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Vol. XV. 333. P“ I“ 130. 98 $335323: éflk‘d‘m" rxi’h’ifin. No. 185.

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n ‘ _ The Wily Witch’s Ward.

 

The Wily Witch’s Ward. '

A LEGEND on THE SUSQUEHANNA.
BY EDWIN E. EWING.

CHAPTER I
i A DEATH-BED SCENE,

’TWAs midnight, and the ‘sleety showers pat-
tered on the window panes, as thr moaning usts
of wind drove fltfully along the murky c ends
that obscured the heavens and howled mourn
fully around the antiquated house, in which a
single chamber was lighted by a dim lamp that
throw its faint blaz: through the bedizeucd case-
ment'into the gloom without.

Withm three men were seated around a small
fire. which burned dimly on the hearth, convers~
ing in an undertone' and on n low-curtainod
bed, at the further end of the room, lay a fourth,
breathing with n heavy and difficult respiration.
Near the head of the bed stood a small stand
covered with writing materials and n roll of

per, which appeared to have been recently

raced with the sable fluid.

The eldest of the three seated about the fire,
who appeared to take the most conspicuous part
in the smothered conversation carried on by the
trio, was a tall, sparely-l‘ormed man, with
slightly grizzled hair, small gray eyes, and thin
shrunken cheeks. He wore a dark—brown doub-
let of antique cut, and a blue cloth coat and
bufbcolored brooches, with broad silver knee
and shoe-buckles. The other two were dressed
nearly in the same fashion, but less costly.

“He appears to slec soundly ” said the prin-
cipal of the party, as 0 cast a. look toward the
couch of the sick man.

“ Yes,” replied Niel Riley, the man to whom
the first speaker seemed to address himself, “ but
he breathes deep and heavily-the doctor must
have administered a deep and powerful opiate.
But its eflects will soon wor off, and he will
awake for better or worse.”

“That was rather an unfortunate stroke of
business for Tomlin. I had no idea he would be
so rash in the—what he might have foreseen—
fruitless attempt to secure his monev»bags,”
continued the first speaker: “ but what has
transpired can’t be amended by regrets. and

we‘ll ham to be comforted by Pope’s saying,

‘ Whatever is, is right.’ "

“ But the den, hter will be a pretty prize for

7 some follow, if s, c has the goat fortune to in-
heritall her father’s estate,” said Niel, varying
r the conversation. ,
, “ Well, she’s sole heir by the will,” said the
' other, “ and what is more remarkable, he would
have no clause inserted in that document, by
which the administrahir may be governed, in
case of hiersiying before the estate comes into
' s.

. “Incasethat should happen. the nearest re‘
lotions will have a chance to fight over the
Bone,” said Niel smiling, as he gave a nod to his
can on.

, , “ , are the nearest relations?” asked O’Fer-
= . r . futon, withciut appearing to notice Niel'smeen-
7 11‘ W

 

 

“ Second cousins are the nearest,” answered
Niel “and yourself one of them.” ‘

“ othing nearer than second cousins?” in-

uired the rst speaker, musingly. and after a '
little hesitation. added: “ I believe not—and
but two—Greenberry and myself. But Mr.
Greenberry being guardian, I have no doubt
that he’ll take special care of the orphan daugll;
tor—having some promising sons, it may be '
best interest perhaps to do so." _ -

" But, on have a grandson too of near the same
age, an of noble strain. Hal ha! Think of
the odds in the O’Ferguson favor, when the
blood is considered.”

This remark of Niel’s excited a slight smile on
the countenance of O’Ferguson, but relapsing
again into his musing mood, he replied'

"This is mere speculation. Perhaps none of
the youn Worthies, when near a score of years
has rolle awe, , will please the fortunefavored
damsel, or per ups the child mu never number
half the days which are require to bring her to
maturity. A thing, I think, altogether likely,
for the nursed plant is ver apt to die.”

“ And then there will some trouble about
the Tomlin estate,” added Niel, laughing, “but
Davy and myself would have aconspicuous part
to perform, if such difficulties should happen to
turn up.”

“ And what part of the play would you and
the rcdoubted Davy, (who, by the by, appears
now to be gliding down the stream of Time
under easy sail) act, if such unfortunate circum-
stances should come to pass?” asked Miles.

“ Favor our friends to be sure,” Niel ant
swered. “ Ha, Davy barly, man, rouse up-
you don’t dream of what importance your
sleepy head may be in the councils of the nation
in future. Ha! ha! hal”

The slumbering Davy, roused into life again
by the hearty shake which Niel bestowed upon
hisbroari shoulders, rubbed his eyes to clear his
visxou and dispel his waking doubts, and with a
yawn asked how the sick man did.

A slight movement on the t of the invalid
showed the watchers that 'e was recovering
from his dull. heavy opiate sleep. He rafsed his
eyes and called for some water, which O’Fergw
son, who approached ,thebedside, placed to his
lips. After swallowin a mouthful of the cool-
ing liquid, he in oi the hour of the night,
and was informe that day was just beginning
to glimmer in the murky East. _

‘ Move my cot in front of the window,” said
the sick man, “that I ma 100k upon the dawn
of the last deny these 9 es s all everbeholdl”

His bed was mov as requested, and he lay
long in silenm, gazing on the faintly-illumined
east, as the rays of m ing shot up from the
horizon, and struggled through the murky clouds
which still thick 5' canopied the heavens till a
bright crimson flush shot over the sky. Withv
drawing his gaze at length from the glowing
firmament. he turned toward the three men who
stood in silence by the bedside.

“ Dear friends. I must soon leave you for that
untried world whence no wanderer ever retan
Bring in my little Rose that I may behold once
more the image of her lamented mo‘her, and the
family’s-ill, till I  a-«flnal leave of all most

dear me on earth.

 

 

'

The Wily Witch's Ward. 3

 

O’Ferguson motioned to Niel to do as the dy-
in man requested, while he endeavored to con-
so¥e him w th Words of hope and comfort, but
the inevitable fate of the invalid was too appa-
rent to himself as well as his comforter lo
admit of a single ray of hope. The dagger liad
gassed through the left lobe of his lungs, in-

ictincr a wound which the physician pronounced
mortu assoon as it was examined.

Mr. Grecnberry and his lady soon made their
ap ranr'e, leading little Rose between them,
fol Owed by the rest of the family in mournful

silence, and holding their breath, lest even a.

deep-drawn sigh should disturb the object of

their solicitude. Little Rose, whose bright sunny
locks had been fanned by the soft breezes of but
three summers, was too young to feel anything
of that awful solemnity which halluws a death-
bed scene, but looking up into Mrs. Greenberry’s
face for the consoling smile which always shed

a joy and sunshine on her gentle spirit, and see—

ing nothing but tear—traces on the checks of the

only mother she had ever known, and her brow
bent with sorrow, she too caught the prevailing
contagion, and commenced weeping bitterly.

“Farewell, my little Rose,” said the father,
as be conveyed the innocent flower of mortality
to the natural care of Mrs. Greenberi'y; but
that little one, as yet, could feel none of those
hallowed sensations, which in after life were
destined to pour through her soul with a holy
and vivii’ying,r influence, like the rays of light
through the flood-gates of morning, and was
only anxious to regain the arms of her adopted

amether.

“Be a mother to my dear Rose, and may
Heaven bless you !” said the affectionate father.

Mrs. Greenberry bowed in silent assent, and
placed the girl beside her own natural son, who
was one of the same age as his adopted sister,
and who, while this scene was enacting. was
clinging to his mother's side. The dying parent
still fillowing with the fond eyes of affection his
little daughter, gazed for a moment in silence
on the twin brother and sister, as it were, then
placing a hand on each of their heads, said:

“May Eeavee bless you and make you as
deartoeach other as my departed Mary was
ever dear to me! Farewell! And farewell,
dear friends all. Let me ress your hands for
the last time. Farewell, r. Greenberry, he a
friend to my dau hter. And you Miles, you
have ever been him to me.”

But these last words of the dying man shook
the stern soul of O’Ferguson, and his rigid
countenance changed its color, as though some
Secret cord in his bosom had been suddenly
touched which had long lain dormant.

“Earewell, Niel and Davy, where are you?
Myx‘sight grows dim and you fade from before
me

The breathing of the dying man became more
difficult; his last words produced but a rattlin
soundin his throat. His eyes grew cold and
glassy; he stretched out his arms and John
James Tomlinla a corpse, and R°se was left
alone in the wor d, without father or mother,
sister or brother! Those who stood by the
couch ofthedead man withdrew in awe and
silence. and the gloom of sorrow rested on the
~ house or the honored «lead.

 

CHAPTER II.
nurnosruoriva.

Tim early and greater part of Mr. Tomlin’s
life had been spent in the great emporium of
New York in commercial pursuits. By indus—
try and frugality he had acquired an extensive
fortune; but his whole business career he had
run through alone, and spent a life of “single
Llesseduess ” while in pursuit of the golden bub-
ble, no partner to soothe his cares and sweeten
the hours of relaxation. 0f kindred ties by
blood, we may say he had none, the nearest be-
ing removed to that of second. cousins, and .
those were Greenben'y and Miss O’Ferguson, f
the only representatives of even that remote
connection. In earl youth and the light hours
of boyhood, John umes Tomlin and Henry
Greenberry had become attached by the strong-
est ties of friendship. but destiny had shaped
out a diflerent path for each, and pursuits of
business had cast their homes far asunder.

Mr. Tomlin, too, was the senior of his friend
several years, and of a cool, calculating busmess
temperament, and laid hold of the ob'ect of his
pursuit with a tenacious grasp, an executed
his plans with an inflexible perseverance, which
never failed to crown his efforts with ultimate
success. Greenberry, on the other hand, had.
all the ardor and impetuosity of youth, with
that romantic fervor which soars above,a;nd
flies from the dry monotony of every-day life
in search of the grand and beautiful.

But the chain of their friendship was still ks t
bright, and mutual interchange of friend 3?
greetin . Mr. Tomlin having consumed the
ai-doro a well-employed life in the vertex of
the business world, finding the autumn of mam
hood, touching with its sear his dark brown
locks, and the sloping path of old age openiltlijg

dually before him, began to contrast 5

onely and cheerless Situation with that of his

loss fortune-favored, but more contented and
less haplpily situated friend. Him he saw poor,
or at east not rolling in that spontaneous
abundance which, by his own selfdenging
habits of life he had collected around im,
which only served now to attract the eyes of
envy, and draw around him the hollow~hearted 7
friends of prosper-it with the siren s of
flattery. On the ot er hand he saw thet‘ end
of his youth, though far from rich, inthe world’s
estimation, possessing that treasure which the
more wealthy well ma envy He saw him the
center of a large and appg family, who looked
up to him as the oh'ect o t oir love and esteem;
in that situation w ich robs approaching age of
all its anticipated ennui. and spreads a bed of
down for the decline of life, when love with
its balmy influence hovers around, to soothe and
dispel the sorrows and transient care of the
passing hour. -

But who shall be comfortless and alone, when
afiection entices him with her smile of witchery.
egg spreads out her lily arms to receive hi?

0 shall stand gazin on the mansions of con-
tent, when beauty bec ens him with her white
hand to approach and share the enjoyment!‘
which she alone hath power to chew along his .
dreary course .

In Mary Nevre. Mr. Tomlin lound atlangth
that being for whom his lone bosom had salons ~

. w‘ .

  

S

 

The Wily Witch’s Ward.

 

si bed. Connubial felicity shed its genial rays
0 happiness around him, and his pathway of
life seemed brightening through the dim vista
of future years. But it was the radiant glow of
sunset—the last bright gleam of expirinar dayl
Having purchased a residence on the Wallo-
wish, a small branch of the Susquehanna, far
awa from the busy throng of the metropolis of
the mpire State, and near the residence of his
old friend Henry Greenberry, the former busi—
ness merchant, relapsing into the passive gentle-
. man, abandoned his counting-house and ponder—
' 7‘ ous folios, and with his winning Mary settled
dov'vn’mid rural delights, in the midst of the
romantic scenery of hill and dale that environs
‘the Walla-wish, or Darkewaters.

But earthly treasures and earthly happiness,
bright in anticipation as the rainbow tints, are
too apt to flit like them before the pursuers, and
instead of fancied pleasure, which he fondly
hoped to retain, he grasps but disappointment
and sorrow.

Situated in their mansion of retirement, Mr.
Tomlin and his bride saw one short year glide
rapidly away on the wings of love and pleasure;
for time seems to speed with rcdouhled impetus
when it bears along with it enjoyment and de—

', ‘ light. Nuptial felicity seemed weaving the ties

0 future endearmeut and parental affection;
but the first anniversary of the propitious wed-
din is often celebrated ’mid son-ow and tears,
an such was the fate that awaited the retired
merchant. In one year from her joyous wed-
dingllay friends were gathered around the
de‘ith—bed of the late happy bride, to take the
7 last leave of the dyi'um wife; and the bereaved
husband was severed !from his tender Mary; but
' the pledge of her love remained, to call back the
aflectio s of the father from beyond the grave.
j ’ In litt e Rose, the eye of the fond father do-
] ~ acried all the characteristics of his lamented
‘  ' . Mary, ready to burst forth in blooming woman-
' hood, perpetuating the worth and lovelinst of
that mother whom it was her fate never to Le-
hold.» That fell swoop of death, which deprived
'Mr. Tomlin of the best of artners, left his peace—
ful home desolate and ittle Rose motherless;
but the friend of be for ner years came forward,
still to be a friend in the hour ol‘ affliction; and
in Mrs. Greenberry, Rose found a paragon of
that tender mother, of whom death had so early
deprived her. .
hough Mr. Tomlin had retired from busmess,
his affairs still at intervals required his pres-
ence among the scenes of his youthful pursults,
Interest accruing from unextinguished debts,
, proceeds from lots, houses, eta, often called
him back to the great emporium of the Union.
On 'one of these occasions, and about three
years after the death of his lady, Mr. Tomlin
was returning from the place of his nativity,
with 9. Image sum of money in gold, The night
was clou y and dark, the crescent moon had
ion sunk beneath the western horizon, and the
\litte stars were vuiled hv the murky canopy
which shrouded the sky. He was, however, fast
approaching home—that home which, since the
, death of his wife, had been occupied by the fami-

- $0! his early friend. He had crossed the dilapi—
. ’ fed bridge that arched the Walla-Wish, close
 r b the house‘vf Miles O’Ferguson, and was hur-

 

  
  
 
    
    
      
  

 
  

 
 
     

 

 

ryin g along the road that wound along the bank
of the stream, through a long defile skirted on
either side by deep thickets of hazel and elder.
A sensation allied tofear thrilled through the
veins of the traveler as he plunged into this
spectral—like place, and pursued his course along
its dark thoroughfare, at a pace that was rapidly
carrying him toward home. Two-thirds of the
road was already passed, and a. short turn
through the narrowest part of the defile, and
winding close along the beach where the stream
swept impetuously over its rocky bottom, with
an incessant roar, lay before our nocturnal way-
farer, Once throng this dark pass, the rest of
the road seemed safe and short. But as he
entered it, his horse was suddenly stopped b a
strong arm, and a gun voice demanded is
purse, A stroke of '5 heavy whip, however,
disengaged our hero, and he attempted to dash
off from the robbers; but in this he was foiled,
for another of the band seizing him by the leg
drggged him from the saddle, while the fright- »
en horse galloped away. Mr. Tomlin imme-
diately grappled with the assassin, and seiz-
ing him by the throat, hurled him to the
ground. The bandit finding himself so roughly
handled, together with the not very pleasant
prospect of being strangled, drew a dagger and
stabbed his antagonist. The ruflian succeeded
in releasing himself b the time his companions
came to his rescue, an securing the booty, made
off, leaving their victim d ing as they supposed.
The next morning Mr. omlin was found by
some of O’Ferguson’s family, lying in the pass
more dead than alive, conveyed home and medi-
cal aid procured. But the hysician on examin-
ing the wound pronounced t fatal.

By the murdered man’s request, Miles O‘Fer-
guson was summoned to write his will, by which
all his property save a gratuitous recompense to
her guardian, Mr. Greenberry. was bequeathed ,
to Rose, when she should arrive at the ageof
ei hteen.

he sequel to the chapter is recorded in the _
preceding one.

 

CHAPTER III.
SEARCHING FOR A Los'r CHILD.

Ma. TOMLIN's death occurred in the early
part of March, and for a space shed its wonted
gloom over the family. . But the wave of Time
rolling on to eternity, soon sweeps all traces of
sorrow from the past, as the ocean sur 9 oblit«
erates the stroller’s footprints from t e sand.
The angry dirge of winter was lost in the balmy
breeze of Spring—the flowers again appeared
upon the earth—thywoodlauds put on their .
green robes, and the silvan songsters awakened
their soft notes among the blooming bowers.

Three years of genial health twined the air
ringlets round the infant brow of little Rate,
and tinted her dim led cheeks with the rub

er volatile gambols with

 
 
 
 
   

flush of childhood. . _
little Ernet her twm brother, in every other
respect but by birth, was beginning to delight
the maternal eye and Joy the parental bosom of
Mrs. Greenberry. " -
But it too often happens that where affection _

  
 

bursts the links asunder. di
hopes and frustrating our fondest esires.
‘ v 'l L , ‘  7 V

chains the heart to an objec:i disappointment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

      

 

 

 

 

‘

., "4‘..ng  A

 

/

The Wily Witch’s Ward. ' ‘ s

 

Mrs. Greenberry was destined soon to feel all
the anguish of a bereaved moher in the loss of
her too fondly cherished flower; and with ten-
fold force did that blow seem to fall on her, who
had been enjoined, as it were, b a. voice from
the tomb, to bestow her materna regard on the
destitute Rose.

it was a soft, balmy evening, in the bloomin
month of June, that the two children, attende
by their nurse, were at play on the bank of a
small stream which meandered through the
flowering meadows that margined the sloping
lawn, stretching awa with a gentle declivity
from the mansion, til terminating in embower-
ing‘ woods and deep-tangled brakes.

he road leading to the dwelling of the late
John T. Tomlin, now occupied by Mr. Green-
berry and family held its course through the
fort, and crowd the brook near the spot where
the nurse, with her tender charge, was whiling
away the hours in childish sports. A peddler,
worn and weary with his ponderous pack, hap-
nin along the road at the time, disengaged
imse f from his miscellaneous burden, when he
came near the girl, and wiping the )erSpiration
from his brow, seated himself on t e wayside,
and. commenced chattering with her for the sale
of his goods.

“I say, mhy 'pretty maid, don’t you want to
bu some he t’ings?” commenced the peddler.
“ ou wants a tress shawl-I sell you one

shea .”

“P believe not, sir,” replied the girl; “ I have
no money "—a woman’s invariable reply when
she is about driving a bargain—“ but 1’“ look at
some of your goods, if it is not giving you too
much trouble. ’

“ Oh, no trouple, no trouple; me show t’e
ladies t’e flne t’in "

And the strolling dry goods dealer comm anc-
ed unbuckling his shop and displaying a great
variety of female trinkery. Accordingly the
goods were all unpacked, commended by the
merchant and admired by the maid, and re-
pacde a in without the poor dler being
abletoe not a sale. Then the esire was ex—
pressed to look at some of his jewelry; perha 3
there was something in this department 5 9
would like to purchase, rounding of! every po—
riod with protestations of regret for the un-
necessary trouble the gentleman was putting
himself to on her acCouut, and with a delicate
hint at the low state of her finances. The ped—
dler next produced his trinkets in great variety.
Breastpins, Clasps, finger rings, plain and with
sets, gold pens, silver mil-cases. guards,
chains, pearl necklaces, an , in short. everything
of the species that has wer to attract a lady’s

esand captivates. 1:: y’s heart, were displayed
in glittering array, examined b the maid with
many encomiums. and replace in their casket
againas new objects of admiration appeared.
'l‘ egirl had now overhauled the Dutchman‘s
whole assortment without buying a ceut’s worth,
and as a last resort the Feddlvr opened a small
box containing stringso beads, saying to the
girl as he held up a lot:

“ You puys a string for the little folks.”

“ What’s the price?” asked the girl.

“ Only t’ree cent.”

“But I have two little ones to please, and if I

l

 

buy at all, I must purchase for both, and that
amounts to a tip, you know."

“Me only see one; you have put one little
pony; you puys him some bead,” said the man
of the pack, lookin over the girl’s shoulder,
who sat with her bac to the children while she
viewed the Contents of the pack.

The girl turned her eyes hastily in the direc-
tion of her charge, and a fiendish smile might
have been seen to play for a moment on the
countenance of the peddler, as he commenced
hastily buckling up his pack, preparatory to a.
start. The girl ran instantly toward the boy
on Perceiving him alone, crying: \

‘ Erny. where’s sis? What have you done
with $15?”

The child held out his arms to the girl, as she
a preached him, laughing with childish delight.

e girl growing more impatient for the safety
of Rose, who was nowhcre to be Seen, caught the
boy in her arms and lifted him from the ground,
as though in her increasing anxiety, she would
force a solution of the mysterious disappearance
of the girl from him by caresses.

“Where’s sis, Erny? Where’s sis? Where‘s
Rose gone to?” eagerly inquired the girl.

But little Ernest only laughed in reply, and
repeated the words mechanically after the ter-
rihed nurse, lisping in his infant accents, “ Rose
--sis—Anny,” his attendant’s name, claspin ’
her around the neck at the same lime, an
making an effort to kiss her. But the increas-
ing concern of the girl left her in no mood to
participate in his naby fondness, and she .re- ,.
sponded in a somewhat harsher tone than was
her wont to her baby caresses. -

“ Why don’t you tell, you little dance
Where’s your sister? Where’s Rose one to?"

The child finding his love repulse by unkind
words and looks broke into aflt of weeping, as -
may be readily imagined, saying:

“ R0502g0n9. Anny don’t like me.”

“ Erny mustn’t cry,” replied the girl soothing
ly. ” “ Come kiss Anny, and let’s go and hunt
sis.

The child again smiled and embraced his
nurse’s ncck, while she wiped the tears from his
eyes, and “ kissed him into rest ” again.

The girl hurried along the bank of the stream ‘ L' I

with little Ernest in her urns, reproaching her-' V
self for having nrglected her charge to gratify 5 ~

vain curiosity, and trtmbling with fear that. ' 5

she should discover, at every turn of the stream, '
the lost child lying in its bed, a victim of her _
neglect and carelessness. But no traces of the ’
little girl were discovered along the margin of
the stream, and the terrified girl penetrated some
distance into the gloomy forest, calling the lost
one by name; liut no sound gave answer to her
cries of anguish save the echoes of her own voice
that rung through the hollow woods. But once .
and once only she imagined she heard a thin
scream as of a child. and hastened far into the
depths of the forest whence the sound came, but
no answer to her call, no traces of the lost one
could be seen or hand. . ~
The shadows of evening were now gathering
fast over the dark forest and deepening the
gloom of its solitude. The boot of the owl alone _
reaking the stillness of the summer eve, and 1
objects inanimate looming up amid the gather-

’ 7 then ” answer

6

The Wily Witch’s were.

 
 

 

ing gloom assumed every moment a more
tral ’ c

The superstitious anxiety of the girl now for
a time overcome her concern for the lost Rose,
as she turned, with little Ernest, still in the
direction of home.

