The Dorset County Express and Agricultural Gazette.
Dorchester, Dorset, England, 1866-12-25 00:00:00

either dead or desd drunk about the s!do platforms and
stoke-bole. I shouted as well as I could, but without
emit and theft a thought lashed across me—the steam
whistle There we. u boodle by which it could be
I suode4 from the engine•roons. It 1 could but reach
that. I must alarm the ship, and we might yet besaved !
Bat at that moment the companion was opened, and the
youth, the chicle accomplice, &swotted. He came
town the ladder hssuly ; but he had no sooner turned
and seen what was going on tie.n he loomed, as if fright.
toned and irsnaolote loos to set. The esiel saw lam as
aeon as i did, and sung out to him—
" 'The pistol! the pistol! There between the
neon

'The yearn picked Up the 'ditto% and coining forward
preteutid it at me • bit I cold reo, even in that
owneast, that he had omitted to rock it. He pulled at
the trigger, but of ern.° without avail. The chief saw ,
eel did, the ague of the failure. 'Cook it, d—n
eoek it I' he cried out; and then I heard the click se
the hammer was drawn hack and the eltember revolved. '
It was 11011 or never for me, I am • Cornishman, sir ;
and like ~out from that country, • little but of •
wrestler. I had regained my strength a little, and skill
took the place of shot wanting. It was my only
cheese de, quick as lightning, I pee the chief the
' tae,' as we mill it in our country, and turned him over
like • top towards the aide on which the youth wa.
standing. He Ind it the tame instant; but the sudden
tern I earn Rey antegoniet changed our positions, and I
the ballet, alter indicting • 110.11 wound in arm,
entered his body instead of toils,. Th. youth coned for I
• neeneent with • look ni horror, and then with a screen)
threw herself on the body. At that same instant! saw
who it was. It was no youth but a woman, and our
captain's new wife. But I did not emit to speculate on
thi' e foe I ~w that the fires must be drawn at once, and '
I bud 1110 strength loft. I sprang to the handle and
eounded the whistle. There was the well-known shrill
shriek, which mold not fail to be heard throughout the
'hip; and I fell down fainting on the stoke.hole door.
'1 rememb r little more that pawed until I found
myself in the hcopital of Panama. The events of that
night —m) wound, and the want of ndelical attendanee,
for we Gemini no surgeon—hail brought on an attack of
fever, and I had been dangerotuly ill. I had been
delirious, and when I did regain my conscious...sae, the
even.t which had really were so mingled in
my brain, with the e agent fancies of my delirium.
that I found it dalicult to distinguish the one from the
other. I soon. discovered, however, that people bad
been told that! had been guilty of gross insubordination
towards the chief engineer, and that he had been so
maddened by ;union as to Are is revolver at me; and
that I, haring gained possession of the weapon in the
struggle which had ensued, hs4 shot him, to save my
own If.. Of course I denied this; but my ideas, an",
no doubt, my talk, were still so incoherent, that but
little notice teas taken of what maid. Soon the captain
of the steamer mune to my bedside, and begged and
entreated me it. the moat earnest, the most piteous
manner, to allow his version of the story to be believed.
He s.iil he had been bewitched by the charms and arts
of that woman ; and believing that none of the crew
knew he was already married, be had agreed to give
her • passage, and had token her on board with him as
his wife. She had obtained from him, by pretending
• playful a womanish curiosity, • knowledge of where
the gold on board was stowed. end how it could be got
at ; and this vile woman, with her accomplice arid
paramour (the villain whom he had foolishly segued.
at her recommendation, as chief engineer), and another
man also shipped at has Francisco, had between them
conceived and attempted to carry out that atrocious
in which they had been so nearly encesseltd.
protect eogineers hurt had not beset serious ; and the
captain etid that he had connived at his escape with his
arnomplicee an soon as the ship got into port. The
woman, indeed, bad not been seen in her disguise by
any one but himself ; for be bed been drat in the
eneine-roorn when the whistle sounded the alarm, and
had managed eomehow to get her out of the way unseen.
" It would he melees now," he said, "to attempt to
capture them ;" and he implored me not to contradict
the account he had caused to be orealated, and so cause
his ruin which would sure to follow, should his owners
learn the real truth of the story. He made the most
solemn vows of repentance and amendment, and I
believe he was truly sorry for his fault, as well as it.
°onerousness ; but I less deaf to all until he 'poke of
his sweet wife and his dear little girl, whom I had seen
at New York. He mid that his wife was near her
eonlinemen., and that he wan sure, if she learnt
the truth, the blow would kill her. Well, sir, at
length I yielded, and agreed to confirm the account he
had given. You may be sure that the crew, and
especially Macpherson and the rest of the watch in the
eneine•room and on deck—who had been dragged
by wine liquor which the chief had given them—were
not altogether imposed upon, and • hundred different
versions of the story were flying abut. But no oce
ever knew the rights of the affair—we were not in
England, you know sir, and it was • lawless time and •
lawless part of the world. I returned to Europe as
soon as I hat tecovered, and front that time to this!
have never told anybody but you bow it all happened."

The whole mitallishment turned out to look at the
lit le girl. Nobody knew her; nobody could make out
her Daftlf, S 4 she wt it forth--except one chambermaid,
who said it was Constantinople—which it wasn't
"I will dine with my young friend in a private room,"
.41 Hatbox liroihtts to tie hotel authorities, "and
perhaps you will ho PO good let the police know that
the teems baby is here. I suppose she in sure in be
inquired for, soon, if ahe has not been already. Coins
along, Polly."
Perfectly at ewe and peace, Polly mime slow:, hut
fin.liog tbe stairs nth. r siff wok, wan carried up by
!Mama 11-othere. Tim 'll.lcr W.• •WS POS SPWISEPOI.
deist aucce s. and the R altos to ...pi-lop s% notice Polly's
directions love t min. e her meat for her, and In to
diffuse grave, over the plate and with a lilmral and
equal hand, was another line sight.
" And new," said Lily, "while we are at dieser, you
be good, and tell me that story I taught 'too."
With the tremors of a civil service examination on bite,
and very uncertain indeed, not only as to the epoch at
which the pie appeared in history, but also as to the mew
suremento of that iii.l.spensable feet, Barb is Brothers
made a shaky beginning, but under encouragemeot did
eel y fairly. There wan a wait of breadth obeeivable in tin
rendering of the chm Its. an Well an the appetite, of the
boy ; and there Was • certain tameness in his fairy,
referable to an undor-current of desire to account for
her, Still, as the drat lumbering performance of a
good-hunioured monster, it netted 1111 l leer.
"I told too to be good," said Polly, " andjour are
good ain't you?'
I hope so." replie I RAO ox Riothets.
Ruch was his deference that Polly, elevatad on a plat-
form of anfa•cuelliona in a chair at
.his.tight hand,

