g£ DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
TOWANDA:
Thursday Morning, October 28, 1858.
[From Chamber's Journal.]
TUi jiILOTBBAIIS,
]. SKTTISU OCT.
The bell rings, the curtain rises and discov
ers the actors in our little drama. A middle
a-fd. stontlv bnilt man, who would have been
pjod-looking, but for the deeply graven itn
.,regions of anxiety and hunger which his face
! diihitcd: he was arrayed in an entire suit of
flesh-colored tights much darned; round his
head he wore a fillet, that hail once been glow
in.' lace: but all its lustre had gone, long,
joii.' a-zo, and it looked like a piece of dirty
tip? : yellow oehred canvass shoes, terribly
Craved and jagged, end a pair of faded crimson
u .;*vet trunks, on which a tarnished spangle,
banging here and thete by a piece of yellow
thread, showed that they had once been elab
oratilv trimmed, completed his attire. Two
,-tttv pale-faced little boys, dressed, or rather
in precisely the same manner, stood
[,v. looking on dejectedly, yet listening with
interest to the conclusion of a dialogue between
their father and a hard-featured, elderly wo
man, of whom the whole family seemed to
.•and in awe. These formed the group to which
1 would direct your attention.
• The long and the short of it is, you'll have
to turn out! I could ha'lct this room, times
*' often, for three-an'six, an' here 1 only
iharge * u half a-crowu an' that you won't
I*J.'
■ II n't pay, Mrs. Niggs ?' replied the poor
father.
• Well, leastways, you don't pay. To be
iire oour missis give me her bit of best gowud
Tfstmlav, as a kind of security for the rent;
bit what's the good o' that t It's nowt but a
old merina.'
• It was her wedding-gown,' mildly expostu
lated the ivonntebunk, heaving a sad sigh as
rethought of tne happy sunny morning when
fIM the 4 old mcriua' adorned its then gay
owner it was Iter wedding-gown, and joor
.\gms wouldn't like to lose it.'
• Tit may be; but 'tain't no use to ww it'ud
O'llv tit a haif-starveil shrimp of a woman like
ber."
'But Mrs. Niggs, you've got my watch
A trumpery, old-fashioned thing, as big as a
warming-pan!" said .Mrs. Niggs.
it was dear grandfather's,' sighed the poor
man.
Tain't worth half-a-.urr/"g,I know,' retorn
it • nevolent Niggs; 'an 1 want seven
weeks' rent of yon this very day. Now don't
,w no more! talk's no nse; it won't fill my
•x-kets: it's M' >iev I want Why don't you
with them two lads ? Aou said you
nd do nowt yesterday an' the day before for
:;ie rain: it don't rain to-day.'
'Why. certainly, it dusen't rain to-day,
-aid the father, walking to the window
i rubbing a pane of glass with his arm, to
<ke a thoroughfare for his eyesight: 'it doesn't
- i. but it looks terribly dark, as if there'd be
i downfall of some ort —either rain or snow,
—looking apprehensively towards his thin
iv clad children—' it's bitter cold!'
Cold,' retorted Niggs; ' cM, do you say ?
I'm .-lire, I don't fiuil it cold.' (s>he had
A warm cloth dress, a large woolen shawl
ikrn-hicf, and thick double-soled boots, i
biiiii'd. it ain't cold for the time o' year; fine
g wiather. 1 call it—make the boys
niv to l>e out in it.'
But.' said their father, ' they haven't broke
tlieir fast yet: and*
It's only twelve o'clock.' interrupted the
un me landlady, 'an' many's the good chris
ten as hasn't had their breakfast yet, let
A no mountebanks an' the noeddicated scum,
cli I looks on as bathings! What matters
whether yon take your lads out afore their
or arter ' You shouldn't induig-*
" appetites overmuch '
Here the father glanced at the attenuated
"us of his young ones, and replied only by a
:n,:ul shake of his head—the children star
z ea*ne.-rlv at Mrs Niggs, as if wondering
• her notions of ' indulgence' might be. A
• v> Mtv loaf and a jug of water had been the
r lr v .sion within the walls of their wrvtch
' garret for the last four-and-twenty hours;
.st morsel of the bread had been demob
• i :.>r eap|ter the night previous.
