Indiana American. [volume] (Brookville, Ind.) 1833-1861, 1854-12-22

afforded 10 the gossips; and when the
treater's back was turned. they touch
ed their foreheads, for the man was
clearly crazed. and they winked al
each other with y gesture Of signif.
eance. ,tsr ssl .is.6tg le.,t
Grace, while musing on her new
half.crown-it was strange how long
she looked atit-had heard with real
amazement that uproarious huzzaing,
and, Just as her father had levanted
for the beer. glided down from her
closet, and received the wondrous Ii.
dings from her stepmother. She heard
In silence, il not in sadness; intuitive
good sense proclaimed to her that this
sudden gush Of wealth was a temp
tation, even il she felt no secret fears
on the score Of shallwe call il super.
stitution-that dream, this crock, that
dark angel---and this so changed the
spirit Of her once religious father; what
could she think? she meekly looked
to Heaven TO avert all ILL., -
Mary Acton also was less elated and
more alarmed than she cared TO con-
fess:, not that she, any more than
Grace, knew or thought about lords
Of manors, or physical troubles on the
score Of the crock; but Mrs. Quarles'
shawl, and sundry fearful fancies ting
ed with blood, these worried her ex-
ceedingly, and made her look upon the
gold with an uneasy feeling, as IL Il
were an unelean thing, sort of Ach-
ans wedge sH 81
at last, here comes Roger back.
somewhat unsteadily / fear, with a
stone two-gallon jarfull Of "the down
right stingo."r ag ada -gs
"Hooray, Poll, ,"--he had not ceas-
ed shouting all the way from Bacchus'
-"Hooray-here I be again. gen
tlefolk, alOrd, aking, Poll; why daugh.
ter Grace, what's como 10 you? |
won't have no dull looks about to-day,
girl. Isn't this enough TO make poor
man merry? No more troubles, no
moro toll, no more humble sarvent.
no'mofearaggcd ploddmg plowman;
but lord, daughter Grace, great,
rich, luvurions lord-isn't that enough
to make a man sing out hooray?-
Thank the crock OF gold for this-0h
blessed crock"nf q - F .gai1'
"Hush, father, hushl that gold will
be no blessing toyou heaven send il
do not bring curse. 1t will be sort
temptation, even if the rightsof II are
not in some one else; we know not
whom Il may belong to. but at any
rate il cannot well be ours"
"Not ours, child? whose in life is it
then? Hirltaiit ~ -
Mary Acton, made quite meek by a
superstitious dread of having money
of the murdered, stepped into Grace's
help, whom Rogers fierce mannerhad
APPALLED,, with lae'isa el 81
"Roger, it belonged TO Mrs. Quarles
I'm morally sure on it-and must
be Simon Jennings's, her heir.
"What?" he almost frantically ex-
claimed, "shall that white hell-hound
rob me yet again? No, Dame--Pll
hang frstl the crock ! found, the
crock I'll keep; the moneys mine,
whoever did the murder" ,.h
Then, changing his tone to one ol
reckless inebriate gaiety, for he was
more than half-seas over even then
from the pot-house toastings and ex-
|citement, he added, Z" 'p &.
"But come, wenches, down with
your mugs and help me toget through
with the jar. never felt so dry in
all my life, Here's blessings on the
crock, on him as sentit, him as has 1t,
and on all the joy and comfort it's to
bring us! Come, drink, drink,-we
must all drink that;-but where's
Tom?"
II Roger had been quite himself
he never would have asked so super
fluous aqueslion; for Tom was always
in one and the same company, albeit
never in one and the same plaoe; be
and his Pan-like Mentor were contin'
ually together, studying woodcraft,
and all manner Of other craft connec'
ted with the antique trade Of picking
and stealing. aHh 4hsff
Where's Tom?" s,r - l.st
Grace, glad TO have TO answer any
reasonable question. mildly answered
"Gone away with Ben, father"
Alasl that little word, Ben. gave
occasion to reveal depth in Rogers
fail, which few could have expected
TO behold SO soon. To think that the
liberal friend, who only last night had
frankly shared his all with him, whose
honest glowing heart would freely shed
its blood for him, that helm recollection
should be greeted with a loathingl-
Ben would come and claim some por'
ton Of his treasure-he would cly
halves-or who knows? might wanl
all, all; and take it by strong arm, oil
by threat to peach agains! him; curse
that Burkel he hated him.
Oh Steady Acton, what has made
thee drink and swear? Oh Hones
Roger, what has planted guile, and
suspicion, and malice in thy heart?-
Are these the first fruits Of covetine
and having? Is this the earliest bles'
sing Of that luck which many long fol
the finding OF crock of gold?
We would not enlarge upon the
scene; apainful one at ail times, wher
man forgets his high prerogatiye, and
browns his reasonin che tankard; buI
in Roger Acton's case, lately 80 wise,
temperate. and patient, peculiarly dis
tressing. Its chief features were
these.