The family had taken alarm at the girl’s pro-
tracted absence, and turned out en masse, and
Were searching the neighborhood in quest of

. Anny and her charge. The nurse, however
soon made her up arance on the lawn. an

narrated the appal ing story to the assembled ‘

company. interlarding it with a plentiful pro«
fusion of tears. The solicitous mother failed
not to bca a mountain of reproach on the poor
girl’s care essness in abandoning the children to
examine a strolling peddler’s goods.

“ What business had she with the peddler’s
trinkets? She had other motives, no doubt, for
leaving the children than just to look at a pe<l~
dler’s ck.”

Wit a multitude of such jibes, to all of which
the girl replied only with tears and protestations
of her innocence. - An Irish lad, who resided
with Mr. vGreenberry’s family, and who had
been standing by with apparent uneasiness
while this dialogue was passing between mis-
tress and maid, and despairing of its coming to
an end, broke in upon their discourse with:

“And troth, m bonny Ann, were you ac-
qainted with the s rollin’ storekaper?”

“No,” was the laconic reply.

“ And what sort of a lookiu‘ chap was he?"

, 9‘ He was a middling large man,” the girl on-
swered shortly. -

“And how was he dhressed? And what color
was the blackguard’s hair?” pursued the Irish-
man. \

“ He had on a frock-cont rather the worse for
wear. and an indifferent fur hat. The re-

: mainder of his dress I took no notice of. He
had red hair and gray, twinkling eyes,”con-
tinned the girl now fairly embarked in her
description of the peddler, “ his nose short and
thick, his forehead broad, and by his accentl

‘ took him to be a German.”

“Troth. I thought as much,” responded Pat;
“ the Dutch Vagabond ought to be sent to the
workhouse. An which way was the ape goin’,
Annv dearl, Did he tell ye that?”

, “ He was on his way to the mansion, he told
me,” replied the girl.

“ Divil the any mansion did he visit the day
ed Pat; “ and I’m thinkin' the
ramblin’ blackguard had something to do with
" oonjnrin’ of! wee Winsome Rose”

“ That cannot be possible,” added Mr. Green-
herry, breakin into the discourse. “The child,
perhaps, has rayed away from Ernest after
some object, or has lain down and fallen asleep.
At any rate,we’ll not find her by parleyiug here.”
And coming tothis conclusion unanimously,
- torches were procured. and a general search of

’the surroundin neighborhood commenced.

Though the searc was extended to a late hour
of (go‘s-ism, no trace of the babe could be dis-
oov '

 

. CHAPTER IV.
A LOQUAOIOUS VISITOR.
TEE succeeding day passed as the previous

 

night had done, and with the same disappointed
success. The news of the lost child flew rapid] ,
creating a deep sensation throughout 1; e
neighborhood, and a great many persons col—
lected to join in the search for little Rose, but
their efforts were unavailing.

Mr. O’Ferguson, With all his household, and
Niel Riley were among the first and most solici-
tous to ferret out the mystery and again rescue
Rose from her kidnappers, if she were really
stolen, as many began to protest was their
opinion, or recover the child if lost in the woods.
Evening at length closed on the scene, diapers-
ing those who were in search of the 10le girl, to
their respective homes. and the fields and for-
ests were once more left to the dominion of
calm solitude and silence.

Save Mrs. Darly and her spouse, the family
at the mansion were left alone. This led , who
subsequently became so conspicuous un er the
appellation of the “ Witch of the Wallo-wish,”
tarried with Mrs. Greenberry to condole with
her for the loss of her adopted daughter.

Davy Durly, the passive husband, sat quietly
in a remote corner of the room, while his most
loquacions spouse ured the oil of consolation
on the heart of the reaved mother.

“ Gracious! Mrs. Greenberrv, you have a fine
boy, if you never find the girl,” continued Mrs.
Darly. who had been keeping the organs of
articulation in full play for some time previous.
The soothing, hypocritical tone in which this
lady carried on her discourse was not the least
peculiar of her many uliarities. Her con—
versation was usually interlarded with rather
strong expressions which, however, lost all of
their obnoxious in uence on the most fastidious
ears, when uttered in Mrs. Darly’s soft and cap-
tivating tone. 4

“I think that our little Timon grows faster
than your little boy, Mrs. Greenberry. Don’t
you think he’s larger, Davy?”

Tris question was directed to her demure
spouse, who coudescended to rouse into some-
thing like a. cognoscitive attitude, at beng
consulted on so important a theme, and with a
knowing nod, a self—reproving smile, and a
“ l‘i‘em l" answered: ,

7

“What delightful playmates they would
make. Graciousl Mrs. Greenberry, you must
come some evening and take tea with us, and
bring little Ernest with you, till he and Tim
have a romp together.”

The requested Indy gave a dubious consent to
the solicitations of Mrs. Darlv, and inquired
after her little girl, who was the twin sister of
the classicall named son. '

“ The chi]. has been slightly indisposed for
several days,” said Mrs. Darlv. -

“Not seriously ill?" Mrs. Greenberry return-
ed, inquiringly.

“ Oh, no! nothing more than a slight touch of
the colic. 1 left her in old Nina’s care this
morning. and ordered her to give her a dose of
ground ivy tea; she’ll be perfectly well in a day
or two.”

“ When your daughter recovers her health

on and Mr. Darly must pay us a .visit. and
the children along. I should like to

h

 

l‘ll]
see little Christians. and Timon. It’s been

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘ 'i‘lie Wily Witch's Ward. 7

 

more than a year since I saw the twins. I sup-
pose they have grown to be reat big lumps by
this time. Don’t let my sec uded life deter you
from visiting us;' we always like to see our
friends whenever they come. Mr. Greenberry’s
business calls him so much abroad that I have
few opportunities of returning their friendly
calls, but you mustn’t mind that. Do call when-
ever ou can make it convenient.”

“ e’ll try to make yjou a formal visit as soon
as possible,’ was Mrs. arly’s reply to the press-
ing invitation.

“ But, graciousl it‘s dangerous to let children
outside the doors, in these times of depredations
when people don't scruple to commit any crime.
I hope you’ll find Rose soon, and it’ll all go well
again. But we must go. Good-night, Mrs.
Greenberry.”

“ Good-by,” returned the lady addressed.

“ Good-night to you all. Come, Davy, where
are you?"

But the man of little noise was outside of the
door already, and made known his whereabouts
to his better-half by a “ hem—here.”

“ Gracious, Mrs. Greenberry, I fear we have
outstayed our time. Our folks will begin to
think we’re lost, alon with Rose, and start out
to seek us,” Mrs. Dar said, closing her conver-
sation with a long rawn, masculine, “ h-a-wl
haw!”

The door closed behind Mrs. Darly and her
doughty Davy, and they were once more alone.
When completely out of ear-shot of the house,
the former broke the silence which the two had
maintained since quitting the mansion, with a
loud masculine laugh in her wonted manner.

“ éraciousl Davy, Mrs. Greenherry menus to
take the loss of her adopted girl hard, h-a-wl
h-a-w! I suppose she was dreaming of a match
at some future day, between that many of a son
and Mr. Tomlin’s daughter; but that fine scheme
is frustrated.” \

Davy re lied in his usual monosyllabic man-
ner, and his ruling star continued, but in a more
earnest and stem tone:

“ Good heavens] it’s not the loss of the child
that disturbs their peace. No, gracious! it’s
their anxiety about the roperty. If they had
that secure there would no concern felt for
poor little Rose, as they all term her. But
there’ll be found better heirs to the estate.
H arwl h-a—wl And that’s the real secret of
their grief.”

Her valiant spouse who trudged along by her
side grunted his assent, and in this strain of
conversation, the worthy couple beguiled their
way home.

 

CHAPTER V.

a 50ml. PAIR.
~ THE night was dark and uncomfortable. The
thunderstorm oi' the previous evening had sub-
sided inm a. entle ut incessant rain. which
ured down t rough the darkness without in-
gl‘mission. In an old dilapidated house, wast-
ing away. its once paramount architecture by
fiieoemeal, set two persons before a small wood
re, with a table between them which contain-
ed a decanter of brandy, a bow of sugar, and a
itcher of water. On either side of the small
,‘ gal table sat the two worthy heroes of this sin-

 

gular scene each with a cup of prepared bever—
age in his hand.

The rsonage who appeared to preside at the
jovial card, was a man of tall, slender stature,
with a. thin, sharp nose, a prominent but some-
what narrow lorehcad, thin lips and dark gee,
in whose deep and slumbering fires seem to
dwell a subtle soul, rife with intrigue and knav-
er . He was dressed in a. black cloth surtont,
ve vet doublet and light inexpressibles. His
feet, which were placed on the table, were eased
in heavy Jeiferson boots, and his left elbow
rested on the table, while in his right hand he
held the flowing bowl, applying it at intervals
to his lips.

His companion, who was of a more sullen and
moody cast of countenance, occupied the other
side of the table, with ,his feet protruded to—
ward the fire, and his right hand which held the
bowl resting on his knee, while his left hung
negligently by his side. His small gray eyes
twinkled ’neath their beetling brow, and were
fixed with a thoughtful and vacant stare on
the flickering blaze. Thus seated he had main-
tained fora long time a dogged silence, while
he seemed to meditate on some event or
anticipated. Not so, however, with h 5 ever
restless companion, who persisted in breaking in'
upon his reverie with frequent scraps of bac-
c analian songs and loud cells, such as—

“ Rouse up, Mr. Culpepper! Have you lost
your tongue? You‘ve been maintaining a deaf
and dumb silence for a good half-hour. Have
you another peddling expedition in anticipation?
Ha! hal hal” ‘ .

This raillery roused the dreamer at lengt ,
and he replied:

“What are you bawlins; about, Niel?” for it,
was no other than Niel Riley. “I think you
are the most uncompromising fool I ever saw,
Can’t you let a man indulge in his Elysian ~
dreams, without breaking in upon his reveries
with your coniounded prate?”

This singular rebuke served only toincrease
the obstreperous mirth of Niel, who commenced
in a. voice of thunder the old sonng the “ Bonny
Brown Bowl.” Finishing the stanza, be seized
his comrade by the shoulder and with a jerk
that nearly tumbled the meditating Culpeppor
on the floor, he shouted in his ear:

“ Rouse up, man, and don‘t sit with an empty .
bowl on your knee. Fill up a bumper to your '
favorite )ard. Who shall it be? Hal hal ha!”

The worthv Culpepper obeyed the summons
of Niel, and fillinfi his glass to the brim. he said:

“ Goldsmith—t 9 man of social pleasure, wit
and song!" - .

Oif went the bumper in honor of Britain's
rural hard, and Niel, replacing the bowl on the
board with a clatter, roared out a couplet from
the “ Deserted Villagez"

“Near yonder thorn that lifts its head on high, ‘
Where once the sign-pest caught the passer's eye."
“ Ha! hal hal I admire your taste, Mr. Cul—
pper," Niel enthusiastically exclaimed. “ Now
ll up a glass,1 Mr. Culpepper, ‘ to Bobby Burns
the man of ove and song, and of the social
glass, too. Hal ha!‘ ”

“Burns is my’ favorite,” pursued Niel com-
mencing a lo on the works of 1; sim—
mortal plowman, “ Just mark, Mr. Culpepper,~

 

s The Wily Witch's wax-d.

  

 

 

how he makes the wisest man the world ever saw,
praise his Scotch drink.”

“ Give him strong drink until he winks,
That’s sinkin' in despair—"

and reciting the well~kuown prelude of “Scotch
Drink,” Niel concluded with a loud stamp and
his usual “ ha! hul ha!” that made the old hall
ring. “ Who would have thought,” be con-
tinued, “of going to Judah’s wisest king for a
text to praise Scotch whisky, but Burns? Ha!
ha! hal’

“Very pathetic poet," said Culuepper, “but
not so sublime and passionate as Byron, nor so
harmonious as Goldsmith, nor so unstooping in
his flight as Pope."

“Popel that maligner of the ladies!” inter-
rupting him. “ Don’t name him with Bobby
Burns, Mr. Culpepper.’,’

“ Your Burns w111 lose none of his luster by
being associated with Pope,” replied Culpepper.
“Maligner of the ludies,'as you say,” be con-
tinued, “ he is one of my favorities on that very
account.”

An obstreperous laugh harbingered Neil’s re-
ply to this retort on the ladies.

‘ I forgot that you are a lady hater, Culpep—
per: but you have grown vindictive like all
other old bachelors who have been jilted in their

ounger days. You vented your Spleen upon
{11‘s. Greeuberry’s nurse, in the guise of a ped-
dler, I suppose, to your heart’s content. Hal ha!
ha! but that wasa clever done trick. Inever
saw you look so well as ou did under that

ack and red wig. The gir swore on were a

utchman, you counterfeited the dler so well
in every respect. The only fault she could
complain of is that your accent was rather Ger-

‘ mamsh.

And Niel closed his rallying speech with a

loud burst of his merriment, in which Culpepper
' joined.

“ The vixen told me twenty times she had no
money, but still persisted in seeing something
else, and I kept her curiosity on tiptoe, as long
as possible, by showing her the goods. piece by

lace, and hinting what finery was still to come,
Ell] she had ot through with all the articles of
clothin . contrived to feel her with many

. successful hints at the rare assortment of jew-
elry, which was nothing more than some of the
madam’s trinkets that I had rubbed up——that
v she plunged headlong into the gold mine, exam-
ining jewel after jewel, link by link, grinding
me down in price, still persisting she had no
money, till we arrived at length to the bottom
of the old carpet-bag—the first time. I ween, it
had ever been converted into a peddler’s pack.
roduoed some swings of beads we had bor-
rowed for the occasion for the young ni gers,
Those took the buss ’3 eye more than al the
other articles, or per .3 they suited her purse
best for she immediate y commenced banter-mg
. me for a couple of strings, which brought about
’ the favorable o ortumty for breaking up the
show, the thing gun to desire most earnestly,
,tor night was fast approaching, and I verily be-
lieve she would have sat there all night it there

' ‘ were curiosities enough to have kept her atten-

tion riveted. '
‘ At this point in the story, Culpepper and Niel

 

started to their feet, as the door trembled with
a loud, ringing rap, which was repeated several
times, and, the portal being opened, Mrs. Darly
and her spouse were added to the company.

“ Gracious! Niel,” said Mrs. Darly, “ are
éou and Dandy carousing here at this late hour?

on had better be in your beds."

“ We mi ht return the com liment, Mrs.
Darl ," Nie said, in his usual goisterous and
mirt’ful manner, “ by suggesting the same ad-
Vice.

“ Gracious! there’s a. wide difference in our
motives for keeping late hours. Urgent busi-
ness has forced us out this stormy night, to seek

on two, who should have been at the bridge
ong ere this, instead of holding an orgie in this

old but."
“This old but!” ejaculated Niel. “Listen to
that, Mr. Culpep rl Terming my ancestors’

hall an old hut! a! bar hal

‘ Then, the hall of my father art gone to decay,
In thy once smiling garden the hemlock and

thistle
Has choked up the rose that late bloomed in the
way.‘

Mr. Culpefpper- and I have been ‘ vexing with
mirth the rowsy ear of Night,’ as Byron says.”

“ Well, you've vexed it longenoug ," returned
the lady. “ For H-e-a-v-e-n’s sake don’t make
beasts of yourselves any longer.”

“This is a Wild night, Mrs. Darly,” Niel com-
menced after ad 'usting matters to his satisfac-
tion. “ How’s t 6 old man 1" ,

“ I fear he’s getting worse,” the lady replied,
“ and he wishes to see you immediately.”

“ Heavens! this is a wild night for a. man to
be out in, when he’s so comfortably cribbed."

‘f Gracious! and do you shrink from a little
ram_that a woman can travel through without
an 1y inconvenience ?” asked the lady, rather ironi-
ca . -

Niel mused for a moment, and asked it to.
morrow wouldn’t do?

“No, Mr. Riley. You know you areone of
the principal persons in the business and he
wants to see you as soon as possible, while he is
able to transact an things: '
N “lW’hy, is he like y to much worse?” asked

ie . .

“ Do you think we would have turned out this
night to hunt you, it it hadn’t been necessary?
I sent Caesar for the doctor before we left home,
and H-e-a-v-e-n knows whether he will survive
till. morning,”

“ Oh, if t 9 case is sodesperate as you re re-
sent it, delay isn’t to be thought of,” said iel.
“ But this is g

‘ Sic a night to take the road in.
As nos poor sinner was abroad in.’ "

“ If you’re so tender,” added the lady, sarcas-
tically, “ I’ll lend you my cloak.” _

“ It would be uugallant to accept it,” Niel re-
plied, accomgnyin the sally with a fit of bois—
terous lau h r, an seizing Davy b the shoul~
der, gave in), such a rude jerk, as Re to have
laid the doughty husband on the floor, ex-
claiming: V

“Come, Davy, let’s takes bumperat ’ ' 'ng~
—‘ for I never before ’
Felt the glow that now gladdeus my heart! to the

core;

 

     
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
   

The Wily Witch’s Ward. 3

 

Let us drink! who would now—since thrOugh life's
varied round,
In the goblet alone no deception is found.” "

“ Fill Mrs. Darly another glass of our toddy,
and we’ll leave (you to your El sian fancies.”

Culpepper di as reques , and turning off
their glasses the trio left the gloomy hall in care
of the last-mentioned worthy.

“I have the drinking tools now to myself,”
said Cnlpep .r, when he was alone. but the ‘ big—
bellied bott e‘ of Niel had little of soul—stirring

ower in it. Gradually his arms relaxed, his
head rolled back on his shoulders, his eyes closed
his breast heaved with a heavy respiration, and
Dandy Culpepper slumberid in the drunkai‘d’s
oblivion.

 

CHAPTER VI.
rim DYING CONSPIRATOR.

Mas. DARLY, with her valorous escort, Niel,
and her douglhatiy spouse, had scarcely arrived at
O’Ferguson , ere the increasing storm again
resumed all its former violence. The raging
tern st driving the black thunder-ell uds from
the orthwest, swept onward in its wild career—
i course with an incessant roar, scarcely less
terrific than theawful bursts of thunder that
every minute broke forth “ the rattling cm 5-
among,” as though the wild hills of the We] 0-
wish were tumbling from their beetling summits
into the valleys beneath.

The pouring of a sheet of lurid flame throu h

V the inky darkness, displayed the terrors of the
night with tenfold magnificence. While the
water raged with the greatest violence, two
horsemen entered the bridge the? crossed the
VVallo-wish, within a few paces o O’Ferguson
Hall. The dilapidated structure creaked and
trembled at every gust that struck it, threaten—
ing to crash into the turbid stream beneath,
which roared and boiled over its rocky bed. The
overcharged torrent had already reached the
broken floor, and washed with a, mlashing noise
through the crevices. Higher, yet higher rose
the waves each moment, as the heavy claps of
Ponder burst fearfullyaround; and the rain,
alling in sheets, rolled in torrents from the
hills.
‘ “Creek risin’vory fast, doctor. Ole bridge

' not is to cross jist now,” Caesar remarked, as
thefu emerged from the end, and found their
foot 119; once more on terra firma, for be it was
who had sought the physician and was bringing
him to the relief of his master.

But the words were scarce] uttered ere the
old bridge, with a fearful eras . went into the
stream, and was borne in fragments on the
foaming billows.

“ Tie up my animal beneath the shed. Cesar,”
the doctor  to the ne 0, as he dismounted
from his reeking steed, “ or I have yet further
to ride to—night, although it storms so terribly.

“My Gena-mighty! doctor not gwine out
in dis storm :1 ’m to-nightl Let me stable the
horse and give ’ some feed,” replied the negro
with surprise.

“jNo matter how hard it storms, doctors must
.ride: the sick must beattended to,”the hysi-
ciao: cooll answered,” he strode rapi y to-
 ward the we. ' '

.«g‘ _v

 

 
 
 

A heavy rap at the door, thrice repeated,
brought an old negress from the dark recesses
of the kitchen, who unbarred the broken portal ,
that closed the entrance, and shadowing her
eyes with one hand from the faint glare of the
wick that burned in a saucer of lard, in default
of a more improved article of illumination,
which she carried in the other, she pecped scru—
tinizingly in the physician’s face, as if to recog—
nize the intruder, and then exclaimed joyonsly:

“ Doctor, is dis you? Bless de Lor’, lm glad
you come.”

“ This is I, Nina,” he replied, for he seemed to
be acquainted with all the household. “ How’s
Mr. O Ferguson?”

“Go’ bless de old man, he worry bad; but I
hope de Lor’ spare him dis time,” the old ne-
gress answered, as she lighted the doctor along
the dark, damp passage that led to the stair—

wa .

Ilp the stairs the physician mounted to the
Chamber of the sick, “bile the old negress re-
traced her steps, muttering as she went back to
her dark, sooty abode in the kitchen. The doc-
tor entered the apartment of the invalid, and
found Neil Bile seated on the bed beside the
sick man, and rs. ‘Darly, his daughter, in a
broken arm-chair, close by his side. The
doughty Davy, as usual, occupied a position in
the background, with his broad shoulders restr '
ing a ainst the wall.

“ ow do you do, doctor? For good-hi ht
would be out of place in this wild storm. 8
feared Caesar would never be able to find you.
Father had a sudden relapse after you left him,
which concerned us a good dea ; but he has
happily revived again,” said Mrs. Darly rising
from an easy arm-chair With many pro essions
of regard, and shaking the physician’s hand.

The doctor saluted the company in his brief
manner and tried the atient’s ulse—who was ;
now reclining in a. be -sitting, all—lying posi- _
tion, with his head resting on a pile of pillows;
looked at his tongue, asked a. few questions, gave
a few directions respecting the proper regimen,
and saying he had other calls, took leave at the
company, assuring the patient he would soon be
restored.

O’Fergnson, taking up the conversation where ,
the doctor’s entrance had broken it off, con-
tinued: . ,

“ Yes, Niel, it rests wholly on you and Davy
to bring the business to a happy issue.”

“Never fear Davy and me,” replied Niel;
“ we’ll make all as plain to the court as old law
books. Davy, man, come forward. I foretold
your sleepy nod would would one day beofgreat
1m rtance to the councils of the nation.” ’
he sober, silent Davy did as requested, and 
shiftin his position from the “all, took one by
the side. . v I

“And we may count on you and Davy prov-
ing that the will doesn't specify?” continued
O’Ferguson. . I
D “ Cer’tainly," returned Niel. “ May they not,

avyl ' ,

The deliberate Dav looked dubious, as if to
in uire what it mig t be he wanted to attest.
an‘d with a “ hem,” grumbled “yes” at a

hazard.
“Well,'hovv will you frame your story to H

   

 

g,

 

cummwwc,chant... ..,. ..

r ha! ha!

10 The Wily Witch’s Ward.

 

make it the more concise and put the best face
on the matter?” O’Ferguson inquired.