I '•ere.* added Niggs. as a single dab was
the street door—' there's the gal with
> aider and taters from the baker's. I
•' k> going. ti>r 1 hate my victuals cold.
sa ,Mi r
'. ii don't jmy up like a man, afore Thurs
- -ut y u go! Take them little creelers
>treets. an' see if they can't earn a
■- • a call it—a trifle. as I call it:
" way the money's as good. Grumble
the weather, indeed! Why, for the time
year Drat that gal! she's left the
-i ->r ajar, au' the draught conies up tiieui
r - eooagh to cut a body in two —u-u-gh.'
'"-i :;ng ami shivering. Mrs. Niggs lump
'u. y down stairs to scold the 'gai,' *nd
'" ■" : to -olaoc herself with a pint of hot
- i a good substantial dinner, the steam
' - ng smell whereof ascending to the
-' ■LUiit.k s garret, brought tears into his
* he tnrneil awav from his hungry chil
*<>t daring to meet their look*. So ho
i* room h- people Jo when excited or
or nnhappr. or hungry, perhaps;
w. ho was all thosae at once. First
1 ked to the dingy window aforesaid, gn
'he heavy clouds. then down at the
- b saying mournfully to himself: There
to c a downfall, for the pavement's
'Wnp. ami that's always a sign ' Then
1 "* ' v the almost empty grate, pat on the
aiaing morsel of coal, fanned it with
•""■•.ii .uto a liny flame, titan back, again
* dow, laen again to the cheerless fire
•geiing about, and busying himself
let* nutters as sweeping the hearth
- • e -flaky mantle-piece with a remnant
Ctowu s cap; ami, finally, sctUug a
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
low, ricketty wooden chair before the miserable
attempt at a lire, saying, in as cheerful tone
as he could muster: ' Mother'll be coming in
soon, my lads, and then 7
' Aud then, will there be bretfas, daddy ?'
asked the youngest boy.
' Yes, yes, Midgkins; at least, I hope there
will.'
Here the poor fellow took the boy on his
knee, drew Alfy towards him also, and tried
to beguile the time until mother should come,
by hearing them repeat the little songs and
hymns which that mother loved to teach
them.
• Now, Midgkins, it's yonr turn,' said the
father, after Alfy had gone through his little
hoard of knowledge, aud yet no mother, and
no breakfast.
Accordingly the child began to recite, and
prettily too, that infant favorite, The Busy Her,
but when he came to, ' with the sweet food,'
Ac., his voice failed him, the tears started into
his eyes, and he wept loudly and bitterly, with
his pale tiny face hidden in his father's breast.
At this moment a weary step was heard slowly
ascending the cracking stairs.
' Mother, mother!' shouted Alfy who sprang
to open the door. Little Midgkius's eyes
brightened up; his father set him gently down
and hastened to meet his wife and release her
from the burden of a baby some ten months old
which she carried with great difficulty, for the
woman was slight and pale, half-starved, and
half clothed. The most cursory glance might
serve to inform vou that she was indeed the
mother so anxiously waited for; she was so
like her boys. The same expression of patient
endurance was oil her long thin face and in her
meek blue eyes. A girl, who might ha>e seen
two summers, toddle! in, clinging to her gown.
The child's nose was red, her cheeks blue, and
her eyes were filled with water; it was evident
indeed, from the apjiearance of both the chil
dren, and the mot lit r too, that the morning
was intensely cold. Alfy met his sister, took
off her lilac cotton bonnet, which, long inno
cent of starch. tlap]xx! uneasily ever her fore
head.' He next divested her of an old, coarse,
brown overcoat, made originally by mother for
Midgkins to wear over his fleshings, but which
Lucy had on because her own green stuff pe
lisse had week been converted into a din
ner Strangely enough the lire seemed to burn
brighter as soon as mother entered the room !
She sat down: Midgkins climbed on her lap:
Alfy took ) >o session of a low stool, seated Lucy
on his knees, and began chafing her |oor lialf
frizen hands and feet; while father untied
baby's cloak and hood—put on certainly more
fur appearance sake than for warmth, foul
young mountebanks in succession having woru
them completely threadbare.
