VOL. XII. NEW I3LOOMFIEL33, TUESDAY, MARCH 15), 1878. NO. 12-
THE TIMES..
An Independent Family Newspaper,
IS FU13UBHBD EVERY TUESDAY BT
F. MORTIMER & CO.
8UU8U1I1PTI OJN 1 U I V K .
(wrriim THE COUNTY.
One Year tl 2
Six Months, 7S
(Ol'T 0 THE COUNTY.
One Year, (Pontage Included) II fo
.Six Months. (Postage Included) 85
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y Advertising rates furnished upon application.
gelett 'Poctiy.
LET BYGONES BE BYGONES.
Let bygones be bygones; If bygones were
clonded
By aught thai occasioned a pang of regret,
Oh, let them in darkest oblivion bo shrouded i
'Tis vrlse and 'tis kind to forgive and forget.
Let bygones be bygones, and good bo extracted
From ills over which It Is folly to fret
The wisest of mortals have foolishly acted
The kindest are those who forgive and forget.
Let bygones be bygones; oh cherish no longer
Tbe thought that the sun of affection has set:
Eclipsed for a moment, Its rays will be stronger
If you, like a Christian, forgive and forget.
Let bygones be bygones ; your heart will be
lighter,
When kindness of yours with reception has
met
The flame of your love will bo purer and
brighter,
If, Ood-llke, you Btrlve to forgive and forget.
Let bygones be bygones , oh, purge out the
leaven
Of malice, and try an example to set
To others, who craving the mercy of heaven,
Are sadly too slow to forgive and forget.
Let bygones be bygones j remember how deeply
To heaven's forbearance we all are In debt i
They value God's Infinite goodness too cheaply
Who heed not the precept, " Forgive and
forget."
The Highwayman Outwitted.
EXCHANGE NO KOU1SKRY.
DINGLE FARM was such a pretty
place. Charmingly situated at the
foot of a slope, it commanded an exten
sive view of a beautiful Kentish valley
the ground rising to a ridge of wooded
hills in the far distance.
Its steep tiled roof, covered with yel
low lichens, indicated its antiquity, and
the numerous farm-buildings, ricks and
barns, which stood around in pictur
esque confusion, marked it as wealthy
and prosperous in a language of their
own. An orchard of venerable, but not
the less full-bearing, apple and pear trees
ran up the incline behind the house;
the pasture fields were 'intersected by
woods of oaks, under which a tangled
mass of undergrowth lent a wild beauty
to the spot, the birds keeping up a sweet
incessant concert from sunrise to sunset
in the branches above.
Two shady lanes led down to Dingle
Farm from the high-road, which was
more than half a mile distant. This old
and attractive place had been for gener
ations in the possession of the Dales, a
respectable and wealthy family of farm
ers, and among the villages and country
round was better known by the name of
Dale's Farm. It was inhabited at the
time of our story the latter part of the
last century by old Mr. Dale and his
widowed daughter-in-law. Richard
Dale, her husband, had died Itoon after
the birth of their youngest child, the
only surviving son out of four, three of
whom died in infancy.
This boy, now thirteen years old, was
doted on by his grandfather and widow
ed mother. An orphan grandchild of
old Mr. Dale's a bright, clever girl of
twenty, named Susan Stidolph lived
with them since the death of her mother
his only daughter, and was Mrs. Rich
ard Dale's right hand. She directed the
servants, looked after the dairy, fed the
poultry, kept the accounts, and always
went to' market on market days, Mr.
Dale being now too infirm to undertake
the journey and transact business. '
The market was held at Hazleton, a
town distant from the farm about seven
miles ; and hither the farmers sent their
cattle, poultry and vegetable produce for
sale the first Wednesday in every month.
These Journeys were attended with some
anxiety and not a little danger from the
highwaymen, who still Infested the
roads, and who did not fall to make use
of market day as an available opportu
nity for plunder. As the rood was much
frequented on these particular days,
Susan went backwards and forwards
without fear of an encounter with these
uncomfortable gentry.
It was the evening before market day.
Supper was just over at the farm, and
Mrs. Dale was busy removing it from
the large old-fashioned oak table in the
kitchen. A bright fire blazed on the
spacious hearth, though it was the end
of June, and old Mr. Dalo sat in the
chimney-corner under the immense
chimney, where a collection of hams
hung in various stages of smoking.
" Now mind, Susan, that you be early
for market to-niorrow," said Mrs. Dale,
as she seated herself.
" Never fear, aunt ; I'll be oil' betimes.
Thomas must start first with the two
cows and the heifer, and I'll follow
when they're well on their way. Don't
you disturb yourself In the morning
aunt, dear."
