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For the Bradford Reporter.
ALEXANDER WHITE.
BY PAI L PEMBEBToN, JR.
-tri 'Tis man was Alexander White,
: never g't himself in a flurry :
-i.irt- d he was going to do things right,
'...-he t pluns from morning until night,
j ,;• i-. says he, "no hurry :
... re - the way a fortune's made, you know.
I -hail do this, you know ;
. v. ~i the dollars to my coffers flow
: po r was Alexander White.
ni.ui was Alexander White,
... truth spoke, gratuitous adviser :
friends how to shun debt they might, j
L : . .n.-ceJ well, to all 'twas easy quite,
!u; not. said he. "a miser,
here's the way to promptly pay, you know, •
i -nail do this, you know,
: the feeling good 'mongst those I owe," —
. , -ent paid Alexander White !
. :.-v. t-T was Alexander White,
I hihlren had. a grown up son and daughter:
-L v, 1 young men how they could work it right,
:...ikr the ladies fall in love at sight;
My style," said he. "makes slaughter ;
k—l. re's the way to marry well, you know.
i shall do this, you know,
:A make tea thousand at a single throw." —
wuiuaii portionless wed Alexander White !
roic man was Alexander White,
A i attle with the j; to him were charming :
- lcht the private soldier how to fight.
t • ii2"W down the rebels left and right,
It - not." said he. "alarming,
. here'.- tli.- way to stand up bold, you know,
1 -hall d • this, you know.
• ■ my must fall at every blow."
h 1 -[ ine got Alexander White!
: -,s man was Alexander White.
\ u.nim.' specimen he was at joking :
- bur'.- -que power was extra bright.
. ;• ..liiiil w..s his spirit's high delight.
s -!• •I m fun provoking :
w.iy to make f< 'lks laugh, you know, j
I - th;-. you know.
hi hold their sides, they're tickled so." j
-v-r - w his points, save Alexander White ! '
•■■si.: in w: s Alexander "White.
■ :.t i t t • church, but ne'er committed evil :
:.-t the clergy entertained no spite,
• .'; tL- iu plainly what was his delight
Itn k. says he. "the devil :
. : - the way to dodge his fires you know.
do thi-. vou know.
-
it*- cravat, as Reverend So and So."
e of mine, thought Alexander White!
t man was Alexander White,
found himself bdovc, no way belated ;
ugh his neck was girt with choker tight,
vil saw the trick by brimstone light ;
s.ys White, " I'm under-rated, [know, *
here's the way. there's some mistake, you
-hall do this, you know,
.ke hands with friends, and up to heaven go."— j
■ s Satan. "Tricks are damned with Alexander'
White!"
i -vanda. Oct. 4, 1865.
istUst Sale.
HOW MY HAIR BECAME GRAY.
T
. w living wifb my aunt. Mrs. Osborne,
v.-.s a widow in very independent cir
ri •s. and my father's only sister. --
<t time she resided at a very beauti-,
ili.-d Blackwater Lodge, on the 1
: the same name, and that was situ- ,
>*. inside, little inure than a mile i
ri-ri : in, the romantic and beautiful,
M , in the south of Ireland.
s,.hi,ld at the Lodge, at the date
1 refer, consisted of the house
- ;sau. an excellent, good young wo-1
. i was ljeld in great esteem by my
i was a special favorite of mine ;
k. Mrs tJwynne, an old and faitiiful
• v, r i tiie family ; with Parks, the
■ ri wiiu had come over with me from
•i. i:.l who, while my nui*e returned
I ■. .i. n adily consented to engage in
• -Us service, and very soon settled
ut' the trusted domestic.
we. : say for myself that I ever cared
1 c* ; : i J 'arks ; as a child, 1 know, 1 ,
- '"1 in him : used to rub my hands
> wouly curls, and try to pull out .
: > and often compelled him to sub
sundry ablutions on his face, to see
'.d at all wash him white. As I
: ; 't' riper years I someway got to
k- barks His manner, though always
"- tii. was often moody and repellaut ;
•i 1 'y Susan the house-.maid's posi
''!• d of him, which she took no
t mceal, may have strengthened
rir Une unfavorable phase of his
1 • ; Susan constantly harped an—his
•'1 black screw ■ he'd t>ii bis
' make candles uf the tall>>w !"
•uld say.
: " y - were very liberal, and I knew
: aw;i to the day, and Judged in the
: r I had heard aunt remark on this
; and tin- housemaid often dwelt with
" 0 all he'd squeeze out of his week
wance, and the meanness of hie ways
'od.tn save a half-penny. We had
tiii.-r servant, an outside man, who did
" '■> -rses, took care of yard and sta
'•'"l ■■ceasionally worked iii the gard
■!' a helper under hirn.
: e p.-riod at which 1 write, when
-t seventeen, the country around
, ' terribly distutbed ; indeed the
* 'UiL of Ireland was in a flame of dis
,J 1 tie W'hiteboys. as they were
~t!< us, elsewhere the Terryalts,
'nrollid and organized in alarming
1 remember when seeing them,
.. i I p v ■ ft b
E. O. (i(X>nRICH, Publisher.
VOLUME XXVI.
on light nights, from the upper windows,
with white bands round their hats, that
gave them the appearance of a troop of
mourners at a funeral, marching with mili
tary precision along a valley not far dis
tant, and filing off to a small wood, where
they were in the habit of holding an al
most nightly rendezvous. Of attacks upon
neighboring mansions we continually heard;
but as in every instance these were for
arms, and only attempted where such were j
known to be, we felt more equanimity than ,
might have been supposed, considering!
tlier e was so much of disturbance around 1
us.