' No nse your long walk, I know, Agnes,'
said father
' Very little. The gtiardians gave me a
sshillin?, and told me—not gruffly, but as if
they were sorry to say it to me, for they look
ed pit'fully at the poor baWs—they told me
that the turn-out and the lock-out together
had made matters so bad that in justice to
their own townsfolk, they oughtn't to have
given me even that, and that I musn't trouble
them nirain'
On the mention of a shilling, Alfy quietly
filled the small tin kettle, and set it on the
now sparkline fire, slipped on his overcoat and
cap. ami then nodded to mother, who of course
understood him to mean: ' I'm ready to go to
the shop.' She flopped the coin into his hand,
and away he trotted ou his joyful errand.—
During his short absence, what preparations
Midgkins and Lucy made! how they bustled
about: how they set out the odd cracked cups
and saucers, the two battered leaden tea-spoons
and the old broken-spouted browti tea-pot!—
Father meantime recounted the particulars of
Mrs. Niirgs's visit, which grieved his wife, al
though it did not suqirise her. Laden with
a loaf, tea, sugar, and two red herrings. Alfy
returned, and the whole family—in spite of
landladies and turn-outs, and the cold weather
—enjoved a hearty meal; bahkins (baby I
mean] tucking in wonderful quantities of weak
tea and sipped bread. Door fellow! the ma
ternal nourishment must needs have been but
scanty.
Rreakfast over, everybody looks more lively:
father thinks that, * after ail. the snow mayn't
come to-day;' mother fancies * the weather's
rudder than it was two hoars ago:' aud the
bovs button on their i >ats.
4 Well, well, we must even try onr luck.'
snvs the mountebank: we most see if we can't
get as far as Eglinshorpe: there's a fair held
there to-morrow. It's no use trying the town
again; what with the strike and the dearness
of food, po r folk"- can't give, and the rich ones
never stop to look at us. Keep up yonr spir
its. Agnes; jx'rhaps we may make a pitch at
some village on the road; and if we do, I'll
send v u half of whatever wc get; so look ont
for a letter.'
S' saving he strapped a dram round his
wait over a miserable ragged pray coat, and
pinned a litlle square of worn carpeting over
Midpkins shoulders; Agnes tied her own cot
t*n shawl ronnd Alfy, kissed her boys, said
pood-bye to them and father, but still seemed
to linger about them; and when they were
quite ready for a start, she laid baby on the
bed, followed them down stairs, kissed them
onee more, thrust the remains of the loaf into
Alft's pocket, and whispered to him: 4 lie kind
to littie Midgkins T Mother watched her
treasures in their progress down the street;
and when they were quite out of sight. she
turned away with a heavy heart to iter infant
charge in the garret. Poor ■other! wAy was
her heart so heavy ? Often ami often had she
heen separated from her husband ami the boys
foe three or four days at a time, while they
nnrsnrd their calling. Why. then, was ber
i heart so bear? *
11. THE ItOOR.
On they wcut— the mountebank and his
boys— through dirty, poverty-stricken lane*—
on. on. through dark, dejected looking courts
and narrow alleys where father thought it just
possible they might raise a few pence. Iu
frmt streets and bustling thoroughfares, be
I was aware that uotse wouiu be tempted to stop
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O MEARA GOODRICH.
aud admire their performance. Indeed, had a
few spectators been, by some wonderful chance,
collected iii any snch locality, the police would
certainly have interfered with the customary
gruff ' Move on there!' After threading in
numerable intricate passages, and tortuous by
ways, with which the mountebank seemed j>er
fcctly familiar, our little party emerged into a
large open square—in former times used as a
hay-market—which,being surrounded by work
men's cottages, was a place where, perhaps, an
audience might assemble; so father began to
beat the drum with all his might, Alfred star
tled the neighborhood with the clash of cym
bals, aud little Midgkins shook his tiny square
of carpet, byway of giving ' note of prepara
tion' to passers-by. The drum and cymbal
overture continued for full ten minutes before
any condescended to notice the efforts of the
performers. Three or four workmen having
just dined, then sauntered to the doors of their
respective dwellings; where they stood a while,
leisurely smoking their pipes and enjoying the
fresh air; a few children, too. attracted by the
noise, formed into a group to witness the pro
ceedings of the professionals; and a young
we.juu with an infant in her arms leaned out
of an upstairs window of one of the adjacent
cottages. Father cast his practised eyes
around, counted heads, and shrugged his shoul
ders. He drummed away for another five
minutes, and then took auother survey of his
audience, but without anj satisfactory result,
if one might judge from the rueful expression
ol his countenance; however, he muttered to
himself: ' We must make the best of it, 1 sap
pose; it's the only likely place for a pitch ut
this end of town.'