“Hal he! nothin" more easy,”repliecl Niel,
laug “ The w 11 was written when Tomlin
was on is death-bed, and a few hours before he
breathed his last; yet his mind was perfectly
sane aswe can attest with truth——bequeatbcd
his daughter the whole of his estate, to be paid
into her hands when she attained the age of
eighteen, but not prior to that time. No other
disposition, however, is made of the estate by
that document, in case the intended heiress
full avictim to disease, or disappear in any
other way previous to its falling into her hands.
And now comes the part of the will which we
must help the old gentleman through with.
After the will had boon signed and closed in a
formal manner, Mr. O’Ferguson remarked to
Mr. Tomlin, that he thought it a v ~ry precari—
ous document in its present state, inasmuch as
no human power had control over the destiny of
an individual, and mortality inherent to human
nature, for aught that would he discernml of the
future, might remove the heir intende beyond
the cure of earthly res onsibilities, before the
time specified in the wi] should place the estate
in her possession. The beqm-athor, who was
fast sinking under the effect of his wouirls, but

whose mind still retiined its wontc'l energy to'

the last, despite the power of pain over his phyu
sical strength, heard the suggestion of Mr.
U’H‘erguson with attention, and said, after
musing some time, ‘ If it be the will of Provi—
dence that my Rose shall never inherit her
father’s estate, then it is my desire that it pass
into the hands of Miles O’Ferguson and his hei, s,
with the exce tion of asmall house and lot in
New York, which 1 would. like Mr. Greenberry
to have to dispose of as he ma7 think best.’
There’s; policy in allowing Mr. Greenberry a
small share; it looks more death—bed like. Ila!
That‘s a feasible story; ain’t it O‘Fer—
’gusoni Vtht do you say, Davy, with your

counsel-wise head?”

“ That will do—that will do admirably. But
how will the dubious Davy ever be able to per-
form his part?” inquired O’Ferguson.

“I’ll make sure that the (loughty Davy does
the thing that is polite,” said Niel, with his
usual gayety, if I may be allowed to term such
pleasure mirtbful.

“ But we cannot touch the estate until the
time of the daughter’s non-age is expired; un-
less Greenberry will give up peaceably, which is
not likely,” said O’Ferguson; “ but your deposi-
tion can be taken in writing, and placed in the
hands of a. mu istrate for preservation, should
any misfortune fall the witnesses before the
time transpires for treating the matter befvu'e a
court of justice. And when once in possession

' of that estate we can wreak terrible vengeance

on our, old enemies, Fletcher and Dinhy, whose
farms lie contiguous, and as you know, Helen,
were taken up under the same survey, and were
afterwards patented off in plantations, tosubse-
quent and smaller purchasers. Well, by exam-
ining the dates of the several patents, we find
the estate of John James Tomlin bears the oldest
in the manor. By the negligent way of execut-

,3 ing their business common to our ancestors, the
patents: of these three estates, 'l'omlin’s,

 

Fletcher’s, and Dinby’s, are allowed to overla
to a considerable extent. But Tomlin’s, as
have said, being the most ancient, must be filled
first: to do which it will require half their es—
mEPN‘ f G be k

ow, i reen rry rsists in re ing
session of the estate until the time simgifieti by
the will has expired, the only course left us to
pursue is to counteract his sway over the pro-
perty as much as possible, by an injunction;
and enter suit against Fletcher and Dinby, to
lie on the docket till Grecuberry is ousted
from the estate. And then for vengeance.
Helen, you will attend to this business if I
shouldn’t live to see it consummated. But I
will live; 1 won’t die! I Will see the end! I
have struck friend and foe who have stood be
tween us and vengeance! I have drained many -
a bitter cup to the dregs, and I will quaif the
sweet one! But, Helen, ou shall finish, if I
fail, what alifetime has een too short to ac-
complish.” .

The old man, exhausted by his efforts of body
and mind, sunk back on the bed, while his eyes
glared Wildl from beneath the gra hair that
fell disbeve ed about his brows. Hi; lay calm
for a moment, and then pointed his skinny
finger toward the opposite well, while deepening
hogpr was depicted on his front, exclaiming
w1 y— .

” Look! There he is! I see him pointing with
his menacing finger! He frowns and threatens
me with his ghastly, menacing look! Oh, God!”
and his words were lost in the deafening clap of
thunder that burst over the house.

A ball of fire ran down the wall, and sparkled
with a blue florid blaze.

“Oh, heavens!” exclaimed Niel, burstin
throu h the room door. and half springin , ha] .
tumb ing down the stairway, into the dar pas-
sage beneath, followed by the dumb, terror—_
stricken Davy, who rushed headlong into the
obscure recess behind Niel, rolling and tumblin
(lOWll tho steps, till the broken floor beneat
brought up, with sundry bruises on his head,
arms and body, his violent and precipitate re—
treat.

A shudder of horror thrilled the heart oh- the
wretched O’Ferguson, as he endeavored to hide
his eyes from the terrible vision that haunted
him, and burying his face in the pillow, scream-

ec .

“ Oh, Helen! take him away! Take him away,
my daughter!"

‘ Father, don’t struggle so violently. There’s
nothing—I see nothing to fri hten or disturb ,
you but the raging storm. alm yourself, or
those spasmodic convulsiOns which periled your
life to—nigbt will return again."

She spoke, but her words were heard not, for
the form of that wretched man had stiffened
with the last throes of death, and he lay alike
cold and insensible to fright or consolation. No
form of life now moved in that chamber of fear
and death, save that unshaken woman, whose
brow still retained its unrelaxed and wouted ex~
pressiun of rigid sternness, neither hightened by
the stirring and frightful scenes, nor softened by
subduin sorrow. Once, and once only, did she
start to er feet, but, recovering her subpoena- ,
sion instantly again, her breast—grew ac calm as

u
\

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

The Wily Witch’s Ward.

in

 

the current that runs dark and deep below. She
bent over the stiflened corpse, and placed her
hand on the temple, and then resting it on the
heart for a moment, said quietly—“ My father
—-he is dead 1”

CHAPTER VII.
A LEGAL SURPRISE.
ABOUT a year posed away after the myste-
rious disappearance of little Rose, and no trace

could be discovered, no tidings heard of the lost‘

child.

The vemal season had robed and decked the
landscape in all its voluptuous splendor. ‘The
soft breezes of early summer, laden with per—
fume from the flowering meadows. swept quietly
and sweetly through the lattice, through which
Mrs. Grecnberry, seated by her husband’s side,
was gazing on the Witching prospect of sloping
lawns, widening meadOWs and grr'en woodlands
that lay expanded and inviting to the admiring
v cw.

But the lady gazed in sadness on the scenes of
loveliness that smiled In their vernal bloom,
wooing the heart away from life’s dull cares to
a realm of ideal beauty, where the soul, mount-
ing on Fancy’s airy wings may disport and bask
in the heaven of poesy. And instead of joyous
and pleasant sensations, feelings or melancholy
and depression ,mrvaded the breast of Mrs.
Greenberry, for they brought back anew the
reminiscence of poor little Rosc. Where was
she now? She, who had gamimled over those
green lawns in childish mirth, and rolled among
the flowers. And the balmy zephyrs. playing
with the tender foliage, and signing softly
through green arbors, had once played with the
sunny curls of that fair daughter, who was new
lost! lwtl— and found the damask rose on her

, cheek fairer than the rose of the garden;

“ How beautiful these scenes, yet how sad the
recollections they awaken,” remarked Mrs.
Greenberry to her husband, after she had mused
long in silence, “ and what a train of calamities
are about to follow fast in the footsteps of that
terrible misfortune which deprived us of poor
little Rose! Truly it has been said that evils
come not alone.”

“ Emeline,” said the husband, and he looked
gravely into his wife’s face, “ we should not
murmur against seeming misfortunes that have
befallen us, nor dread anticipated evils. The
upright are promised light in the midst of dark-
ness. and we should act in such a manner that
the past will always be' a bright and pleasant
spot for memory to turn to.”

“'lhough,” replied Mrs. Greenbei'ry, “ we
have ever acted mm the promptings of virtue
and benevolence, yet these scenes (though not
from‘any act on our own part,) by their very
lovehu‘lss create a. feeling of sorrow and
gloom.”

. “ But you should find consolation in the teach-
ing that all‘ things work together for God’s
glory and their own good. Rose has been doubt-
ess snatched away, that the chastening rod of
adversity may re are us to receive some more

. precious and va ua le gift.”

“Nothin at least that the world can bestow,”
retude t a lady, “can be more precious or

. more dear to me than that which the dying

had placed under my protection, and enjoined
me with a parting breath to deal tenderly with,
and yrt I have lost her—and how? Not y the
unavertible stroke of death, to which all must
illustly submit—hut in her health and bloom has

a zone—but where and how who can tell?"

“ Think not, however,” replied Mr. Green-
berry, “ that little Rose, whether on the earth,
or slumbcring in its bosom, is lost or deserted-—
the pure and innocent are never unprotected or
abandoned. But who are those two men that
approach the mansion?" and the speaker direct-
ed his wife to twu persons who came slowly up
the road.

“ One is Mr. Riley,” replied the lad . “A
kind friend we have in him, at lrast. hat a.
great pity he is carried away so often from the
pth of rectitudc by the temptations of intem-
perance?”

But her lord made no reply, and they awaited
in silence the approach of the two strangers.
Niel, as usual, presented himself with many
warm professxons, exchanged greetings in his
ardent and dashing manner, and * presented ,Mr.
Stuyvesant. sheriff of the county. This meagrr
specimen of ofilcial dignity returned the courtesy
of his new acquaintances with a consequential
display of his counterfeit grace and classic mun-
neis—which too often cut a ludicrous figure in
the eyes of good sense—describing an arc of a
circle of ninety degrees, to an angleot forty-five
degrees depression with his hat, so as to fairly
displa the enormous quantity of papers which
he he stowed away in the crown.

“ A fine prospect, Mrs. Grecnberry,” Niel
commenced, directing his discourse to the lady,
as he seated himself With his accustomed sang—
froid. “ A beautiful site, this, for a residence.
I always admired it. The locality itself invites
health); every fresh breeze pays its respects to -

on—

“Yes, I like it very much,” replied the lad ,-
her attention captivated already with Niel’s oi y
words. A

“I often contrast it with Mrs. Darly’s bur-
row,” Niel continued. “ I always call it 21 bur-
row. Hn! ha! ha! She calls it a Hall—40nd of
fine names, you understand. H11 ha! be! She
covers all that’s harsh with soft words, and AL
ways consults Davy when strangers are by—
then signifies what he shall so by a judicious
suggestion. Do you see the art hat’s emplo ed?
Yes, Davy‘s only a cipher to make up the eel-
mal point,” Niel added, in a half-sollloquizing
manner. “ Well, as I was Ding to say, Mrs.
Greenberry.” pursued Niel, ropping his face»
tious vrin, “you are blessed with a fine situa-
tion compared to O’Ferguson Hall—a real bur— ‘
row it is—buried beneath the hills, among rocks
with the stream at the door, threatening to
.swee the old rubbish away at every fmshet. ‘
Hal :1! Well, as may be imagined it is al-'
ways a sicklyplace to live iu—the ma 1116’: um
well at the present time—"

, “ Ah! is anything serious the matter!” in.
quired the sympathizing Mrs. Greenberry. ‘

“ No, no,” Niel answered; " nothing more than
a trifling brush—makes the old plague p'eevlsh,
though. Ha! ha! She’s at loggerheads with all
around, when she’s a little ailing. Do you hear,

 

Mr. Greenberry? Your comb, Helen Dal-1y,» is 7

 

“ 1.13

w. v . - . NW... ~ «-

The Wily Witch’s Ward. 3.

 

indigosed,” he said, in a louder tone, directing

his ‘scourse from the lady to her husband.
“ Your cousin Helcn‘s suck. She persists in
claiming kin."

“ I hope she’s not in a dangerous situation,”
said the gentleman addressed. breaking: oii‘ the
conversation he and the oiiicial worthy had
lfi'eielll conducting, and directing his discourse to

e . .

“ Oh, no. nothing serious,” rcturnod Niel; “ a
fit of the spleen. most likely. Cross 1150141 Nick,
too. She’s been teasing at Mr. Stuyvesant mrl
me all the morning to call on you about that bit
a! sham business. We had to humor her, you
know.” .

“Well, what does Mrs. Durly desire of me
now?” inquired Mr. Greenberry.

“ Oh, noth'ng more than the formal pnlavr-r
of a nominal deed to suit thc law, that she may

. beablc to prosecute the 01d teul between the
O’Fergusons and Fletchers and Dinbys, with a
fair prospect of victory,” Niel answered carc—
leszlyv

“ ell,” replied Mr. Greenherry. “ I don’t
like making nominal grants of that which
doesn’t exclusively belong to In9——-.'lll(l, worst of
all. I dislike being privy to persecution, whether

, just or unjust, and I can’t believe Mr. Tomlin
ever intended his es‘nto should extend into the
possession of either of these gentlemen.”

“Nor I, nor I either ever entertained for a
minute such an idea,“ exclaimed N icl. scouting
the idea, as it were, concurring with Mr. Green-
berry, and making light of the whole matter
with a burst of his proverbial laughter. “I
knew very well that you wouldn’t comply with
such a piece of nonsense; but we had to humor
her. Shortest mode of getting clear of her, you
understand.”

“ No—it would be a premature act on mv part
to hazard the property of others, that I hold
merely as a guardian, in order to advance any
personal design."

“ Exactly. exactly. I wholly auree with vou,”
returned the smooth-t ungucri Niel; “ but we
have acted the farce. so Mr. Stuvvesant may
return and report to the seat of government to
their mightinesses. Hal ha! ha!” concluding
with a hearty burst of his accustomed merri-
mont, Niel rose to take leave.

‘Here his companion commenced rummaging:
in his capacions hut-crown in u businesslike
manner, among his voluminous manscripts, as
if in search of some particular one. Producng
a writ of injunction, with his wanted display of
oflzlal dignity the little self—important mun
presented it, with. a bow, to Mr. Grecnberry,
saying:

‘ I am instructed, sir, to make you acquainted
with this decree of the Court. enjoining you to
exorcise no undue acts of ownership, aside from
the more retention of this landod property in
question, during the minority of the intended
heimss.”

. With a low bow, as when a hero has success
fully and admirably performed his part, the

v official diznitary. after this formidable display
of ability and learning, prepared for departuré.

It may be imagined Wh’lt a thundor-clap of
surprise this sudden announcement was to Mr.
Greenberry and his lady. ,

l

 

“What means this injunction?” he asked in
amazement.

But the consequential sheriff replied, with a
grim smile:

“ The face of the document will make you no.
quainted with its contents.”

The puzzled Greenherry turned to Niel with a
look that spoke more than words, for an explan-
ation of the mystery. Niel. with all his fact at
dissembling, and coolness and skillin conducting
a. piece of diplomatic kuavery, looked guilty
and cresti‘allcn.

“ Vtht means this, Mr. Riley? Do you know
aught of this strange piece of complicated busi~
Hess?” inquired Mr. Grecnberry earnestly, while
he kept his piercing eyes riveted with a. pene-
trating gaze on the face of the quailiug Niel.

“ Well. Mr. Greenberry,” be commenced, con~
fusedly, “ to make the matter short, I must ex-
plain this business to you. though with the
greatest reluctance I am compelled to reveal some
facts to you which have never come to your
knowledge before. I was in hopes that you and
Mrs. Dnrly could have come to a quiet adjust-
ment of this knotty subject, and spared me the
inexprcssible pain of being the flrstto put you
in possvssi on of the facts concerning the disposal

of this estate. in case the heiress intended should

not survive.”

And Niel proceeded to narrate (though pro-
fessing a great many regrets the while) the fab-
ricated story relating to the property in case
death or accident should debar its falling into
the hands of the daughter.

“ That the girl’s disappearance will ever be
accounted for. or she ever recovered." N191 cou-
tinuod, concluding his story. and recovering his
snlf possession, “is hopeless, and mom’s the pity
for that old woman must, in consequence, fall
heir to the property. But zoundsl you can keep
possession in spite of her till the time designated
by the will has expired. Ha! ha! ha!” andau
emphatic thump with his constantly-geeticulab
ing hand, on a neighboring bench, with a loud
lunch in order to emphasize the matter, wound
up the plausible story.

The two worthies took leave hastily, after
thing had been thus fairly understood by the
parties, leaving Mrs. Greenben'y in a paroxysm
of grief, and her spouse in a fit of excitement
and chagrin.

Niel and his official friend had made their exit
but a short time ere Pat McCleary. a son of green
Erin, appeared in the avenue leading to the
mansion, with a back—load of woodcuttor’s tools,
and holding: a conversation to himself, something
like the following:

“ Och! sorry be to the day that iver Pat
McClnary put brogue on the shores of Amerriky!
But what could a man do ag’in’ such a boast of
nagers. St. Patrick! if I’d had a good shilleluh
how I’d made the woolly crathers scratch! Ochi

but I’d ’a’ give a p’ase of my lifetime for a few of ,

the lads that I used to Paris out to the gineral,
battles at the Glinfaresl broth! but it’s low days
with Pat McCleary. that need to be counted
bully of the Glins, when he's compelled to Note a
retreat from a gang of lingers! Sorrow be to

the dnv! if it iver reaches ould Ireland, that ,

Pat McCleary turned his back on an inemykl”.
I “, What’s the .matter, fag}! ’

,3...

. mug» . , y,

 

 

 

 

( The Wily Witch’s Ward.

187

 

  

asked, as the Irishman approached near enough

i -‘ for his stran soliloquy to be heard. But Pat,

‘ v absorbed wit his own emotions, paid no regard

2' i l to, or perhaps did not hear the interrogations of
~' 1 ~ his employer.

“ But what single man could stand before sich

:= a dhrove of woolly apes—sand without a sufficient

'shillelah—and lid on by that she divil in petti—

i coats—what you call her? Helen Darlin. Och!

a, Jabers but she’s the broth of a darlin’.”

‘ “ Why, what in the world do you mean,
McClearyT' Mr. Greenberry, approaching the
Ilifuriated Pat, asked with surprise.

_ “ M’anel” said the wrothy son of Erin, throw-

HIE1 down his cutting-tools. “Is it yer Honor

as l Sorrow be to the day that Pat McCleary

* ‘ should m‘ane anything but the truth.”

“ Well, whathas happened?”

v “Troth! au’ isn’t there enough happened,
when Pat McCleury‘s compelled to retreat be-

fore an inemy.”

,, “Who did {gm run from?" pursued the com

founded Green rrfi.

' “Bin! did yer onor say?” ejaculated Pat,
with the most sovereign contempt for the word.
“ Divil a step did Pat iver rin from a human
. crntherl"

; “ Well, how then?”
" “ How thin l—Why, does yer Honor under—
‘ ,2 stand, that ould limb at the bridge, with her
 nagurs—what d' 8 call her?"
‘ . ‘ Helen Dari , ’ replied Mr. Greenberry.
“ Well, yer chars to understand, this Helen,
 with her black marmadons, came swarmin’ on
me as thick as Pharaoh’s locusts with sticks and
stones, and guns too, for inny thing I know, and
the divil knows what other murtherin’ w'a ns;
1 and, does yer Honor see, Pat was compil ed to
, A; _ Note a retreat from the place he was cutting

V 1 wood by er Honor’s orders, as he was niver

thigcilig’ o’ the like, and had no shillelah pre-

‘91,

:4

 

4- “ Oh well, never mind!” Mr. Greenberry said,
2‘, havin got the Irishman’s story at length.
, if, “ wer mind! daes yer Honor say? If the
t 5] news iver gets to ould Ireland. Saint Patrick!
' ” e Pat McClea ’ll niver iecover from the dis-
1 3 cc his oul cronies, the boys of the Glins, ’ll
1 ‘§ 'ape upon his name and fame.”
‘ ,  “ Well, well, there's an injunction laid upon
i g the land and we’re not allowed to cut any
' I more,” Air. Greenberr replied.
“Oh! divil take the ow; hut, by my HOW], I’ll
:V, vs revinge for this insult out 0’ that ould wo-
?' 7 man and her black apes, or my name isn’t Pat
cCleary!”—-—and the Irishman, shoulderiug his
110018 again, strode doggedly away, to chew
alone the end of bitter reflection.

CHAPTER VIII.
mm moons, WELL mar.

p  in O’Ferguson Hall was Mrs. Darly,
‘ With a number of musty volumes strewn over a
' table that stood before her. through the pages
01! which she was looking asif in search of some
order passage. The r thick leather bind-
3‘8 and fused edges designated them to be law
books; and, having at length discovered the de-
med passage, she pushed the rest of the volumes
W said and commenced perusing an “act” in

.. one had selected.

 

 

 

 
    
   
   
  

 

Her slovenly attire consisted of a faded (limits?
gown and an old, tattered dress hanrikeruhie ,
tied negligently about her neck. Her long black
hair, with which was mingled a few strays of
gray, discoverable only on a close examination,
was twisted round a comb, that secured it in a.
bunch or knot at the back of her head. Her
countenance was of an austere cast and sinister
expression, with gray eyes, sunk deep in their
sockets, while the muscles of her face drew her
brows into a severe expression, and contracted
the corners of the eyelids into small wrinkles,
gliving her orbs a penetrating and angry look.

or nose, as if to complete this hard counten-
ance, was large for t at of a female, with a
hairy wait on one side of it. She was of an un-
commonly tall and commanding stature, for a
woman and her gait, the most unfeminine, was
a firm, long, and rapid stride.

Playing about throu h the room, on the bare,
broken floor, where airs. Dnrly was seated,
among a motley collectim of cats, do 8, poul-
try and pigs that entered one door as t ey de‘
sired, and passed out of the other at their
leisure, were the two twin children, Timon and
Christiana. But what a contrast in physio -
nomy was there-betWeen the two children! T a
how, a thick, fat, coarse, lubherlv urchin. with
dim, muddy, tireless eyes; while his sister was of
3 re and delicate form, witha soft. clear, white
is in, and melting blue eyes. So wide a difi'er—
encc is seldom met with in persons of the same
family. The boy, after hauling his sistet about
for a while, like one of his pet dog, finished his
impish amusement b pushing the little girl
over so violently on t 9 floor as to make or
scream out with pain. ,

Mrs. Darly, roused from her book by the
cries of the child, turned her head and ex-
claimed: . /

“Timon, what are you doing to Christiana?
Nina,” she continued, in a louder tone, calling
the o!d servant, “ come here and attend to the
children; what are you poking about, all the
time in that kitchen?”

The old negress appeared. in a wrathful mood
at seein her fan‘lte so illy treated, muttering '
to horse 1!, as was her custom:

“ Dat’s a eta’nal bad boy; you’ mummy ought
to spank you well i’Q’ hurtin’ you’ little sister.
Dod! nn’ she don’t look like any kin to you.
Come hea, honey; come hea, till I take you
away fro” dat great buffle-head.”

And the old woman caught the child—who ex-
tended her hands to her, as to a favorite—up in
her arms. and, wiping the tears from her bright
blue eyes, logged the girl away to her abOde in
the kitchen muttering in her wonted manner as
she retired. ‘

Niel and his companion, the sheriir, now en~
tered, and Mrs. Darly, closing her quarto vol-
ume, with a smile rose tomeet them.

“Gentlemen, take seats—~how did you make,
out?” , l - ,

“ Ha! ha! hal—make out ?——we always make
out well,” said Niel, laughing. > ;

It was M rs, Darly’s turn now to laugh, which
she did with a loud. hoarse, “ haw! h-afiwl’,‘

“ And did you frighten Cousin Greenberry
into compliance with our wishes?"

“We can’t give you an explicit answer this

14

i The Wily Witch’s/Ward.

