North Branch democrat. (Tunkhannock, Pa.) 1854-1867, February 03, 1864, Image 1

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    HARVEY SlCKljßn,Proprietor.]
JtortJf f caitcji pfiiifltrat.
A weekly Democratic _ -r
paper, devoted to Pol- ~~ *J_
Hies, News, the Arts _ 1I
%ad Sciences Ac. Pub- 5 rti'--. - ? S~7.
fished every Wednes- x
<-iay, at Tunkhannock, T\|J r
Vyoming County, Pa. ~J \ v U ( '
"Terms —l copy 1 year, (in advance) 51.50. If
aot pain within six months, $2.00 will be charged
10 lines or j 1 !
less, make three j four j tiro three ) six one
one square weeks' weeks mo'th mo'Hi mo'ih year
1 Square 1.00 1,251 2,25: 2,8" 3,00 5,00
2 do. 2,00; 2,50; 3.25 3.501 4,50; 6,00
3 do. 3,00- 3,75; 4,75; 5,50; 7,00" 9,00
J Column. 4,00; 4,50; 6,50; 8.00:10,00:15,00
do. 6.00 7,00; 10,00 12.00; 17.00 25.00
do. 8,00; 9,50; 14.00 18,00 25,00 35.00
I do 10,00; 12,00 17,00 22,00,28,00 40,00
Business Cards of one square, with paper, S3.
of all kinds neatly executed, and at prices to suit
the times.
fiusiitess fMins.
BACON STAND.—Nicholson, Pa. C. I.
Jacksox, Proprietor. [vln49tf]
Tunkhannock, Pa. Office in Stark's Brick
Block, Tioga street.
fice in Stark's Brick Block, Tioga St., Tunk
hannock, Pa.
LAW, Office on Tioga street, Tunkhannock
• Office on Bridge Street, next door to the Demo
crat Office, Tunkhannock, Pa.
• Newton Centre, Luzerne County Pa.
I>R. .T. C- BECKER V Co.,
Would respectfully announce to the citizens of Wy
ming that they have located at Tunkhannock yyher
hey will promptly attend to all calls in the line of
neir profession. May be found at his l)rug Staro
when not professionally absent.
JMi CAREY, M. I), — (Graduate of the 3
• M. Institute, Cincinnati) would respectfully
nnnounce to the citizens of Wyoming and Luzerne
Counties, that he continues his regular practice in the
various departments of his profession. May no found
at his office or residence, when not professionally ab
'PIT' Particular attention given to the treatment
Chronic Diseas.
entremorelaud, Wyoming Co. Pa.—\2ti2
THIS establishment hag recently been refitted and
furnished in the latest style. Every attention
will be given to the comfort and convenience of those
who patronize the House.
T. B. WALL, Owner and Proprietor.
Tunkhannock, September 11, 1861.
JOHN MAYNARI), Proprietor.
HAVING taken the Hotel, in the Borough of
Tunkhannock, recently occupied by Riley
Warner, the proprietor respectfully solicits a share ot
public patronage. The House has been thoroughly
repaired, and the comforts and accomodations of a
first class Hotel, will be found by all who may favor
t with their custom. September 11, 1861.
Wm. H. CORfRIGHT, Prop'r
HA\ ING resumed the proprietorship of the above
Hotel, the undersigned will spare no effort to
vender the bouse an agreeable place ot sojourn for
*ll who may favor it with their custom.
June, 3rd, 1863
pans fflutrt,
f Late ot the Bbrai.naud llocse, Elmira, N. Y.J
The MEANS HOTEL, is one of the LARGEST
and BEST A URANGEI) Houses in the country—lt
ds fitted up in the most modern and improved style,
and no pains are spared to make it a pleasant and
agreeable stopping-place for all,
v 3, n2l, ly.
M GILMAN, has permanently located in Tunk
• hannock Borough, and respectfully tenders his
if rofesebnal services to the citizens of this place and
urrounding country.
