Monmouth weekly herald. [volume] (Freehold, N.J.) 1854-1860, 1855-12-26
= Gbrilling skettb.
BLOOD!
A TALE OF HORROR.
CHAPTER l.
AFTER GEORGE LIPPARD.

HARK
The sun is obscured by clouds of deep
est black; the deep toned thunder rolls
along the vaulted sky; the lightning
flashes with intense ardor. The air is
impregnated with horrible smell Of
birthstone.
| Look
We are standing on ledge of rock.
AT our feet is stretched a wide expanse
of grassy plain upon which the foot of
man has seldom trod. The hairy, long
named, terrific buffalo is grazing calmly
and peacefully in the far distance just
below us rove untrammeled the tame kline
belonging to the owner of the little cot
tage, the smoke from whose roof curls
gracefully above the SUBMITS of those
sturdy oaks.
We are in the wilderness
A wilderness Of America one hundred
years ago!
But man is herei
| Yes, the foot of man has trod these
wilds He has reared, afar from his
usual haunts, an unpretending habitation
He has retired from the places he once
joyfully filled to the solitude of the un
tracked wilderness.
Hark again!
The thunder roars slouderl the light
ming flashes fcrcerl The kline moal
more mournfully! the buffalo starts ii
greater alright! all nature in this par
ticular portion of the country for many
miles round is convulsed. and groans il
unprecedented agony! Torrents of rail-
begin their descent to the bosom of The
earth
Look again!
A single horseman comes over the
plain. He is dressed in pants very
roughly made of the skin of a deer
through which his feet protrude. Those
feet are covered with heavy boots. A
jacket, manufactured of material with
which we are obliged to confess oursell
totally unacquainted, encases his upper
extremities. A broad-b rimmed hat crowns
the head, and completes the catalogue OF
his wearing apparel. 1t is possible he
may have shirt and vest on, but his
jacket is buttoned closely up to his chin
so that we could not, in justice to our
conscience, safely depose that he is pos
sessed of two articles so much esteemed
in later days.
Hank once more
The voice of the single horseman, as
he rides with the speed of the wind, is
heard above all the tremendous roaring
of the storm! He speaks but two words
but those two words he repeats, in the
meantime shaking his fist madly!
Cuss I'm! Cuss I'm :"
Look once more!
The single horseman ceases his head
long speed at the door of the cottage
He dismounts and kicks heavily agains
the door. 1t opens. The head of mai
pops out. He questions the horseman.
What do you want ?"
Sir" replied the horscman, 81 have
been deeply, grievously, and irremediably
wronged! Last night fend in human
shape, calling himself man. came to my
house in coach and four, and robbed me
of my daughter ask you (and | want
categorical response,) by all your hopes
of happiness here, and of salvation here
after, have the wretched pair passed this
way
Don't know ~ was the churlish reply
of the owner of the cottage, as he slammed
the door in the horseman's countenance.
The horseman again mounted his gal
liant steed. Determination was portray.
ed in every line Of his visage. He rode
like the avant-courier of whirlwind
through tho forest!
The avenger is behind
And through the giant trees, bending
low beneath the blast, comes a mournful
voice. seeming to cry
Blood !p