„. ..... -
encmtraged him with a pat or two 00 the f .re• from the
drawly bowl of her spoon, and even with a gracious hiss.
In getting on her feet upon her chair. however, to give
him this laat reward. she toppled forward aiming the
di.hea, and
_mama him to exclaim, a. he .7 Med her

moos, " Orso ! Whew! 1 thuta,Lt we
. -

were in the are. Polly !"-
"Whit t • coward you are, ain't you?" said Polly, when
replaned.
" Vv., I .11 rather miming," he replied. " Whew !
Don't, Polly! Don't loom your spoon, or you'll go
over gideyviye. Don't tilt op your legs when you
blurb, Polly, or you'll go over backwards. Whew !
Polly, Polly. Polly," mid liarbox Brothers, nearly
in combing to despair, " we are environed with

.lang•rs ! .
Indeed, he could descry no security from the pitfalls
that mike yawning for Polly, but in pri:pocins hrr.
•fter dinner, to sit upon • low stool. • I krill. if You
will," mid Polly. Ito, as peace of mind should to before
all. be begged the waiter to wheel aside the table, bring
• pack of,eards, ft couple of footstools, and • screen,
end cloak) in Polly end himself before the fire, as it were
in • snug room within the room. Then, finest sight of
all, was Berlioz Brothers on his foot•tcol, with • pint
decanter on the rug, contemplating Polly as she built
suotiemfully, and growing blue in the Com with holding
his hr. alb, 1.-st he shoold bloc the house down.
"How you stare, dou't your said Polly, • house-
leas pause.
Detected in the ignoble feet, he felt obliged to admit,
"I am afraid I was looking rather barn

at Too, Poly."
" Why do you stare? asked Polly.
"1 eannot," he murmured to himself, "roaß why.—
I don't know, PoPy."

' You must b. a aiinpletoo to do things and not know
why, mustn't you?' said Polly.
In spite of which reproof, be looked &tile child again,
intently, as she hot her head over her card.strneture,
her rich curl, shading her face. "It is impossible," he
thought, "that I can ever have peen this pretty baby
before. Can I bane dreamed of her? In some sorrow.
let dream r

A SENSATIONAL STONY.

Condensed from "losta.l of the Psetrashoe," • stag
which Mr. Shirley Brooks coatributes to the Christ-
mas number.' three a Week.

He could make nothing of it. So he went into the
building trade as a loarneyman under Polly, and they
built three stories high, four stories high : even five.
"I say. Who do you think is coming r sikel Polly.
rubbing her eyes after tea.
, He guessed : "The waiter r
"No," said Polly, "the dustman. I am getting
sleepy."
A new embarrassment for Barbels Brothers I
"I don't think I am going to be fetched to-night,'
, said Polly; "what do you think
11 He thought not, either. After another quarter of an
hour, the dustman not merely iMptDding but sottl.lll
arriving, ncounto was had to the Constantinopolitan
chambermaid: who cheerily undertook that the child
should sleep in • eunfortable and wholesome room, which
she herself would share.
"And I know you will be careful, won't you," said
Barbox Brothers, sea new fear dawned upon him, "that
she don't fall out of bed."
Polly found this no highly entertaining that she was
under the necessity of clutching him round the neck
with both arms as he sat on his footstool picking up the
cards, and rocking him to and fro, with her dimpled
chin on Lis shoulder.
"(5 what a coward you are, ain't you r said Polly.
" Do you fall out of bed r
"N
—not gsnerally,
No more do I.

"Some years ago," my uncle began, "the dais does
not tignify, but I remember that Min Thu thee wan
short Boas (a fast that may interest yon)--I had
client named Newton. He gave out that he was a
dcendatit of the illd•trious astronomic il man, but
that I saw was mere m onehine. as soon *a I looked iota
the pedigree; and that hit of binohug ant me against
Lim at the very arat. ife we' a amyl Ghost howevi r
is rather good praelice ; and ha lived in_
mind what I told you about nones—he Berri in Hot,
taidgestreet, Courteroyaquare, then • mare than reit
pectable address, but the bows@ have now run to lolg•
ings. Well, this Mr. Newton—Francis was hia Christian
name—did not attend to his borne.o as he might to ha,.
done, and if Ise had done so, he would not have got into
debt soil ilifliulty. lie was • good looking fellow, oit
the black whisker, large nose, big abort pin, rather
..waggeriug type, not off-naive—Certainly not to the
women. This Francis Newton was capital company,
ita they call it—that is, he could never hull his tonsue,
hut was always telling stories. or giving imitations, 09
d sturhing the harmony of the miiverso in nose way
And he h.l a meat rplenilid tenor cola., which be had
e ultivated earefuly. and he tainly sang better than
any fellow I ever heard off the stage, and better than
most I have hisnl on it. Whereby, 89 you may imagine be
woo always Wing Sart' out, and what was Woe*. he WY
always ready to go. He was wanted em rywhi re. New-
ton was almost as much in requititien as the gieengroorr
that waited. All which imant hot stoppers, bud gull
noon, and neglect of patients."
" nian list nian ?"
" I like the quotion, beano% it shows that a single
moo think. that marriage demands prudenoe mid virtue.
YSB. Mr. t 'coil, he WWI • married man. Ile hal made a
fooliah kin,' of matoh, lot many folks do that, and
work into the right groove afterwards. Newton snot •
pretty girl at a paty, and they sang together, and find-
ing tit., their voice% suited adinirahly, took it for granted
that their tempers, taste., amid so forth would suit
equally well. Julia Dedham had a little money, just
enough to live toted, airs upon, bort not enough to be
of much use in such a household. Ella wee fair, rather
slight, with something of a •aucy expression. Yon
wool I have called it piquant, if you had liked her, and
perhaps have no I a h•rder word than Nancy if you had
hated her. Ass lawyer I neither hate nor love anybody
who sees nte profearionally. I did not care touch for
her, however, but I thought that she was about good
enough for say client.
I ueeil hardly tell you that year altar year the surgeon
got more and store c010n5...1. lie attended more
parties and fewer patients. Anil he began to have that
nervo-ga, ysllow•erol, unttustworthy appearance which
men get, emu er than they know, when they drink deep
into the night. His maim got honky, and this was the
worst punishment to him, for his fri-nils made no parti•
cuter bones of telling him that he did not sing as he
used to do. and, uroriover,.some of them began to leave
him it. Newton hail been trying to get his wife to
mortgage her income. Mrs. Newton could have done
so, lia I she pleased ; but had she been the most sit c-
hi inato wife in fonder., I should have cumin mded her
for refusing—and I do not know that her refried, there-
fore, ought to he condemned, broom. the request was
made by a husband for whom 'be did not, at this time,
dare a farthing, even Mahe hail not begun to hate him.
But she reflood in a hard offensive way. What she
repeated to me showed that all respect was over between
them—all regard, I knew, had been so for a long time.
One day afor that Newton came here, and asked a few
desultory queetions about the divorce law ; but we never
mow, r imestions put in that manner, aril as he was out
Inclined to make any statement, you may suppoe that
I did not press the subject. But he dropped some
words which made me think that his home miseries
were not confined to pecuniary difficultier, or affairs of
temper."
the story goes on to relate how that, after Mr. Thorn-
don hal lost sight of Newton for some time, he and his
wife—the latter in company with • tell dark man—
were one day met by the lawyer at the Zaological Oar.
demi, when Newton renewed his acquaintance with Mr.
Tho-ndon, and subsequently coiled upon him, giving
, him instructions to
.insure his (Newton's) life for £3,000,
.. • .