Office over Tutton's Law Office, aearXh e Pos
Dec. 11,1861.
restored to health in a few days, after undergoing all
he usual routme and irregular expensive modes of
treatment without success, considers it his sacred du
ty to communicate to his afflicted iellow creatures
, CUr6 u He T' oD , the of an ad-
J nVeiop !' wn £ (free) a copy of the
. JJirect toFr Johk M . Dagkali.,
* UUb Street, Brooklyn, New York. v2n24ly
tint iiiirs mi.
A complimentary and ( in their way Sym
pathizing throng were assembled in the room
where old Kitty Clark lay dying. Dying
now, there was no doubt. The wolf, so often
cried causelessly during the few preceeding
years of her long life, was at last growling at
the door. From this attack it was certain
she would not recover.
She herself was aware of it. The hand of
lune, which was crushing her into her grave
which had stolen from her all the vigor of life
leaving her like a dry sapless tree, had not
quenched the active mind and dauntless spirit
which for seventy years she had possessed.
She well knew she was dying. It was un
derstood that she had made a will, which
was lo lged in the hands of Mr. Crocks, who
as merchant, and member of the
council,* was undoubtedly the proper person
to have charge of a document of such import
ance. Great curiosity was felt and many
now beneath Kittys roof hoped to get from
her, or those who nursed her, some intelli
gence as to what the will contained. But
she had made no confidants; and as evening
drew on, she had fallen into an apparent stu
por, irom which she only awoke by sudden
starts, when she would utter a groan of pain,
or occasionally a word or two of prayer.
\ ery strange, t > the unaccustomed eyes,
would iiave been the scene, lit up by the red
glow of the fire of bark and pine-wood blazing
on the broad hearth ; fur though the season
was May, the night-air was chill, and the
rough log walls by no means forbade its en
trance. In one corner was the bed, where
lay the invalid, uncurtained and unscreened ;
while on and around it were the two or
three women at present in office as nurses,
one holding a flaring candle, another a spoon
and phial, while a third supported the pillows
on her arm. Filling the rest of the room,
were about a dozen female figures, among
whom the seven ages of woman might have
been sought and found, Ironi the infant in the
cradle to the crone of threescore and ten.
There was the child creeping on the floor, in
charge of one just emerging from childhood ;
young girls in freshness and beauty ; by the
fireside, a young mother fondling her first
born with exultant pride, as she talked to the
sedate matron who watched Abe gruel sim
mering on the glowing cuuls; while the old
women compared notes as to the death-beds
they had attended and the funerals they had
seen. The men .were mostly gatho.ed in
the "stoop" outside, hut the masculine ele
ment was not entirely wanting within; it was
represented by old Silas Doyle, who had " the
gift of grace " and had come to pray with the
invalid ; and handsome Martin Foyle, leaning
over the shoulders of pretty Amarylla Doll
man, who looked up in his face with such a
languishing expression in her great soft eyes.
Each and a'l felt for Kitty, and would have
aided her by any means in their power, hut
their sympathy did not in the least prevent
their attending to their own affairs; mr did
any seem to remember that as she was now.
so they all in their turn must be the peculiar
hum of many voices speaking low sounded in
the room, frhile over all the red fire shed a
lurid light, and cast fantastic shadows on the
smoky walls,
Now and then, the creaking door would
open, and give entrance to some fresh visitor,
and the crazy floor would rock under even a
careful tread, as the new comer advanced to
the bed, held the candle so as to throw the
light on the sick woman's face and made
audible remarks on her appearance, ard the
change for the worse perceptible since the
last visit. It was Saturday evening, and the
week's work was done and put away ; this
accounted for the unusual gathering, where
there were generally only those who were
needed or had nothing to do at home ; but
all were now free to make inquiries and to in
dulge, at a common rendezvous, in a little
friendly chat. Kitty's was not the only sick
room in Orocksville ; Abel Blunt's wife was
almost given over, and was, moreover a very
interesting case as she was delirious ; the in
terest was therefore somewhat divided, but
Kitty's was the favorite resort. Abel Blunt
lived in a substantial house with various
rooms, and only a privileged few were ad
mitted to the presence of the invalid ; but
Kitty Clark's one roomed shanty, where the
visitor had nothing to do but to open the
door and walk in gave free access to all.