Giving a ffurt of sideways nod to the boys,
thev took the cne from him with great alacrity,
divested themselves of their coats and prepared
to dazzle and delight all beholders with the
splendor of their wardrobe, and the combined
grace and agility of their movements. Un
luckily, just as these preparations were com
pleted, ding dong, ding dong, went the large
Ml of the nearest factory, and. obedient to its
summons, away walked the workmen. A mo
ment after was heard the tinkling of a school
bell, wheren]>on ' with unwilling steps and
slow,' as if sorry to be thus deprived of the
expected sight, the admiring scholars moved
off. Father and boys, perceiving that no
chance remained of earning even the smallest
pittance, made ready for their departure. Just
as they were walking sadly away, the yonng
woman at the window called ont: 4 Hide a bit:
I've summnt for the little lads.' Presently out
she came bringing a jng of hot tea and some
thick slices of bread and butter, saying, ' Vou
mun eat this, and take this tea before you go
any further, poor things! You'll do but little
to-day,for it's beginning to snow.and yon can't
net in the wet streets. God help you! There!
Stop a bit,' she exclaimed, as Alfv gave her
the empty jng— 4 Stop a bit!' She ran upstairs
and returned with an old scarlet muffler and a
green cotton neck-tie, which she gave to the
mountebank to wrap round the children's
throats. He received them with many expres
sions of gratitude—so much kindness was some
thing rather unusual. 4 1'se sure you're heartily
welcome,' said the friendly giver ; 4 I wish I
could do more for you; but my man's one of
the turn-outs, and we've now't hot the e lection
brass to live on. Gool-luck to you, master,
and to your pretty lads, wherever you go Ah!
tliere's no knowing what one's own poor little
'uns may come to in this hard world.' Here
she hugged her baby fondly to her bosom: and
nodding a kind farewell to the street-artistes,
she disappeared. Perchance, comfortable read
er, you wonder how these children could find
an appetite to enjoy a second meal so soon
after their breakfast; but, remember, these
boys had existed in a state of semi-starvation
all thru lives ; and iu such cases the craving
for food is incessant.
4 It's useless to go home without money '
thought the poor mountebank. ' I could no
more face Mrs. Niggs than I could face a tiger;
| so, we'll step on, be-t foot foremost; and if the
weather doesn't turn out very bail we enn be
at Eglinthorpe by five o'elock. Tom Whit
lock's sure to be there with his tumbling-booth;
he'il be glad of ns, and pay ns well too. for
the fair-day. Let's make a start, boys! Come!
Cheerily, ho!" Thus raonologning, ami leading
Midgkins by the hand, he turned his back on
the town, with little Alfy bringing up the
rear. At the outset of the journey, the young
sters were lively enough, and prattled on, in
childish fashion, about 4 w hat they'd do wiien
they were older; w hat pains they'd take with
their |x>-turing ami vaulting; ami how they'd
get a situation in some graml circus, where an
immense amount of salary would be theirs; and
how joyfully tiiey'd give it all to father and
mother, who sliould never be ragged or hun
gry any more.'
Ti: • mountebank smiled on thm compas
sionately as he listened : he remembered that
long years gone by. nr. too. ba<i thought and
s{oken in the same strain. Alas for human
hopes and resolves ! Ais parents had died in tire
jmrish workhouse ! Not that he was unwill
ing to assist their. —not that he lacked affection
towards them—bat few ami far between had
been his opportunities of assisting them ; for
be had not been fortunate in a jwofeasion.
which is, at best, a precarious one. Trne. ho
had seen others. wi;h a very limited arnoont of
talent ani i..du-iry, get forward in the race of
life—rise in the world, ami attain a high posi
ti->n in their calling ; but his career had heen
an unsuccessful one ; and though it would
have been the pride of his affectionate heart to
have cherished the declining year< of his aged
parents, it was not to be; and, as I said before,
tbey died in the workhouse
4 Clieeriiy. ho, Alfy ! Give me jour hand,
and I'll help you along.* So father led bo'.h
boys : and when they had walked nearly five
miles, aud begun to look tired, bv their great
delight he opened his inexhaustible budget
of oft-repeated tales, to lighten the tedioo*
uess of the journey. First, lie related the
anecdote of Alfred the Great and the bnnietl
cakes ; then the story of William Tel! ; after
these came the fable of the shepherd boy ami
the wolf—all of which, though heard for the
twentieth IIUK at least, awakened iu the juve
" RESARDLESB OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANT QUARTER."
Nile auditors as warm an interest as ever ;
and many were the sensible remarks and per
tinent questions to which they gave rise.—
Formerly, when the children were too young
to be amused in this manner, the mountebank,
in providiug for a business excursion, would
purchase some comfits or peppermint lor.engers,
and, after walking so long, that symptoms of
weariness began to exhibit themselves in the
.slackened pace of the little pedestrians, he
would scatter sweetmeats here and there o:i the
road at short intervals, aud the children, for
getting their fatigue, would follow quickly to
secure the tempting prize ; and when the stock
of confectionary was exhausted, tliev would
race with as much eagerness after a ball thrown
by father in their ouward path, as ever was
maniiested by jockey when conqieting for the
Derby. Latterly, tales and songs had taken
the place of the comfits and the ball.