Into another eagralge. Hat we got out at Twinstearl,
and there was a long wait. Here we met, and I per.
inbred that he had being drinking, and was in the state
of extreme CrOfiltlel4 *Melt come. at an early stage of
inMeantion. He spoke alino4 surlnly, and was samara
tr a porter who accidentally brushed against him. As
the otheials are exeeeMdingly polite on the line in
question, I soul a civil word to the man, and this
further incensed Newton. How he had been spending
his time since ace wrnt down he did Lot say, and, me I
found him boorish, I tptiAly lit my cigar, awl strolled
,ni the platform, herAy Loos tho station, aint into the

gloom.
"At lint I widely(' Newton thinking he mighieome
Sc, in ; but he bout sulkily az..inat • wall. mid I walked
up and down, occasionally, but not always, taking.
;lance at hint. Darin :one turn, and when I wax a 1
way off, I YAW; by the dim gee-light near him, the
«mecum was speaking to him. The speaker. I ampoule.'
• porter, was pointing agrees the lino. Wore I cense
up. slowly, Francis Newton Ind walked away, and I
could not see him.
"Finding that we had still 'ten minutes °attain, and
• rooter of an hour probalge.' to u-e the porter's worda,
I went across the line to tell Newton that he had gone
wrong. Sulky as lie was, I did not care to leave him to
WWI the train. Now, at Twinstead there is a junction,
and the platform to which I found that he must have
saccruo.alt tnsiderable distance from that at which we
MA stopped. When I reached it, the station room.
er..re very dark, and the lamps burned vilely. I could
-se no greet dummied *lung this ...gond platform. which
is long, and ran away into the dadkiieui. No train
being expected, there were neither officials nor pas.
'musters. and the whole place was about at dreary,
lonely. and dismal as yen like.
" I shunted twice to Newton, calling him by name.
'The intend mill produced a early j ' What do you
went? from • diet...nee beyond my sight.
" • You are wrong. The train goes from the other
platform.'
*" All eiglit lhorndon.'
" Very ; I had done • friend's ditty. He chose
to sulk by him elf, and would come over when he heard
the bell. Let hint scan. But, as I cruised the bridge
to return, a very 'Orange thought came into my head.
will 4,41 you how I met it.
Bah, it was the fog,' I said. That changes voices
strangely.
The train soon arrived, and I could not are Newton.
!forever, I eared a good deal more by that time about
getting home to your aunt and the chi:dien, and the
Christmas, then about Francis Newton, and I came to
sawn. I looked round at Paddington, but, not per-
ceiving him, I wee soon is a hansoms, and driving hither
-
ward. . .

"I do not think that I tbousitt any mo,e about
Newton 1m three or four days, when a Berkshire client
who was with me hapeenet to my,
By the way, that was an odd miard,r at the oration
at Twinstead. I hare wondered that such things don't
°emir °Miter.'

I diil not see it, I think, in the Tinals.'
Yrs, it was noticed. A gentle.nan who was waiting
drayed awe', at night, from the station, and sting
Jatform, and bad been watched, I suppose, by some
navvies. Anyhow, he was knocked on the head.'
'Kdled—when, in deaven's name?
. . .

had s
the p
a th.

" Friday night, I think. It will be • warning to me
to krep within the light and the Piet of the officials.
He was shoved under the platform. and discovered by •
boy who wow hunting a rabbit, or he might have lain
there for user.' _ _ _

"Then !felt that it waa the voice of Captain Diu
that had anawered me the second time. When you
.onie to 'AA down what I have said, you wi'l ace all the
wicked sAteme. I leave the details to your elaboration
in sensatice fashion." . . •

" I should much prefer, my dear uncle. to tell the
tale as you hare t4d it. But how did all end r
"I wu. examined on the inquest, but c ,ul.l sac
nothing, except that when I last spoke to Newton. I
thought that 'de had answered me. I bad prise., y
talked to • detective aa to my suspicion, but on con-
sideration. he did not think it worth while to tske up
the mitten-, and it was no business of mine to mix my-
self up with a detestable story. If the Fireside and
( ireu mnarigs tins Office bad fought this sasuranos, some-
thing would hare come out, perhaps; but on the very
day after Mrs. Newton's attorney (I washed my hands
of the butiorm) lodged the claim,. the..oltlee d.