Let us listen to some of the scraps of con
versation, and learn how matters stand in
Crocksvil'e, such having been the name giv
en the place when it arrived at the dignity of
posssseing a post office, and received a name
all. First, let us take Martin Foyle, who
is whispering in low tones to Amarylla : " So
)ou think there's no chance he'll change his
mind Am'rilly dear ?"
'• Not a bit. lie wouldn't let Nelly marry
Robert till he had a farm of his own, and
he won't let me. We'll have to wait a while
" I s'pose we must; but it's awful hard to
have patience."
" Well w'er both young, and we can afford
* The scene of this story is laid in Canada
Besides, you'll have tune to consider wheth
er you'll change your mind. Better bsfore,
than after."
The reply to this woman-liks and aggrava •
ting speech is lost in the remark of Bella
Jones ; "I guess she won't go, over it this
"It's hard to say," replied Mrs. Jackson,
to whom she had spoken. "My mother used
to havejust such turns, and she lived to be
" I wonder who she's left the farm to"
pursued Miss Jones.
"Neither you nor me, I guess. It,ll be sure
to go to some one as don't, want it. Crocks-
II get it, I slmuldnt wonder, because he's
rich already."
"How's Abel blunt's wife to day ?" asked
Mrs. Sands, interrupting Mrs. Jackson's sar
castic observations.
" Awful bad. They had two doctors there
"She's violent, I heard," said another.—
" They had to shave her head, to keep her
from tearing out her hair."
" I heard it was rheumatic fever but it
don't seem like it."
" No," said Mis, Sands, 'taint that. They
give her too much opium, and it set her kind
o' wild."
"My opinion is," said Silas Doyle, joining
in from his seat at the bed head, "that she's
under conviction. Her symptoms is all that
" Anyhow, she's in awful suffering," said
Mrs. Sands.
" Ah ! " rejoined Silas, with a shake of the
head, " its a blessed thing to be under convic
tion cf sin."
Considering the proofs adduced, some peo
ple might have been sceptical as to the bless
edness of Mrs. Blunt's condiiton, but no one
present expressed a doubt on the point. As
if roused by the sounds familliar to every
Methodist ear, the dying woman stirred, and
muttered some words, of which " Ilelp me
save me," were alone audible.
" She's been that way all day," whispered
.Mrs. Green, the nurse with the candle, to
Mrs. Sands, " praying whenever she was sen
sible or in most pain."
"Ah! "returned Mrs. Sands, "Well,
I've no doubt it'll be all right with her, if she
is called away. She's always been a profes
" Profession and practice don't always go
together, muttered Mrs. Jones over the gru
el saucepan. ,
Ilere Kitty again spoke, and Mrs. Green
bent down to listen. " Her mind's running
on the Scriptures; she's saying something
about Jephthah's daughter.
Mrs. Jones and another woman exchanged
glances across the hearth, and both t-hook
their heads- "Ah ! " said Mrs. Jones, "taint
the Scriptures she's thinking of when she
talks of Jephth.vs daughters."
" What else ? said rosy little Mrs. Blake ,a
new corner to Crocksville, restraining a sud
den leap of her infant towards the blaze.
Mrs. Jones looked up. " Did you never
hear ?,, she asked in a low tone.
"Do tell! I never heard a mention of any
Mrs. Jones lowered her voice to a solemn
whisper, and began her tale.