" Bless the child ; as If I shouldn't be
up nnd about against your starting! I
shall Bee to your breakfast, of course."
" I wish you'd let me go too,mother,"
said Ben, the boy before mentloued,who
was whittling a stick at the open door.
"No, no, no, my dear; you're too
young," replied his mother, while the
old man, removing his pipe, said, coax
ingly :
" All in good time, my lad ; all in good
time. Let things come by degrees.
Mind your schooling now, and you'll be
all the better farmer fdr a little book
learning." " But suppose Susy should meet a
highwayman, grandfather. Then I
should be of use. Wouldn't I tackle him
justl It would be fun."
"Eh, lad, eh 1 Young folks talk a deal
o' nonsense," laughed the old man.
" Those gentry you speak of are not so
easy to tackle, I can tell you."
" Did you ever meet one, grand
father?" asked the boy.
" Ay, ay, and I rode home as hard as
I could with him at my heels. But It's
no use o' frightening Susan, when she's
going to-morrow."
" I'm not frightened, grandad," said
Susan, going up and kissing the old
man.
Ben here ran across, and, coming up
unperceived, pulled one of Susan's curls,
which had tumbled from underneath her
cap.
" Don't Ben, you plague!" cried Su
san ; and she tried to catch bin as he
ducked away from her hand and jumped
over a settle, where he sat on the floor
in the attitude of a frog, ready to leap
if she chose to follow him. But, seeing
that she took no heed, he crawled up to
her, and said :
" What would you do, Susy, if a foot
pad came up and asked for your money
or your life ? I wonder whether you'd
call me a plague then V Ha, ha!"
" I shouldn't want you," laughed Su
san ; " for I should tell him to go about
his business, and ask what he'd do with
my life when he'd got it."
The next morning Susan rose at five,
and dressed herself with much care and
neatness. Ben met her as she came to
the kitchen door ; and Mrs. Dale, who
was already down, began to cut large
slices of bread-and-butter, and told him
to be quiet and get his breakfast.
Busan went to see that her basket of
poultry, eggs and butter was ready pack
ed. .
" There's no hurry,' my dear," said
Mrs. Dale, as she stirred her porridge ;
" but you can go and see if Jerry's all
ready, and bring him round."
Jerry was the horse, of respectable
and ancient appearance, and somewhat
clumsy build, on which Susan usually
made ber journeys to market. She was
a good horse-woman, having been ac
customed to ride about the farnf with
her grandfather since she was quite
a child, and she was rather impatient of
Jerry's slow paces, though she knew
them to be a necessity on market day.
Jerry was led to the mounting-stone
which stood In the yard, Susan was duly
settled on her saddle, the baskets adjust
ed, and the horse ambled away up the
wooded lane.
"Think of me when you meet the
robbers, Susy," squealed Ben after her,
as he pretended to be overcome with
grief at her departure.
Susan rode along, enjoying the fresh
morning and the song of the birds. The
dew twinkled on the grass and herbage,
and the sun glinted through the trees
overhead ; while the scent of the hay,
now being made Into ricks, filled thealr
with Us delicious fragrance.
When Susan turned into the high
road, she found it full of carts, horse
men and farmers, all bent on the same
errand ag herself.
It was of no moment whether she ar
rived at Hazleton sooner than her neigh
bors, so she took no pulns to urge on the
steady-going horse, and she was soon
left alone at the foot of a steep ascent.
Before many minutes had elapsed, a
gentleman on a fine bay horse overtook
her, and, reining him In with difficulty,
asked If he were right for Hazleton, and
if It were market day there.
Susan looked round at him, and was
struck with the handsome aquiline face
and piercing dark eyes which seemed to
read her through. Dressed in the best
fashion of the time, his horse carefully
groomed till Its glossy coat shone bright
ly in the sunlight, he made a marked
contrast to Susan on .her thick-made
clumsy animal.
" You are bound for the market, too,
little maid?" Inquired the gentleman,
raising his hat as he spoke.
" Yes, sir. All the folks are going
there, a'most, this morning, I think,"
answered Susan, shyly.
"And what have you there? Chickens
and butter V" her interlocutor' went on
to say. " Do you like the business of
buying and selling V"
' It depends on the prices I get for
them," returned Susan, quickly.
The gentleman laughed, and stopped
for a moment to arrange the leather of
his stirrup more to his liking; while
Susan rode on, wondering what a well
bred man, on a thorough-bred horse,
could want at Hazleton on a nmrket
duy. While she mused on these points, he
again overtook her.
" May I ask your name ?" ho said.
" My name is Susan Stidolph," she
answered simply ; and Ihough she
would have given much to ask him the
same question, she refrained from Innate
feelings of courtesy.