" Sure everybody knows that we don't
keep a poprguu in the house," aunty would
say, " and what need we mind ?"
She never allowed even a servant to
have firearms of any kind, declaring that
she thought it the safest way. We had to
besure, such precautions taken as at the
period were universally adopted—strong
iron bars fixed outside to all the lower win
dows, and so close that, as Parks observed,
" a mouse couldn't get in or out," and those
gave our habitation very much the appear
ance of a jail ; and, besides, new and
more substantial internal fastenings were
procured for the back and front doors ; and
to these Aunt Osborne triumphantly point
ed when remonstrated with on our lonely
position, and reminded, moreover, that she
was well known to be wealthy, and pos
sessed of a large quantity of plate and
jewels of great value, and that in these
troubled days desperadoes of every de
scription were going about in plenty, so
that an attack upon us, even though we
had no fire-arms to attract the cupidity of
the rebels, might nevertheless be by no
means an improbable thing. Once or
twice aunt thought of lodging the plate
and other valuables in the bank until the
present storm blew over, but was always
dissuaded by Parks, who maintained that
" there was no fear in the world nor, in
deed, did we ourselves entertain the least.
One day 1 well remember. Mrs. Osborne
had gone to pay a distant visit, and would
not be back, she told me. till late. Parks,
of course, had driven the carriage. Mrs.
Gwyime, our cook, was at the time in the
hospital of the town, slowly recovering
from a long and severe attack of fever.—
feusan had undertaken to d > all the work
during the cook's illness, so as to obviate
the necessity of any temporary hand being
employed, as my aunt disliked new people
about her in the servant line, so that the
housemaid and myself were the_ only occu
pants of the house. I had a very bad cold,
and was unable to accompany my aunt, as
1 otherwise should. It was near the end of
the day—a dull, gloomy one in the month
of November. I was standing close to the
window, reading, trying to catch the last
remnant of waning light, and deeply ab- ■
sorbed in my book. I was suddenly start
led from my pursuit by a dark shadow from
outside quite blocking up the window. I
gazed in terror, and saw a man on the
grass-plot just under the casement looking
earnestly in. All the front windows were
low, reaching to the ground. The book
dropped from my hand as 1 hastily retreat
ed, and with difficulty suppressed a scream.
He made a motion to me with his hand, put
his finger on his lip to intimate silence, and
pointed to the hall door, implying that he
wished ine to go to it On a closer scruti
ny 1 recognized, to my surprise, the Roman
Catholic priest of the par ; sh, a person I
had several times met upon the load, and
who had always seemed very civil. 1 had
heard too that he was a man greatly be
loved by the poor oi his own tiock. Some
what reassured, yet still nervous and exci
ted, and curious to know the object of this
unusual and late call, 1 hastened to the
door in obedience to his sign. When I
opened it he seemed disappointed, as in the
dusky twilight he had evidently mistaken
me for my aunt.
"Is Mrs. Osborne in ?" be asked, in a
low, hurried voice.
" No. :-ir,' r 1 replied, " but I am expect
ing her every moment."
•• 01J, indeed !" And then he stood on
the step as if in thought fur a minute.—
" Who else is in the house ?" he asked, ab
rupt ly.
"No one just now,'' 1 said, " but Susan,
the house maid ; Mrs. Gwynne is in the
hospital."
" Yes, I know she is ; just as well per
haps. Look, young lady,"' he resumed,
"get me a bit of paper and I'll write the
message I want to leave for Mrs. Osborne,
and be quick, please.
" If you'll come this way,'' I replied, "I'll
get it for you," and he followed me into the
sitting-room. A sheet of letter paper was
lying on the table.
" ilere this will do and he took it up,
and tearing it across, folded one half of it
into the form of a nute. "I have a pencil,"
he said ; and taking a book in his hand
as a support for the note he went up to
the window, and with his eye close to
the paper to get the full benefit of the last
gleam of light he write a few lines rapidly,
standing with his back to me ; he then
turned round and said, in the same sharp,
quick tones that he had employed from the
first, " 1 must seal this ; can you make me
out a bit of wax ?" I supplied him at once,
and twisting up the remainder of the sheet
of paper into a match he lit it at the fire.
" Hold this a moment, if you please." 1
held the burniug paper for him, and as its
transient glare fell upon his features while
he seaied the note I observed that his usu
al ruddy and good humored face had au
anxious, care w..r,\ aspect, and that he ap
peared pale and thin. As he looked up
and caught my eye curiously fixed on him,
" Take care," said he, "you'll burn your
fingers and taking the nearly consumed
paper match from my hand he llung it Ull
ceremoiiiously on the carpet, extinguishing
it with the heel of his boot. " You know
who I am, I suppose?" he inquired.
" Yes," 1 replied, " Father Malacbi."
" Well," s.aid be, sinking his voice into
an ominous whisper, " besure to give that
note into Mrs Osborne's own hand ; she's
your aunt, 1 believe."