" There aint many left here that remem
bers what happened over thirty years ago:
I was a lump of a girl then, about fourteen or
so, and one of the first things I remember is
old Kitty Clark and her husband. They al
ways lived just here, in this shanty ; I dont
believe there's been a morsel done to it since
it was built, and it's fit to tumble down.—
She was always a queer 6ort o' body. I've
heard my mother say that if you went in
when she was setting the taple, she'd
clear the things right off agin, and pretend
she was washing the dishes, just as if she
was afraid you'd want to eat with her : and
if her man or the boys (she had two then)
come in, she'd keep them waiting till you
was gone, she was that cur'ous and secret
Sam Clark, her husband, was a shift
less sort o' man ; not that he wasn't fond
enough o'money.or didnt try to make it,
but he wasn't fond o' hard work, and had a
turn for tradin' and speculating and when a
man's that way, instead o' stickcn' to his
work regular, the money goes faster than it
comes. They never got on. They worked
this land on shares, and kept on year after
year, and didn't seem to improve, till the
boys was big enough to leave home, and they
went off to work on their own hook.
" Well, of course, thirty years ago this
place was a sight different from what it is
now ; there was no store then within fifteen
miles, and the roads was bad, so we was de
pcndin' on pedlers for the most part of the
things we wanted. They used to come
round regular—the grocery pedler, and the
dry goods peddler, and tinman (he carried
hardware mostly too,) and others besides,
just as they do now, only a deal oftcner, and
their stocks was twice as good. They was
always a familiar sort o' men, and they
brought the news of the town they came
from, so people was generally glad to see
them. They used to stop for the night at
the last house they got to after dark, and pay
for their board in some article of their trade
when they was going way.
" I recollect one of them, by the name of
Jephthah Murney. lie came from Williams-
burg, and dealt in jewelry and such like trash
I didnt think it trash in thein days, though ;
and I believe the girls thought more of Jcpli
tha's visits that? any one else's and spent
most of their savings with him. He was a
foolish kind o' man ; if he had a little money
about him, he was sure to let you know
just how much, and what he was going to do
with it. and so on, as if he wasn't quite
wise. You'd better quit that habit you've
got, of talking of your money. Jephthah,
says ray mother to him one da}-," or you'll
! chance on some one who'll save you the
trouble of carrying it! but Jephthah only
laughed, and went on just the same.
"He came the last time in January, thirty
two years ago, I mind it well, for there'd
been an awful snow storm, that had kept me
for two days and nights over at old Uncle
Jake Fitchers. When I came home on the
third evening mother told me Jephthah had
been there. Well I was real sorry to have
missed him, for I'd been reckoning on a pair
of gold ear rings he'd got, ever since his last
visit, when I hadn't money enough to buy
them ; but mother comforted me. " You can
get 'em in the morning, says she, 'for Jeph
thah calculated he wouldn't get further than
Kitty Clark's to-night, 'count 'o the drifts
bein' so bad.' Well, she kept talking of Jep
thah 'He'll be robbed some day as sure as
life,' says she. ' I never heard a man talk so
foolish as he does, to be in his right mind.—
He told tne to- day he had two hundred dol
lars on him, besides his stock, and he was
going to buy some land and leave peddling'
but he'll be r obbed first, if there's ha'porth
of roguery left in the world.
" Well the next morning bright and early I
went over to Kitty Clark's It was real cold
and I ran most of the way, as fast as I could,
for the deep snow. When I knocked at the
door, I heard a scuttery kind of noise inside,
and I had to knock again before Kitty said,
come in.' When I opened the door, she was
throwing something into a cupboard; she
had an everlasting gre on the hearth, and a
big pot over it, and there was an awful
smotherin' smell like burned feathers or
scorched woolen rags."
Here Mrs. Jones paused to stir the grnel.
Something in the last words had made Mrs.
Biake clasp her baby closer, and glance fear
fully around. *•
"Well, I looked round ," continued Mrs.
Jhnes, "but I didn't see no sign of Jephthah."
"Where's Jephthah Murney, Mrs Clark ?"
says I. "That's more'n I can tell you," says
she ; "he quit here this morning at daylight."