 

hot day,” Niel replied, wiping his forehead and,

with a sinister smile, nodding to the self—im-

rtant sheriff, “ until we have our ideas col-

ected with a drink of brand —hal ha! ha! Set

cult y‘our decanter, Mrs. Dar V ;we’re as dry as
l

The hostess placed a decanter on the table
with a—

“Gentlemen, help yourselves; and let me hear
the substance of your expedition as soon as pos-
sible."

“ Here’s health to the O’Ferguson cause, " said

' Niel, pouring out a glass of the liquor and

emptying it at acouple of swallows. “Help
ourselt, Mr. Stuyvesant. hello yourself—de-
ightful and refreshin this hot uyl"

The ofllcer threw a ump of sugar in the glass,
added a little water to dissolve it, tenk the glass
between his finger and thumb, hell it up to the
light, peered through it—then added a little
brandy, and held it up again to examine its
color—replaced it on the table, poured a drop
more into the lass, and turner with a face
radiant with sun! 3 to reply to Niel, who was re-
counting facetious anecdotes, for the ediflcation
of the sheriir, to the great perplexity of Mrs.
Darly, who was all impatience to hear how they
had succeeded with Greenberry. The official
worthy next walked to the mirror, stroked up
his fine whiskers and adjusted his cravat: then,
returning to the table, took his glass, and, with
a nod to the hostess, swallowed its contents.
Niel still continued his jesting and laughter, till
Mrs. Darlev, whose atience was worn com-
pletely out by his witticisms, broke in upon the
reactions humorist with:

" Mr. Riley, are on never going to get done
talking nonsense? 0 let me know what success
Mr. Stuyvesant and you had.”

“Hal ha! ha!” was the commencement of
Niel’s re ly; “ we harl all sorts of success. 1 ap-
peal to r. Stuyvesant for confirmation.”

' “Succeeded admirably—admirably,l assure
you, madam," said the sheriff.

' “ Then let me know how admirably you suc-
ceedezl.”

“ Give us time to collect our ideas. Mrs.
Dari , and regale ourselves with this refresh-
incr average—ha: hal ha!" Niel added, “ and
£15m able to give you the whole story in de-

' “ Never mind the details," the impatient lady
isted; “ let me: hear the substance of it.”

‘i‘ The whole affair is too good to lose an iota of
it, isn’t it, Mr. Stuyvesant?" the intolerable Niel
continued, replacing his empty glass for the
third time on the board.

“ Excellent, excellentl” replied the smilin
sheriff, as he poured another glass of brandy 8115
watnr down his throat.

firs. Darly’s exhausted patience was, lay
this time, converted into a preternatural t
0! rage, and she fell to kicking out the dogs
that were sprawling about in every corner of the
room.

“ Get out of the house. you filthy brutes, and
find a bed elsewhere; confound you, you’d better
take , on; away with ye—out with ye—-be-

. e
' In a short time the house was cleared of yelp-
ing curl and bawling hounds, and Mrs. Dar y

, \

 

again resumed her seat, anxioustlfy to wait'the
disclosure of Niel and the sheri , who, havin
gorged themselves well with brandy, reare

ack at length in their chairs With the im—
Kgrtance of hotel-lords, and commenced giving

rs. Darly an account of their success.

“ Well, we’ve seen your Cousin Greenberry,
hul hal hal” Ned commenced; “your cousin, I
say, ha! ha! haI”

‘ Well, what out did you make?”

“Out! ha! ha! ha! Greenberry’s too old a
bird to be caught with chafl’, isn’t he, Mr.
Stuyvesant?”

“A pretty shrewd chap, that Greenberry,"
replied the sheriff.

‘ Well.” resumed Niel, “we tried to persuade
him to give a deed of trust, but all to no ur-
pose; and Mr. Stuyvesant was compelle at

ength, to make him acquainted with the iu~
junction. Heavens! how thunderstruck he was
when the sheriff presented that, and gave him
an account of the whole afluil‘l The old lady
shed tears at the very sight of the writ.”

“He might have known that would be the
consequence of his deo—it—ish assumption and en-
croachment. And is that all?” inquired Mrs.
Darly, after giving vent to her exultation.

“That’s the story," replied Niel.

“ We’ll have to proceed in a slow and lawful
manner in future,” said the Witch, “since
Greenberry has proved invulnerable to covered
up roaches. We may calculate on your friend—
ship, Mr. Stuyvesant? A friend at court, is
very convenient. ”

“Certainly, certainly, madam,” replied the
officer; “ you may class me among your warm—
est sugporters. A friend at court, madam, is a
very esirable acquisition.” 1

And, with sund grimacee, nods, bows, and
becks, the little sel -important officer concluded
his speech; and, with a parting glass, the con—
ference broke up.

CHAPTER IX.
THE WITCH or ran WALLO-WISK.

AGAIN, with that infirmit peculiar to stor -
tellers. we intrude upon 17 e privacy of t e
Greenberrys, in their, what has now become an
old homestead. The ever pleasing ceremony ’of
dinin (to those who deserve their bread es-
pecial y) had been performed, and the old gen-
tleman was taking a turn on the iazza of the
mansion, for exercise. His once rown locks
were now silvered over with the harbingers of
approaching age, and care had left its impress
in the deeply traced lines that marked his brow
and witherin cheeks. Those characters, which
time may h1ghten,but not eiface, too plainly
reveal the sleepless nights; the long hours of
conflicting thoughts, and deep and painful medi—
tation, that torture the inward man on the ter-
rible rack of hope, fear, doubt and uncertainty.

In the hall were the different members of
that numerous family. gliding hack and for- a
ward, to and fro; but the most remarlmble
was a young man, tall and slender in form,
with handsome and lively features. His dark,
chestnut hair, combed in thick, short rings
lets about his neck and marble forehead, that,
by its whiteness, strangely contrasted with
the bronzed cheek and other parts of his

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

w

 

' oif ten, his uncle, who resided in Provence, and

The  Witch's Ward,

15

 

face, to which ure to a more tropical
clime had given a cop Castilian tinge, through
which, however, the manth‘ng blush of life
and health diffused its ruddy glow. His ever
restless, dark, hazel oye had a quick penetrata
ing glance that nothing escaped; and his dark,

ointed whiskers, detracting somethin from
his youthful appearance, gave to young rnest
Greenberry—for he it was—a more _manly,
striking and chivalrous air than his mild, soft
and lacid mien. without this military dev1ce,
would naturally have possessed. ‘

And such was Ernest Greenberry, With all
the tender sensibility, with all the high‘toned
pride of the gallant cavalier. At the early age

whose name little Ernest bore, insisted on
taking the youth under his care and training;
and the doting mother, though loth to part
with her fond boy, yielded at len th, to his
kinsman’s solicitations. His uncle mg rich
and heirless, young Ernest was indul in all
his taste for the classic lore of the o d world.
Accompanied by his tutor, he made the tour of
Euro w the imperial city in her decayed
s lendor, and classic Athens in her ruins. But
5 ill the . king reli of former randeur, of

wer an greatness, are there, in t ose crumb-
ing monuments of man’s war and industry,
of his degradation and e eminncy. calling the
meditator hack to Greece in her pristine glory,
and, Rome in her imperial greatness. But if
the power and triumph of man have risen up
like a bright flame that blazed for a while in its
resplendent glory, then sinking away, left the
black track of ruin in its rear, the loneliness,
the charms of Nature still shine forth in all the
enchanting magnificence of imperative beauty.
There the air is helm, and the very atmosphere
infuses love. In those climes, where every
stream is embalmed, as it were, in immortal
song; where every steep, and tower, and tree is
a speaking remembrance of those who cannot
die; and every plain'and valley has been lists
for the tourney, where chival tilted for the
smiles of love—or the battle-fie] , Where heroes
strove for a crowu.

Having ripened into manhood beneath the
tropical rays of the Old World, he turned his
face once more toward the home of his infanr: ,
and arrived among kindred and friends at t e
momentous crisis when the affairs of his family
were beginning to assume an aspect of intense
interest and anxiety.

The time had now arrived which should have
terminated the guardianship of Mr. Green-
berr over the person and fproperty of Rose
Tom '1), placing the estate 0 her father under
her own care and mana ement, had not her‘
myml‘ions disap rauocc anged the condition
of affairs. The isposal of the property must,
therefore. under the present complexed circum-
stances, he settled bya decision of the Court.
Helen Darly. ow better known by the a pena—
tion of the “ itoh of the Wallo-wish,” claimed
relationship with John Jamel Tomlin; though
as the reader may» remember, a step more re-
mote than Mr. Greenberry, her father being, as
the latter gentleman, a second cousin to the

 

tether of Rose. This spirit of trouble and dis-
contEnt, however, who lived but in the atmos- ,

phere of contention, unable or unwillin to
await the tardy program of time, had up
the intervening space between the disap-
pearance of the intended heiress and the period ,
which should have placed the property 11 her
own hands, with a kind of Tartar-like warfare ‘
on all around her. Not content with shackling
the control of Mr. Greenberry over the Tomlin
estate by injunction, and bringing an im nd-
ing action against Fletcher and Dinb , o be
prosecuted w en she became heir de inch), if
such should ever come to pass, this genius of
strife whiled away the tediousness of life, by a
constant kind of predator warfare on all
around her. On some fut e pretext, placin
impediments in a neighbor’s Way: again, wi
more malicious purposes, killing another’s hog,
or maimiug a third’s cattle—never meetinfila
disputed point boldly, but, by a fiendish delig t,
taking advanta e of ever circumstance to
work ruin to 81 within er reach. A true
Ishniaclite in every res icct save in Mahomedan
creed, and perhaps, a s ight difference in color,
her hand, in the language of scripture, was
against every man; and by her unwenried ex-
erti us to work evil with or without retense
she had acquired the cognomen o “ itch of
the Wallo—wish.” What was to others as a dun-
goon and churne] house, was to her the breath
of life and pleasure, if a soul governed by
malice and envy can taste aught o! enjoyment
by giving rein to its fiendish aspirings.

But time, that tries all things, had at length
brought to maturity the dissensxons wrought by
the bag, as far as her influence extended. The
particles of strife, if I may so speak, which had
emanated from her dark bosom, and sp
abroad through the community like vapor from
the sea, that ascends and min les with the at-
mos here, were now fast co lecting into one
blue thunder-cloud as the mist ere it returns
to the bosom of the eep.

The tempest of revenge and malice must soon
burst, with all its violence, on those against
whom it was directed, or pour upon the devoted
head whence it rose.

Mrs. Darley ail'ected to rejoice at the ap-
proach of that which she could no longer defer,
nor failed to bruit loudly her unquestionable
chances and certainty of success. With Niel
and Davy’s strong and undeniable testimony,
she vaunted the triumph which awaited her-—
the ousting of Greenberry, and the overthrow of
the stubborn and unyielding objects of her ven-
geance, Fletcher and Dinby.

The lightnings of the storm were in the hands
of her who never knew mercy, and the fast ap-

rouching hour was anxiously awaited, when
its of destruction should be hurled among her
self-made enemies with fearful eifect.

The aspect of affairs, indeed, looked gloomy,
and Grecnberry could not but view it with sp-

rehension and concern. The reported verbal
nest of Tomlin which was so loudly and
vauntingl bruited by the “witch,” and her
consorts, e had no doubt was a grand piece of
knavery to the bottom' but how «mld he refute
it? Ah, there was the fearful rub! ’

But the time was fast approaching \which'
would dispel the uncertainty, and brifif peace
and ruin on the contending parties. them

 

 

 
   

,

.\

s

’7."

‘. he seest

, v

Q. musin
, m ,z

 thedlgnitygof the law, unprecedented in the

'16 . The Wily Witch’s Word. i

 

and jurymen were being summoned, lawyers
were consulting their musty volumes, seeking
abstruse points and vanta e ground against
their Opponents, and par ies making every
preparation that might aid a favorable issue at
the coming contest.

CHAPTER X.
DRUBBING A SHERIFF.

“ BO’l‘HEBATION! Masther Ernest, but she's
an Ould vixen!” said a well-known voice, which
we recognize as that of Pat McCleary. “ I
have some cold scores to settle with that limb o’
the divil before 1 die.”

“ Ali,” returned Ernest, as he paced the floor
with his hands thrust carelessly into his pockets,
and maintained a miscellaneous conversation
with the several members of the family, in a
pleasant and flippant vein, “ has this terror of
the present valiant ago, an old lady, not sulfered
you to esca unscathed, Mr. McCleury?"

‘ “Troth, asther Ernest, an’ I’ll not agree
she’s just a leddy, as your Honor sp’akes it. B
my soul, she bears herself more like Ould Scratc
himself in petticoats, than a crather of the hu-
man s acies!"

_ . “Ps aw! pshawl Mr. McCleary, you’ve got
prejudiced against Mrs. Darly,” Ernest perSISt-

' ed, smiling a. the odium the Irishman seemed to

entertain for the lady.

, “,Oh, Pat,” put’ in a pert, little girl, who had

been listening to the discourse for some time
Irwith ilLsuppressed mirth,~ “ you needn’t attempt

' weaning ever brother Ernest to our interest.

He is always at variance thh '3 friends at

any rate for the sake of Opposition, and, w en

he pretty daughter, I’m sure he’ll form

g.) leag’ue, ‘olfensive and defensive’ with Mrs.
arl . ‘

' “ y St. Pathrickl the daughter’s a jewel for

I f such an ould crab-stick to possess,” replied Pat.

“1 should like most exceedingly to see this

' fair dulcinea whose beauty Fame has so trum-

peted abro ,” Ernest said, stopping in the

 ml 3 of the floor, and turning toward the
' .. 'spea ere.

“ This little simple country maid
must be considered by you home—reared sini-
pletons a kind of modern Cleopatra in beauty. "
7 “ gypt’s tgueen was never half so pretty, I
«think, said e girl.
‘YPehaw, Mary, you've turned connoisseur in
.r female beauty,” replied the brother, “ and I am
he lining to doubt the incomparable charms of
th 3 Venus of the Walla-wish, when I hear ladies
sound her praise so highly. They are apt to
envy perfection in their own sex rather than
admire it."
.“ Troth, when yer Honor sees the jewel, e’ll
be either sayin’ the same thing,” added at.

I. “hut the less is the only ornament the ould
' shanty can boast of, an’ she’s more like an angel

xtban a crather of this troublesome earth.”
“*Well, I must tr to catch a glimpse of this
my, and then s e’ll prove pigmy enough in
duty I have no doubt,” Ernest replied, half
ly, with a smile, as he resumed his prome-
e. ‘ _
A vehement conversation without now attract-

‘ ed the attention of the parties.

v “Well, air, this day an insult has been offered

 

annals of our Government—yes, sir, unoxampled
by aWhin on record!” .

“ y, r. Stuyvesant,” for the first speaker
was no less a Eersonage than our old friend, the
dapper little 5 eriif, “ what has happened?” Mr.
Greenbery asked, in some surprise at the de-
meanor of the excited ofiicer.

“Sir, have not I, bearing the broad insi nia
of the State, and executing its edicts wit a
scrupulous and impartial justice, been maimed,
maltreated and repulsed by violent and offensive
means, while in the execution of my trust, the
fulfillment of my obligations. and the pursuit of
my bounden duty—and, throu h its faithful
servant, has not the majesty o the law been
wantonly outraged and insulted, sir?" pursued
this worthy of‘ the law, waxing warmer as he
proc

and egenied your authority?" Greenberry in-
quir .

“Why, sir, in the fulfillment of it)? dut , in
serving a warrant on the persons of rs. trelen
Darly, her husband, and son, Simon Darly, to-
gether with all aiders and abettors in the indis-
criminate and wanton slaughter of Thomas
Fletcher’s stock, I have been assaulted by that
lady and her associates in a wanton and out-
rageous manner.”

‘ Ah, is it ible!” said Mr. Greenberry,
with a smile, when the little sheriil' had left off
this ebulition of his ire; “ and you and she have
come to a rupture at last? ‘Wh , you used to be
as confiding as pickpockets, an then she was re-

orted as one of the finest women in the world!
trange such a breach between old friends should
have happened so suddenly!”

The cool and indifferent manner in which Mr.
Greenberry viewed this heinous outrage of the
law, in the officer’s opinion, was to Stu vesant’s
wounded pride, like a slash laid upon 0 d sores.
His towering passion rose to such a pitch as
effectually to overpower the little dignitary,
and it was some minutes before he was able to
give vent in words to the whirlwmd of excite-
ment that racked his soul.

Mrs. Darly had so captivated the confidence of
the little sheriff, by playing to his whims and
flattering his vanity, that he had talked of her as
one of the finest women beneath the sun, to the
disparagcment of all her enemies—whose name
was legion—being every peaceably-inclined per-
son, w ose fate or fortune offered this evil spirit
an opportunity of picking a quarrel with. Mr.
Greenberry, as a matter otcourse, came in for a
large share of this virulence, so industriously
circulated by the witch and her machinators
and the august sherifl, not being altogether 300
free of this dirty work, Henry Greenberry in
spite of his better Eidgment, felt not a ittle
amused and avenged y be chastening and well-

merited flagellating—to use no harsher term— _

this termagant had given the public func-

tionar .
Thisylittle eat man at length having recov-
ered his I: lbrium of temper, in some measure

resumed
style.
“Sir, in
ligation of my oath of office I know no friends.
Sir, a strict conformity to the

edenuuciations in his wonted florid

  
   
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
    
   
  
    
  
  
   
    
   
   
   
  
 
     
  
   
   
  
   
    
      
 
      

ceded.
“Who has assaulted you, Mr. Stuyvesant,’

 

pursuance of my duty under the ob- {
letter of the law,

 

 

    

 

 

“My, ..
:e m: ‘

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if;


 

 

 

 .

.. , l i
,r ’ ' The Wily Witch’s Ward. :

l
,1?

 

has, regardless of personal consequences, ever
been my invariable method of transacting busi-
ness, during my ca iacity of a public servant;
and the enormity o the outrage, in the present
instance, precedes any future event of the kind
that has ever come within the range of my ob-
servation. A less heinous ofl‘ense, sir, against
the constitution and sovereign pe ple of Eng-
land brought Charles Stuart to the block.
crime of far less magnitude dethroned and be—
headed Louis of France! Sir, if such insults to
the majesty of the law, if such wanton outrages
against the honor and dignity of the State are
regarded as matters of indifference, what, sir,
must be the inevitable and awful conse uences?
What, sir, has harbingered the downfal of fu-
ture kingdoms and republics that have passed,
but the disregard of law and order? .But, sir,
v/ this afi’air shall not end here. By the majesty
of the State, and my sacred oath of office this
first attempted. eiilcment of the law shall be
made an example and fearful warning to all
law—breakers henceforth. I am now summoning
a posse to take into custody this scoffer of law
. and justice, despite her and her minions; and
ere I bate one jot of my lawful prosecution of
this fla rant insult to the public,  Darly,
with all those concerned in the Rebellion, shall
be arraigned before a tribunal of her peers,
there to be tried and adjudged for the expiration
of her unparalleled offense against law and
order.” . _

Thus ending his bubble harangue, the valiant
sheriff drew a pistol from his poc 'ct and deposit-
ed it on a bench beside him, with a hard slap,
looking round at the same time to see the effect

, it had upon the company.

' Ernest picked up the weapon, examined it,
and said:

“Why, Mr. Stuyvesant, you have lost your

flint.” 0

“Ah. sir, that accounts for its missing fire
when I attempted to enforce the law, even at
the risk of bloodshed. I hadn’t perceived the
cause of its failure till on discovered it sir.
We’ll have it replenish with a new flint, ’ re-
plied the little shei iff. .

Ernest next attempted to cock the piece, but
perceivin the main—spring was broke, he said:

“Mr. tuyvesant, there appears to be some-
thing the matter with the inszde works of the
lock. I believe the main—spring is broken.”

“Ah, sir, is it ssible?” exclaimed the of—
ficial worthy. “ hat has been caused by some
of the missiles thrown at my person coming in
contact with the weapon, and fully explains the

,r’cause of its having failed to perform its office
When I was beset by the minions of outrage and
violence. Had it not been for this accident, the

, affair of this morning might have had a more
tragic conclusion.”

Ernest, on investigating the pistol further,
discovered that it was entirely empty.

“ Sir,” said he, “ I believe you have forgot to
charge your firearms,” with some difficulty sup-
pressing the laugh which he lelt very much in-
clined to break into at the puzzled countenance
of the little sheriff, on the announcement of this
discover . .

, “ Wei , sir—yes,” he replied, turning again to
Mr. Greenberry, and resuming the conversati' ii

 

to hide his confusion, where Ernest had inter—
rupted it. “ Yes, sir, I am now summoning a
posse."

“ And by St. Pathrickl Mr. Stuyvesant,” said
the son of Erin, speakin up very seasonably to
relieve the confused o “oer, "Pat McClear ’ll
Schniteer to help take the ould witch in er

en.

” And shall I be permitted the pleasure of en-
rolling myself under your patriotic banner!"
Ernest asked, With ill-suppressed mirth, in con-
sequence of the ludicrous display the oflicer was
making of his Lowers ot’ elocution, being always
ready for any break-neck scrape, and eager to
avail himmli‘ of the present opportunity of
catching a glimpse of Mrs. Darly s 1:in daugh-
ter, concerning whose matchlcss beauty he had
heard so much.

“With the greatest of? pleasure,” the dapper
little sheriff replied, mating a low bow to
Ernest, and describing the wanted circle with
his hat, which was his custom when the mea-
sion, as in the present instance, called forth the
greatest display of the officer’s good breeding.
“ “7e will be exceedingly gratified to have the
honor of your company on the present occasion.
I admire your (praiseworthy devotion, gentle-
men,” centinue the diminutive functionary,
‘Wothe cause of law and order. And I shall
accept your proffered aid the more readily on
account of its being tendered in so magnani—
nous a manner.” ’ ,
a As it is altogether amatter of impossibility
for the: reader to form a just idea between the
u itch and the officer by the pedantic volubility
of the latter, I will premise a brief synopsis of
the affair, that he or she may better understand
the drift of our story. .

’l‘he doughty Stuyvesant, it appears, had prev
senied himself before Mrs. Darly’s domicil, and
with that wonted display of authority so pecu—
liar to this worthy, summoned the beldam to
appear, which she did. with her accustomed
smile of deception and honeyed greeting, not-
withstanding she had just risen from a Wrap is
with Niel respecting the latter’s testimony in t e
approaching law suit, which the two had been
discussing over a bowl of Nicl’s favorite toddy.

“ Mr. S uyvr sent, do alight and come into the“
house. I can’t express my delight to see you.”

This very winning request, owever. the gel-
lant sheriff thought fit to decline, with one of
his most ostentatious displays of etiquette, ac-
quaintin the matron at the same time With the
nature 0 his business.

“ Let me see the warrant, Mr. Stuyvesant, if
you please,” said the 'witch, extending her hand
toward the sheriff, who placed the writ in it.

Glancing over the paper with flashing eyes, in
an instant the tore it into a thousand/pieces, and
seizing an angle-rod that lay close by, meas-
ured the bony sides of the our sheriff’s poorer
steed, till the sturdy 7stro es reverberated in
sullen echoes from the neighboring clifis; and
raising at the same time a “hark! hillaloo!” a

ck of haying hounds, barking curs, and ye1p~
ing pup lea, came bounding from every crann
of the o d mansion around the frightened sher'
and his anatomical horse.