" Yes."
" And, young lady," he continued, " I'll
take it as a favor if you'll not mention to
any one, Susan the maid, or any one else,
this visit of mine, and tell Mrs. Osborne
the same."
I promised him on the word of a lady
that 1 would not.
" Thank you —good-night, and dragging
liis hat that he had not, during his short
stay, removed at all from his head, down
TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., OCTOBER 12, 1805.
over his brows, and wrapping the long
camlet cloak that he wore closely round
him, he strode out at the door, down the
laurel walk, and was soon lost in the dark
ness. Soon I heard the sound of carriage
wheels advancing, and quickly threw off
the timidity and abstraction I was sure my
countenance would betray, and met Aunt
Osborne as if nothing had occurred. I
kept the note safely, and did not tell her
about it until we were alone after dinner.
I then gave it, mentioning the circumstan
ces under which it had been intrusted to
me, as well as the accompanying caution
in regard to the writer. My aunt seemed
considerably surprised at what 1 told her,
and hastily opened the strange missive ; I
noticed that she looked pained and perplex
ed as she read it, and holding the paper for
several minutes in her hand she continued j
gazing in silence into tho fire.
"Do you know the contents of this ?"
she asked at length, pointing to the note.
" No," I said, "he told me nothing about!
it."
She handed it to me without a word ; it
ran as follows :
"MADAM. —From circumstances that have lately
come to my knowledge, through whom, or. in
what way, 1 an not at liberty to mention, I have
reason to believe that considerable danger threat
ens you, and that from a quarter that you might
perhaps least apprehend ; you will understand that
a parish priest is often bound to secrecy by the
most sacred oblige tious, and I am almost breaking
through the limits of official discretion and re
serve in conveying this intimation. I therefore
reckon confidently on your closest silence ; act,
but don't speak ; lose no time in removing from
your house to some safe custody the valuables that
would tempt an assailant, and this may probubly
avert the peril; above all, let me imperatively urge
upon you not to convey the faintest hint to a single
servant in your house that you have been in any
way warned.
"I am your well wisher,
*• Pray burn this."
" Well," asked Aunt Osborne, " what do
you think of that ?"
" Think of it !" I exclaimed in horror,
" why, if I were you I'd go, bag and bag
gage, into lodgings in M to-morrow,
and I'd put every thing worth two-pence
into the bank, under Mr. Gregory's care.—
I shan't have an easy moment here now,
and the long dark nights coming on."
" Oh, nonsense !" replied Mrs. Osborne,
"I'm not a bit afraid of any one out bere.
I shall certainly see to morrow, though,
about lodging the plate and some other
matters in the bank ; only I mustn't say a
word to Parks—he would be quite offend
ed."
" What on earth," 1 said, " can Fath
er Malachi mean by danger from a
quarter that we don't suspect. Isn't that
what he says ?" and I glauced again at
his note.
"I suppose he means that it is the White
boys will attack us for money, though we
haven't arms. Indeed, I heard the other
day, 1 now remember, that they did break
into one or two houses near Cork, for mon
ey alone : they want it, I suppose, to help
out their shocking projects ; any way, I'll
consult Mr. Gregory in the morning about
the whole matter, and whether it might uot
be well to have a gun or pistol, or some
thing or other for Parks, in case any thing
should happen ; and by-the-way, Maggie, I
promised to take Mrs. Gregory for a drive
to-morrow, and said that we'd have an ear
ly dinner with them after, and he told me
that he'd come home with us in the even
ing if we were at all afraid. I hope your
cold will be well enough, and we can then
settle about this business ; possibly it
might be better to move into the town for
the winter. 1 must take care, though, and
not betray the trust that poor Father Ma
lachi has so kindly reposed in us ; 1 declare
it was a very good tiling of him to do, more
than I should have expected." And so say
ing, she threw his note into the fire.
" Why then," I rejoined, " I'd almost
wish that he had kept his letter to himself,
he has terrified ine so with it."
Various conjectures and plans were ex
pressed and discussed that evening ; at
one time we thought of g"ing to Father
Malachi the next day and questioning him
more closely, but then abandoned the idea
as it might implicate him, and be a bad re
turn for the favor he had shown. 1 also
succeeded in diverting rny aunt from the
intention she had half adopted of confiden
tially disclosing the purport of the priest's
letter, and how it reached her, to Mr. Greg
ory when consulting him as to what pru
dent steps we ought to take, for I maintain
ed that would be a breach of faith, and it
would answer quite as well to impute our
apprehensions to the restless state of things
in the country ; and to this aunt ultimately*
agreed.
it.
The next day my cold was to heavy too
to think of venturing out. Aunt Osborne
wanted to forego her intention of remain
ing to dinner. I insisted, however, on her
abiding by the original arrangement,but she
promised that she would be home as early
as possible. She left soon after breakfast, ,
as site wished to go to the hospital to take '
some things to Mrs. Gwynee, and had oth- j
er places to call at before going to the |
Gregorys' at the bank. The earlier part of
the morning 1 employed myself writing, i
and then settled down at my favorite seat
in the window that nearly faced the laurel j
walk, over the same bouk I had been read
ing on the preceding day. Susan some-1
times came in to look after the fire, or to j
talk with me a little, as she said she was I
afraid I might be lonely ; and on one of !
these occasions, as she stood by my chair,
" Oh ! Miss Maggie," she exclaimed, " if
here isn't Mike the peddlar coming up the
walk. No, 'tisn't Mike," she added, as she i
looked out more closely, " but 'tis aped- :
dlar, any how, and I'm in such away
for a comb for the back of my head."