The sixth milestone was greeted bv the
youngsters as a friend, for it told them that
half their journey was accomplished ; but fa
ther ap|>eared uneasy : he looked with dismay
at the heavy black clouds overhead, and at the
thickening snow ; it had fallen gently all the
afternoon, lnt now it began to assume a
threatening aspect. He stopped suddenly in
the most interesting portion of The Tk.ifting
llrir, which he was relating, and felt irresolute
whether to return even then, or to go forward.
After a brief pause, he clicse the latter alter
native, for as he argued mentally, to return
without having any part of the rent to proffer
to Mrs. Niggs, would only provoke her to carry
into immediate execution her threat of turning
all the family into the streets ; whereas, if he
went on to the fair, his wife and the vonn<rer
children would at least be certain of a roof to
shelter them—and that was something in such
inclement weather. Setting this out of ques
tion, his little party was half way to its place
of destination. To be sure, the remaining half
lay across a barren moor, where there were no
hedgerows or walls to screen the travellers
from the weather. What of that ? He'd
carry Midgkins ; and th" he and Alfy could
walk faster than they had done previously,and
wouldn't teel the cold. I'ursuant to the reso
lution, he took the tired little one, nothing
loath, in his arms, although encumbered as he
was by the very large drum, it was a trouble
some matter to manage this additional weight.
Still he toiled on, supporting Midurdins on one
arm, and leading Alfy as quick I y onward as he
could, while thicker and faster fell the snow
flakes, and gradually and iti<>rc feeble liecame
the boy's steps ; and Midgkins nestled in his
father's bosom, overjowered with the extreme
cold, fell fast asleep.
' Come, my boy, step out and let ns get under
cover ; it's going to be a fearful niu'ht! Lucki
ly, the first house we come to in Kgliiithorjc,
is the Traveller's Rest: ami a kind hearted U>dy
is Mrs Da v.son, that keeps it : she'll not re
fuse to let you and Midgkins sit by the kitcheu
fire, while I look for Tom Whitlock, and settle
matters with liiin. Walk a fast as you can
—Ethere's a good bov !'
This the mountebank said in an anxious,
husky tone of voice, for the blinding snow pre
vented his discerning anything likely to prove
a guide ; a thick darkness was spreading all
round, and the unhappy man felt a dire fore
boding of evil.
4 Indeed, father,' feebly replied the child,
I 4 I do walk as fast as ever I can : But I've !<st
, my shoes in the snow, and I am so tired, and
'so ro/d , and so very drowsv. I wish I might
lie down ami take a sleep.'
Tne mountebank made no reply to this :
bat he clasped the bov"> hand convulsively,and
still endeavored to urge him forward. In what
direction they were going he knew not. yet
hoped for the best. At length, after wander
ing about on the desolate, snow-clad waste for
: nearly two hours, without meeting a living
! creature—the fury of the storm increasing.and
| the cold, as the day wore on, becoming vet
lucre intense, he yielded to the faint entreaties
of pe>f Alfy, ' to sit down and rest just a lit
, tie while.' He sat down with both the chil
' dren on his knees, Midgkins still -lumbering ;
but not peacefully, as happy childhood >leep<:
his teeth chattered, he moaned incessantly,and
trembled from head to foot. Alfy was paie,
footsore, exhausted. In this terrible strait,
w hat was the bewildered father to do ? .Shiv
ering as he was with cold, the agony of his
mimi caused streams of perspiration to roll
down his careworn countenance. Short time
sufficed for deliberation : he rose, took off his
coat, wrapped it around his boys, ami placed
them in a sitting jxHture, sitting against the
drum.
4 Now, Alfy,* said he, making a painful ef
fort to speak cheerfully, ' I inn-; leave you for
a while. Von know 1 etui walk very fa-t :
and I'll try to find my way to the village, and
get some one to come and help me to carrv
you a id Midgkins to the Traveller's R.
4 But. father, yon musn't go without your
C'>at : see what iarge flakes of snow are coio-
ing down.'
4 Dou't heed w, love,' replied the father :
4 but try to stay awake, aud keep close to your
little brother'
4 Yes, father, and I'll say my prayers. Mo
ther always told me to pray to Gml to take
care of us if we should be in trouble.'