As if he divined her thoughts, he said:
" My name is Hamilton St. John. Do
you like it?"
" Very much ; and what do you call
your horse, sir ?"
"Wildfire; and a famous stepper he
is ! Good-bye, Susan ; I hope you'll get
good prices for your fowls and ducks."
And away he sped at a tremendous pace.
The market was becoming very full
when Susan reached Hazleton, and
many sounds of life resounded on all
sides.
Susan having met Thomas, and given
Jerry into his charge, entered the mar
ket, and did her best to effect the sale of
her poultry; while the farming-man
undertook tbe vending of cows, submit
ting his bargains to Susan's judgment
before concluding them.
The day soon came to a close ; all their
marketings were attended with good
success, and Susan having made her
purchases at the draper's an old friend
of her aunt's, at whose house she usual
ly dined on these occasions concealed
her money, to the amount of thirty
pounds in gold and notes, in the secret
pockets of her stays, purposely made to
stow away these treasures, and mounted
Jerry for her ride homewards. Very
blithe was Susan at the result of her
day's work. The cows had fetched a
capital price, and the heifer alone re
mained unpurchased. Her poultry was
all sold, and not a pot of butter remain
ed In her basket.
Susan determined to return by a lane
which wound circultously from the town
of Hazleton to the borders of Dingle
Farm. By this she would avoid the un
pleasant society of several half-tipsy
farmers and rough horsemen, whose
proximity was very undesirable. Jerry
stepped out as was his wont when he
scented his stable in the far distance;
and Susan hummed to herself as she
looked on the beauty of the evening and
the scenery around.
Susan had not proceeded two miles
when the sound of a horse's hoofs
struck on her ear ; and as she turned to
look up the lane to see who it might be,
her well-dressei acquaintance of the
morning rode up to her side and greeted
her with a polite bow.
" Well met, Susan ! Why, you're late
from market. I hope you've been suc
cessful." " Tretty well," curtly replied the girl,
who was inclined usually to be reserved
to strangers.
" Why, you've an empty basket I per
ceive. Do you know I was not so far off
as you might think ? I saw you while
you were making your bargains," said
the gentleman, looking straight at Su
san with a knowing look.
" Well," returned she, ralslngher eye
brows. " I had a notion that I caught
sight of your face once ; but seeing It
belonged to a man In a smock-frock, of
course I took no heed."
The stranger laughed, and there was
something in his manner which made
Susan feel uncomfortable. He soon re
marked on her taciturnity, and asked
her why she was so silent.
" I don't rare to talk much to stran
gers," she replied.
" But I have told you my name, and
you may Judge when you see a gentle
man," said he.
" How do I know that you are a gen
tleman ?" asked Susan, bluntly. " I
think it's very bad manners to ask so
many questions. At all events, it's not
the way simple folks are taught."
" Who do you think I can be, then,
Susan, my dear ?" inquired the horse
man smilingly.
" You may be a highwayman, for
aught I know," courageously exclaimed
the girl.
" What a good guesBer you are, my
dear !" cried the horseman. "Suppose I
take you at your word, and ask you,after
the fashion of real highwaymen, to let
me look at your purse?"
" I don't carry a purse," replied the
girl now somewhat alarmed, and believ
ing that her suspicions as to his strange
behavior were not without foundation.
" Do you see this ?" said the man, In
a jeering tone, drawing a small pistol
from his breast-pocket. "It's a little
Instrument I carry to induce people to
tell the truth. Perhaps it will make you
do so. Come, out with your money,"
he added, in a rough voice, catching
hold of Jerry's bridle at the same mo
ment. Susan was a spirited girl, but she turn
ed pale. They had arrived at a part of
the road where it sank between high
hedges, and a rising ground on either
side hid it entirely from view.
It was becoming dark, and as Susan
looked right and left she heard nothing
but the faint breeze among the trees,
and the chirp of the grasshopper in the
long reeds at the roadside, and all idea
of assistance from a casual passenger she
knew to be almost hopeless. Though
quite faint with terror, she rallied all
her courage, and determined to brave
out the attempt of the man to rob her of
money.
For one moment hope revived. The
stranger dismounted, and passed his
bridle over the low overhanging bough
of an aldertree, and Susan took the op
portunity to whl p Jerry into something
like a trot ; but she had ot proceeded
many yards when the man came run
ning after, easily overtook her, and
laughing derisively, led her horse back
to the same spot, where he again asked
her to deliver up her purse to his care.
" Better do it quietly, Susan my dear,"
he urged. " I shall take it by hook or
by crook."
Susan still stoutly refused, declaring
with many assertions thatj she carried
no purse.