Poor r-usan had a regular penchant for
peddlars ; she'd rather buy from these
itinerant hawkers, and pay peihaps a great
deal more, than at any shop in town. I
objected strongly to a strange man at such
times being at all encouraged about the
place, especially in Mrs. Osborne's ab
scence ; but the servant pleaded so hard,
and said that she might be able to make a
bargain with the fellow for an old shawl
she had to dispose of, that 1 could not find
it in my heart to refuse her. I insisted,
however, that he should come to the front
door, as I would not hear of any stragglers
being admitted to the back-yard or kitchen.
Meanwhile, the man had advanced slowly
with his pack toward the house ; he seemed
to me to be more tardy in his movements
than the apparent weight of his load would
have warranted : but probably, I thought,
REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION* FROM ANY QUARTER.
fhe has traveled some great distance. As
I he came to the window and touched his
j hat civilly he looked, I fancied, weary. I
i motioned him to the hall-door, and very
: soon Susan was on her knees in the hall
closely examining the contents of his pack,
I and trying to strike a bargain for some of
1 his goods ; there was altogether a multi
-1 furious assortment, ballads, some pictures
lin little tawdry gilt frames, boot-laces,
I combs, rings, brooches, and other feminie
! decorations, but little that was useful. I
! remained in the hall while Susan was en
gaged with him, partly for amusement, as
well that I did not wish a stranger to be
there alone with the only servant. I could
! not help noticing in the man a listless in
difference about selling his wars, while an
(occasional eagerness was manifestly as
| snmed. lat first imputed this to the apa
thy arising from the fatigue until I observ
ed, with considerable uneasiness, a restless
! movement of his eyes iu every direction ;
now a glance into the room behind him,
j then toward thediuiugroom,again upstairs;
while, when 1 once asked Susan what caus
ed such a bitter wind, that surely she had
j nut left the back door open, and when she
answered that she was obliged to, the
kitchen smoked so, 1 thought I could de
i tect at once upon the peddler's face a look
of inquisitive and excited curiosity as lie
i said,
" Smoke, it ? Just let nie look at
it and I'll cure it for you."
j 1 instantly and decidedly declined, soine
! what to Susan's surprise, who would have
admitted him, I doubt not, at once. 1 had
j but one desire now, to get the fellow out—
in fact 1 inwardly trembled with apprehen
sion until he was cleau off ; and at last, to
my inexpressible relief, he gathered up his
goods after the servant had paid for her
purchases, and trudged down the walk by
! which he had come. We both stood in the
I window watching him, while two or three
times he looked back, as though to see if
we were still there, when soon the turn in
the avenue hid him from our view. Susan
remained with me for a while descanting
on the cheapness and excellence of the ar
ticles which she had bought. I gave little
heed to her econniums ; uneasy thoughts
about the man were running in my mind,
and told the house maid that 1 did uot all
like his way or appearance, and that I was
sure I'd dream of him that night. I forget
how the rest of the day passed ; I had a
kind of luncheon dinner, and remained af
, ter it sitting by the lire in the twilight in a
dreamy doze ; for my cold was oppressive.
When Susan lit the candles and drew the
| curtains, stirred up the fire, and made the
j room look comfortable, 1 took the small
I candle that she had t<4 get some work up
stairs. At the top of the last flight, aud
near the door of my aunt's room, there was
; a sort of arched recess, where cloaks and
j other stray articles of that description
were hung ; and as I reached the landing
\ I was attracted by the motion of one of
these, a cloak, I believe it was. 1 thought
I remember, that the lobby window must
be open, and that a breeze from it shook
the garment. 1 turned to see, and then, at
a loss to understand what it could be, I was
about to move into the recess itself to ex
amine more closely, when I became routed
to the spot on observing quite distinctly
the outline of a figure draped iu a dark,
heavy wrap of Mrs. Osborne's ; it seemed
i to me as if he must have hurriedly folded
it round him, probably on hearing mv step,
. fur it was clumsily managed. One foot
projected, quite uncovered, and I at once
recognized a peculiar kind of boot that "I
had noticed on the peddler when in the hall
during the day. 1 know not how 1 kept
from instantly betraying the startling dis
covery by a loud scream ; my heart leaped
to iny throat, but 1 gained sufficient com
mand over myself to pass on into my room,
and after a moment's delay, returning, 1
went down, with as litt e appearance of
haste as I could manage, though with a
. creeping shudder as I passed by the spot
where tiie robber was hidden. Near the
foot of the stairs I met Susan corning up.
Laying my hand on her arm I whispered,
" Come with me ''
Unfortunately my pale face so alarmed
her that in a lotnl voice she cried, " Lord !
Miss Maggie, what is it ?"
