The Jeffersonian. [volume] (Stroudsburg, Pa.) 1853-1911, 1855-05-31
MARY carroll:
Or. THE LOST CLAsP-KNIFE
CHAPTER I.
THE MURDER.-AN ARREST.

1t was wild, rugged scene, near the
western shore of Lough Neagh, in the
country of Tyrone, and in the northern
part of Ireland. To the left, stretching
away from the banks of the lake, was a
dark bog, over which, in close-tapgied
masses, grew the rank morass wildwood.
1t was Just at nightfall that a wayworn
peddler entered upon the dubious foot
track that led through the bog, and from
the confidence with which he trusted to
his knowledge of the way one might have
supposed that be had often travelled it.
His way was towards Londonderry, and
as he found himself in the midst of the
gloomy wildwood he began TO whistle a
low tune by way Of enlivening the scene.
At some spots, where the fanking Of 1.-THE
shrubbery was quite sparse, the ground
trembled and shook beneath the pedler'
tread, but be felt sure, or knew, that be
was in the right track, and he kept stead
lily on.
Not long after be had disappeared frem
sight in the intricate windings of the path,
any one standing upon the edge of the
bog might have heard sudden rustling
Of the distant wildwood, as though some
one had rushed hastily through it. Then
came a short scufie, sharp cry of pain;
= few deep groans, and then for few
moments all was still. IL FIVE minutes
more there was another rustling in the
bushes, a heavy fan, and ere long after
wards man emerged from the bog path
and stood few seconds upon the hard
ground. He was not the pedler, and yet
he bore ia bis hand the pedlcr's pack
lie gazed cautiously about him, and be-
ing satisfied that all was safe be stepped
little out of the way, seated himself up
on the grass, opened the pack, and began
TO overhaul its contents.
"Curse his empty pack !" muttcred the
man as be seemed to have examined all
its contents. "I'vc done that job for
nothing. I've sold my soul for miscr-
able podge of Old women's trumpery."
The speaker started ncryously up, for
he had heard noise in the bog, and with
a hasty step he hurried off towards a
small village that lay upon the borders Of
the lake to the southwark.
Not long after the maD had left the
emptied pack there came up from the bog
path another man, and be bore heavy
BODY in his arms. When he reached a
suitable resting place be laid bis burden
down upon the grass. 1t was the bloody
corpse Of the pedler
GPoor Magdull!" murmured the young
man-for young be was, "who could hgve
had the heart to take your life! There
could have been but few more years for
YOU Oh earth, and surely they might have
left YOU those. All, what's this! Thy
pack, as ] live. Holy saints, they've
taken your last breath for the paltry store
you carried; and it cant lave been long,
either, for your blood is warm FROM the
heart !"
The young man knelt down aud pulled
apart the bits of lace and ribbon, the pin
papers and the little cushions, and while
he vet gazed vacantly upon them, at the
same time murmuring sadly to himself
he was startled by heavy tread of feet
behind him. He looked up and saw three
stout men standing over him.
"Corncy Drake" /" said one of them il
tones of rank astonishment, "Good God
is this you :"
nYes it is me-" returned the young