I believe to this hour, however, that the nays ies .1111• C
been unjustly credited with this affair. The how. in
Hornidge-street has long been let u lodgings, and en•
hibita several strata at artists of various excellence and
variona tut in tobacco. How the woman and this
captain have come to grief and gaol, I don't know and
you unit care."

and to wake his will, but requesting 'bat those instruc-
tions might not be made known to lire. Newtou. The
narrative than proceeds :
"Planing through Hornidge-street in the dull, foggy
afternoon of • day shout a week before Christmas, I saw
that Newton's gas was aliaht in the parlour, where he
received patients in the olden time, and I thought I
would call, and tell him that the 1411U111.00 was com-
plete, and that the will would speedily be ready. He
was at home, and I was shown to the parlour. But at
the door I detected the odour of • reennly cleared
dinner, and the yet more palpable odour of spirits.
Entering I fonnd both the Newtons at the table, at
which were liquors of two or three kind.' and the acne.
series. With the master sod mist's,. of the house was
stall man. who I immediately decided was the compa-
nion I had epen with Mrs. Newton in the Zoological
Gardens. The lady appeared neither pleased hoe dia.
plessei to see me. She scarcely bowed. She looked
at me for • moment, and then resumed her spies.
rently angry talk with the tell man. Newton introdurad
him as Captain Din. He made • more polite bow than I
had expected from hls appearaine. He was a long,
rough, ill-dressed man, very red about the neck sod
eon, and with iamense and amine hands. His face
was ugly rather than vulgar, and it was redeemed only
by splendid white teeth, of which he had • large
mouthful. I noticed that hle ears had been pierced for
riu a, but he wore none. What sort of • captain he
was I did not venture to inquire.
"Newton offered toe refreshment, and in declining I
could not help glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece.
He underetood, and said that he had been along retied,
and that Mrs. Newton liked to dine early.
"'And Mrs. Newton does what she likes, ad led the
lady. defiantly.
" ' Meet ladies do,' I suppose I sail, or some such
nonsense, in order to avoid a fray; hot she would
fight.
" • I don't one what other ladies do, I please myself.'
"I forget hew I answered, but I asked Newton
whether I could say a word to him.
"No you can't,' said Hrs. Newton, rudely, 'unless
you say it before me. I'll have no earwiggiag and back-
biting. What do you say, Captain Din?
" ' Both bad things,' said the Captain, in the most
detestable voice I ever heard. It settled his Walla with

With that Polly 'rave him a reinsuring hag or two to
keep bun going, and then giving that confiding mite of
a hand of &ern to be swallowed up in the hand of the
Constantinopolitnn chambermaid, trotted off, chattering.
without a vestige of ansiety.
I He looked after her, and the screen removed and the
üble and chain replaced, and still looked alter her. lie
paced the room for ball an hour. "A most engaging
little creature. but it'e not that. A mint winning little
voice, bat it's not that. That has mash to do with it,
but there in something more. How can it be that !seem
to know this child? What was it she imperfectly re•
called to me when I felt her touch in the street, and,
looking down at her, saw het looking up at me?"

At this juncture Polirs mother came to the door, and
proves to be the woman Barb's Brothers tad loved and
lost, through the deceit of the only friend he hol ever
made, who was now incurably ill, and his painful life
was embittered by the thought that his conduct had
brought • curse upon his children, ace of whom—all
except Polly, bad withered and died. Barbox soothed
her as a kind father might have done an erring daughter;
1 he asks that Polly may stay with hint neat day, and
promises to take her home in the evening to her mother
and to her father.
- -

A TERRIBLE NIGHT IN A BED.
" There was • fellow, said Mr. Selby, on my nnol-'s
estate—you know it, Spence—at Benlea. I made fri.nls
with him wheu I was • boy, sod such a fellow I think I
never met. He was • daring fellow, • determined
poacher—in abort, a good•for-nothing—what your
. .

Scotch friends, sir, would call • 'ne'er.dy-weel ; and he
went to tie ' deil' as fast as he could. His name we
Tom Clayper. We Galled him Tout Claypipe, because
he always had one in his mouth. Well, the fellow took
• fang to me, and taught me some tricks, which I hope
I have forgotten. When we're young we're not vtiy
choice in our friendships. But Tow really bad some
good points. I have known him send • hare secretly to
• poor widow, who wanted • Ida of something. The
hare, you say, cost him little. Perhaps be did not
reckon how much it did cost hint. However, from
poaching to highway robbery, and from that to burglary,
. . . • . . .