The idea of mother at that moment almost
overcame the mountebank ; but bo -truggled
manfully with his feeling- ; he embraced lov
inglv, again and again, Alfy and the uncon
scious Midgkins. lie conhl hardly persuade
' himself to go ; yet to stay, was to bring cer
tain destruction on thciu, for the snow still
fell, ami the darkness still increased. Alone
ami encumbered, he might reach Eglinthorpe
very soon—nay. perhaps, at that moment he
might be close upon the village, although the
darkness obscured it from his view. These
cheering hopes he tried to encourage, as if to
brace his nerves for the approaching trial
A trial it was, and a heavy OIK-, to leave his
yoang onrc in otter darkness on that dreary
H>>r ; Imt it m**t be. Tie father yielded to
stern necessity, ami with war- of agony, t.-re
himself from the spot, ami walked away with
rapid strides. It w.i all gu.-- wo:h as t>
• !u.*h way he was going—all haphazard—it
' Ixiug By thio nuiv jo Uaii that, to aac a com
mon but expressive phrase, ' you couldn't have
seen your hand before you.'
111. THE TRAVELLER'S REST.
The door of the Traveller's Rest always
stands hospitably open, as is becoming in a
roadside house of entertainment. On this par
ticular stormy night, the snow came drifting
in furiously ; and the wind, whistling along
the wide passages of the old fashioned public
house, disturbed the whist-players, who were
enjoying their usual evening rubber in the lit
tie bar-parlor. Mrs. Daw ton, from her sennr
turn (the bar,) where she sat in attendance on
the customers, observed this, and called out to
the servant:
' Ret, my lass, thon mayst shut the front
door : wc shall lia' no more visitors to-night
for certain ; no laxly would venture out in such
a storm ; so get thy snpjier, and to boil wi'
thee—thou hast to rise early tomorrow. If
the morning turns out fine, wc shall ha' lots o'
fair day folk here by seven o'elock.'
Hetty went to ol>ey her mistress's orders.but
immediately rushed back, screaming with ter
ror, and crying out : " A ghost, a ghost !''
she took refuge in the kitchen, slamming the
door after her, to keep the spiritual iutruder
at a respectful distance.
4 A ghost ; why what docs the silly wench
mean V said Mrs. Dawson, as she put her
knitting down, and came out of the bar to as
certain the cause of this extraordinary conduct.
On arriving in the passage, she might have
echoed Hetty's cry—that is, if she, too, had
been given to a belief in ghosts—for there,
leaning for support with one hand on each
doorpost, stood a figure ghastly to behold !
a man, gasping and struggling for breath ; his
eyes bloodshot, and glaring wildly around ;
his hair matted and dishevelled : shoeless ;
and, in such a bitter night as that, wearing
oi.lv the thin garments of a street-tumbler, and
these saturated with snow. At last, the
mountebank had reached the Traveller's R'-st
whose friendly lamp had guided him to the door.
' Hless me !' cried the landlady, ' here's a
poor chap that looks as if lie was dying. He's
one of the show-folk, I see. Come in, good
man ; don't stand there—come to the tire ;
thou seems perished.
The mountebank essayed to accept her hos
pitable invitation ; he staggered forward a few
steps ; uttered, in a horse whisper, the word
4 water.' when a stream of blood gushed from
his mouth, and he fell heavily, face downwards.
The was all astir directly ; therub!>er
came to a sudden close, ami, the village doc
tor, who was one of the card-players, hurried
out to the sick man's assistance. With the
help of the other members of the whist-partv,
he raised the patient up, and !>ore him care
fully into the bar-parlor, where he was de|os
ited on the sofa. Joe O-tler and Hettv, too,
now that her fear> of 4 the ghost' were dispell
ed, hastened to offer their services iu his be
half.
4 Blankets made quite hot, Hetty! Warm
water aud sponge, Joe ! A glass of weak
port-negus, Mrs. Dawson !'
Such wa re the doctor's hurried orders ; in
compliance with which, t. person addressed
disappeared instantaneously, ami returned
anon with the appliances above im"d. Ev
ery one present lending a hand, tne hot Blank
ets were quickly .'{trend, ami the insensible
form of the mountebank enveloped therein ;
his mouth and eyes were sponged incessantly
for many minutes, but no sigus of returning
consciousness appeared.
