Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1850-1854, 1853-06-03

GRADUALLY Cilau duluLiiH IcetfcS, WITCH idUe one
evening wayfarer stopped at Mr.. Canute's
cottage, which was on the roadside, and re-
quested permission to rest, asking for draught
of water from the well before the porch.
Most welcome said Two Words, scanning
the stranger, and pleased with his appearance,
for youth and an agreeable countenance are
sure passports; prehaps, too, Mr.. Canute dis
cerned gentle breeding in his guest, despite
travel-soiled habiliments, and dash of habit
ual recklessness in his air. AT any rate, the
welcome was heartily given, and as heartily
responded to; and when Mr.. Canute left his
dwelling, in order to pay his usual evening
visit at the Hall, he merely said, addressing
his young yisiter, Soon Back; and turning
to Martha, the careful housekeeper, added,
'Gctsupper;' while on stepping over the TIRES
hold, second thoughts urged him to return
and say to the young man, Don't go
No, that | won't replied he frankly, for
[ like my quarters too well. fllwait till you
come back, governor; and | hope you won't
be gone long, for my mouth waters for the
supper you spoke Of
Mr.. Canute smiled, and walked away more
briskly than usual: and after sitting for some
time beside the sick mans bed, and bidding
good night and bless you to Clara Harwell,
he retraced his steps homewards, and found
supper ready, and the handsome stranger 50
obviously ready to do justice to the frugal
fare, that Mr.. Canute jocularly remarked,
,, Keen air., to which the stranger replied in
the same strain, Fine scenery; on which the
host added, AN artist? when the youth
laughing outright, said, AN Indifferent one
indeed After a pause, and suffering his
mirth to subside, he continued, Are you al
ways so economical in words, sir? Don't you
sometimes find it difficult to carry on con-
versation in this strain?'
You don't replied Mr. Canute, smiling,
and imperturably good-natured.
Not l. cried the youth; and I want to
ask you half hundred questions. Will you
answer me?
I'll try replied Mr.. Canute.
I've not long to STAY for I'm on a walking
tour with friend; but | diverged into Am
| bermead as | was anxious to see it, I've
had curiosity to see it for a long while; but
my friend is waiting for me at the market
town, eight miles off, | think, and | shall
strike across the country when the moon is
up, if you'll give me rest till then
Most welcome said Mr.. Canute courte-
ously.
'Ah ah!' quoth the stranger, if that's
the way you pursue your discourse, don't
think | shall learn much from you. | hope,
however, that | may get wife who will fol
low your example, woman OF two words,
in short; she'll be rare specimen of her
sexr
'Ah, ah y calculated Mr.. Canute.
DuL come tel me, for time presses said
the young man suddenly becoming grave
tell me all about Ambermaid and the squire
how long he's likely to last. For, in fact,
the friend mentioned who is with me du-
ring this walking tour is vastly interested in
all that concerns the place and property
The heir!' whispered Mr.. Canute, mys-
teriously.
We'll, suppose we say he is; he's not al
| together a bad fellow, though he is considered
bit reckless and Wild But he has heard of
Clara Harwell's beauty and goodness from
his cousin, Lady Pensonby, (she's Clara's
cousin, too you know;) and he is really quite
sorry to think that such lovely creature
should be turned out Of the Hall to make
room for him. He wants to know what will
become of her when old Hartwell dies, for
all the world knows that he's ruined. It's a
pretty place this old Ambermead-ap paradise
should say. l know what I'd do if | were
ever lucky enough to call mine The youth
rubbed his hands gleefully. | should be a
happy dog them
And then! said Mr.. Canute smiling.
why, then, I'd pull down the rickety old
house up there, and build up palace fit for
prince; I'd keep nothing but the old wine :
I'd have lots of prime fellows to stay with
me; and should sport the finest horses and
dogs in the country The speaker paused,
out of breath.
And them said Mr.. Canute quietly.
why, then, I'd hunt and shoot and ride,
and drink, and smoke, and dance, and keep
open house, and enjoy to the full-feasting
from years end to years end-the feast of
reason and the flow of soul, you know, in old
Ambermcad'
And then!'
why, then, suppose that in time should
grow old, like other people, and cease to care
III tui NAiScC ~ mum ''o L ditt hiiSAA
strength and youth were mine
| And then?' said Mr.. Canute, more slow
ly.
why, then and the stranger hesitated
- then, l suppose, like other people, in the
course of nature, should have to leave all
the pleasures of this life, and ike other peo-
| ple-die.'
And then said Mr. Canute, fixing his
eyes, glittering like diamonds, on the young
mans face, which flushed up as he exclaimed
with some irritation
'oh, hang your and thens!.' But the
moon is well up, see, so am off. Good
night and thank YOU. And without further
parley, he started off on his walk over the
hills; and Mr.. Canute silently watching his
retreating figure, till in the deep shadows of
the surrounding groves, he was lost to view
In the moonlight, in the valley and on the
hillside, these words haunted the wayfarer.
and he kept repeating to himself, And then 7
Thoughts took possession of his mind that
had never before gained entrance there, or at
least they arranged themselves in sequence
W bieh erava them a uav si1nifeanea His