was bat • step for Tom. He found Benlea too hot for
him, and disappeared. I met him ten years afterwards.
Looking in the paper one day. I saw there we. a trial of
one with many aliases, for feloniously entering • certain
house—Squire Pell's, of Boddington—and stealing, Ac.,
Ac. Among the list of ali.ses stood the name of Clityper.
He was condemned, end sentenced to transportation for
the term of his natural life.
" The sight of the poor fellow's name, and his position,
called op eosin bin i. 12 feelings of mine, and I made up
my mind to go end see him. I was able to procure ad-
mission. Tom recognised me at once, and held out his
hand. fie was never ashamed of himself; which was
one characteristic he bad. We talked over old times.
I was capable of appreciating what merits Mr. Clayper
*sewed, now that I had seen more of the world, and
he was certainly an exnaordinary fellow. As I was
atill young enough to be pleased at hearing adventures
and as 'Fom, now that his career seemed closed, was
gratified in relating his. I had Tom's history before we
parted. Its finale seems to have been this : for Tom
we. rather shy of speaking about certain matters—a
peenlisrity I have noticed in some of your rips. He had
hie feelings of r!elimay where women are concerned. A
rather pretty girl was in weeks at the Squire's—Squire
Pell, I think I told you. To her Tom paid court. He
was richer in presents than in reputation. I fancy the
girl gave him reason to think she lilted him. At all
events she dii not return his fineries. One evening,
Mr. Tom met the Colonel in her company—somewhere
shout the grounds. Tom assured me that he passed them
cisilly ; but the next time he came woos the Colonel
he wee surly, and managed to insult him, and then to
speak his mind, which was none of the cleenest. The
Colonel, you must know, was engaged at the time to be
married to Squire Pell's only daughter—mousy, hut no
beauty. So he let Tom get the hest of him; but from
that day, Tom says, he felt he had en enemy, and knew
who that enemy was. 'Wasn't he a cowed to hunt •
poor devil like that in tho dark? said Torn to me, and
declared he knew the Colonel Was a coward, and was de-
termined to be revenged, and satisfied of it.
"One night the Colonel was in bed, and heard his
door viel its lock, and open.
" You shall hear the rest in Tom's words :
"' I knew that man was a coward, ;so once in the
house, and sure of his room, I knew I had bins. I knew
the bearings of the bed. I watched bow the light fs II
two or three nights before. The moment I opened the
door. I threw the light—carried • dark lenient- threw
the light elap on his face. I saw him start.. Did that
man open his eyes? Dego. • bit! Slept as sound as
kopence. I laughed to myself. Why, if he hod got
up, it'd have been stair struggle between us, and nabbed
I certainly should 'a been. But deuce • bit did he stir.
Colonel Badger, thinks I, badger you! Well, I
walked slow up to him, with the lantern in one hand,
and wy pistol in the other, levelled at his head. There
was he sleeping harder and harder. I couldn't quite*
his heart beat, but I'll ler my life it galloped.'
"1 spare you Tom's oaths.
" Well sir,' he went on. 'l'd half a mind at one
moment, to do for hint outright. For • coward who's
nothing better than • villain, what good's he for, to
live? Close dews, to his forehead I pnt the MIMIC of
the pistol. It leas tempting then. Just a hair, and
Aid have had an estinguieher on Us 'oval onm11.! Lor,
sir, his eyes was shut, but I'll Inter be saw it all as
clear as day. And there wan the prespiraiion • burritin'
out ef his forehead, and rain' down his checks. I
remember • large drop of prespiration on his none! And
he pretendin' to eh ep hard all the while ! Why, the
sto split aaa did he think I didn't know that • chap
serer •we.ted in his Jeep? Leastways not natural
sweat. Well ! I kept at that, drawing the pistol
away, and puttin' of at close, for, I should think, forty
minutes or more ; but I took no amount. I was cruel
e.d, to be sure, and he perspiring harder and harder.
Not • move right or left. didn't speak. I thought to
myeelf, "Oh you raisin ! I 'lire say you think your-
self better than me. don't you? And if you had in" in
role power, now, w• uldn't you let loose? But I ain't
such a coward as you! You shall bleed, my fine elop
—in the pocket. That'll do f' For. said Torn to tne,
hadn't muse there and run the risk, only to frighten she
Colonel. Two birds at one blow was always my game.
So by-and-by.' Torn pursued, 'when I thought I'd
given my gentlemen • pretty good sweat for the benefit
of his health. I began to ransack. I knew the where.
shoots of he Ink, an I things—co tiered the desk ("Vire,
and made as if I'd walk away. He had a chance then.
The inwardly besot! There he stuck. He'd have liked
to snore, just to persuade me he west SDOOZit'l And
sueh a fellow as that to go misleadin' of young women!
Ain't it dissustin', sir?'
"Tom was a bit et a moralist, you see.
Well, the end of it was that Tom, after Riving the
Colonel another dose, made op bin mind to quit the
werenses. • And I went, sir,' said Tom. ' Got off soot
free. I just spoke these words in a solemn voice.
Colonel whether you're aeleep, or whether you're
awake, just you keep quiet the next quarter of an hour,
or you're a dead man. I ain't going yet, but my com-
rade, is II WAN all alone air, I never took • pal, if I
could help it ; hut I tbought l'A tell him so, the
coward !) end I'll stop outsido the door, I says, till
th, y're safe. Pio mind your eye, Igen. I'm in earneet,
And the s I touched his forehead with the cold iron end
moved back, ',Motile at him still, and his face shiniss'
with the cold sweat. He won't forget that hoer I give
him, in a hurry. I knew very well he'd sleep on, bless
you, mid so he di I, and I never heard nothin till •
month ago, when they pounced on tee for it, and here
em, vice to one foreign lands, thanks to you, Colonel,
But you won't forget me. so don't try. And everybody's
talking of the story, for I outs with it at the trial neck
and crop. I told it all about his sweetie' and pre.
teDdila' to sleep. I saw the people laugh. I'll swear
the judge enjoyed it, for all he looked that grave you'd
think he was • owl. Ha IHa I Hr. Colo* I that's
what I calls atnkin' as you fly. They'll cell you •
coward in Ohl England; but they won't call me one in
Van Diemen.'
"And with this eassoiatiou Hr. Tom Clayper dc•
pereeCon hie voyage."