4 I'm afraid the poor fellow's gone,' said the
sympathising Mrs Dawson
4 No. no,' replied the doctor, * but he's iu
imminent danger . lie has burst a blood -vessel,
from overexertion, apparently. We'll try the
effect of the negus ;' so saying, he slowly {tour
ed a small portion of it down the )aUent's
throat. With much difficulty, the latter con
trived to swallow it. It somewhat revived him
for presently he ojtened his eyes, and gazed in
quiring!)* at the anxious faces assembled round
his couch ; the doctor took this opportunity to
administer a second dose : and having laid the
Granger in as easy a pasture as he could,
began to make his arrangements for the night.
Taking the patient's dangerous condition into
consideration, he resolved to sit up with him
all night. Mr. Dawson ami Joe Ostler volun
tiir i to watch t-x> : ami it WAS agreed up MI
that, at six in the morning, they sh<>ahi le re
lieved by the other mem'iers of the party.—
Fain would the good-natured trio of the card
players have remained all night : but this the
doctor would by no means allow ; so, with
many kind wishes for the invalid's speedy re
covery. they took their de-xirtnre. Hetty re
tired to rest ; and Mrs. Dawson brought the
d >r a >t:ff tuiuUer of h> favorite beverage
braadj and water, hot ;aboafiuutlMMW
nun pinch for Joe, ' to help him to watch.'—
It di ir.T produce tin* desired effect though; for
Joe, tired out with a hard day's work—he was
rMit r, boots, gardener, and waiter, too, some
times—after tossing off the steaming pition,
h in d back in his chair, ami fell fast asleep.
Mrs Daw>oii employed herself in knitting a
Mocking, sipping green
his fe t on the fender, was soon deeply immers
ed in newspaper politics ; ami the mountebank
slumbered uneasily. This was the state of
affairs in the little bar parlor until three o'clock
wh**n suddenly the puient started up, seized
a chair which stood near him, waved it over
his head, and finally balanced it ou his fort
head by one leg, exclaiming in a horuea voire:
4 Bravo, bravo. Alfy ! A captial po*e that !
Ha. ha. ha ! We dial! soon eelip< R : , a leT
and Sons ! Bravo ! Now, little Midgkins, it's
-• nr turn ! Now for a somersault ! Here
goes!"
Sti ting the to the word, he was aliout
to preeiptatc the chair across the room, am!
through a large looking gLvs which hung over
the inaiillqwiT : when the doetor, Mng nn
the alert, woke J<e with a liearty kirk on the
shins, and. By their united efftwK. they •test
is 1 live chair from htm, and forced him to lie
down.
' Joe,' nd tte 4 run aetnse the road:
ring the urgery-he!i loud a y.wi ean till mv
vii*ig man mi-w r* it. and tell them to -end
ii,!. composing-draught '
VOL. XIX. —KO. <2l.
Joe hastened awnv on his mission, while the
doctor AIM I Mrs. Dawson held the patient down
and tried with soothing words to calm his agi
tation, but in vain. lie trembled violently,
his eyes Hashed fire, and he raved unceasingly
about his boys—his darlings ! about Imuger
poverty—snow—the workhon.se—death !
Joe reappeared with the draught; this the
doctor put into a tumbler, and applied to the
patient's burning lips, with, ' Coine, drink, my
man, drink ! a glass will drown care.'
The mountebank shook his his head ; but,
on hearing the landlady too add her entreaties
to those of the doctor, he said quietly * ' Well
well, Agnes, if v" wish me to take it, 1 will ;*
and he held out Iti.s hand for the glass, the
content* of which he drained at oneo. Its
effects were instantaneous; the pour man laid
his head ou the pillow, and soon slept tranquil
ly-
At the appointed hour the gentlemen who
had promised to relieve the watchers assembled
at the Travellers' Itest. Mrs. Dawson, how
ever, declared that she ' didn't feel fatigued—
that it warn't worth while to go to bed, for
the fair-day folk would lie meeting in an hour
or two, and that she would rather stay up.'—
So said the doctor too, .Joe agreed with tliern.
' llring breakfast, then, for the party, at mv
expense,' cried Hopkins, the exciseman; 'and
let it be of the best.'
The landlady bnstled al>ont, aroused Hetty
to assist her, and between them they quickly
prepared a capital breakfast, to which all pre
sent did ample justice. As the meal drew
towards a conclusion, the monnte'iank slowly
arose, and assuming a sitting-postnre, survey
ed the room and its oecnpants with unfeigned
astonishment.
' Well, my man,' said the worthy doctor,
* you've had a tolerably long nap ; now, take
take this enp of coffee, and if yon can, eat a
slice of bread and ham; it will do you no harm.