The old creature that had stood Mrs. Darly’s
violent onset with the most stoioal indiflerenee,

 

 

 
 

- Prick

 

I 18 The Wily Witch’s Ward. ’

 

now, however, began to show its latent mettle
when the canine gang, cheered on by Helen,
come {yelping and snaplping at the animal’s heels.

ng up its heels li a a courier on the turf.
the old beast bounded off at a hard gallop. The
terrified sherifY resigned the rein for a more
secure hold of the mane, while his bell—crown,
With the valuable documents it contained, came
within an ace of going with the first gust of
wind among the hungry dogs. The retreating
limb of the law roared cut in a disjointed, inter—
jectional manner:

“ For God’s sake, Mrs. Darlyl W’ol w’ol Get
out, you brutes! Murder!” etc., but the flying
sheriff was only answered by the yelping dogs
and boisterous mirth of the yelling negroes. who
had by this time collected about their mistress,
and assisted the poor sheriff’s retreat by their
wild yells of delight and showers of stones which
they sent after him. And then, with his horse
in a foam and himself in a fury, he arrived at
the mansion of Henry Greenberg.

Followed by Ernest and Mc leary the de—

‘ {sated officer jogged moodily along on his skele

ton horse, brooding over the 1a‘:e insult put upon
his dignity, and meditating vengeance against
the Witch. summoning into his osse every per-

"on he met on the way, til his company

‘ amounted to some dozen or more rustics, who

' , the point against which their enterpri

willingly followed on, eager for the anticipated
sport, when they had learned the particulars'of
the alfair from Pat.

“ Faith," said the Irishman, addressing the
company as they drew in sight of O’Fergusun
Hall, “ ye had better be gettin’ your shillelalis
ready, boys,” and twirling his own stout cudgel
around his fingers with a rotary motion till it
whisnled through the air, shouted: “ Arrahi
bofys, but I‘ll make some of them woolly-pated
A ricans ring, and sguare up ould accounts with

V ' the Witch oi Endor!

Pat’s war speech, however, created only a
about of laughter from the crowd, as they trudg—

ed on after their valiant captain, the redoubta—

ble Stuyvesant, till within a hundred yards of
se was di-

rected. Then drawing up his men in battle ar-

' ‘ ray, the little sheriff made a fiery appeal to their

triotism, urging the necessity of sustaining

im in the approaching crisis. and through him
the honor and dignity of the State.

The dou hty sheriff, as he drew near the
scene of ac ion, like an able and prudent gen-
era]. began to fall in the rear of is guard, so
that when they arrived at the place of destina-
tion, Ernest, whose thoughts were more actively

« enga ed in forming an ideal goddess, to com-
- Bare in some measure with the maiden of whose

eauty he had heard so much, than in meditat-

ing anything serious, found himself in front of

the band, and McClain-y stalking close by his
side, with a rodi ions cudge in his fist.
Casting a look hin . be perceived the valiant
sharia driviu u the rear, doubtless to prevent
the escape o eserters, if any one’s courage

1’ should ooze out as he came into the contest.

The company was now brought to a halt. and

I Ernest deggrted to convey a summons of sur-
- render to

re. Darly, from the authority of the
State Eager to make a more minute survey of

v ' the premises, be readily bore the message of the

 

sheriff to the old lady, who soon appeared and
accosted the officer in her blandcst mood:

“ Mr. Sinyvesant,” s:-.id the witch, “ Iani dc-
lighted to learn that you have escaped unhurt.
I felt the greatest concern lest that wild horse
had thrown you, and broken some of your
bones! Why do you ride such a scary animal?
I woxrler some accidpnt doesn’t liup ii to you.”

“ Madam," said the angry sheriigfzinterrupt-

ing the old lady in the middle of her syii'patliiz~ ‘

ing speech, “ do you intend adding insult to in—
;ury? Have you not, madam, resorted tovio—
ent measures to oppose the law? Have I not
been maltreated by you and your minions,
while in the fulfillment of my official duties,
madam?”

“ Mr. Stuyvesant, you are crazy I” exclaimed
the witch, With aficcted surprise. “ In place of
offering you any insult, we used every effort to
rescue you from the imminent danger which
threatened your life when that skittish horse
took fright at the dogs and run away."

This stout denial on the part of Mrs. Darly be-
gan to confuse the worthy officer’s ideas, and
shake his faith in the unerring susceptibility of
his organs of vision.

Perceiving the impression her bold assertions
were making on the confounded sheriff, she fol-
lowed up her advantage. -

“Mr. Stuyvesant, didn’t you perceive with
your own eyes that I endeavored to beat the con-
founded brutes ol‘f myself, and summoned the
black follows to aid you as soon as possible? but
I’m glad to find that nothing serious has hap~
pencd you, for I assure you I felt very uneasy.”

The valorous sheriff aving buta very con-
fused idea of the true state of the tray, his
senses being so ilurried by the yelping pack
which beset him, that he began to admit the

Iausibility of what the beldam urged, never
iavin doubted hei’ word before. He conse
cueut y looked vcrv dubiously at the ground,
t e waits on the side of his lean charger, at Mrs.
Darly, who still continued to greet him with a
smile, and at the bevy of rustics he had sum-
moned to capture his former highlv esteemed
friend. As may be imagined. the little sheriff
began to have a very perceptible idea of his lu-
dicmus position, when, by accident, he be-
thought himself of Fletcher’s warrant,,and in-
quired of the witch what she’had done with it.

“ I didn’t see any warrant, Mr. Stuyvesant.
You’ve been dreaming. man. That wild race-
horse has so confused your ideas that you can't
remember what you were about. Do alight and
come in till you are a little refreshed and col-
lected.”

The sheriff searched his hat crown and pock-
ets, and looked myst- rious, but could discover
the warrant in requisition nowhere among his
voluminous documents. He paused thoughtful-

ly for a moment, cast his eyes about confusedly r
and shook his head dubiouslv; then, recollecting y

himself. declined Mrs. Darly’s pressing invita-
tion‘, and reining up his anatomical steed, rode
away “ with a flea in his ear.”

CHAPTER XI.
- ‘ A STRANGE TALE.
WITH a good deal of curiosity, Ernest en-
tered the uncouth apartment where Mrs. Darly

 

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.-. «wag-c:— . t. ,

 

The Wily Witch’s Ward. 19

 

was seated in an old arm-chair, conning over a
nmsty volume of Blackstone. She raised her
eyes above her round-glassed, antiquated spec-
tacles, and returned the young man’s saluta-
tions, fixing, at the same time a scrutinizing
gaze on his person, as he obeyed the request to
be seated. n all his rambles, Ernest thought
he had never beheld so curious an ob 'ect of the
feminine species as the witch of t o \Vallo
wish. Her tall, commanding, masculine frame,
slovenly attired in a loose, dirt habit—her
long grizzled locks—her Wrinkl visage, and
chee pinched inward. aided by her dark, for-
bidding look, and squeaking, shrill voice, when
not modifitd into those soft and liquid sounds,
which long practice in hypocritical cant had en-
abled her to assume—was in perfect harmony
with all else around.

Ernest made her acquainted with the purport
of his mission with as little ceremony as possi-
ble, for he felt it difilcult to approach her with
his accustomed ease and familiarity.

She rose hastily from her seat, when in-
formed of the officer’s message, and tossing the
ponrlerous volume aside, gave a loud scream for
Christiana, who instantly presented herself from
an adjoining apartment.

“Keep the young gentleman company,
Christiana, while I attend to Mr. Stuyvesant,’
the matron said hastily, as she quitted the room.

Peculiar si ht! Strange situation! Ernest
found himsel in a moment relieved from the
odious resence of the old woman, who was re—
insta by a maiden of the most exquisite form
and lovelmem. His romantic wish was now
gratified, and that famed beauty, of whom he
had heard so much, stood before him in all
her retiring modesty. At a lance he confessed
that Fame this time had at east been niggard
of her praises. The mai‘den’s form had attain-
ed the embonpoint of womanl perfection—was
perfect in its symmetry, an of the medium
size. Her hair would ave been auburn but
for the golden low that mellowed it to the
rich, indescribab e hue so rarely seen, and the
voluptuous curls rolled in silky ringlets down
her snowy neck. Her breast, proudly swelling
and gently heaving in its rest-nations, and the
unex ted presence of a stran Pr, so young and
chivfiigus in bearing,-produc that slight and
natural confusion peculiar to maiden sensi—
bili —deepening the damask blush that man-
tied er cheek beneath a skin of transparent
whiteness. But her deep blue eyes were the
heaven of love, and shaded by their dark, long
lashes, they had a melting tenderness about
them. which shed a soft and melancholy expres-
Sion over her striking beauty. Her courtesy and
musical voice, as she returned Ernest’s greet-
ing, discovered the ease and natural grace of
the maiden, harmonizing with all her other at-
tractions.

Perhaps it was a sudden shifting of the scene,

and the remarkable contrast between the re—

ulsivs harshness of the matron and ca rivet-
ing charms of the maiden, which robbed rnest
of'his wanted ease for a moment, when the fair
vision burst upon his view, for he was no stran-
gerto the most choice productions of female
beauty bothb nature and art. But all that
the artist coud execute, and more than the

I

 

painter express, Nature had bestowed on Chris-
tiana, and the spirit of immortality, which no
art may equal, wrought out every line and linea~
ment to living perfection.

Ernest gradually drew his fair companion
into conversation, and found her possessed of
much good sense, and that natural delicacy of
taste which is a constant dependent on the for-
mer endowment.

“ I perceive you have a good many poetical
works, Miss Dari ," he said, inking up avolume
of poems, when t 6 general topics of conversa-
tion had become exhausted; “and I opine you
are the principal reader.” "

The girl smiled at this compliment to her
taste, and answered:

“Yes, Sir, I love to peruse works of imagina—
tion sometimes.”

“ Who is your favorite bard t" said Ernest.

“ I fear, sir, you will think me an oddity in
letters, as 1 am unable to name any exclusive
favorite, but cull from among all to suit my

own poor taste,” was the maiden’s modest re- . 

P Y-

“ Your home has been fortunatel pitched
among the wild and striking scenery or giving
zest to the dreamy pleasures of the imagination.”
Ernest continued, coking out on the wild hills
thatdstretched their blue tops away to the west—
war . '
“ Yes." Christiana replied, gaining ease and.
confidence as she became interested. “ there is a
delightful prospect from the cliffs above, and a
pleasant seat on the mossy rocks thatloften
retire to, to catch a glimpse of the surrounding
country. Everything looks so beautiful and
variegated in the distance! I wish on could
enjoy the sight once—I think you we d admire
the respect very much.” “

“ am persuaded I would enjoy it very much,”

added Ernest: “ especmlly if the fair discoverer ,  I

were by to point out the beauties of the scene”, I;
The young lady blushed at this pointed allu—
sion of Ernest‘s gallantry, but replied:
“ Oh, I am quite sure there is always enough
of beauty resents itself to the eye to feast ad~
miration ti 1 the gaze grows weary.” '

But as Ernest was getting fair} afloat on the “

sea of sentiment with this love y Naiad, Mrs.’
Darly entered the room like a dark appan'tion
of reality, dispelling allthe romantic aspirations
of the young couple in an instant. I
" W'hat has brought that old harpy so soon

back again i” Ernest mentally ejaculated, but he , x .'
did not give utterance to his thoughts, and Mrs; ~

Dari ' was the first to break silence.

“ nd this is young Mr. Greenberry! I could p ‘1

see no family resemblance in you, and would

never have recognized you as a son of Henry , - ;
not been apprised of the fact 

Greenberry. had

by one of the gentlemen outside. hope you,

may be as little like him in other respectsas . .‘

you are in features, and perhaps bones poo in
may get leave to maintain their peacea ls
rights, and not be forced into vexatious laWSuits

to prevent rascals from plundering us of all we ; i

have.” '

“ Are my comrades one?” Ernest asked, 0011- W.
fused and incensed at t e coarse and ungentlé ,

speech, not deig'ning a reply to so uncivil a salu~ 1
tation. ’ : 

:90 The Wily Witch’s Ward. ,

 

“I know nothing about your companions,”
,she replied, with harsh indifference.

Ernest donned his hat, and making short cer—
emon of leave-taking. was soon out of reach of
the v tying tongue of this termagant.

 

After sitting some time in silence, subsequent
to Ernest‘s departure, the (firl, looking up at
Mrs. Darly’s dark brow, sai , timidly:

i“ Mother, who was that young gentleman?”

“Haven’t I told you often not to call me
mother any more?” said the witch, an rily.
“I am not your mother, child. I don’t mow
anything about the young scapegrace. I heard
some of the rascally gang call him Ernest
Greenberry.”

' “He’s a fine looking young entleman,” re-
turned the maiden, after a consi erable pause.

“ Christiana, I almost despair of your ever
being able to estimate real worth. You are do.»
lighted, I suppose. with that young coxcomb,
who has been strolling over Europe all his life,
looking at old ruins, at his uncle’s exoonse, and
has now returned to America, puffed upwitli
iconceit, to idle away the rest of his days at
some one else’s cost."

- “ I don‘t pretend to know anything, about his
real merits, mo—” mother, she would have added
but recollectlug herself. and catching the fiery
eve of the old witch, she stopped short at the
first syllable. and after a pause, continued coir
rfdsedly. “but I merely remarked he is a fine
docking gentleman. What is his rofession?”

“I can’t tell you. child «to ounge about,
most likely.” said Mrs. Darly. “But to my
.thinking,_he’ll have to soil his white hands when
the lawsuit .3 ended, and the property, which
that'gau of rogues have been living on so long
willful! M0 the hands of its proper owners.”
-’_Ohristlana made no reply, but plied her
needle briskly, in silence, intent upon what she
Wm sewing. After this speech, the witch, too,
 musing some time in silence, and gazing
alternatelyon the irl and on the old volume
‘ on hard resumed. t length she commenced the
M . versation again.

'~ f‘ Well. Christiana, I suppoze you have made
p’your mind fully, by this time, about the pro-
p i ” of that affair you asked time to con-
:15:

" The maiden kept her eyes still riveted on her
,Ork, remaing silent, but her breast heaved
, ,lently. and the crimson flood rushed over her
 a it and brow.

“f " Your foolish notions about Timon’s ap ear-
q‘aa a brother to you are all nonsense,’ the

-* teh continued.

'5“ But having all my life, till recently, con-
doned him as such, Ican’t support the idea
£4“ and» the maiden stopped short in the midst
I her speech. K

"0! Whatl"asked-the Witch, after pausing
rthe maiden to finish her sentence. “ What
~= , sh. romanth notions you possess, and they
' arise from reading those driveling works of
M which I procured in order to wean
y- man from following his infernal bounds, and
m I his thoughts on something else. You must

. s to tusmnething very great, when you refuse
,, rm and a. husband.” '

“But, indeed, I can never love Timon enough

\
n- r ’

 

to—~to—-—he appears so like my own brother.” the
girl replied, with pain and confusion almost
over wering her senSes.

“ hat foolish notions you have imbibedl
Haven’t you been told a thousand times he is not
your brother?”

The witch still persisted more harshly, and
growing angry at what she considered over-
weemng rlelicac or downright intractableness.

“ Well, I do oug to know something about
who I really am. Have you no idea, madam,
who my gareuts or friends are, or were?” Chris-
tiana sai , endeavoring to escape from the pain-
ful topic by a. desperate effort to turn the con.
versation into another channel, but in vain.

“ What vain curiosity you have,” returned
the old woman. “ What would it avail if 1
were able to impart the desired information?
Think your friends would own you, when they
left you at another’s door, to be taken care of
by strange‘s? But what should occupy your
thoughts at present is not the t, but the
future. The property that Green rry, the vil-
lain, has been endeavoring to keefi in his possess
sion, will soon be wrung from his navish hands
and pass into those of its rightful owners- and
then it has been our intention, always, 0 con-
ferring it on you and Timon, when on mi ht
call me mother with propriety. hen t at
happy day shall arrive—and. it remains with
yourself to bring it as speedily as possible—you
shall learn all about your birth, and who your
friends were.”

“0121 Heaven! will you still insist on such a
sacrifice?” said the maiden at last bursting’inbo
tears. “I am sure Timon does not want me,
and I cannot force myself to View him in any
other light than that of a brother. AsI have
lived, still permit mete remain—without kin-
dred or friends—nod as in infancy is veiled in
mystery, so let me die—un nown and unlaments
ed. The accumulation of wealth cannot recon-
cile a situation I fear to contemplate, nor oon~
coal the dependence (a sense of which must ever
depress my spirit) of being raised to honor by
the charity of others, without meritin it.”

This halt—beseechins,r request and hal stubborn
declaration of the girl threw the chafed hag into
a still more violent paroxysm of rage, and she
stormed a perfect tornado of passion. upbraid-
ins: the weeping maiden for her ingratitude and
fully.

Christiana left the room in tears, and sought
her only consoler, Nina, who was enjoying the
luxury of the summer breeze, and regs ing her-
selfdwith her pipe, beneath a shady tree in the
gar on.

“ Gow-a‘mighty, honey—what’s do matter?"

asked the old woman, soothingly. “ Has missis.

been arsooldin’ at ye ag’in? Poor child! she hab
no peace about dis house," Nina continued, talk-
ing rather to herself than to the girl.

“ Ohl Nina, my life has become wretched of
late." said Christiana. “ Left in a mist oil-error
concerning my parentage, I have been forced to
resign the idea that Helen Darlfi' is my mother,
and am constantly annoyed wit importunmes
to unite my fortune with Timon—at the very
thought of which my soul revolts. Can you tel
me anything about in birth?” ~

“Ah, me! honey, t's hard for ole Nine to\

a .. , 1,5323 ‘ ,
vsewmveensls "

 

 

3.x.) 1%. 

,, W,  gr;

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Wily Witch’s Ward.

21

 

know, for she always thought you do twin sister
ob massa Tim, till missis tole us all dat you were
not her darter. Ab, WellI honey, dem dat llb
longest ’Il see do most. Dere’s something not

right about dis ole house.” ' .
‘ Why, Nina—why do you say so?” inquired
the girl.

“ Ah, mel honey, dese old eyes and ears hab
see’d an’ heard t‘in 3 about dis place (lat would
frl hten you, chil ,to hear told,” replied t..e
ol woman. ,

“Oh, no, they will not, N199... Do tell me
what mystery hangs over my life, if you know,”
said Christiana, anxiously.

" Do you see dat mound, child, under de quince
bush?”

“I do,” Christiana replied, ” but there is
nothing strange about that. It has been there
ever since I can remember anything.”

“Well, when you Were a little baby,” the old
women went on to narrate, but, dropping her
style of communication, I will endeavor to give
the story in brief, in my own poor version.

It‘appeared, by the old woman’s account, that
when Christiana was quite an infant she had
been taken very sick, and was left almost en-
tirely by Mrs. Darly in charge of Nina, who
nursed her with maternal care day and night.
Notwithstanding all the old woman’s assiduous
attentions, the child grew worse, and one even-
ing, when all the family were absent but old
Nina, the little girl shoWed alarming symptoms
of approaching death, and, in the language of
the old woman “stretched out her tiny little
white hands, esiring to be lifted up," which
her nurse did; but the child gasped as if suffo-
cating' her limbs stiffened, and the soft, blue
eyeso infanc glazed over With the cold, icy
aspect of deat . The old woman, thinking her
charge had yielded up her breath, laid the in—
fant again in her little bed, and retired to her
own secluded chamber to weep.

Mrs. Durly at length came home late in the
night with t e rest of the family, and in com-

ahy with O’Ferguson, her father, and Davy,
held a whispering consultation around the couch
ot the little one. Presently they repaired to the
garden however. and with a. light were en—
ga or some time around the quince bush
wh ch old Nina pointed out to Christiana; and
the succeeding morning the old woman discov—
ered a pile of fresh mold, thrown up in the
semblance of a grave.

“ Ever since that 1 never could bear to dig
over the spot, but lanted flowers an’ thyme
on it, an’ pulled up e rank weeds dat grow’d
ober it.”

“But, Nina, that, you know, was not my
grave," said Christiana, perplexed rather than
enlightened by the narrative. .

“ Ah, mel honey, no, but What else it can be
I neber could tell," replied the old woman, super-
stitiously.

"How long did I continue sick?” Christiana
asked.

“Do nex’ mornin’ you were runnin’ about

In ing wid Massa Tim, as well as if you neber
“been sick,” replied the old woman, then
leaning her head on her hand, she muttered
to herself in her accustomed manner. '

,“ "Dis a [strange tale,” ejaculated, Christiana,

x

 

when Nina had finished her story, and she re-
mained silent and thoughtful for some time ere
resuming her inquiries. , *
“I think, Nina, on told me something about
Mr. O’Fer uson’s eath once; but it has beenso
long since have almost forgotten it.” ‘
“ Oh, Lor’, child! dat was a fearful night, and 1
1 hope dose old eyes shall neber see sech anuder,“
Nina resumed, rousxng from her meditations.
“ De night de old man died, I thou ht de world
was comin’ to an en’, sure eno‘. was in do
kitchen, nn’ had ebery cranny stopped tight to
keep out do storm: an’ 'ust afore he died, a clap -
of thunder come, that roke de door open, and
a bleeze flew through de old house, making every-
thing as light as day. Niel, dat same 0 d drun-
ken Niel, and Massa Davy came tumblin’ down v
stairs so hard I thought t ey were both hilt; an’
(19 nex’ Irinit I see’d de old man, like a shudder,
as white as snow walk through de middle oh do
light, go out at de door and into de garden. I
could see him by do flashes ob llghtnin’ walking ,
round dis same little grave, till at last he van»
islicd away, un’ I see’ no more ob him. Eber
since den somethin’ has gone wrong about dis
house. Ah, me! what’s to be do end de Lor’
only knows," and after this ominous foreboding, '
the old woman, leaning her head on. the palm
her hand again, remained silent. J
Christiana. bewildered and impressed by what’.
she 1had heard, questioned the old woman no
urt er. - r'”

 

CHAPTER XII.
run srmxmo RESEMBLANCE.

THE uncourteous deportmentof thehag toward.
Ernest was soon absorbed by the interest he tell;
to know more of that beautiful irl, who seemed
strangely to dwell in that loat some den, shut
out frr 1m all other society save its depraved oc-
cupants, whose dark and evil passions reigned ,
paramount over the better and more noble line-C
pulses of human nature. Yet belying theold
adage, she seemed to dwell among pitch unde«'
filed, in spirit as in beauty, and toErnest ap— 1,
peared moving amid those revolting scenes =
around her as an angel of light in the’regions of;
darkness, and. he unconsiously warbled with ,,
the Peri: '
"No pearl ever lay under Oman‘s green water,

More pure in its shell than thy spirit in thee." V ,,

A vague recollection haunted him of having “i
seen the face some time and elsewhere before, 
but the more he pondered and tried todlvine.
where and when, the more confused and mysti— -
fled became his thoughts. Was it some statue...
of painting he had gazed upon in the galleriesot J
the East? No—there was nothing there the :
masters of antiquit had embodied in a Nymph. z
Sibyl orxPagan got dose—nothing but ma dsnly
Anglo-American beauty. With his romantic ,
curiosity exoited to the utmost toknow some» .
thing more relative to the beautiful a pafltian i
Which had that morning appeared ore him, ;
Ernest reached home, still pondering on what he, .
had seen. He ascended to what he pleasantly v,
styled hisportrait gallery, a recluse room in the 
upper and unfrequentod part of t 9 building, s,
which Ernest, smce his return, had tted up. ' 3* §

Round the wallsjiung the antiquated portraits

  
 

    

29 The Wily Witch’s Ward.

 

of the family, mingled with leanings of his
travels. On the mantle, in wll confusion, luy
various sea-shells, bite of basalt, variegated
oryst-ds, ruby amber, and other rarities of a
O'mchologlcul and geological description, min-
gle] with relics and broken Specimens of ancient
sculpture, extracted from the great depots of
art nnl antiquity.