Next morning, at breakfast, in the pleasurable
Isight of her anticipations, Polly found it
indispennble to put down her pima of toast,
moss one of her little fat knees over the other, and
being her little fat right band down into her left hand
with • business-like step. After this gathering of her-
self together, Polly, by that time, a mere heap of
dimple., asked, in a wheedling manner—" What are you
going to In, you dear old thing r " hy, I was think-
ing," said Berbox Brothers, "—but are you fond of
horses. Polly " Ponies, I am." mid Polly, "especially
-when their tails are long. But horses—a—no—too big
you know." "Well," pursued Barbox Brothers, in a
spirit of grave mysterious confidence adapted to the
Ito-
portanoe of the consultation, "I did see yesterdey,
Polly, on the walls, pictures of two long-tailed ponies,
speckled all over—" "No, no, 0 r cried Polly. in
ecstatic desire to linger on the charming deteils. "Not
speckled all over r . . "No, no, not the least in the
world," said Polly. "I was also thinking," proceeded
%mhos, "that if.. were to look into the toy shop, to
choose a doll—" "Not dressed I" cried Polly, with •
slap of her hands. "No, no, no, not dressed, "Full
dressed, together with • house, and all thing, necessary
for honsekeepine—" Polly gave a little *cream, and
seemed in danger of falling inio • swoon of bliss. "What
• darling you .r.r she languidly exclaimed, leaning bock
In her chide. "Come and be hugged, or I must come
and hug you." This resplendent programme was carried
Into execution with the utmost rigour the law. It
being essential to make the purchase of the doll ite
first feature or that lady would have lost the
ponies—the toy-shop expedition took precedence.
Polly in the magic warehouse, with • doll as loge
as herself under each arm, and a neat assortment of
some twenty more on view upon the counter, did indeed
present • spectacle of indecision net quite compatible
with unalloyed happiness, hut the light cloud pissed.
The lovely specimen oftenest chosen. often's% rejected,
and finally abided by, was of Circassian dement,
possessing as much boldness of beauty as was reconcilable
with extreme feebleness of mouth, and combining a sky-
blue silk pelisse with roes-coloured satin Maureen', and
• black velvet hat: which this fair stranger to our
northern shores would seem to have founded on the
portraits of the late Bucher" of Kent. The name this dis-
tinguished foreigner brought with her from beneath the
glowing skies of a sunny clime was (on Polly's authority)
Mies Mellukk and the cosily nature of her outfit as •
housekeeper, from the Barbox coffers, may be inferred
from the two feats that her Our tompoons were as
large as her kitchen poker, and that the proportion' of
her twitch exceeded those of her frying-pan. Miss
Malinke. was graciously pleased to express her entire
approbation of the Circus, and so was Flip: for :he
ponies mere speckled, and brought down nobody when
they fired, and the savagery of the wild louts appeared
to be mere make -which article, in (sot. they did
Produce in large quantities from their insides. The
Bubo" absorption in the general subject throughout the
realisation of these delights was again • eight to see,
nor was it less worthy to behold at dinner, when he
drank to Miss Mellaka. tied stiff in a chair opposite to
Polly (the fair Circassian swarming an unbendable
spine) and even induced the waiter to assist in carrying
out with due decorous the inevitable glorious idea. To
. wind up, there came the agreeable fever of getting
Miss Melluka and all her wardrobe and rich posses.
siens into • Il• with Polly, to be taken home. But by
that time Polly had become unable to look upon on
accumulated joys with waking eyes, and had withdrawn
her conecinusuou into the wonderful paradise of &child's
sleep. "sleep, Polly sleep," said the Bubo: Brother',
as her head dropped on his eoeldiers ; "you shall not
drop out of this bed, easily, at anyrater What rustl-
ing piece of pacer he took front his pocket, and carefelly
folded into the bosom of Polly's frock, shall not be
mentioned. He said nothing about it, and nothing
shall be said shoal it. They drove to a modest
suburb of the great ingenious town, and stopped
st the fore-oourt of a small hon.*. "Do not wake the
child," said Bubo: Brothers softly, to the driver, "I
will parry her in as she it." Greeting the light of the
open door which was held by Folly's mother, Polly's
hearer passed on with mother and (MU into • ground-
floor room. There stretched on a 'offs, by a sick man,
h
sorely wasted, who covered his eyes with his emanated
As the father held out his arms for the
WM, eel of ;Ito two men looked steadily at the other.
"Alm is very dear to you. Troilism 7" " Unutterebly
dear." "God bless her! It is not much Polly," he
continued, turning his eyes upon her peuefill fare as
be apostrophised her, "it is not much Polly. for a blind
mad sinful man to invoke • blessing on something no far
better than himself as • little child is; but it would be
mult—moch upon his creel head, and much upon his
guilty cool—lf he could be no wicked as to invoke a
urse. He had hotter have a milstone round his neck,
and be .at Mb the deepest sea. Live and thrive, my
pretty baby r Here be kissed her. "Live and prosper
and bums in time the mother of other little children,
Ilk, the angels who beheld The Father's face I" He
, kissed bee again, gave her up gently to both her parents
and went out. But be went not to Wales. No, be
Dever went to Wales. He went straightway for another
stroll shoat the town, and he looked in upon the people
at their work, and at their play, here, there, every-
where, sad where not. For he was Barbet Brothers
sad 00. aow, and had lakes thousands of partners into
Übe Donley Sus.

me.
" Bat as I wish neither to earwig nor to backbite,
Newton, 11l see you when you are not engaged ; Or
will you c .11 on me? I ion going out of town on Tues-
day night.'
"'Where to? said Newton.
" I told him the name of • town near the place I was
going to visit.
" I know some people there,' he said. ' I have •
treat mind to run down with you. & holiday would
do me good. I should stop at the inn, of course, and
be no tie on you. I want some fresh
'"You will do nothing of the kind,' said Mu. New-
ton. ' I forbid it, I will not have it. As for you. Mr.
Thorndoe, I don't thank you for puttiog it into his
bead. However, he nay put it out again.'
"Newton did not look fooli.b during this speech. an
most men would have dune. He rvmained quiet until
the close, and then whispered something to his who.
I don't believe it,' was her amine:, ont loud. 'lt
lea lie.' I remember that she abs di scribed the alleged
departure from truth by an epithet which does not
same well hoot a lady's lips.
I don't core what you think,' he said. It in true,
however. You may aslc Mr. Thorodon ; you'll believe
him.'
"'I don't know that. He may be in league with you
for what I know. But Ido aak him. Hu this into
assured his life?
"But I am never in a hurry, Cecil, my boy, and I did
not choose to make the rely Mr. Newton desired. I
merely remarked that as she was not inclined to rely on
my word, the tem I rid the better, beyond 'Good after-
noon.' and I rose.
"The woman dashed between me and the door.
"'You'll answer the question before you leave the
room.' she screamei. 'What do you say, Captain
Dig.?
" gentleman tunally answers • lady,' said the
blackguard.
I. thia your house, Newton?' I asked.
"For the bake of peace, tell her, Thorndon,' said my
client. ' I apologias for her behaviour, if it does not
explain itself,' and he glanced at the table.
Mr. Newton has assured his life, Mrs. Newton,' I
said. 'Why.' I added, looking rather contemptuously
at her, 'I don't know.' But alie did not understand me,
and said, . .