" Well, then, we must try what can be
done by searching. It's a tiresome pro
cess, but I'm very patient, and not press
ed for time to-night."
- He lifted Susan out of her saddle as
easily as if she had been a baby, unsad
dled Jerry, turning him loose to graze
as he pleased, and commenced searching
her baskets. Finding nothing but a few
parcels of tea, calico, and ribbon, which
he carelessly threw down in the road, he
next begged the terrified gill to remove
her hat and cloak, and coming close to
her, began feeling for her pockets.
Susan's indignation knew no bounds;
but the robber only laughed, and told
her he should take every means to ex
tract the gold from her, and taking out
a large clasp knife, he said, " It's such
a pity to out this pretty bodloe asunder ;
but I must, if you are so obstinate.
Bless you, do you think I've been years
on the road, and don't know the ways
of you pretty little maids V The money
that was paid for the cows is somewhere
about, and I am pretty certain it's in a
particular pocket of your corset. I shall
cut your laces, if you try my patience too
long ;" and he began to Insert the knife
Into the lace of her bodice.
Susan, trembling lest she should Iobo
her senses, bow made up her mind to
part with her money, and assured him
that if he would retire out of sight for a
few minutes, she would get her pocket,
and give it into his hands.
The robber declared that he could not
do that, but that he had no objection to
turn his back. " I don't want to distress
you, my dear," be said ; but he pulled
out his pistol at the same time, and stood
waiting.
The poor girl proceeded to take off her
dress, and after some difficulty removed
her stays, and donning ber cloak hastily
threw them down before the highway
man. He seized upon them, and discovering
the pocket, soon rifled it of its contents,
and then picked up her dress, and began
to feel about the linings, to find if possi
ble more bank-notes which might be
sewn up in them. As Susan stood shak
ing and irresolute a sudden thought
seized ber. Catching up Jerry's saddle,
which lay on the ground at her side, she
threw it over the hedge, exclaiming,
" You shan't have it all at any rate."
Tbe thief, off his guard for the mo
ment, and thinking that the saddle
might contain, the greater part of the
spoil, threw down the dress with an
oath ; and cursing frightfully, clamber
ed into and over the hedge to recover the
saddle. One of his pistols fell from his
coat to the ground ; Susan threw it over
the opposite hedge, and releasing the
bridle of the robber's horse, climbed
nimbly by the aid of the stirrup on to
his back, passed her right knee over the
large pistol holster, and giving the ani
mal the reins, galloped up the lane at a
tremendous pace.
A loud curse, and the crack of a pistol,
which only caused the horse to Increase
its speed, followed ; but the bullet miss
ed its aim. Susan heard it whiz past in
dangerous proximity to her ear, and
then lodged harmlessly in the trunk of
an old oak by the wayside.
Away flew Wildfire like the wind,
with Susan on his back, and her cour
age rose every moment, as she remem
bered that old Jerry had wandered graz
ing up the lane, and that it would be
impossible for the thief to overtake her
on the well bred animal she rode, even
if he attempted pursuit. For an instant
a clattering of hoofs made her look has
tily back ; but the noise was only a lum
bering attempt on the part of old Jerry
to follow, and keep up with her. Su
san's hurried ride off and the shot of the
pistol had disturbed his calm grazing,
and he turned with a clumsy start be
fore the robber could lay hold on him,
and unencumbered by Susan, baskets, or
saddle, trotted off at a novel and excited
pace after her. Certain now of safety,
she urged the beautiful animal she sat
on to its utmost speed, and dashed des
perately homewards.
"Why, here's ago, mother!" cried
Ben, rushing into the farm kitchen full
tilt. " Here's Susy tearing down the
lane like mad ! I never thought Jerry
could go so fast. I was on the hayrick,
and saw her coming. She's something
white oh."
" Susan in white ! It must have been
her ghost," said poor superstitious Mrs.
Dale, putting down her dishes and turn
ing pale with apprehension.
A great clattering of hoofs over the
stones of the yard soon divested her
mind of this absurd notion ; for rattling
up to the entrance, hardly reined in at
the house door, came the dark-bay horse
flecked with foam, having galloped for
at least five miles at tbe top of his speed,
with the excited half-c lad girl upon his
back.
It was the work of a moment for Ben
to seize the bridle and hold the animal's
head, while Susan dropped, rather than
dismounted, into her aunt's outstretched
arms, and, overcome by her previous
emotions, burst into tears.
"Goodness gracious!" cried the good
woman, altogether scared, " what ever
does it all mean!"
" I've been robbed, aunt I Oh, dear !
all the money's goue!" and she sobbed
still more.
" Toor girl !" said Ben, affectionately,