Ernest’s grmt—great—qrnndfather, with his
hair trimmed like u. Roundheud in the time
' of Cromwell, dressed in strait-jacket an'l
breaches, with broad silver knee-buckles—his
extremities terminating in n military but and
heavy juck-boots—zrimly smiled from the wall
on his posterity. 0n the opposite side, suspend-
ed, were the representatives of a less remotd
period. with cued hair and cocked huts—in
broad-skirted coats. with capacious flaps, bo-
vdighto'l in front with gilt buttons, gray small-
clothes, an-i blue stockings, ending in low shoes,
ornamented with broad silver buckles. And
down to toe last generation, but one, with frill-
6:1 shirts and powdered wigs, decked in cost,
vest and invxpressible.

Mingle! among the masculine portraits were
the belies of untiquity, with long-stayed waists,
.hoopo'l dro<ses or sweeping trains, and high-
h'eolel shoes, contrasted with some trifling speci-
mens of the fine arts, which Ernest be] con-
trived to pick up in his peregrinations through
the world. '

But our hero vainly searched among the
mem wink of t'ie past for n resemblance of those
living textures he had behold in the morning.
‘A velvet-covered case, edged with satin, or
rather which had been in its better days, but now
oruellv embossed with cobwebs nu'l du4t, lay on

. the table, This he took carelessly in his hand,
and lifting the cover th-it was secured With
leather hinges. he put nsile the gauze which
concealed the portrait. Bismillal He started
back as his eyes met those of the picture, that
seamed smiling upon him from the canvas.
~ Whose face and form, whose soft. winning
smile and expressive features are those? ’Tis
she —’tis that same countenance in miniature he
had beheli in the morningr in living perfection,
or as near it as the painter’s art would suffice to

rtrav. H3 searched for the name. and faint-
shnde l, in small capitals, at the bottom, was
dry New-a. Ernest gazed long and. intently
on those smiling features, and at length replac-

1. in; the gauze, closed the lid, more puzzled, if
- possible, then before.

“Mary Nevra and the maid of O’Ferguson
Bellmwhatcause for so striking a resemblancvr’
He pondered, but pondered in vain, to divine
’why suchastriking analogy should exist be-
tfiveen entire strangers in friendship and in
0‘ .
True, however, to the spirit of knight-errantr ,
. whenamysterious lady had creased his path.
' he could not repme till his ca no and visor
.V Were laid at her feet, and his bar and brand

’ pledged to her will.

CHAPTER XIII.

A RIDDLE HARD TO SOLVE.

,fl TEE great lawsuit between Mr. Dnrly.‘
‘ plaintiff-.ormather, as the lawyers express

\

 

themselves, David Darly and wife against
Henry Greenberry, defendant, and for which so
much and elaborate preparation had been mak—
ing for some time previous, had at length com-
menced before the county court. All the prin—
cipals. with their retinue of witnesses and
friends, were in attendance at the shire-town,
and Rumor, with her thousand tongues, whis—
pered from day to day, by the mouth of some
strazgler, the doubtful success of either par y
to their anxious friends at home, keeping sus-
pense constantly on the ti toe.

The bit of unexplainet romance respecting
the picture and the maid, however, served to
distract Ernest’s thoughts, in some measure,
from the one subject of painful interest. In:
dulging in his wonted reveries, he found him-
self strayin alone and idly along the retired
banks of silo—wish, that glorious stream,
sweeping in quiet beauty through a landscape
of wild grandeur.

The warbling of Nature’s songsters floated
sweetly from the uuibmgcous woods—the bloat
of flocks, the low of herds from the neighboring
hills, and the Whistle of the p10 vman. as he
drove his plow merrily over the well-til ed
field, mingled with the sound of the flowing wn—
ters, came r wishineg upon the ear of Ernest,
as he sirolle'l listlesst along.

Those scenes. which would have been full of
romantic incidenttohim when in his natural
element of thought. now failed to fix his atten-
tion or invite his admiration, and he wandered
on, without end or aim in View. The youthful
dreamer drew unconscimsly into the vicinity
of the witch’s domicil. He was, however, arous-
ed from his meditations at length by hearing
some one singin .

Ernest hurri along the zigzag path that
wound around the rocks, to discover whence the
music proceeded, an! saw embed on a. little
eminence a. few paces from the stream. a oung
hunter with a. bevy of dogs around him. hen
he saw Ernest he ceased sinving, and the dogs
bounding up. sprung furiously at the intruder.

“ Ho! down!" the hunter exclaimed fiercely,
and the dogs sneaked back in silence to their for-
mer place behind their master.

“You appear to be faithfully guarded,” said
Ernest. approaching the hunter.

“Pretty well, I rather think. Down. Storm
—dowu, you rascal!” he re died, speaking to
Ernest. and reprimanding t 6 old bound for
showing his teeth to the stranger at the same
time.

“ You have your hounds under good com-
m'inri.” '

“ Have to keep ’em 30—». teller that beats.

these bills," replied the hunt: r. mechanically.

“ This is a beautiful landscape for sporting,”
Ernest continued, endeaw-ring to draw this
laconically speaking Nimrod into conversation.
“ You can enjoy the one and admire the other,
if vnu are a lover of Nature."

“ ’Tis rough enough. if that agrees with your
idea of heautv. I’d rather for my part it was
smoother. Roman] can double too Often for
good snort. and as for looking at rocks and
trees I never admired it much-though Christi-

ana can gaze at such things for hours to?
gether,” replied the man of ‘,‘ horse and hound."

  
 

AL-

 

 

 

    
   
    
 

 

The Wily Witch’s Ward. , 23

 

“ I believe I have the honor of speaking with walked out a short time previous. The young
Mr. Timon Darlyi” Ernest said, inquiringly. gallant paused for a moment, and the though

“ Well, it’s all that’s of him. I guess,” this off- struck him that she had retired to her romantic
spring of the house of O’Ferguson replied, seat among the cliffs above, to enjfiy the bean-
laconicallv, “ and if you‘d like to take a chase ties of the surrounding prospect. p the wind—
over the hills, why just say so, and you can log path, bordered by co wood, that wound
soon have one; for there’s something In the its serpentine course thong glen and brake, till
wind by the way that old bound is snuffing the it reached the summit of the ridge, Ernest bent
air. I never knew him to lie in my life, and——” his steps in search of the fairapparition of those

And it’s uncertain when or where the follower solitudes.
of the chase would have ended, had not Ernest Seated beneath a mountain birch that bent its

“A

, ' interrupted him in the beginning of tlzo pauc- top over the rocky recipice, as it topeer into
- gyric on the sagacity and remarkable traits pe— the stream beneath, rnest at len th discovered
_ culiar to the canine s ecies. the fair object of his search—like lora Mclver

“Thank you, Mr. arly. I am sorry other in her wild mountain glen, as she appeared to

business compels me to decline your invitation young Waverly.
to share the sport. I believe you are the only The maiden rose confusodly when Ernest came

 

hunting member of the family.” up and saluted her, but aflecting not to perceive _
_, I “ Ay,” replied the fellow, whistling to his it, he made some attempts to lead her into con- ‘
. dogs and conversing' with Ernest by turns; versation, which, however, but partially suc-
“ Christiana. like yourself, is fond of looking at ceeded.
, rocks and hills, and trees—” Finding the maiden listened to his words, and
“Your sister is a very romantic girl,” said had gained her self-possession, he continued the
Ernest, interrupting him, suddenly. discourse:
“ Christmm,” returned the hunter, layin “ I do not now wonder that you so much ad-

strong emphasis on the name, “likes books an mire the romantic pros t from our mountain

, walks. or rambles, as she calls them, and such terrace, Miss Darly. ’ is reall eautiful, and

1" like things; but I have no turn for the like tri- surpasses any idea I had tonne of its present-

: fling amusements? _ ing so noble a. view,” Ernest said, and he spoke , ‘
“ Christiana and Eyour Sister are one and the without flattery, as he surveyed the scene that“ y “

same. I imagine,” most remarked, noticing the spread out before him. .

peculiar aspiration with which young Darly “ Yes, it is beautiful," Christiana said, re-

pronounced the girl’s name. suming the conversation. “ I, too, used to ad. , ',
“It’ll take an older head than mine to tell mire itas you do.”
I . that,” was the calm reply of the fellow, who, “And is it sible it has lost all its interest
- springing to his feet the same instant at the bay for on, Miss arlyi” said Ernest.
of a bound. shouted the loud, cheering cry, “ hese scenes have ceased to interest me now.”

“ Hark, hillalol” bounding down the glenin pur— replied the irl, mournfully, “as I have ceased
suit of his dogs, and leavmg Ernest unceremo— to be Miss nrly.” ‘
niously alone. “ You ceased to be Miss Darlyl Why, what,
“ Vt hat a strange animal of the human kind,” mean you, Christiana?” Ernest said, with a' I I
Ernest soliloquized, as he turned his steps in the degree of real surprise, as be bent his dark, in» X
o posits direction. “Nothing is a source of qu1ring gaze on the fair face of the maiden. '
ensure or amusement to him but the discor- Christiana related the strange story of old -»
gent notes of those hounds, and an occasional Nina, while Ernest listened with a curious  - ' -'
limpse of the fox. For these he will forego the attentive ear.
$8.” 3 of climbing hills and descending valleys “ What means all this?” he said, when the girl
all aylonz, well rewarded if he catches an oc- had finished, stamping his boot—heel into the
casional glimpse or a remote sound of the mossy ground in his perplexity. .
chase,” “ ’Tis a riddle I am unable to solve,” replied . '3
Thus unommuningl with his Own thoughts, the maiden. “To know who. or what I really ' ‘ ‘
Ernest soon found imself in O’Ferguson Han, am, I would give all the world besides, and .the
the real place of his destination—whether con- more I ponder upon the subject, the more coma. - .
scious of it or not—a lover—tor such we must plexed and obscure it doth seem.” _
really style the fascinated youth, as he was not ” Why r931”. thls is Strange.” said Ernest 
always aware where he was going, although in “ Is not the fact of your mysterious birth gen- _.
the direct track to his mistress’s bower. such a erally known, and you can discover no claw to
' , meeting now could not but be conzeni'al to the its e‘thmon?” , : » "
' maiden‘s feelings, which had lately been es— “No; my opportumties of testing the matter—'
tranged from those old familiarities that are since it has been made known to me, which has
wont to be most endeared to the human heart. been bu"! TOOEDflY—fll‘e limited in the eth'emB-
But the shroudinp,r mystery that hung aroiind I have lived here in this secluded at an entire
Christiana’slife—mak ng herastrangertoself— stranger to all around. ,Unkno ng and uni
had frozen up the well'spring-of sympathy known, I have passed my days-mg mother—or
which is inherent to the human breast-~givinz she whom I had vainly imagine was such—'4
an the world to her an aspect of distant cold- has been a terror rather than aught else to the _ ,
new, country round, and her repulsive de itment 
« Emmi; entered the unseemly portal of that di- has forbidden all approaches of friends lp from ' , 3
- lapldated structure, but the young lady was not others.” , . . v, ‘
within. He inquired of old Nina for beryoun Qonversing in this strain, Ernest and the.
, mistress; and received for answer that she 1.95 maiden descended Iron: their rocky observatory V

.y'

 

 

, “humus” ,‘,:~,. ., ,, ,s :.

 

 

   

24

o

to the little garden which contained the reputed
grave. There they found old Nina, who cor<
roborated what she had said before.

Ernest ondered deeply on what he had seen'

and bee. , after gathering all the particulars he

could from the ol woman. The dark and fear-

ful thought flashed upon him, involuntarily in—
trudin itself upon his excited fancy, and be ex-
claim , musingly:

“Can it be possible—bad and abandoned as
she is reputed to be—that she would stoop to the

rpetration of so black a crime as infanticide?

Barely she would not—though how are we to

explain the sudden disappearance of Rose Tom-

lin? Ah. that is what hangs a veil of mystery
over all.”

Ernest was perplexed for some time to deter-
mine what ste he should pursue, being con-
vinced that al was not right, and that Mrs.
Durly and her clique were privy to some dark
and hidden, crime. He at length, however, de-
termined to procure the aid of a legal officer,
and investigate the sup oscd‘ grave. Conse-
quently the coroner an several persons who
were summoned to assist in disintcrring the
dead, appeared on the ground and commenced
digging in the spot previously pointed out by
01 ina.

After digging a. while, Pat McCleary, who
was the first man with his spade, shouted out:

“'Howly Mother! tlrere’s the coffin l” crossing
his breast reverentially as he struck his digger
downagainst a. hard substance at the bottom of
the it.

“Elear away the dirt, Pat, till we discover
what it is,” said the impatient Ernest. and all
drew close around the scene of Pat’s labor, with
increased interest.

The son of reen Erin did as requested. and
"soon remov from the bottom of the pit the

. broken lid of a. decayed box, containing the re-

mains of a child partially decomposed. A lock
: ofits flaxen hair still adhered to the ghastly

_ skull, and by the size and appearance of the
bones, they arrived at the conclusion that the
tenant of the tomb was about three years of age
at the time of its death.

A sur eon was summoned, who, upon examin-
ation o the remains, pronounced them to be
those of a little girl.

After the inquisition had been gone through
with, the ave was again filled up. leaving the
sleeper of t e tomb in undisturbed repose for
the future. , ‘

The trial that had been raging for a few days
4 previous at the shire town with doubtful suc-

1 case, must soon draw to a close. To have it
postponed till further light could be thrown on
the subject, was'all important to the defend—
, ants, and Ernest lost no time in taking the steps
' which the circumstances of the case seemed to

,call for. Arriving at home, he hastily wrote a
 synopsis of the events that had transpired, and

calling a groom, gave him the letter, ordering
‘, the renew to spare neither spur nor scourge till

he delivered the epistle into Mr. Greenberry’s
hands. _ ,

The progresslnz trial was the all-absorbing
topic of conversation amen the multitude; and
‘ r to adopt their opinions of t e nflalr. Mr. Green-

, 'berry’s case was a. hopeless one, Nlol’s conclusive

 

The Wily Witch’s wee.

testimony having left no chance for the defend-
ant. The last lawyer was addressing his con—
cluding remarks to the jury, ere they should
withdraw to make out their verdict. Counsel-
ors were collecting their musty volumes and
cramming their green bags with papers; hungry »
court-men glancing at their watches, and eat-
ingehouse bells ringing a merry requiem to ‘
hunger.

Mrs. Darly stood in the bar among the law-
yers as a chief among his officers.

“ With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,"
like Shakespeare’s man in the sixth age—a grim
smile distorting her repulsive features, as her
dark bosom beat high with sanguine hope at the
prospect of ultimate success.

Alasl how vain are all our most fond expecta—
tions! These deli htful visions of triumph were
destined never to e realized. The balance in
which the fortunes of the witch were placed,
and which seemed all along to preponderate in
her favor, was suddenly to turn against her.

Mr. Greenberry, too, was beside his lawyers
regarding the regress of events with a trouble
aspect, while t e counsel were perplexing their
witty brains to raise some point that might give
a turn to the present appearance of affairs.

Things were in this condition when Ernest’s
messenger entered and handed the note to Mr.
Greenberry. He suddenly broke open the seal
and read; then presented it to his attorney,
watching the countenance of the latter while he
ran his eye over the contents of the note. A
flush of exultation rose on the face of the law- ‘
yer as he perused it, and turning to his col-
league and client, they whispered apart for a
moment. , ,

When the pleader for the plaintiif had re-
sumed his seat, and the judge was preparing to
instruct the jury, one of Greenber ’s lawyers
arose and moved a postponement of t e trial, on
the plea that further evidence had been brought
to light. To this Mrs. Darly and her attorneys
warmly objected. A debate ensued—the court
interfered to investigate the matter and decided
arbitrarily in the witch’s favor that the trial
should proceed.

This was a critical moment for Greenber ;
but one of his counsel, rising in the midst of t e
confusion and excitement that prevailed, chang-
ed the aspect of affairs in his client’s favor by.
callin out: '

“ a draw the jury." 

The hammer that the chief justice held in his
hand the next instant fell commanding silence—
the crier shouted, “Court is adjourned till to-
morrowl” and in another .minute judges had -
left the bench, jurymen the box, lawyers the
bar, and witnesses the stand. I

The sheriff locked the doors behind the elbow-
in crowd, and the moth-y throng left the silent
ha ls of justice for the clatter of taverns and the
savory fumes of eating-houses.

Warrants were issued for the arrest of Mrs.
Darlv and her colleagues; but a consu mate
general is seldom taken in the field of battle.
The witch too well divining the future by pres-
ent indications, made a precipitate retreat with
her gang while all was yet in confu
ing the/medide  , , ,

9

 

sion, escap»  '

V X‘L‘SK...,£‘:'.‘:.I‘

' i

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The Wily Witch’s Ward.

/
, l

25

 

CHAPTER XIV.
rm: REWARD or CRIME.

DEAR reader we must again return to the ob-
scure abode of l‘Tiel Riley, and for the last time,
to behold the tragic conclusion of alife aban-
doned to crime and intemperance.

Seated in the moldering hall, around that
crazy old deal table, which supported a black,
earthen ju and several wretched drinking
cups, were iel and Culpepper. The night was
dark and the old house gloomy and silent—sit-
uate in the wild seclusion of barren and un-
cultivated wastes.

Niel pushed his feet out toward the smoking
brands on the hearth, and continued the con-
versation more moodily, which ‘he had been
striving to carry on in a lively and jovial vein.

“I say Iyou are churlisb, Culpepper~down-
right chnr ish, to refuse a social glass with old
triends.”

“ I have accepted the social glass too often,”
replied the surly guest, “ with those who termed
themselves friends—so often, indeed, thatIcame
near losing my position as a man among the
human family.”

“ Those who termed themselves friends!" said
Niel, repeating the other’s words with a scorn-
ful sneer, “ you say you have been social wlth—
and did they not always prove themselves
friends?” J

“NM-men that have led metodegradation
are pretty creatures to style friends, to besure!"
returned Culpepper.

“You were never difficult to tom 1:, God
knows. Ha! ha!” laughed Niel. “ ollowed
without much persuasion l”

“Be the past as it may,” said Culgepfier, red-

- dening with re 6, “I have done wit t e fllth!
In future mys irts shall be kept clear of the
pollution!” '

“Since you have become so compunctious,”
returned iel ironically. “I suppose you will
think yourseltr obliged to make open and clear
confession to your temperance friends and con-
dolers, of your past sins; standing a fair chance
thereby, for your humility, of swinging bethxt
heaven and earth, at the hands of those newly
made friends, for the valuable aid you rendered
{In peddling Rose Tomlin out of the world. Hal

0.!

“Lath while you may,” said Culpepper;
“but there’s an hour approaching, when, per-
haps, the subject will not aflord mirth sumcient
to excite your risibility.” ,

“What! you traitorl—would you dare he-
tray your best friends?" exclaimed Niel, pas-
sionately.

"My best friends!" returned his companion.
“And who are those friends, I pray you?"

“Have I not been a friend to you? Has not
Helen? Has not Davy—poor. simple Davy,
though he he? Was not Miles O’Ferguson,
while he lived? And would you—yes, you, who
have been provided for by us all-be guilty of
one of the blackest sins—ingratitude?” Neil ex-
claimed wildly, growing fearful as the dread
thought rose up‘ in horror‘s shape before his
fevered imagination. '

“ Friends! and What kind of friends have ye
been?” said Culpep r. “ Friends to entice me
of rectitude, in order to

- w

 

Eromote your own selfish ends! Friends that
ave besotted me that I might assist you in your
owu dark designs: Friends, who have befriend-
ed me to make me a party in your felony and
crimes! Can such friends or friendship promote
happiness and peace? What reward has your
unhallowed career brought you? Degradation,
misery, wretchedness! You have seen your
family scattered like chaff before the four winds
of Heaven! You have taxed your brain and.
perjured our soul to obtain a miserable subsist-_
once—an what is your reward? lgnomin y, ruin
and death!” Culpepper shouted, stamping his
feet yiolently on the floor—the preconcerted
5 na .

he rapid tramp of men the next moment was
heard on the porch, with a violent rush against
the door. Niel sprung to his feet, his haggard
and bloated features more wildly distorted by
fear and apprehension. The men rushed in, and
Niel retreated through the door of an adjoining
apartment.

" Stand! or ye die!” said the constable, draw-
ing a pistol and pursuing the fugitive.

‘Head him, or he will escape by the other
door " shouted Ernest, who was in the 0332.

“ I§y St. Patherickl” exclaimed Pat cCleary,
taking a Circuit around the old porch, with shil-
lelah in hand, “ ye’re an ould bird, but not quite
up to trap this time, if ye did slip through our
fingers before.”

Niel by this time had made good his escape
from the house, by a door in the west end; but
McCleary had also gained the steps that led down
from the high porch to the ground, cutting ofl? ‘
his retreat in that direction. V

“Surrender! ye ould baby thief, or b all the
divils in purgatory, I’ll lay two feet an an inch
0’ hickory over yer ould roguish pate!” said the
Irishman, standing prepared to receive his oppo-
nent.

Niel, however, did not feel disposed to comply
with Pat’s request The fugitive, finding his re- 
treat cut oif in this direction, bethought him‘ of
the balustrade on the back side, over which he
might leap to the round Without incurrin
much injury. Thit er the fugitive turn , r
with Pat advancing on him from the outside, 7
while the constable and Ernest, with their gen , ‘
were pressing him hotly on the other flank. Bug,
in attempting to gain the desired point, the {n51-
tive stepped on a detached plank, placed 1 {
over a hole in the decayed floor, and was precip -
tated into a stone stairway, ten feet beneath.

“ Howly Mother! are ye kilt. Misther Riley?" ’ V

cried Pat, whose relenting nature moved him to r
sympathy the moment misfortune had overtaken
his enemy.

A deep, heavy groan from below was all the
answer McCleary received.

“Howly saints!” continued the son of Erin,  ‘

crossin himself. reverentially, “the man has .
broke llS neck! Misther Ernest, bring a li ht ,
till we get the poor crather up,” and Pat h ed
down to rescue the unfortunate Niel.

Lights were procured. and the victim of crime

and misfortune removed into the Hall where pre-  

viously he had spent many a jovial night in
drinkin and revelry. The unfortunate wretch ‘ \
had bro en a blood—vessel by the tall, and his de— V, *
benched and decayed constitution gave no hope »

 

"smut n.   

barmdoor.

26
of a recovery. From his mouth and nostrils the
blood was streaming; and in addition to other
injuries sustained by the fall, a shoulder-blade
had been broken. The bleeding victim lay quiet
for some time, where his conductors had placed
him, while they stood around in silence, gazing
on the wretched being, whose life had been
passed in former schemes of villainy. and who
seemed now about to expiate his crimes by so
sudden and terrible a death.