" • Do you mean to swear that it is all right —done—
finished ?'
"'I don't mean to swear anything. I have obeyed
my client's instructions.'
" You have obeyed your elient's instructions.' mho
repeated hazily. It i. all right then, eh, Captsin
Dne r
" 80 we are told, said the captain offensively.
"My dear Coen, never give way to wrath. I sin
ashamed to say that I keg my temper there and then,
and shed Newton, with the strong word I deprecated
in his wife.
" Who is this sad who mixes in your affair.?
"The woman clapped her hands with rage. The
captain rose to his foil height. I never new much • I ing
brute. I took up the largest of the cut glass bottles
by the nook. The demonstration changed the captain's
mind. He drew Mrs. Newton towards him, and Mr.
Newton opened the door. But I did not go out hastily.
I retired honourably, and as I west out Mrs. Newton
'creamed after me not to steal her bottle, like • prig, a.
I was. Newton said nothing, as be 'Sowed me into the
ekes', except that he would ere me in the morning.
"Next day Mr.. Newton called alone. Her manner
was entirely changed, and she was as lady-like as
possible. Sbe apologised for the seeped the day before,
saying that she had long been out of health, had been
In strong hysteria that afternoon, and that they bad
foolishly given her stimulants to which she was an-
assustomed, and talked, in fact, all the rest of the
humbug which women who drink think deceives you.
She worked round to the assurance question, and hoped
she had quite understood that the matter was Battled.
RI" al.° booed that I would take her poor husband
out of town for a day or two. He laboured much too
hard, and air would do him good. And she seemed to
take mach interest in knowing my intended route. I
did not notice this particularly at the time, for siie
interspersed her inquirioa very cleverly with referenos
to her husband's soquaintenoes in the part of thee .0 u try
to which we were g .log. We parted upon rather hetter
terms than I had expected. She only once mentioned
'poor Captain Dim,' and seemed rather to wish me to
think that he was a kind of patient of Nowton's, and not
entirely responsible for his actions.
"Newton did not eall, but sent to know when I was
going, and I replied in • hasty note. I was going to
Devizes. There I abould leave him, and go of to my
friend's fume, and if he were reedy to return on the
third night afterwards, I should look for him at the
station.
"I had a pleasant visit, missed • good many pheasants,
drank some eleellent port wine, and received instrua-
twin for a marriage settlement. So I was in A very
good temper when I joined the traits. Having secured
ivy pipes, I tot out again and looked for Newton. He
arrived hie=y, bat we were late, and he had to jump

THE DORSET COUNTY EXPRESS AND AGRICULTURAL GAZETTE, TUESDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1866.

BENNY BURTON'S BEQUEST.

(By Thomas Willer, from Rola:edges CArialwas dimwit )
Benny Burton, farmer, in the village of Treddlethorp,
bad always promised that, die when he might, " he
should make • bit of • Bequest—quite enough to pro-
vide a first-rate supper to his old boon companions,
whom he had been in the habit of spending his evenings
With for many long years at the 'Old Brown Boar.' "
Before he dicd he folfill.pl his promide, leaving what he
u riled "a private B,quost," ind,pendeut of hi. will.
He WA. oft.n heard tJ say that 'be bad sever injured
man nor woolen, child or 'chick, in all his born days,
and he duel Al lie 'bad lived, a hale cheerful old man,
meeting dcath as bravely as a fearlesa soldier would in •
battle field.

Neither the doctor nor the curate, who administered
ample doses of drugs and divinity, were able to bring
bite to what the curate considered a befitting frame of
mind for a man whose last thread of life was fast spin.
sing nut, as every now and then he lay chuckling on his
bed, unable to supprers his wesk laughter, though it
ended in another St of coughing, from which having
',covered, and been kiwi!, remonstrated with, be
would smile all over his honest old beet pat out his
howl, and nay. "Dont't take it amiss ; but I can't help
it, when I think of my old friends in tie ' Brown Boar'
parlour, laying their heads together making my epitaph.
I thiuk that 'Wurzel' and 'Guano' will be such •
teas ,r as they never had in their lives, when they have
to make them rhyme in the poetry for my grave stone.
I wish I could be somewhere at hand, and hear them
making it Oar oil schoolmaster will almost t.lk a
spider to death over it, showing how it's to be done,
and Jacky Page will serateh his head and find very little
in it, while Steve Farrow will pull at his ripe, and look
up at the ceiling, as if he expected a rhyme to '
to come iuniblieg through it. I mean no hann, parson.
I haven't been so very bail; and if I took • glass or
two of grog, more than was good at times for my
bodily health, I always suffered for it neat morning,
which wee • clearing off of old mores an I went on; and
asshort reckonings make long friends, I hope I shan't
be celled to toe close an amount for that matter, as it
was only once and away."
Such was the end of the man, whose Bequest his old
onto), anions had attsenibled to hear read. in the parlour
of the village alehoww, a month after hia funeral, a. he
had wished it to be, at six o'clock nreciaely. their mond
hour of meeting in the evening. The whole of the half
dnzen oil friends were present a few minute* before the
time. They spoke in whi.pere ; the eillatte achool.
111111.ter set ailent with liii brewed,a on. facing the
'Ltd tur clock, on the hands of which his gap, was fixed.
"Tune, ye tlemen," be at last said, striking the table
with his drinking.glam, and without uttering anoi her
word, he took a sealed packet from his side-pocket,
broke it open, and reed as follows, commenting as he
read :
"1 give and Inxiimath to my six old friends" (wsi all
know our own names, gentlemen), "the sum of five
round., lawful money of Great Britain, to be expended
in the ensnare and form following, that is to may, in a
our per on the eve of the Nativity" (Christmas-eve,
gentlemen), "at the ' Brown Boer,' and In the parlour,
where we have passed no many happy hours together,
to to on the table at six sharp" (remember the time,
gentlemen). "And my will is that the said sum of five
onunds shall be paid out of what is still owing to me by
our worthy curate for keeping out at grass Ids old male
' and his old cow called ' Bob-
tail•
,' on amount of ac accident that happened to the
said tail."
"I beg pardon for interrupting • minute," said one
' of the (needs, " but I saw it dote. It was • 'tree dos
—in 1.1, noise said—got ernmplety's Mil in his mouth,
for that was the old cow's name before the accident,
and couldn't be made to leave bold nohow, 'Let me
come,' called out Butcher Hide, 'or he'll bang on until
he's eaten all the old cow up; better our parson lost the
tad than the whole carcase, and he up with his knife
and cut it off as clean as a whistle. Down came the
dog with the tail in his teeth, which he ate clean up,
hair and all, and away ran old ' never stopping
until she tumbled bead list into the pond. But she
gg.t over it, though there was a good deal of laughing to
see her feeding in the churchyard of a Sunday, with •
poultice in a white bag fastened to the stump of her
tail. I. ask pardon ; now proceed with our old fiiend's