The poor made no answer, for he was com
pletely bewildered, but, mechanically, he took
the cup in his hand, staring vacantly around
until he chanced to see the portly form of the
landlady who was presiding at the breakrast
table, when with the speed and force of light
ning, yesterday's incidents rushed in a crowd
npon his memory. ' This is the Travellers'
llcst, then,' said he. ' I>on't you remem'ier
me, Mrs Dawson ? You o-ed to call me Hel
phegor. because, like him, I was a mountebank
and, like liirn, had a pretty wife and a family.'
'So it is, I declare,' replied Mrs. Dawson ;
' it's the father of them two lovely boys as
were here last fair.'
At the mention of his boys, the sick man's
face la-came absolutely livid with fear, am] his
lips quivered as he gasped forth : 'My chil
dren—art thry sift V
There wn< a dead silence, for the dreadful
truth flashed upon every one present. The
father had been compelled to leave his darl
ings on the ni'H>r, exposed to the fury of that
terrible tempest, while sought aid in their lie
half. The doctor was the first to speak 'We'll
hope so. my good friend '
' Ibpt ' Are they not krre ? Speak?—
qnick ! quick ! quick ! You won't answer me.
O, my loys ! Dead !—dead ! Wretch, —in-
human !'
A gain the l enevolent doctor was the spokes
man; he hastened to assure the unhappy father
that immediate search should be made--trietl
to cheer him by expressing a hope- which he
certainly did not feel—that theehildren would
be found safe, and promised that every thing
p>ssible should be done for thera.
It's my delight, of a shiny night, in the
season of tlie year !' roared ratlter then sang a
rough, good natured voice, as its owner drove
to the inn-door in a light cart.
' There's Tom Wbitlock !' exclaimed the
mountebank, and, exerting all his strength,
he gathered his blanket rour.il him, rushed out
of the room, and opened the street door.
' Whoy, Jtenj, lad, lie taat thee ?' crieil the
\ orkshirvman: ' 1 be reet glad to sec thee,
mum ! lint what's up ? Thee looks mortal
pile and thin ; hast been badly V
' Your cart—it's empty, isu't it T was the
horriod reply.
' Ay. for sure.' said Tom. ' I unloaded it *
good* dowu't fair ground, and now I'in for put
ting Topsy intot' stable lit re.'
The party, having fo lowed the pitient to
the door, now, rapidly explained matters to
Tom, alio with the eharactistic kindness of
his countrymen, immediately {►laced his Tehielc
at bis friend's disposal, resumed the reins, and
would at otice have set forth in search ot the
little ones; but that the divtr insisted on the
mountebank's having some refreshment before
he started, kat he could not; so he and Tom
were e c i supp ied with a drain to keep out
the cad : the exciseman lent a large blue
cloak to father ; the schoolmaster supplied
him with a thick woollen comforter ; Joe (fcst
t< r prolnced his Sunday boots a r d stocking*,
and a warm Jeered-waist-coat; and Mrs. Daw
sau contributed a pair of trousers and a hat
that had b-longed to h.r late husband. The
(few-tor having declared that nnlcss his patient
consented to pit these things on, he shoold lie
detained by main force, the mounteUnk re
luctantly ronscntcl to allow Joe to eipiip hiiu
in tiieiu, although his impatience during the
operation amounted to agony. In a few min
utes his hasty toilet was completed ; Joe as
sisted him into the cart ; the dw-tor furnished
with wine ami other restoratives, took his
scat; and the rstler threw iu a bundle Ol horse
dot h.< ami a sjiadc.
'Now, Topsy.oW lass.a* .juirk a* thee caast !'
shotitcil Tin; >ut the ilcptli of snow rendered
*|wcl impossible. AH the inmates of the
Travellers Rest. except its mistress, followed;
not a worn was spifcen ; tnspnsc is generally
siicnt. Tlie traveller* had {iroeceded nearly
four miles without finding any trace* of those
whom they sought, when stiihleuly the neumte
*va.k, wln> had hitherto lecn jwrfectly motiow
—'f we except a quick, nervous twitching
aliout the corners of his mouth—hastily dutch*
ed the doctor's arm. whispering, ' Sec ! see'!
there ? The doct or looked in the dtrtrtioa
indicated by his {atHiit. I*ut *h<k his hc.nl.
The d>ra gray of the morning presented noth
rag to bis gage but one unbroken •anfj.-e %(
>3o*. his u.-;ou waj not :iiaqwwd by [oreuUl