I was disappointed, but that wouldn't bring
him any nearer ; so I said Ed have to wait
till he came round next time. "When
Jephthah Murney comes round again, you'll
get ear rings for nothing," says Kitty:
"he's going to quit peddling, and buy a farm."
"Yes," says I ; "he told mother he had two
hundred dollars yesterday." "Well," says
she, "he didn't say here how much he had,
only just what I tell you" I didn't stay
long, for she seemed to think me in the way ;
she kept fussin' round ; but somehow she
managed to be all the time between me and
the cupboard door. Early as it was, the
floor was fresh filled off, and the place red
up as if it was afternoon.
"I guess it was four or five days after
there was an alar a raised, where was Jeph
thah Murney ? Ilis horse and cutter was
found loose on the road between this and
Hawleyburg ; but he was never seen or heard
of again. Of course, there was a great inqui
ry made, and Sam and Kity Clark, being the
last people that had seen him, were examined
very close; but they stuck to their story;
and though the shanty was searched all over ;
and up and down, nothing was found that
could show they made away with him; but
yet the notion got abroad, and for a long
time tbey were suspected. A store in Will
iamsburg was robbed of about two hundred
dollars a few days before Jephthah's last
trip, and some thought he done it, and abscon
ded to the states. Maybe he did ; but it's
allays been my opinion, and a good many
others' too, that if he did hook the money,
he never carried it further than Kitty Clark's.
I don't know why, but it always rested on
my mind the look of the shanty on that morn
ing; the scuttery noise, fresh-washed floor,
and the awful suffocatin' smell.
"It turned out that Jephthah had left one
child, a girl about twelve years old. All he
had was on him and the child was destitute.
She boarded with a woman who used her
very bad, and one day that old Andrew Foyle
went to Williamsburg, he took pity on,her —
and brought her back as abound girl. She
was a pretty child, if it hadn't been for a
scared look in her eyes, but she, grew out of
that; and when she was about nineteen,
Andrew's son, Martin, took a fancy to hor.—
She was a smart girl; so Andrew made no
objection to the match, and she made a good
wife for the little time she lived. She was
very like her son Martin there, carrying on
that way with Am'rilly Dollman."
"That'll be a match some day, I shouldn't
wonder," said Mrs. Blake.
"'Twould have been before this, if Martin
had a farm of his own - but while he lives
with his father, old Dollman won't allow it."
"Ajid so nothing was ever heard of the
peddler ?"
"Not a word. The Clarks got on some
better lor a while. They seemed to have
money, which looked queer, seeing how poor
they'd always been ; and tbey bought this
farm. But then everything went wrong:—
the two boys died—one was killed by a tree
falling on him, and Sam had a stroke which
kept him to his bed for the rest of his life—
which wasn't long. lie was out of his head
at the end, and Kitty never let any one near
him but herself. Since he died, she has lived
alone, and shared the land. It's good land—
and I should think she must have saved mon
ey. I wonder who she's left it to."
"Young Martin, perhaps."
I guess not. She always had a sing'lar dis
like to his mother. May be, her conscience
told her why. No: it's more likely to be
Am'rilly Dollman. She took a fancy to her
when she was a child, and kept to it."
" Well, it'll come to pretty much the same
thing which has it, so as one of them gets it,"
remarked Mrs. Blake.
A sudden stir in the corner made all look
towards the bed. The invalid had opened
her eyes, and raised hdrself, unaided, on her
arm; for a moment or two she gazed round
on the assemblage, as if not understanding
their unwonted presence; then she broke out
into a laugh, harsh and loud: "Aha!" she
cried in a shrill voice, "they looked every
where but in the right place! Up and down
up chamber and down cellar, but they neve
thought of the north wall !" and sunk back
A kind of shudder ran through the spec
"My! ain't that awful?" said Bella Jones
while pretty Amarylla shrunk, as if for pro
tection, a little closer to Martin Foyle, and
the nurses' attention becatno absorbed in
their charge. She, however, had again sub
sided into stupor, and 6aid no more.