Ernest proposed sending for a physician, but

‘Niel, who had revived a little, shook his head in

despair. He motioned to have his head held up,
endeavoring to speak, but the power failed him
-—he sunk back and, casting one main], one re—
morseful look of anguish and unutteruble despair
on all around— ave a few convulsive struggles,
and lay cram in the cold ower of death.

Thus the spirit of iol; by the sudden
stroke of death, snatched away from earth and
its tribunals—shrouded in the dark mantle of his
crimes, verifying the immise made to the
wicked—“ He that har eneth his neck shall be
destroyed suddenly.”

CHAPTER XV.
A conrassION AND HAPPY REUNION.
WHILE these tragical scenes were being on-
acted at the desolate home of Niel Riley, driven
to desperation, Mrs. Darly and her doughty
spouse were meditating deeds of a more san—
uinary nature than any that had yet dyed the
rk catulo he of their crimes.

en a joinin apartment to O’Ferguson

Hall, built of roug boards, which was lumber-
ed with old cutlery and various other [mechani-
cal implements, stood Mrs. Darly with a light
in one hand, that gleauied through the crevices

 

’ between the rough planks, and a glittering dag-

ger in the other, which she had been whetting
on a ponderoiis grindstoiie that stood in one cor—
ner of the rickety shant .

Davy regarded the Witch with a look of awe
and fear, quailin beneath her glance when she
darted her dark ashiu e as upon him.

“Cime, Davy, it wil 0 now. Try it you

" can strike that black spot on the door,”said

Helen, presenting the dagger to the trembling
av .
' Thye doughty husband took hold of the weapon

' and made a plunge at the mark, but his agita—
' tion was so great that he struck two feet from

the s ot he intended. _

“ aw, haw! man, you could scarcely hit a
You must have some brandy to set—
tle your nerves !” S'lld the witch, affecting to re-

gard Davy’s trepidation in a humorous manner.
‘0

Oh, I can never do it—iudeed I can’t!” said
the husband, beseechingly, trembling in every
oint.’
j’ “Davy. you’ve grown childish,” replied the
witch. ‘ See me strike the spot.”

80 saying, she took the dagger from his
trembling hand and drove it into the center of
the sable mark. Drawing the steel out again
with a loud, feigned lau h at her superior ex-
‘ tness, she presented t e instrument to her

opetul spouse, saying: _ _

‘Try and redeem your inJured reputation
this time.” . .

Davy did as he was ordered, inflicting another

» .

 

The Wily witch‘s Ward;

wound upon the board, within twelve inches of
the mark this time, however.

“Try it agaiiil You‘re improving,” said the
witch.

Davy ll'lflllc three or four more plunges, still
improving in his aim as his excitement subsided
till he at length succeeded in sticking the blade
into the desired spot.

“ That will do,” said his better half. “ I knew
you would succeed by practice—it’s a great
school for awkward folks. Now we will go and
finish the business," she’ continued. leading the
we '. '

‘ Oh, I can never do it!” persisted Davy, cow-
ering behind his mistress, and following reluc-
tantly.

“ You cowardly fool!” returned ‘the witch.
“ You shall do what I bid you or I’ll try its
pmiit on your own vile carcass. lEIere, swallow
thisl” presenting a glass of spirits, which the
trembling Davy made out, however, to drink
without a second l‘eiauest.

Mrs. Darly led tie way up awinrlin stair-
case, and entered a chamber where the cauti—
ful Christiana was reclining on a sofa, wrapt
in soft slumber. The unextinguished light,
sinking gradually into the socket, cast a faint
and fainter glare over the apartment. A half
open volume lay on the stand, which the maiden
had been reading when the leadeu-eyed god in-
seiisibly stole upon her.

“ She has not retired yeti” whispered the
witch to her consort, as they cautiously a )-
proachcd the sleeping maiden, setting the li ht
in such aposition us not to disturb her. “ ut
it is no mutter—she sleeps soundly. NOW,
Davy, strike, and all is over and easily done!”

But Davy sliuildcrcd, i'ecoiliiig from that fair
form as it lay heaving in sweet repose—a bright
smile playing about her rosy lips, and the shin»
ing ringlets lying in sable clusters over her
graceful neck and peerless bosom.

“ 0h, Godl I can’t do it—do not urge me!”

“ Gracious! give me the knife, coward!” said
the Witch rcprouchfully, taking the dag or from
his hand and advancing a step toward t ie sleep~
ing maiden.

“ Oh, for pity‘s Siikc, do not—do not do it,
Helen!” continued Davy. his wild eyes glaring
with fright, and his shrinking form trembling
like an aspen.

At this critical moment a loud knocking was
heard at the door below.

“ There—there! they are watching us! They
are upon us! We are lost—lost!" and the tem-
fled husband wrung his hands in despair, awak-
ing. if possible, to a new sense of fear.

“ Gracious, be quiet, you provoking fool, till
we see who it is that dares disturb the quiet of
our family at this time 0’ night,” replied Mrs.
Darly, hastening in the direction the noise pro-
ceeded from, dragging the half senseless and
stiipefied Davy after her.

“ Who’s there?” demanded the dauntless Helen
as she reached the botiom of the stairs.

“Lord love yer soul! It’s nothing more nor a.
poor benighted crather that intrates yer led-
dyship, in the name of the howiy saints, for a.
shelter underneath yer roof till mornin’, au’
may our blissid Vurgin reward yez! There’s no
sheriff nor nothin’ at all to trouble yez, good

«

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

a... mavenswua. ' 27 j

 

leddy'," the stranger answered to Mrs. Darly’s
peremptory summons. v
-“ ne, you Irish scoundrell” the Witcb
Bhou back. “I know you,yon rascal! Do

' _ you think to deceive me with such hypocritical

 cant? Scamper, you hound! or I Will set the
dogs after you instantly.”

, " ‘ Och! now,” said Pat McClea —for the dis-
tressed person was no other thanrl’iyr-finding his
men had failed. “Who but the cold sa int
herself, or a witch, could see who I, Misther n,-
Cleary, am this dark night? Open the door, ye
old brook, or, by St. Patheiick, we’ll bring the
shanty down about your lugs.” r

The witch replied to Pat in his own terms,
while she caused Davy to assist her in securing
the door more effectually.

“Mrs. Darly, I, Jacob Stuyvesant, sheriff of

A the county, on the authority of a State warrant

demand admittance into this house," vociferated
the pompous little sheriff, finding Mrs Darly

’had iscovered who her friends outside were.

“ Be off,”lreplied she to the official dignitary,
“ before you get another bastinadoing.”

“ Brea in the door—break in the door!” said
Ernest, impatiently, “ ere they make it too
strong to force,” throwin himself against the

rtal, but the stubborn oor resisted the light
rarre of the young man, and he rebounded with

the shock. .

VE'Japei-sl let me thry it, Masther Ernest,” said
McCleary‘, plunging like a bull against the bar-
ricade entrance, and landmg htadlong in the
middle of the passage. Pat, springing to 
feet the next instant, shouted:

I _ “ Arrah, my boys, come on!” ,

he men poured in at the forced entrance,
and‘Mrs. Duly retreated to a remote comer of
the room, drawing her dagger, and threatening
instant death to the first who was bold enough
to attempt laying hold of her.

“ Och! ye uuld scape-gallows! Will ye at-
tem t dhruWin’ yer murtherous weapons on

int emen?" Pat said, twirling the cudgel in his

ngers, and giving the witch’s elbow a smart
thwack, which sent her knife to the omosite
side of the room.

Mrs. Darlv and her doughty partner, who
stood motionless with foal-1n one corner of the
room during the scene above described, were
secured and taken in charge or by the sheriff

'and his posse.

Christiana, being roused by the tumult,
came terrified and weeping into the room. at
the conclusion of the scrape, and persisted in
accompanying her friends whithersoever they
were conducted that night.

After Ernest’s curiosity had been excilpd b
the strange picture, and increased by old Nina 5
story. hes ed neither labor nor pains to fer-
ret out an sift the znvstery to the bottom. By
accident he fell in with Dandy Culpcpper, who,
it appears. had begun to feel some compunction
and misgivin in relation to his future life; and
Ernest, after ndlng he was one of Niel’s miscel-
ates. very justly concluding he knew something
of that worthy s dark and secret actions, contin—
ued to work upon his disturbedconscienee till
herevealed what he knew‘ of Niel’s and Mrs.
Darly’s knavery. Never having, however, been

 

 

entirely confided in by Niel—for that wily insti-
gator was a close observer of character~he was
not in possession of all the roguer carried on
by Helen and her gang; but being iel’s drink-
ing companion, had picked up a good deal of in-
formation from the latter in their frequent
bacchanaliun orgies. ’

Having ascertained that the nurse took the
children out on the lawn, in clear evenings, to
play. Niel procured Culpepper’s services for the
above-mentioned reward, and dressing him in a

red wig and other uncouth articles of apparel

for a disguise, started him in the vocation of a
peddler, at the proper time, with directions to
decoy the girl, y the display of finely. from
her charge, keeping her attention distracted till
he and O Ferguson, with Helen Derivand Davy,
should surprise and carry off little Rose. How
well this plot succeede , the reader is already
apprised, but after her abduction, what had be-
come of the child, Culpepper was unable exactly
to tell; but by the grave discovered in‘the gar-
den, and the known‘dosperate character of the

parties, they inferred that the poor helpless in-”

nocent had been murdered.
The witch and Davy, after their apprehen-’
sion, were conducted to the residence of Mr.

Greenberry, where a magistrate was in waiting V,

to examine the parties, and commit them' for
trial that same night. -

" Mrs. Lax-1y,” said the magistrate, addressing
the witch. “what answer have on to make
to the following charges? First y—You are
charged, on the affidavit of respectable wit-
nesses, with being an aider and abettor in the
abduction and supposed murder of Rose Tomlin
-—an or han placed under the guardianship of
Henry reenbcrry. Secondly—For being rlvy
to the murder and robbery of John James om—
lin; and, thirdly—” >

“ Gracious!” said the witch, interrupting the
magistrate, “ have we been brought here at this

hour of the night, among a gang of villains to

be insulted by impertincnt questions? on
scoundrelsl” she screamed, stamping her foot
till the house rung, “ release me instantly, or
I’ll prosecute every rascal of you for false in:-
prison ment l”

“ What can you say for yourself, Mr. Darly,
for you, also, are accused of being a participator
in those grave offenses? Do you know anything
of the murder of Mr. Tomlin?”

‘ “ Y-e—s—no, ’ Davy replied. growing more ter-
rified, apparently, at the sound of his own voice.

“Silence, you stupid dog! or I’ll tear the.

ton no out of your lying throat!” screamed Mrs.

Dar y, stamping her foot with [her accustomed ,'

violence.

Davy skulked from the threatening gestures L

and awful frowns of the tcrmagant, looking as

though he would fain discover a northwest "

passage of escape from this world of difficulty.
With severe interruptions, caused by the
witch attempting to fly on her dear partner
during his examination, but being as o ten to
strained by the officers and guard, which very

much emboldened Davy to proceed, finding he

had so strong a part on his side—the following
purport was drawn rum the doughty- husband:
was rob would bereturning from New York

 

Knowggg that Mr. Tomlin, on the night he I l
7

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

28'

The Wily when. were.

 

with a sum of money, Niel and O’Fer son had
planned the sur rise and robbery w ich took
place in the dar pass. With no intention to
take his life, however, the parties arranged their
plans and took their stations, taking Davy along
to help, if any difficulty should arise in making
themselves masters of the money. Niel made
the first attempt to detain the traveler, by seiz-
ing his bridle, but the heavy stroke dealt on his
arm released the rider for a moment. The
next instant he was seized by O’Ferguson, who
draglged him from his saddle. The latter, find-
ing omlin grappled with him, and was likely
to rove an over match, drew a knife and stab-
his victim to secure his own release. Thus
crime stelfeehiy stag leads its perpetrators on to
commit s, w ich, on cool reflection, they
wouldshudder to think of.

After Davy had finished his account of the
murder and robbery of Mr. Tomlin, the magis-
trate continued the examination, as follows:

“ Now, can you tell us who were the murder—
ers of Ross Tomlin?"

Davy looked toward Christiana, who stood

trifled with amazement between Mrs. Green-

rry and Ernest, at what she saw and heard,
and replied:

“ Rose is not dead.”

“ How is this, sir1—Rose is not dead?" said
the magistrate. “Then who was buried in that
grave in the garden?”

“Ah, sir,” replied Davy, “we carried Rose
off, but we did not murder her—no. no, no, we
preserved her life and adopted her. That grave
in the green is poorlittle Christiana’s, W o dieda
natural death; and that is not Christiana,”
pointing to the maiden, “ but Rose Tomlin,
whom we have ever cherished as a daugh—
tor.

“Gracious Heaven!” exclaimed Mrs. Green-
berry, claspin the irl in her arms. “ And this
is my lost chil , my arling Rose, whom I pledg-
ed the dying to protect!—-discovered, like the
lost Joseph, after man years, and restored to
her mother's arms—at east the only mother she
ever knew.”

“ And this is my adopted sister,” said Ernest,

taking Rose by the hand when his mother had
released her, ‘ and who, I hope, will be to me
my! more than sister in future. ’
, he maiden’s blushing cheek and trembling
hand bespoke more than her lips could reveal.
Mrs. Darly, who had remained a quiet spectator
for some tune of the affecting scene, now re-
lieved Rose’s confusion by breaking in upon the
absorbed parties.

“ Gracious, girl, I supposo you are satisfied
now. Your curiosity has murdered us all‘ and
what have you gained more than we offered you
a thousand times? Poor girl! but I forgive on
-—it was not all your fault. You had wicked
instigators, and though you have stabbed a
dagger in the breast that nourished you, and
broken a mother’s heart, I forgive it all. Let
[me embrace you once more before we part for-
ever~everl That is a mournful word!”

Rose, melted into tears by this affecting

h, from one that she could not but regard

s l as a mother, flew toward the witch with
‘ open arms; but Ernest, suspecting Helen’s words
were but the siren’s song to decoy her victim,

_ worst l—the dagger was poisoned!

 

narrowly watched the witch’s movements, and
saw the hilt of a poniard glitter in her hand, as
she attempted to draw it from her breast.
With a quick jerk he hurled her to the opposite
side of the room, as the demon-like woman
made a desperate lunge with all her strength, at
the fair breast of Rose.

“ 0h, wretch! wretch!" she screamed stamp-
ing her foot and rending her hair. “ ut you

have only half—blasted my hopes! the steel,

is robbed of but half its victim!” plunging the
poniard into her own breast ere any one
could interfere to disarm her. “ ’Tis done! 'tis
done!" she shouted wildly. “Now do your
Oh. but for
one more victim, and I would have been avenged!
avenged!”

The witch sunk back as she uttered the infer
nal Wish, with a terrific yell, and expired in-
stantly.

__

CHAPTER XVI.
CONCLUSION.

INDIAN summer had begun to tint the wood-
land With its golden hue. The notes of song-
sters no longer resounded in deep chorus from
their forest homes, but the plaintive strains of
a low Warbler might be heard at intervals,
horne lonely and sad on the autumnal breeze
like a dirge to the ear. The Wallo-wish rolled
along the dark waters with a hoarser flow. as
they swept by the fading drapery that festooned
its banks.

Ernest and his betrothed, for such now was
Rose, were straying along the dark stream, in
one of those delightful days peculiar to that

season, viewing the old familiar scenes among -

which Rose had passed her lone! hours of
childhood, and grown up tender an beautiful
as one of the wild flowers that bloomed among
the rocks of her secluded home. The two lovers
gradually drew near the old mansion which had
been the home of Rosiv‘s infancy. They used
and gazed in silence on the crumbling pi e—the
deserted Hall!

” For gloom had gathered o'er the gate,"

and desolation seemed to have passed over, leav-
ing its footstep to decay on all around. A small
blue thread of smoke quietly curled above the
cliflfs from one of the chimneys, the only
sight that betokened life about the deserted

spot.

“Ah, let’s enter the old Hall," said Rose,
sadly, “and see oldNina. and, if possible, <
suade her to leave this lonely place and {go
with us."

The young couple entered the decaying pile.
In the smoky kitchen they found the old woman
seated, solitary and alone on her old chair
resting her forehead on her hand. A faint
blaze flickered on the smoke~be

At the entrance of Rose and most, the old
l:vnmanloolazed up, shading her eyes with her

and.

“Gor bless you. honeyl”, she said. “Hub
you come to see old Nina? l was ‘jus’ thinkln'

about you, honey, an’ wonderin’ it you had for; '.

  
    
  
 
 

'med hearth. ‘

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Wily Witch’s Ward. [9

 

got your ole nuss, that used to tote you about
11 her arms- an’ here you’ve come to see de ole
woman. ell, dat is kin’, dat is kin’ not to for-
get me altogether. "

“ Oh, no, we have not forgotten you,” said
Rose, infected by the old woman’s simple
speech. “ but just come to take you with us, if
you will go, where you can be provided With
everything that will contribute to your comfort
and happiness.”

“ Yes, come with me, old mother,” said Ernest,
“ and you shall never want while we have any-
thing to hestow.”

“ De Lor’ bless you, children! Ve mean to
be kin‘ to ole Nina—l know ye do,” replied the
old woman; “ but let me stay here—«no, no, don’t
ax me to leab de ole place. I want to lay my
ole head down in dose walls, when de Lor’
please to call for me, an’ die. Missis is gone
now, and Massa Davy, an’ ole massa of all died
here—poor man!”

“ Ah, Lor’, honey, dis ole head can never for-
get de ast till it sleeps in de silent grave. No

. no, chi dren, I can’t go— 6 mean to be kin’, i

know ye do—but let me 11' an’ die amon de ole
scenes. Ole Nina '11 soon sleep along wi missis
an’ massa, an’ all. Poor Woman! To come to
such an en’-—-it makes 'a body cry to think
oh it,” and the tears ran down her withered
,cheekS.

’Tis pleasant to see the young weep—their
transient sorrow passcth away like April show-
«ers, and the young heart exults again in the
gladness of sunshine and smiles. But to behold

urge tears roll down the withered cheeks of old

age—~ah, it is sorrowful and affecting! For
terrible must be the tumult of emotions when
tears open again the sealed up fountain of grief
in the heart of, the aged!

“ Ah, me!" the old woman continued, after
drying her tears, “ she was cross, an’ scolded
some time; but she was kin’ for all dat.”

Rose and Ernest used every entreatyto induce
the old woman to aband' n those familiar objects
linked to her heart by so many sorrOqul recol—
lections, and among which she had dwelt until
they had become, as it were, a part of her exist-
ence; but she only replied to their entrcating
mhghtionlh ’t bee

. me can r to leab de old lace—4t
looks so like leabin' ole friends behin’ agd oin’
away among strangers. No, no, children, on’t
try to turn me from what I’ve set my heart up-
on dom’. Ole Nina’s not long for dis work—she
must soon go to her long home, where missis is
gone before, an” it’s her last wi h to close her ole
fyes ypmong things she had on used to so
on .

e old woman shook her head despairingly,
and leaped it on her palm, in silence.

Finding entreaties were in vain, they left her
alone in her sorrow, Ernest leading Rose away
weeping from the old nurse. ‘

They took care to supply the faithful old ser-
vant with everything that could contribute to
her comfort while she sojourned on this earth,

' which was not long, however, for,

“Seared by the autumn blast of grie ,"

,‘ shosoonclosedhereyes on the cares and sor-
- _ rows of this world, and West, as she pathetically

 

expressed it, to her long home beyond the tomb.
where her mistress had gone before.

’Tis strange, but true, there die none so aban-
doned but are followed to the tomb by some real
friend who mourns their exit from this world in
the spirit of truth and piety, bedewing the
grave with tears of sorrow. Such was Nina’s
grief for her mistress.

Davy was tried before the county court as an
abettor in the murder of Mr. Tomlin, and cor.»
yicted of the crime charged against him. But
knowing the only real crime was his misfortune
in being unavoidably situated among dark and
wicked spirits, who sometimes made him a
means of accomplishing their revolting purposes
the court before which he was convicted signed
a petition, got up by Mr. Greenherry for hisvrc-
prieve, and Davy was pardoned by the gov-
ernor.

Severed from the discontented spirits who
dragged him on a course from which he shrunk
in fear, Davy soon relapsed into the quiet and
passive thing for which Providence had desig-
nated him, and became “ a hewer of wood and
drawer of water ” in the employ of Mr. Green-
berry. ‘ , ,

The estate of Mrs. Darly, after her death, soon
came under the hammer of the auctioneer. Er- ‘

nest became the purchaser, and constructing a I 7 .

neat and handsome mansion on a spot more up .
propriate for a residence than that on ‘ which 1'3
O’Ferguson Hall stood, he and his fresh-bloom-
ing Rose took up their abode, where they enjoy- '
ed all the delights of a rural life.

Pat McCleary went to reside with “ Masther
Ernest,” and was ever found ready to espouse '
the quarrel of the oppressed with his good shille-J

lab, and succor the distressed to the extent of l 

his means.
Short and transient was the childlike grief of y ,
young Timon Darly—or Tim, the huntsman,,as
Pat used to designate him—for the deplorable: ’
calamity that had fallen upon his house. But .
the heart of the young hunter was not one that

care weigheddown with the weight of his a’mic- . ,. .'

tions; and soon forgetting his sorrows in the
pleasures of the passing moment, he followed
his hounds with the light heart that none but _
the simple—minded and unreflecting can know.
He was subsequently wedded to youngKate, the

lass whom he immortalized in his wild rhapwdy V L 
--who was no less a personage than the bark ’_ 1:,
maid of a country inn—and spent his days in /- »

the capacity of a. farmer. » V
THE END‘

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

82 OCTAVO PA ES. \
G   FREE, FIVE CENTS.

POCKET LIBRARY.

 

 

newemmmmmmmmmwamwmwwmwwm'a’ammmmmwmemmmmwatchman

118 Will “Wildfire, tlm Thoroughbred. By Cline. Morrln.

119 lilonde Bill or. Deadwood chh'l Home Base.
lly Edwnrd L. \ ‘huulor.

130 Gopher Gld, the Buy Trapper. By T. C. Harbnugh.

121 Harry Armstrong, the Cnpinin oftha Club. By
Brscebrldga Humyng, (Jnck ilnrhnwny.)

192 The Hunted Hunter. By Edwnrd 5. Ellis.
128 Solid Sam, the lloy Rand-Agent. By E. L VVlIenlcl'.
124 Judge Lynch. Jr. By T. C. ilnrhnugh.

125 The Land l’irnten. By Capt. Muynu Reid.

126 "Inc Blaze-t; or, The Brunk 0’ Day Boy: or [lucky
Bar. By Fr:qu Dnmunt.

12'? Tony Fox, the Ferret. By Edward L. Wheuler.
128 Black Bel-u, Wlll Wlldfiro‘l Racer. I!" C. Morril.
.129 Eagle Kit, the Boy Demon. By 011 (:oomes.
180 Gold Trigger. the Sport. By ’1'. C. llurhuugh.