_
Bequest."
" And my will is, that my executors shall give an
acquittance, in full, of all debts owing to my estate by
our curate, on receiving the receipt for payment of the
aforesaid supper, signed by our host of the 'Brown
Boar,' who is one of my friend., the partakera." (I
hope you'll give us • firat-rate supper, landlord.) ,
" And my further will is, that before the supper takes I
plat* my friends shall aeverally and jointly make, corn- I
poor, and write out my epitaph in a good sleekly hand,
and an they have many times and oft said that the
improvement, I made in inangold wurzel, through
&at bringing guano into use in this part of
the country, ought to be engraves on my tomb-
stone, it is my further will that the words,
to wit, 'Wurzel,' and 'Guano,' also ' Under-draining; I
which I brought into use, do form • part of my epitaph;
which is to be done in rhyme or poetry as it is called,
and it is my will that the words shall form the rhym•
at the end of each line of my epitaph, with other words
of like sound to make the poetry.'
" We've got you to thank for that, old fellow," said
' one of the company, addressing the reader, and interrupt-
ing him without any ceremony; "you was always boast-
ing of your poetry, and raying you could find a rhyme to
any word. Now, it strikes me it lint nose.! after all;
and that we shall find it no before we've done, though
there are sin of us to tackle it. I've no doub Benny
thought of this when he chalked out this p.e e of work

focus."
"I'll tell you what it is, sir," replied school-
master,lsying • heavy accent on It e last wind;" as lam
Is the scholostic line, and you in the pig-breeing pro.
tension, I think you'll allow that I ought to knoll the
nature of poetry, as well as you do the nature of pigs ;
each to his calling, yours to fattening your great greasy
animtla, and mine to the Muses."
" You've caught it, old friend," said one of the
farmers ; "I knew you would."
"I always do," said the pig dealer, smiling good
humouredly ; "
Bequest."
" It is also my will that the said epitaph be approved
of by our worthy curate before paying the aforesaid five
pounds, and that before giving it to the stone... Dawn to
be engraved on my headoitone, ho shall, in writing,
' certify that it is Stand proper ; that is to say, is keep-
ing with the character of a Christian men. Item.
Ltstly, it is me further will that my six friends shall never
meet in tho old parlour without making some little pro-
gress with my epitaph, which, when completed, mast
be approved of non. ion.
"That is all, gentlemen," said the schoolmaster, fold-
ing up the document."
"I don't mueh like our pa-son having a bend in it,"
said one ; "for he's rather a particular gentleman, and
I'm afraid it will be some time before the supper comes
off, if the epitaph has to please him."
"There is'nt • word in the Bequest about our having
the supper until it meets with his approval," said Steve
Farrow ; "it's about plying for it, which is • horse of
another colour. All that we have to do is to make
out the epitaph, aaree new *on., then Rive our order
for the supper. Sharp must be the word, if we are to
have it this year, as Christmas Eve falls on Monday
week"
. .

"There or no time to allow for the gram growing
under our feet," said Farmer Page, who was a man
of boldness ; "and I've been thinking, if our worthy
sehoolsnarter, who is clever at figures, would count up
the lettere in the alphabet, and give each man share and
share alike, we might see what weld be made of them.
Once get the poetry past, which I take it is the rhyme,
all right; and it would he may enough to fill up with
something like a toad or sentiment, which would be
about the ticket. B. Bunsen, that would be • fairish
rhyme to WuisoL Does any of you happen to know a
man of that name; if so, we might bring him in with •
bit of • above. I know a gipsy named Boswell, but I
reckon that'. hardly near enough."
'1 think I can help you out with C, neighbour,"
mid the pig-dealer; "I've had a good many dealings
for pigs with a man Imolai Churchill; we rosy take
him in, I think. I), I can do nothing with, thoudi I
know • person of the name of Dunkerley, but that
weuldn't make good peetry to Wurzel. Now, Mr.
Schoolmaster, you're always rather hard on ore; let's
see abut you can do with F, for K goes for nothing, as
that's a vowel, I believe."
"To shoe the difference between two minds, I will
take the letter F," said the schoolmaster, placing one
hand ioside his aisteoat, as if to show how easily he
could do it. " Having had no dealinp in pittlolildulle
as you have had, I turn to Nature—the spring and
source, fountain-head and great conduit of all inepire-
tions—and Nature brinp before me a Furscehill, or •
hill covered with the yellow gilding of golden gorse:
there is such • hill about teo soils. off. There leer
rhyme for Wurzel, and such is the difference between
our two minds " Ant he pull. away at his pipe, and
sent out great moutlifids of mole, which he watalual
curling up to the ceiling. satisfied Li his own mind that
he hat dune sortie king great.
" It's in very pretty notion," said Farmer Page, "and
I'll trouble you to make a minute of it, if you please.
Too miles 14 is • goodish way. I think I know ti
place, but I don't remember ever seeing any wursel
about there. If Benny had been buried under the
furse-hill, it would have come is quite ; but he
wasn't. I'll step iiver the ground to-morrow, mid we if
we can see our ohurch from it; if we can, we may
wifely Kay he lies buried within sight of it, just to save
our bacon. That Wuisel'a rather • hard nut to crack,
and then make poetry of the kernel after."
" I think I've got the right pig by the ear atant,"
said the hog-dealer, "after all the difference between
our die, which our worthy friend is no fond of talk-
ing about. What's • forse-hill got to do with a mania
epitaph! If he'd lived there, or been buried there, or
cultivated it, or it had been a favourite walk of his, or
he'd a near relation living on it, it might be dragged in,
either by the head or the heels. Nei, gentlemen ; I've
chewed every word twice over, and the only one that
expremes a tout or seutiosent, as our worthy friend
says it ought to do, and snakes poetry as well, is Morsel.
For why P be never refused a beggar a morsel of bread
in his life. Beat that if you eau. And look here, MI.
Sehnolmseter, to show the difference between our two
minds, and that I never leave • job half done. l'il fit it
in for you, then lot you tackle 'Guano,' and link me,
if you can. These are soy sontimenta for two line of
the epitaph

From twelve pounds to twentyosight Benny raised the
weight of ant Lel,
And nee, rin his bon days mut away • beusr without
giving him • morsel—of bread.
The last two words mint be made to fit into another
Ii somehow."
" Is's capital." said Farmer Fates. ; "quite am goml
as there lion many of our tombstones, and, what's •
goiel deal bettor, every woad as true as gospel. And
if our pitmen finds fault with such sentiments as those,
why he ought to be shot. That's my sentiments."
"Nothing can be better," said Lanager, the grazier;
"but I counted my fingers and found it dirent trot to
the right step. But I suppose if it's • little bit too long,
it may be made to turn over the top, like • pig's Curley
tail ; it's often done in poetry print ; though sometimes
they tuck a few word under, when they're in the
way.'
" I quite approve of the sentiment," said the school-
master ; "and will .1* that the iambics and trochaic..
Wive their proper le•t, for at present they ars very
lame indeed."