"She'll go off that way," said Mrs. Green.
"She may linger awhile, but she'll sleep her
life out so. And now, as it's getting late, I
think I'il clear out."
Ths clock, indeed; by this tim announced
that it was a most dissipated hour for the
inhabitants of Crocksville; nothing but the
agreeable feeling that on Sunday morning
there was no occasion for waking with the
daylight, would have kept them so long from
their rest. All now departed except the
watchers for the night, and the shanty was
left to comparative quiet and repose.
No one was surprised the next morning to
hear that Kitty Clark was dead. She had
never moved or spoken since the demonstra
tion that had so alarmed her visitors the pre
ceding evening, which had evidently been the
last effort of expirating nature. "She just
went out like the snuff of a candle," Mrs
Joces remarked to those who came with in
quiries and offers of assistance. That lady
had taken on herself the office of superin
ending the preperations for the funeral, and
was arrayed in her robes of state, a black
silk gown," which," as she bad once observ
ed, "was the convenientest dress you cou!d
have ; it answered for eveything from a wed
ding to a funeral', the richness of the materi
al adapting it for festive occasions, and its so
ber hue rendering itasuitable garb of mourn
ing. There was considerable excitement in
Crocksville this Sunday morning; it would
perhaps be uncharitable to say the people
were glad old Kitty had depaated, but cer
tainly they were glad that there* was now
the opportunity of gratiifying the curiosity
felt by all regarding the paper in Mr. Crock's
It was a pity the contents could not have
been known on this idle day, when there
would nave been nothing to do but to discuss
them; but Mr. Crocks said " that, 'cordin' to
rule, the will hadn t t ought to be read till af
ter the funeral," and anounced his intention
of not m&King them public till the proper
time, rather enjoying, in the meanwhile, the
conciousness of doing the only person in pos
session of the secret. It was considered a
most unnecessary piece of ceremonious for
mality, however, speculation and conjecture
kept the interest alive.
It was surprising how most people found
they could leave their work, "jnst for an
hour or two," the next afternoon to attend
the funeral. Certainly, old Kitty was more
"in her ashes honored', than she had ever
been in life. As Mrs. Jones remarked; "it
was ,mazin, what folks would do for the sake
curiosity ; there was old Jim White who had
never been known off his own place for six
years ; and Sally Black had left her wash
ing half through to hear the news an hour
sooner." As old Kitty had neither kith nor
kin, every one deemed him or herself to have
a chance of the inheiitance, and a right to be
present. Whatever else she might have died
possessed of, there was, at all events the
land, more than fifty acres, in first rate con
dition ; it was a prize to be coveted ; and as
the old woman was generally considered to
have been "not quite right," no one could
tel! on what unlikely person her favor might
have fallen.
Curiosity was gratified, and patience re
warded at last. Mr. Crocks opened that im
portant paper, and read the contents aloud.
It was short, and to the purpose, as Kitty had
been wont to speak. The land was left to
Stephen Dollman, in charge for his daughter
Atuarylla till she should be of age, when it
was to be hers unreservedly; the small stock
of crazy furnature, the pig, the cow, and the
money in an old leathern purse in tho cup-
board, amounting to about fifteen dollars,
were Amarilla's at once, unconditionally ;
the house itself, stripped of everything, was
left to young Martin Foyle.
Every one was surprised' not at the first
part, for Amarilla had always been thought
rather a favorite with the old woman ; but
all wondered that she had not left more mon
ey. "She never spent much, and she ought
to have made more out of the farm." Then
the strange legacy to Martin excited univers
al astonishment; no one could see any mean
ing it, except the freak of a crazy old woman.