Instantly there was a rustling soun<l
overhead, and a man's step. 1 had but
time to shriek out, "The peddler is up
stairs ; run, Susan, run J" and flinging
down the candle, 1 flew to the front-door,
opened it, and dashing out in the darkness,
rushed with frantic speed down the Laurel
Walk to get assistance from the lodge. I
had not advanced half a dozzen yards be
fore 1 heard the heavy tread, with its crunch-'
iug sound, on the gravel of the avenue, in I
as I conjectured, rapid pursuit; this aug
menting peril led me, of course, to strain '
every energy to the utmost in pressing on,
and J soon had the satisfaction of hearing J
my pursuer dart into the plantations, for
the noise of the branches being broken and
pushed aside conveyed to me this welcome '
assurance. Possibly,as i afterward thought,
he never meant to follow rne, nor knew at
all which way I had gone, for the night
was intensely dark, but may have been
only Concerned in effecting Lis escape after
he had been detected. I found lirien, the
gardener, at the gate lodge, and another
workman with him, and brought them back
as rapidly as possible to the house, for I
felt anxious about poor Husan, knowing
the fright she must be in. We discovered
her shut up in the coal vault, hall dead
with fear. Mrs. Osborne's arrival in the
midst of our consterntion was a relief to all,
and nothing could e<|ual my aunt's distress
when she learned what had happened and
the alarm to which we had been subjected
Even Parks looked grave and uneasy, and
himself that evening suggested the prop
erty of removing from the house any thing
that might be a boit to plunderers 1 could
see that Aunt Osborne was relieved from
some concern at this proposal emanating
from the butler himself ; she had arranged,
she told me in the course of the evening, to
convey all our valuables of every kind to
Mr. Gregory ; and it was a great comfort,
she said, that Parks had now advised tin
-1 same, for it made all matters smooth, We
both concluded that the attempt made by
: this pretended peddler was what Father
Malachi meant in his private warning ; and,
terrified as I had been by the trying adven
! ture that had just occurred, 1 went to bed
more at ease that night, as the vague alarm
' which the priest's letter had excited was
' now to a great degree set at rebt and 1
| was further consoled by finding that my
aunt was more dispsed to the arrangement
that 1 had for some time urged—the mov
ing into the town for the winter months.
The next day proved one of determined,
ceaseless wet. We had intended carrying
the lodgement to be made with Mr. Gregory
into M that morning, but as well from
the weather as at Parks's suggestion it
was deferred til! the succeeding day. It
would be well, he said, to give all the sil
ver a thorough cleaning before it was laid
by, and he could do that in a few hours
easily.
Notwithstanding the heavy rain -Parks
repaired to M—— to give the authorities
a description of the peddler (which lie got
first accurately from rue and Susan), and
to try and ascertain if he had any others
connected with him, for he strenuously
maintained that the fellow wasn't single
handed in whatever he was after, but must
be one of a gang. It was mid-day before
the butler returned, and when he did he
called at once for Susan, to tell her that he
had met a messenger on his way, from her
home (it was about five miles distant, at
the foot of a neighboring mountain), with
the intelligence that her mother was dying
—" A'most off," he said, "Susy, she was ;
! and that she implored you, for the love of
i God, to go to her, not to lose a moment,
for his word was she was just on the hinges."
The announcement of this sad impending
catastrophe affected tho poor girl, as may
be supposed, with the greatest sorrow; the
house resounded with her sobs and moans.
We made her up with all the coats and
mufflers she could wear ; Parks a-sured
her that he'd look after every thing of her
work that was necessary, and with sym
pathetic tears Aunt Osborne and 1 saw her
off upon her mournful errand.
For the remaining hours of daylight my
aunt and Parks were busied over the differ
ent articles of silver that were being pack-,
ed into a large plate-chest, in preparation
for their removal on the succeeding day,
and we were, I think, a little later titan us
ual at dinner in consequence We had
scarcely dined, I know, when we were con
siderably startled by a loud, impetuous,and ,
incesant knocking at the door, and we
were astonished when the angry claimant '
for admission turned out to be Susan back 1
again. I saw that Parks looked greatly
disconcerted—in fact, quite agitated, on
her entrance : while, without ceremony,
not even restrained by the presence of, or .
a feeling of respect for her mistress, she
assailed him with extreme bitterness for i
what she termed " his sending her off in i
the wet upon a fool's errand. Nothing in j
life, ma'am, the matter with her. I met 1
Tom, that's my brother, coining forenenst 1
ine down # the hill, and she never was better. !
You had a purpose in it,you old black thief
you," she exclaimed in a rage, " I don't be- :
lieve you ever met any one who told you
she was ill Come, tell us ; who was it. !
now ? What was he like ? Oh, I have had j
a talk about you since, I can tell you ; 110 j
matter and the aggrieved girl ended a j
yet longer onset than I have attempted to
describe,and that no interruption or remon
strance on our part could stop, by bursting
into tears. I cautiously watched Park's 1
countenance during this stormy scene. At |
first he seemed frightened, but 'hat soon ,
yielded to an expression of pent-up fury -
that horrified me by its violence : before 1
nor since I never saw any thing so fiendish. 1
A wild gleam shot from his eyes, and they
glared like a cat's in the dark; large drops •
gathered on his dark forehead; his heaving
chest emitted gasps like the ominous growl- 1
ing of an angry beast ; while his white !
teeth were pressed down in t > tiie thick un
der l;p until the blood came. I thought at
the moment that he would have done some
fearful deed on the spot. I had heard of;
his once before* being similarly excited,and
that those who witnessed it said " they
wouldn't like to have a hand in aggrava
ting blacky;" but 1 had no idea of the reality.