131 A Gnmc of Gold; or, Dendwood Dirk'n Big
Strlka. lly Enlu‘nrd l1. Wheeler.

1393 Dainty Lance, the Boy Sport. By J. E. Bxldger, Jr.
133 “'ild-‘flro. the Bonn oi'thu Road. ll\‘ FrnnhDumunt.
134 Mike Merry, ihu llnrbor Polite lloy. By C. Morrla.

185 Deadwood Dick oi’ Deadwood. By Edwnrd
L. Wheelor.

188 Old Rube, the Hunter. By Cflpt. linmilton Holman.

187 Dundy Rock, tho Man from Texns. By G. Wa..du
Browne.

138 Bob Beckett, the Boy Dodger. By Chas. Morris.

189 The Black Giant: or, Dainty Lnncu in Jeopardy.
By Jouph E. Biulxrr, Jr.

140 Onptnin Arizona. By Philip S. Wnrne.

141 New York Nell, the Boy<(-'irl Detocllvo. By
Edward 1.. VVhL-rler.

149 Little Texnmthu Ymmz Muatnnrzer. By 011(‘omnen.

148 Deadly Dash: or, Figntlng Flra with Fire. By
Jon. E. Badger, Jr.

'144 Little Grit. the Wild Rider; or, Beanie, the Stock
Tendur's Deng: tor. lly Col. Prairth lngrnhnm.

145 The Tlcer oi'Tnon. lly Geo. Waldo Browne.
146 The Cattle Kinz. By Frunk Dnmont.

14? Hobby Nick of Nevada. By Edward L. Vl'hecler
148 Thunderbolt. Tom. By Hurry St. Gamma.

149 Bob Rockemt, the Bank Runner. By (7. Morris.
150 The Mad Miner. By G. Waldo Browne.

151 The Sea Trailer. By Col. Prentlu Ingrnlmm.

159 Dandy Dar-kc; or, The Tlgrm of High l’lrm. By
William R. Eylter.

153 Wild Frank, the Buckskin Brnvo. By Edward L.
Wheeler.

154 The Boy Tualleru. By Jon. E. Bridger, Jr.

155 Gold Plume, the Boy Bandit: or, The Kid~Gluve
Sport. By Cnl. i’rontln lngmlmm.

158 Wlll W'ildiire in the Woods. By C. Mnrril.
157 Ned Temple, the Border Day. By 1'. C. Harbnngh.
158 Deadwood Diek‘n Doom. By E. L. Wheeler.

1159 Patent-Leather Joe’s Defeat. By Philip. S.
lll‘llC.
160 Buifnlo Billy, the Boy Bullwhnokar. By Col. P.
lngrnham.

101 BOD Rockett, tho Crnclmnnn. By C. Morris.

16. Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. By 011
Coormn.

168 Deadwood Dick’n Dream. By E. L. Wheel".
164 Tornado Tom. By T. C. Hhrblugh.

185 Bahia Bill'l Bet. By Col. Prantln inxnlmm.
186 Will Wildfire Win- nnd Lona. By (7. Motrin.

 

16? Dandy Rock’s Pledge. By George W. Brown.

163 Doude Dick’s “'urd: or, The Black Hill.
elrbol. By l'klwurd L. VVhoelur.

169 The Boy Champion. By Edward VVlllett.
170 Bob Racketi’u Fight for Life. By C. Morris.
1’21 Frank Morton, the Boy Herculeu. By 011 000m".
1’22 The Yankee Ranger. By Edwin Emerwn.

173 Dick Dingle, Scout. By Edde S. Ellil.

174 Dandy Rock’s Scheme. By G. W. Browne.
175 The Arab Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler.
176 “'1” “'lidilre’a Pluck. By Chll’lel Marni.
1?? The Boy 09mmnnder. ByColJ’rentlu ingmhun._

178 The Maniac Huhter. By Burton Sun.

179 Dainty Lance: or, The Myltlc Mnrlmnn. By
J05. E. Badger, Jr.

180 The Boy Gold-llunter. By T. C. Hnrbaugh.
181 The Scnpcl‘rncc Son. By Chnrlu Morrll.
182 The Dark - Skinned Scout. By Liam. 061.

l'lnwltine.
183 anez Dart, Detective. By Oll Coomea.
194 Featherweight, the Boy Shy. By Edward Willett.
185 llilm: Bill, the Overland Prince. By Col. Puntin-

ngrn am.

186 Dulnty Lnnee and 1119 Pnrd.

mlger, Jr.

18? The Trapped Tiger- King. By Charles Murrll.
131% The Ventriloquiat Detective. By Edward L.
Wheeler.

By Joseph E.

189 Old Roeky’a Boys. By Mud. Sum. 5. Hill.
190 film Simpkins, Scout. By Jnmm L. Bowen.
19] Dandy Rock’s Rival.
102' Hickory Harry. By Harry St. George.

198 Detective Jonh Grim. By Edvnrd L. Wheeler.
[94 Prospect Pete, the Boy Mlnnr. By Oll Cwmel.
195 The Tender-foot Trailer. By T. C. Hnrbnngh.
196 The Dandy Detective. By Charla Morrla.

19'? Roy, the Yuung Cnttlo Kin . By Cnlonel hum“
Ingrabnni. Rudy Oct. 19. I

19$ Ebony Dan's Mask. By Frank Dumont.
Ready Oct. 26.

I99 Dictionary Nat, Detective. By T. C. Hurlnugh.
:ndy av. ‘2.

200 The Twin florncmen. 3 Cl t. F
Whlltnkcr. Ready Nan. y P "dunk

201 Dandy Darke‘n Pardu.
Ready Nov. 16. :

By Geo. Wnldo Browne.

By Wm. R. Enter.

209 Tom, the Tenn Tiger. By Oil Coon".
Ready Nov. ‘28.

308 Sam, the Odin Day. By Clnrlol Motrin.
Ready Nev. 30.

Issued Every Wednesday.

Bendie‘u Packet Library in for «In by Ill New»
dnnlorl, five min per copy, or lent by mail on rmlpt of air
contl ouch. ,
BELDLE dz ADAMS. Publisher-a.

95 William Street, New Yuri.

 

 

J

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

l Deerhunter, the wy Scout oftna Brut North Woodl.
By 011 Coouwu.

9 Buffalo “ill, from Boyhood to Manhood. By CoL Pun.
tiu Inzrahnm.

8 Kit Carson, King oiauidan. By Albert W. Aiken,

4 Gordon Lillie, the Bay—Interpreter oi'the inneen. By
Major. K. B. Smidnrd.

B Bruin Adan", Old Gflley'n Boy Pard. By Colonel
Prentiss lugmham.

0 Deadwood Dick an alloy. By Edward L. Wheeler.

7 Wild Bill, the Pittol Prince. By Colonel Prentiu
Ingrnhmu.

8 The Prairie Rnneh. By Joneph E. Badger, Jr.
9 Rxolvlpnlzc Joe: The History ni‘n “Bordur Boy." By A.
u D! .
10 Texan Jnck. the Mustang King. By Colonel Preniiu
lngrahiun.
11 Charley Skylark. A Show of School-day Scrlpol tad
Cullen Capers. By Major ii. i}. Stoddard.
12 Mnripmm Mural. By Jowph E. Badger, Jr.
13 Roving Ben. By John J, Mar-hell.
14 Spring Steel. King om.» Bth. By J. E. Badger, Jr.
15 lagglelyfiwnke George, the Boy Pioneer. By Edvard
I 0

16 The Boy “'iznrd. Bv lhll’ry Ringzoki,

1? Peter'- l’c pergrmol, the Grocnhom from Gotham]. By
'mi 11 .

18 Adrlit on the Prairie, and Amateur Hunter!»
on the llull'ulo Rnnzo. lly Oil Coomcl.

19 The Fortune liunter; or, Roving Joe u Miner,
Cowboy, Tmppur and Hunter. By A. H. Post.

90 Trapper Tom, ihv Wond imp. By T. C. Hub-ugh.

21 Yellow llhir, the Boy Chiefoi‘ the Puvnua. By Col.
Prnntlnn lngrnlml’n.

U2 The Snow Trnll. By T. C. ilarbnngh.
33 0:5: Gfilzzly Adams, the Bear Tuner. By Dr. Frank
IV“ .

84 Wood: and Water-s. By Capt. Frederick Whitunr.

25 A Rolling Stone: incimsnu in the Cane Se
Land oi Col. Prentiss lngrnhmn. By Wm. lioéyatzrlnd

26 Red River Rovers. By C. Dunning Cimk.

27 Plaza und Plain; nr, Wild Adventure. ni'“Buchkin
Sam,” (Maj. Sum. S. Hull.) liy Col. P. Ingrnhnm.

98 The Sword Prince. '1 no Romantic Life of Col. Mon-
Iwry. By Capt. b‘raxluriuk Whithker.

89 Snow-Shoe Tom. By T. C. Hnrhnugh.

80 Paul de Ln th 1" h Be
Dunning warty, o rvnc nlt Charm-r. By C.

81 Round the Camp Fire. liy Joseph E. Bearer, Jr.

32 White Beaver, the lndlen Medici!“ Chlof. By Col.
Prentinl lnzrnhnm.

88 The Boy Cl‘uonder. By Clpt. Fred. Whltuhr.

B4 The Chm-e of the Grout White 8t and 0
and Canoe. By C. Dunning Clark. is, , In»

85 Old Tor Knuckle and Hi. Boy Chnme. By R. Skrbueh.

.86 The Dnahlrgz Dragoon! or, The Story of Gen. 0.0m
.V

A. Cum". Capt. Fred. Whluaknr.
3‘? Nightdlnwk George. By Col. Prenilu lng‘nhfln.
88 The Buy Exiles of Siberia. By T. C. Harbnugh.
89 The Young Bear Hunters. By Morri- Rodwln‘,
40 Smart. Sim, the Lad with a Level Hand. By Edward
“'illntt.
41 The Settler’n Son. By Edwlrd s. Elli;
‘0 Walt Fergunou’o Cruise. By C. Dinning Glut.
‘8 Rifle and Revolve». By Cept. Prod. Winn-1m.

 

 

  

44 The Loet Boy Whalers. 81 '1'. C. Huqu

45 Bronco Billy, the Saddle Prince. By (19].th

46 Dick, the Stowaway. By Chnrlu Morris.

47 The Colorado Boyn; or,Li{eon nu Indigo Plantation.
Dy Joleph E. Badger. Jr.

48 The Pam all llunteni or Now York Boy. in
limo-on Ayxl. By T. C. Hnrhnu’gh.

49 The Adventuroue Life of Nebrukn Charlie.
By Col. Prentiu lngrnhnm.

60 Jack Harry and Tom, the Thru Chmpion Brothers.
By Apt. Frod. Whittaker.

51 The Young Lnnd-Luhber. By C. Dunning Clark.
62 The Boy Detectives. By T. C. Hub-ugh.

58 Honest. llnrr ; or, The Country Boy Adria in file
City. By Char el Marrin.

54 California Joe, the Myutorlouu Plnlmmnn. By Col.
Prentiu lngmhmn.

55 Tip Tunnel. thu Flontor. By Edwnrd Willa“.

56 The Snow Hunters; or, Winm- ln the Womb. By
Bnrry ds Forrest.

57 Harry Homers, the Shilor Boy Muriel-n. By s. W.
Puree.

58 The Adventurous Life of Captain Jack, the
Border Boy. By Col. Promise lugrn um.

59 Lane. Tim, the Mule Boy of the Minn. By Chuk-
Morris.

60 The Young Troll Hunters; or, New York Boy: in
Grizzly Land. By T. C. Hnrlmlgh.

h
61 The Tiger Hunters or, The Color-do Boy: in lio-
phnnt IAml. By Julep E. lildger, Jr.

82 Doctor Carver, tho “ Evil Spirit ” of the Pinion. By
Col. Premise lngrnhmn.

68 Black nor-e mu, the man Wmim. By no".
Surbuck.

64 Young Dick Ta‘lhot; or A Boy: Rough And 'lhmble
Fight in... New York to Cnlliornln. By A. w. mm.

65 The Boy Pilot; or, The Inlnnd Wrochu. By Col.

l’rentiu lazuli-m.

66 The Desert Rove or, Stowaway Dick Among tho
Aruba. By Chlriu orria.

87 Tenn Charlie, the Boy Ranger. By Col. Punti-

ll’lgmhnm.

68 thfle Rule; or. Thu You; Fur Hunt-n. By Captain
“ Bruin ” Adunn.

69 The Young Nihilin or A Ylnhu Boy Among the
Rue-ium. By Cherie. or I.

70 Pony the Cowho‘yd) or, The Young Mnnhnll'l Enid.
By hlnjor H. B. 500 1rd, Ex-Stout.

71 RE: Robsnrt and Ill- Bear. By C-ptein “ 3n!- "
Iml.

72 The Ice Elephnnt. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. V

78 The Young Moon-Hunters. By Willi»: H.
Manning.

74 The Boy Corgi-Fishers. By Roger Shr’biuk.

75 Revolver Billy, the Boy Rug" 0! Tenn. Bqul.
Prenti» lnznhnm.

76 The Condor Killers. By '1‘. C. Hub-ugh.

7‘? Lnd Llonheeln, tho Young Tiger Fighier. Byway-r
Surbuch.

78 Flatbont Fred. By Edwnrd Will.“

70 Boone. the Hunt". 97 Oeptnin l". Wit-hr.

Beadle’l Boy’n Lihr-ry in for enle by nil Norm,
flu come per ea”, or tent by mnil an mipt a! ll: mt Inch.

3mm: AND A’Afll, Pulmth
98 Willlnm BtrMQ‘New Ytrl

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

80 Kentucky Ben, che Long Rlfla of the Cusmlu. Bv
Roger Sturhnck. '

81 The Kit Cal-non Club. By T. C. Hurbuuuh.

8'3 Little Buck. the Boy Guide. By liurry Rump“,

88 Pony Bob, the Rewiring: liltirr. lly (In). P. Ingruhnm.

84 Captain Fly-by-Nl rim. liv Josnph 1'1. liluiuer, Jr.

55 Captain unlpn. u... oung rixplnm. uy v. i). (,‘iurk.

86 thtiu Dun Ruekn. By Morris Redwluz.

8 The Menu erie Ilnntursi. iiy .\iu'. i'l. Grenville.

83 The “0 '{rluupua or, Life Among the Gipuiea. By
J. M. l nifn \n.

89 ‘I'mnmihuro Lljc. By C. D Clark.

90 Roving R1"e.UIlhivr’sLiliieScout. By T. C. iinrhnuizh.

91 "result Jouh, the Wizur-i [iiiin By Roger Stnrhuck.

92 llnrricune Kit. By A. F. Holt.

98 Jumping Jake, the Colorado Circus Buy. By Brynnc
iiuln’nridize.

04 .‘lnm Spence, “in iiromihnrn Buy. By Ed. Wilieit.

95 Jun-cow to slum-in; or, A Yuukee Bay to the Rustin).
liy Chili‘qu Morris.

93 Flzhtinx Frag, By T. C. linrhnuuh.

9? Oruine ni‘the lynwuy. By (7. Dunningr Mark.

PM ‘he Roy Vigilantes. liy Mn]. ll. B. Stoddvud.

99 'he White ’l‘iucru. By Cunt. I‘hurlnu i’inwnrrl.

100 The Snow-Shoo 'I‘rnll, My St. Gnome iiuthhnne.

101 Mariano, the (litmvnuirl. u,- Exlwnrtl 3. min.

102 The Fiynwny Aflont. ".V 0- Dull'linfl CIIWK

103 I’m: Mlliloney’n Adventuren; nr, Silver Tongue
the Durntuh Queen. ilyC. L, Ed in.

104 The lloy l’rolneutor. ‘ i

105 “Inonee, the anl Wit , vun ‘umraon.

106 The Boy Cruluern. ii) :xi‘VllTli \Vliir-ii.

10? The Border Rovers. By J Mile ilnfl‘nmu.

103 Alnnku. tin-z “'nlf-Quuen. lh' (Ynyt. Howurui Lincoln.

109 Chrlntlan Jill-l, thu “'hius )lnn’n Friend. ByEniwurd

. . .lils.

110 I’lIu-ky Joe, the Boy Avenuer; 0r, Dick Buinmnt’s
Lani. Ride. My J. Milinn iiufl'mnn.

111 The Border Gunmnkt-r. limenns L. Timwn.

11$ Lem-"under! Pete, the Duuhie-Kniie. By Junnph
E. I1ildL’ili’. .ir.

118 The River Rifles. By Clifat. J. F. (7 Adams.

114 Alone on the I'inlml. ily lidwnrd Willa-ti.

116 Silver Ilorn, uud Iii» Riiin Firuduuth. By Roger
Sturhurk.

116 Ex loltl of "om-kink Smith, the Baciiwoodmnun.
Bv lint-man lemnn.

117 The Young Mnntnngern. By (7. Dunning f‘lnrk.

115 old Trnpn; r. the Boy iiivuia. By Hurry Rinuzold.

19 Center Shut. tha Wiiitn Crow. iii' ’1‘. (l. iinrlmugh.

20 A Hot Trail; or, Ciurk CiuverlyAinong the Turtum.
By Cimrlen Morris.

131 Hunter Plll'll lien. By Roger Stnrhuck.

153 The Em ulnmnx’ Queen. By G. “'nido Browne.

123 Tim, the llnv Anrobut; or, Lii'r in thu Circuit Ring. By
Clmrlul .Vlnrrin.

124 tau-eon Ben-lo. um BnrnierGirl. )ivlii-nryJ.Timnmn

1% ' om Tabor, tins iluy Fugitive. Bv Hurry Ringxrulil.

120 Mink 001le the Dnflh-Shut. By Jon. E. ilnnigur, Jr.

19? The Deer lnntern. By John .1. Mumllnii.

1’8 Wolf-Cap; or Thu Night-Hawks 01' the Firv-Lnndn.
u Cunt. (.hur. iiuwnrrl.

129 agilVlc'rupur; or, The Mmmiuin Heroine. ByEdwnrd

i e) t.

100 Keetnen, Qnrou o tho Plnlnl. By Perry ii. St. John.

131 “'intah. the Child Spy. iiv Guzman (Human.

1% The Inland Trapper. By (ThurIi-n Howard.

1 Till. I’m-cut Specter; or, line Young liuuter'n Foo.
iiy i'hiwurli Wilieii.

134 Wild Nat. lhn Trot-par. By Vi'm. R. Evater.

186 The Silver Bugle; or. The Inillun Maiden of Si.
Crulx. Hy Liuul. (‘0’. Hull-lion.

1g” Thu l’rnlrlr Tr-pper. By C. Dunning Ciurir.

1 7 The Antelnpe Bo . By Geo. L. Aiken.

“iii Loni: Shot; nr.The wanGuidc. 1y Cnill.Comntock.

139 (loinnel Crockett. tho Bear King. By Charles E.

innuile.
141) (Did 1’91", the Mountulnear. By Lewiu W. Carton.
i The Glnnt Hunter. ii)’ Hurry iiumrd.
.1 12 Black Panther. Lim Hulfilnnml. By J. E. Buliim‘.
143 Clinton, the Guide; or, l’t-riiu ui‘thi: Frontier. By Lieut.
J. H. Rundolnh.
144 Kent, the Ranger. By Edward 5. Ellis.

 

 

145 "Ill Robbins, Huniyr. By Edward Willem,

146 The "Mr-Breed iiivnl. By .in iinilzer. Jr

147 The Mnnkwi A \‘eniu-r. ily i'ui. . tins inurnha'm

14s in}... m. ‘l rnppvr and mum. Fighter. By Pun] J:
rear-41.

149 The Elk Demon; or, The Ginnt Br (hers. By T.
3. ilurhnugh.

150 The Boy Mustang-Hunter: or. Euuiuiia the
iieautiiul Anmz i. ny mun-ink “'hiiiuhnr. '

151 Frnnk Yuk-n, tlu- Ynnng Trupper; or, Mountain
Rum winning. “thsrpil E. "mixer. r.

192 “’ild Run-n, the scum. Hy Oil i omncn.

108 LynxJ‘np; or, Four Trnypuru’Amoug the Sioux. liy
l’uul Bibbs.

15:1 The (‘immnion Tuxnn Rider; or. Red Bulfalu,
and ihr Herrnll-s Iiuntm. By Hurry St. George.

155 "Dusky lllvk'l Doom. By .105. E. Budger, Jr.
150 Frnnk Bull, the Boy Spy. By 0“ Comm-I.

152' Nick Doyle, the Gold Hunivr. 'By 1‘. H. Myers.
158 Kidnapped Dick; or, The Fnte of the Firu Fly. By

-'. Stunivy iivnduisnn.

159 flxnn’n Lonz Trail; or, The Twin Scoutn. By W. J.
Hllmiiilm.

180 linnk Triplet‘n Vow. By Hurry Hazard.

161 TIN' .11 mi Skipper. By R. Stnrlmck.

1G2 The Trnpprr King. By Maj. Mux M .rtine.

168 Simon Kenton, Hunter. By Emerson Rodrnnn.

164 The Boy Chief; or, Frnnk Brii‘n Conipnct. By Oil

Counts.

165 The 'l‘rndor Traitor. By J. Stnniay Hundvrlon.

166 Old anc‘a Claw. By Mm. Orrin 'unnes

16'? The Young Trailer. By W. .i. ilmniiton.

163 The Specter Spy. By thj. Lewis “2 Cursor].

169 I.II;Ik Lute, tho Old Cnlnrudu Hunter. By E. W.
rc Ici’. .

170 The White \Voli’. By Edward Wilioti.

171 The Swamp Guide. Ily W N. McNeil.

1?2 The Ynnkt‘e l'cddlrr. By C. iiunning Clark.

173  fonut nnd "in Young (ihum. By Warren
. u m.

174 Blut-knmith Tom‘s Munk. By Gm. 1’). Gilbert.

175 The Bun-knight 'Rillcr. By finyernmood.

176 The Sounttor’n finrprlne. By Mrs. H. .i. Thmnnl.

17'? Four Fellow fieuntn. By J. Strum-y l-l.-nd.emm.

1'38 011] Kll. and “In Comrades. liylw. .. Badger, Jr, 1

179 L'ni-le Griil’s Iii-uni“. By iinrry iiumrd.

180 The Mnrkad Miner. By Limit. (‘01. Xinzritine.

181 The “'iiil llnntrcnn. By ('npt. Bruin Adams.

182 The Dwnrfllvooy. By Marc 0. Knife.

183 Job Dunn's Tswilcn. By ingnidnby North.

184 Yankee nph'!‘ Dilomnm. By J. R. Worcester.
aniiy “cumin-r 22.

185 The “'Iiy \Vltuh‘n “’urd. By Edwin E. Ewing.
Ruudy Ortn‘w-r in.

186 Frnnk. iin- Furrirr. By J. Stank-y Henderson.
Rudy Nuvo-Inbvr 5.

187 Dlimn. Hm Fnir Monubiimn‘r. liy‘Cupt. F. thiiuker.
Kruin Nuvmnhcr ii.

188 Jack’l Emu-v. By Mm. Ann E. Porter.
h-ndy Nuvrmbi-r m.

18:) Sum, un- fiwnmp Smut. By w. J. Hamilton.
Randy Nun-“um 26.

Beadie’n Boy’s Library in for nule hy nil Newndunlen,
five cents per copy, or aunt hv mnii on imzuint oi'nlx mania each.

BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publilhera,
98 “'iilinm Street, New York.

 

 

 

 

 

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