Kitty had known nothing of Martin ; had
hardly ever seen him , and it could scarcely
be thought she intended a joke at fits ex
pense after she was dead; yet what elso
could the bequest of the worthless old shan
ty bo considered ? Martin laughed ;he bad
expected nothing, and was not disapointed.—
Some congratulated Amarylla, and some en
vied her; while old Mr. Dollman went forth
with to inquire into the state of the fallows,
and to decide which were to be sown with
barley and which with wheat.
It soon appeared that Mrs. Blake was
wrong in her calculations. Old Mr. Dollman
evidently considered that it made a groat
difference whether Amarylla or Martin poss
essed Kitty Clark's land. With the usual
blindness of fathers, he refused to see that
the marriage was more practicable now than
it had been before, and contended (and i'
must be allowed with some reason)that the
inheritance of four log walls and a crazy roof
had in no respect advanced Martin's claim to
his daughter, who was now an heiress, and a
most desirable match for any one. The lov
ers sued in vain : the old man was not to be
moved either by reason or entreaties—
Amarylla endeavored to comfort her betroth
ed with the whispered assurance "that, as
soon as the farm was quite hers, she would
give it to him, and then"—But though there
was some consolation in this, it was not
much, for Amarylla was only nineteen, and
there were still two years of probation to be
gone through.
In the meantime the summer was advanc
ng and Martin's shanty was a coustant annoy
ance in Mr. Dollman's eyes. It was a blot
on the fair surface of the land, a wretched—
rickety eyesore, and was, moreover, very
much in the way. During the slack time
between hay and harvest, he suggested to
Martin lo pull it down, offering to perform
the work if he might use such of the logs as
were worth anything to mend the fence.—
Martin, who had almost forgotten that the
shanty was his, readily agreed to the demoli
tion, but declined to part with the logs ;
most of them were rotton and of no use, bu
some would do for a shed he was putting up
at home.
The next day he bjgan the work of de
struction. Great was the disturbance of in
sects and reptiles that had enjoyed secure re
pose for thirty years ; great was the amount
of rubbish, worm-eaten wood, cobwebs, and
dust, brought to light in the process of re
moval ; and great was the smoke that arose
from the smouldering embers of the worth
less logs. Martin and his " man" worked
two days, and but one side remained to be
pulled down—it was part of the north wall,
the only one which had been lined inside on
account, as people supposed, of its being most
exposed to the cold wind ; and as it would
be morfe trouble than the rest, it had been
left till the last. Martin was pulling off the
ragged smoky boards, when a blow of the
axe caused something to fall down inside
with a rattling sound ; another blow and the
board gave way, and there came tumbling at
Martin's feet what for a moment made him
start, Being a young man of stout nerves,
however, he examined the object, and found
it to be a worn leather yalise, which had
broken open in the fall, and from which had
escaped a paper parcel, addressed to himself,
a stained handkerchief marked " Jephthah
Murney," part of a peddler's stock of old
fashioned jewelry, and a quantity of human
The secret was discovered ; the mystery
which had puzzlod Crocksville thirty years
before was explained. Sam and Kitty had
managed their murder with more discretion
than such things are usually conducted
with, and had kept their secret well
llow much they repented, or whether they
repented, at all, could never be known
Their ill-gotten gains had prospered little in
Clark's hands, and his death, and that ofher
sons', had taken from Kitty all desire of en
joying them. Iler life's savings were con
tained in the parcel for Martin Foyle; they
amounted to seven hundred dollars, and wero
marked, " Martin Foyle, in payment of a debt
to his mother." Kitty had made reparation,
though in a strange and tardy fashion.
The discovery caused great excitement,
and furnished matter of talk and wonder for
a whole week. At the end of that time it
became known that Mr. Doliman had recon
sidered Martin's suit, and that the wedding
was to take place as soon as a house could
be put on the farm.
JG3T An Irishman lately fought a due
with his most intimate friend because he
jocosely assrted that he was born without a
shirt to his back.
£3TThedevi Iforgottospaccthisline -J&3
VOL. 3, NO. 25