Aunt Osborne insisted on Susan's going
early to bed. She dosed her with h it drinks
and other cold preventatives, for the poor
girl had been thoroughly saturated from
the rain.
For a long time after tea that evening
we sat silently at our work in the drawing
room. I could think of nothing but the ter
rible face of the black. I felt that it would
be painfully impressed upon me as long as
I lived. I was silent, too ; for at least dur
ing this day, if not before, a kind of unde
fined apprehension that I scarce liked to
express had been creeping over rue that
Parks was a man not to be trusted. Now,
since dinner, the vague feeling had gather
ed strength : a phantom, so to speak, sud
denly assumed a bodily form ; aud yet the
sickening alarm that the idea gave rise to
was such that T tried to dismiss it from my
thoughts us altogether groundless, but I
could not. Even silence about it now was
becoming oppressive. 1 looked up from my
work; my dear companion at the other side
of the table was at some embroidery that
seemed to try her sight too much as she
leaned close over it. and I noticed a shade
of troubled anxiety disturbed that usually
sweet, serene lace.
" Aunt," I said, suddenly, "did it ever at j
all occur to yon," and I hesitated to try and |
shape my unpleasant thought in less un- j
pleasant words, "that—that—Parks is not (
' worthV of the trust jou lepose in him ?"
" What makes you say so?" she replied, 1
j hurriedly, dropping the work from lier hand I
' and looking nervously up at me.
" I can hardly tell you," I rejoined. " 1
; don't like what I have seen for days back
1 can't help suspecting something wrong, '
thougn I don't well know what, about this 1
j matter of .Susan's ; hut what influences me !
most now is the awful look he had at the
; time at dinner that she attacked him. You
j did not see it, but 1 never can forget it ;
i and I tell you u hat, aunt," I continued, "it
lias pressed strongly on my tnind more than
j once to-day that, in the priest's uote, the
covert allusion was to him."
" Well, hut you know, Parks being a
Protestant might have biased his mind.even
i if he die refer to him "
"Oh, depend upon it," 1 rejoined, " relig
i ion, one way or the;other, had nothing to
i do with it.
My aunt seemed lost in thought for a few
j moments. " Very true," sh<- said at last,
with a deep sigh. "He has hitherto hin
. dered me, I almost thought strangely, in
j sending away the plate. Curious, too, lie
drew ail his money out of the bunk. 1
heard this only yesterday, and I fancy that
Mr. Gregory suspects him. To tell you the
honest truth, Maggie, I have not felt very
unfortable about him myself for the last
pei* Annum, in Advance.
week, though till this moment I hardly al
lowed myself to entertain the thought.
Please God, come what may, we'll be of!
into M at once."
" 1 wish we were safe there this very
night 1" 1 almost unconsciously ejaculated.
I had scarce cxprsssed the wish, uttered
in a low voice, when we were both sudden
ly terrified by the sound of a cry. I ; ap
peared to be at a distance, but had a kind
of muffled or smothered tone Wherever
it was, it was like the last wild utterance
of some creature in mortal anguish, and
sounded fearfully in the stillness of the night.
" Oh ! what's that ?" said my aunt,bound
ing up.
1 rose from iny seat, too petrified to say
a word. We stood listening with blanched
faces,but not another sound or stir reached
us, and in a few moments Frisk, a small ,
dog, gave a half growl, half bark under
the window.
" Oh, there !" I said, with a deep breath
of relief ;"I know what it was. Frisk af
ter a rabbit, I'll engage. 1 heard just such
a cry, I'm sure, the other day from one that
he killed in the walk ; and, of course, it
was more startling at this hour."
" Perhaps it was," rejoined my aunt. " It
certainly seemed to be outside ; but, dear,
it sounded so awful !"
We remained awhile longer at our work,
more quieted, though still not altogether at
! ease.
" Look, Maggie," said my aunt. "I want
, to run up for a bit of thread to finish this,
and then I think we'll go to bed, for 1 du
! elate I'm in a tremor since we heard that
1 noise."
" Yes,and 1 must sleep with you to-night,"
I said, "for 1 should be afraid to stay alone,
and your door .in the only one in the house,
I think, that has both lock and key. 1 was
thinking the other day that there was not
another spot, above or below, that one can
lock themselves up in, if they required it."
" You are right, child, I believe," rejoin
ed my aunt, laughing ; "however, if we go
to M , it will not be worth while to get
any thing done to them at present."
" It' indeed !" 1 said,ma kind of soliloquy,
as she left the room.
I don't know how long Aunt Osborne
was absent. I was pondering so deeply
upon the occurrences of the past day or two
and wondering what might be the result,
that I was not aware of her return, and
did not notice her coming back into the
apartment until the light of the candle fell
upon the work 1 stiil held in my hand,though
1 had nut put in a stitch for several minu
tes, and I turned to say.something. ."-hull
I ever forget her appearance ! I rose from
my chair, g-azing at her, transfixed with
horror. Her face was white like snow ;
even her lips wore the pallor of death, and
she trembled so, that only I caught her I
think she would have fallen. She seemed
trying to speak, but her tongue refused to
utter an articulate word. 1 felt my own
face growing as ghastly as hers; I took the
caudle from her nerveless hand, and almost
forced her into the seat that 1 had vacated.
