large ialdily to keep, and that
2d story of Fanoit's New Building, Cumberland $t
At One Dollar and Fifty Cents a Year.
Aar Anvirwrisanasyra inserted at the usual rates. lie
itrITANDBILLS Printed at an hours notice.
In Lebanon County, postage free
In Pennsylvania, out of Lebanon county 6 cents per
quarter, or 20 cents a year.
Out of tbis State, 834 eta, per quarter, or 26 de. a year
if the postage is not paid in advance, rates are double
he would have been sure to be trans
ported some time or other, for he
wouldn't have minded shooting a
keeper a bit ; so I determined to keep
the hand with the ring on the finger
just as it was ; and when the new
squire came home, I would make him
pay me to keep quiet.
"It was the right band—for the
squire is left-handed—and he always
wore the ring on his.fore•fingor.—
The next morning, as soon as it was
light, I went doi,vn to the place
where I found the body the night bo
fore, and among the roots of one of
the hazels 1 found the pistol you
have got there. I looked round to
see if anybody was near, but there
was nobody to see me, so I went be
hind the bushes, and dug out a turf,
and buried the pistol underneatb,and
then put the turf down over it, so
that nobody could see that it had
been touched' Here,, as if seized
with a sudden impulse, he exclaim
ed —"And by the Lord Harry I'll
have it back again !" He had been
holding the gun he was cleaning in
his hand all the time he had been tell
ing me what I have related ; and as
be uttered this exclamation he jump
ed up, and holding the gun by the
barrel, made a blow at me with the
stock. The attack was so sudden
and unexpected that if my movement
had not been as quick as my eye, I
should probably have received the
blow on my head as he undoubtedly
intended I should. Luckily, I dodg
ed it, and the gun came down on the
back of the chair, smashing the back
of the chair, and breaking the stock
off from the barrel. Before he had
time to recover himself to repeat the
blow, I knocked him down, and beat
him about the head with the metal
butt of the pistol until he was inca
pable of doing more harm. When I
had done this, I was pezzled what
next to do, for I did not like to leave
him there bleeding; and there was
nobody in the house to attend to him
if I went away, his daughter and4tier
brothers having, as I was told after
wards, gone to the cathedral at Sal
isbury, in the hope of seeing the
judge there. I went to the well, and
drew up a pail of water ; and soak
ing my handkerchief in it I went
back and bound it round his head,
and then started for the town as fast
,as I could go, calling as I went to
my friend's house, at a surgeon's
where I belt word that his services
were wanted at the Pheasant. My
friend's residence was beyond the
city ; and when I got there, I found
that he had gone to Laverstock, but
was expected home to dinner, I had
decided that I would tell him what
had happened before I gave notice to
the authorities. I knew that there
was no chance of Jackson making
his escape; and I did not imagine
that he was in a condition to give
any instructions to anybody to go to
Squire Winter with an account of
what had passed. Hour after hour
went by and my friend did not come
home. I dined • alone ; and about
eleven o'clock, he returned, apologiz
ing for his absence from his dinner
table by saying that he had found
an old school fellow staying with his
friend whom he had not seen for sev
eral years. Late as it Was, I told
bim of the discovery I had made ,
but he thought as it was then so late;
and we should be sure of finding Jack
son the' next day, that the matter
might very well stand over until then.
I did not quite approve of his advice,
but I suffered myself to be persuad
The next morning we went to the
court-house earlier then usual, and
constables were despatched to appre
hend Winter, andlackson also, it' he
was in a condition to be moved. The
latter was found in bed at his house,
but the former was not discoverable
anywhere. None of the servants
knew where he had gone to; all they
could say was that he had gone out
on the Sunday afternoon as usual and
had not returned. What bad become
of him was never ascertained. As
for Jackson, he was recovering fast
from his wounds; but erysipelas at
tacked him, and in a short time he
had gone where the justice of man
could not reach him.—Ward's release
was obtained on a representation of
the case in the proper quarter; but
whether he availed himself of his right
to agratuitous passage to this country,
or preferred remaining where be
was I am unable to say.
oaf- The New York Evening Post,
an intensely Republican sheet in a
recent editorial said :
"It is our duty to insist that when
ever our flag floats, there an Ameri
can citizen may say what he thinks,
to whoever chooses to hoar him."
It is characteristic of the ground
hog never to come out of his bole in
the Spring, until he has unmistaka
ble signs of fair Weather. The Post
in changing tactics, from the sup
pression of newspapers and the in
carceration of American citizens, for
attempting to enjoy the privilege it
now claims, shows a fair change for
the better, and we welcome it and
several other Republican journals to
the true doctrine of American free
no- The quantity of digestion that
a German can get over is really won
derful. We once boarded with ono
who disposed of six meals a day, and
filled up the intervals with raw her.
rings and sardines. We never knew
him to groan but once, and that was
when be heard that the schooner
"Roder Kass," loaded - with sour
krout, had foundered at sea, and
nothing had been saved but fficers
and crew.