' For mercy's sake," I whispered, " what
is it ; tell me ; what have you seen ?" 1
reached from the table a tumbler of water
that had been left there for some medicine
that I was to take for my cold, and made
her swallow two or three sups.
" Oh, Maggie !" she at last gasped out,
"'tis all true —Parks," and she shook from
head to foot, "he's above, behind my bed ;
'tis pushed a little flown from the wall ; 1
saw him first by the reflection in the brok
ing-glass, and then, for fear of a mistake—
I don't know how 1 got courage—l looked
more closely at the bed and saw him plain
ly through an opening in the back curtain,
with a kniie or some sharp thing in his
hand, lie means to murder us most surely."
1 tried, on my poor aunt's account, to nerve
inyselt up, though aghast at tiiis appalling
intelligence.
" Are you certain,''l asked--and how un
naturally hollow my whispering voice sound
eu!- "that he does not suspect you saw him?"
" JSG,I got strength at the moment,some
how, ami walked quietly from tin? room; hut
oil, Maggie, what are we to do ?"
" We must," said I, bracing myself for
this fearful emergency, " first of all gently i
wake up Susan, and then try, all three, and j
get out the door and oil' before he finds out
that he's discovered. \\ here are the keys ?"
Great goodness ! they had been taken up,
we then remembered, as was the custom j
every night, and left in a small basket on a
table in mv aunt's room.
Sure I saw it there," she exclaimed,
"and the table you know,is just by the tied;
but 1 forgot in my fright what it was, and
all about it. .Now there is no earthly hope i
left ; we can't possibly escape from the !
hi'use ; the windows are barred, the doors
aie locked, and the keys up close to where !
that fearful wretcii is lurking."
" 1 fear, indeed, dear aunt," I exclaimed, 1
bursting into tears, and throwing my arms
rouud her, "that our destruction is inevit
able." And I shook with convulsive but i
suppressed sobs.
" Lfon't, don't, my poor darling child J" i
said my beloved relative soothingly, now 1
aroused and'excited by the violence of my ,
emotion. ' There is Une who can help us |
it* tlie last extremity ; let us ask Him." j
And with our arms encircling one another
we sank upon our knees, while Aunt Os
borne uttered a few trembling broken pe
titions, in a whispered hut earnest voice.
\\ e rose strengthened and encouraged.
" Better," 1 said, "to call* up poor Susan.
If it comes to a last struggle, three togeth
er might do something; you'll not be afraid
to stay here if 1 slip down to her ?"
" No, dear," she answered ; "you know
he has no idea that we suspect any thing,
and he'll be quiet for a while."
I stole softly out, and down thp stairs to
the basement : the room which the house
maid occupied, and the cook with her when
bhe was at home, was in a remote part of
the house, off a passage at the other side
of the kitchen ; while the man's apartment
was at the opposite extreme end of the low
er story. 1 passed quickly on, and opening
the door, called out in a Low tone, "Susan,
Susan ?" There was no reply, Going up
to the bed, lie; lias covered herself up in
the quilt," 1 muttered ; "poor thing,she was
so tired and sleepy ; how tossed, though,
all the clothes are !" 1 drew down the cov
erlet Useless to try and describe the sight
that met me, the icy chill 1 felt ; she had
been barbarously murdered ! A haudker
' chief or string of some kind was tied to
tightly round the throat that it had out the
skin,tlie eyes were protruding with a glassy
stajc, and a frothy mucus covered the part
<>< l litis ■; both haMs were douched, as in
the last agony. TJiat there had been a
fierce struggle was evident, as well from
the disordered state of the bed-c'othes as
that one of the shut hands contained a wooly
curl that I knew must have been torn in
the conflict from the murderer's head. The
coldness and rigidty of death were already
creeping over her frame. "Poor trnfortunate
girl 1" I groaned out as 1 staggered
against the wall, "this wan the cry we
heard." In some strange way the sight of
that disfigured corpse imparted a sudden
and almost unnatural courage. "God help
ing me, I'll thwart this ruffian yet," 1 said,
"and there's no time to be lust ; my poor,
kind-liearted Susan !" I reverently drew
the <|uilt again over the dead discolored
face ; and, with a firmer tread than I had
entered, left the room. " Let me see," I
said, " I must try and not tell aunt yet,"
and when I returned," On second thoughts,"
said I, " 1 have determined not to waken
Susan a while, ut all events till we see
what may be done ; she would be sure to
cause some disturbance in her fright."
" Oh, nonsense," aunt whispered, " 1
won't have the creature perhaps murdered
in her ben without knowing or hearing a
word ; come, I'll go to her myself."
"Stop, aunt," I said, "you must not."
"Why ? Oh, Maggie, is there anything
more ?"" For she saw the agitation that 1
could not conceal.
"No use," said 1, "in concealing it; he
has murdered her already ; we have but
our own safety now to think of." I dread
ed the effect of this intelligence upon one
who was already so entirely unnerved by
our terrible position ; she sank back into
her seat, and folded her hands with a look
of passive despair.
NUMBER 20.
" Poor thing !" she murmured, " I sup
pose she lias only preceded us a little."
" Look now, dear aunt," and I knelt down
beside her chair, and my voice was wonder
fully steady and strong, '' I am resolved on
one last effort for our lives. I'll just go up
this moment and see if I can't get into that
room and bring out the keys without his
hearing me, and then we might readily es
cape. See, it is our sole chance."
Aunt Osborne shook her head, and seem
ed incredulous as to my ever succeeding.—
I saw with fresh concern that a kind of
apathetic stupor was stealing over her,and
I dreaded that she might get a fit.
" Gome, courage," I said ; " (rod will not
forsake us. I'm quite certain that I shall
succeed."
Slipping off my shoes and folding my
dress round my shoulders, so as to be less
impeded, I literally enpt up stairs, advanc
ing with extreme care, lest the creaking of
a board, or the slightest sound, might iudi
• cate my approach. W hen 1 reached the
' lobby, I stood by the cloak-hole, as we cal
led it, already referred to, for some mo
ments, to listen, but there was not the least
sound; then with, if possible, a yet more
stealthy movement, I went on to the door
! of the room, and again stopped, scarcely
daring to draw breath for fear of arousing
Park's suspicions. 1 had felt marvelously
firm and nerved up to this, but now that 1
was actually on the threshold of the apart
ment where the assassin was, the full cons
ciousness of the impending danger came
with such force that 1 felt the rapid beat
of my heart, and my limbs shook so that I
had to lean for support akuinst the wall.—
1 again called up the tragedy below, that
had imparted such a feeling of indignation
as to quell the overpowering nervousness
that had preceded it. I passed my hand
gently along the door, which was half open,
to ascertain if by anj chance the key might
be on the outside, and to my great joy I
unexpectedly found it was ; surely, I
thought, a most merciful providence that
it happened to be so. Somewhat reassur
ed by this discovery, I went on into the
room. Here i assumed a stooping posture,
fearful lest a possible gleam from the win
dow, falling on my full height, might do
mischief, 1 had now, of course, need of the
utmost caution ; an unguarded stir, a sud
den encounter with any article of furniture
and w'e were ruined. T<> provide against
the latter peril, I kept swaying one arm
gently round rne, treading step by step,
more, as 1 afterward thought, like a person
picking his way through some morass, and
carefully feeling every foothold for fear of
sinking. At last 1 reached the small table;
there in a momentary pause I heard from
the bed a heavy breath, an inarticulate
mutter, accompanied by a restless move
ment. 1 stretched out my Viand quickly,
too quickly in the intense eagerness to
clutch the basket with the keys, and turned
it jover with a loud rattle. To grasp them
ail with one desperate effort, to turn and
ilv, regardless of silence now, and to drag
the door after me and turn the key, all was
the work of an instant. The relief with
which I felt 'he key turn and heard the
lock click may be better hnagined than
described. As rapidly as my feet could
i carry me 1 hurried down to my aunt, with
presence of mind enough, however, to seize
the garment that came first to hand, from
j where they were hung,as 1 passed the place
on tlie lobby, with which to protect my
j poor old relative against flic night air 1
could hear as 1 deceaded the stairs, the
wretched assassin making the most vigor
ous, but ineffectual, efforts to force his
way out, but in the hall, as I was wrap
ping my aunt up in tlie cloak that I had
| brought, we heard the window above let
1 down, and at once a long, low, peculiar
whistle. " Quick," I exclaimed, seizing bv
' the arm my half-scared companion, who
1 could scarce be persuaded that the hopa of
' extrication now open to us was a reality,
"we must go by the back-door and out the
j little wicket at the other side of the yard ;
1 the fellow evidently has accomplices out
! side, ami we have not done with danger
t yet." It was no easy matter to get poor
| Aunt Osborn on ; she was in so great a
I tremor that her limbs all but failed. Wo
I got, however,to the yard, and out the small
I door, locking each after us, and so, avoid
ing the Laurel Walk, as the most probable
place where the others might he watching
l or concealed,we ran on up the front avenue,
and this it was 1 am sure that saved us ;
for those in the plot who were outside, con
cluding, I suppose, that would endeavor to
reach the gate lodge UR a natural refuge,
remained posted at that end of the house,
i By the same favoring Providence that had
so tar conducted os, a company of soldiers,
with two officers and a magistrate, were
j passing the gate as we reached it upon
some night patrol. L knew the latter gen
tleman, who lived in the town, and iustant
i ly informed him and the officers of what had
occurred. A picked number of the men
, were dispatched to scour the plantations,
and try and secure as many ol the gang as
" they could find ; while some more repaired
; to the house. N'or was it till after a long
, and fierce resistance that Bark's himself
' was finally captured. The pedlar was also
i apprehended, found hidden in the shrub
i berv. Parks and the pedlar both expiated
■ their guilt on the gallows, and suffered tlie
- last penalty of the law at a cross-road close
t by Blaekwater Lodge, that for a long peri
i' oil alter was —and for aught 1 can tell may
• still ho pulled Park's Gross. And thus it
* i came to pass that iu less than a week sub-
J sequent to the terrors oftliat dreadful night,
r i my hair, that had been before black like the
■ raven's wing, was white as the driven snow