Bradford reporter. [volume] (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, 1857-01-08

richer He could not help it for, though the
! home farm was miserably managed he spent
nothing to speak of, and was saving up his
rents and laying them out every year on in
terest. People came to him from all parts 10
borrow money and he sat up all night beside
the day, when he was not busy in the farm
looking over parchments and counting up mo-
ney, and packing it up to take to the Blexbo-
rough bank
The young ladies were growing mp but
he only seemed to notice them by fits and starts
They were afraid Of him, always skuIked out
of the way, and only spoke in whispers, or Just
ay and nay, before him, thongh they could
laugh loud enough behind his back-ioking
with the lads who made an excuse to call when
they knew the Squire was at market or bank
Oh, but they were bonny lasScs with color
like roses but strange and wild in their way
as any young jillies, and no one to look after
-Scamperng about the park on their po-
Mes with their hair flying about ears, and
just an old shawl or horse-rug round their
feet instead of habit or playing hide-and-
seek round the old hall They were at the age
when sorrow and sad thoughts soon pass So
poor Rupert was forgotten, except on Winter
evenings round the fire.
We'll, one day they were both missing
they had gone off and married two wild fellows,
lawyers ccrks-not bad looking chaps though
who got acquainted with them in the park
willie coming backward and forward to raise
money Oh writings for their master lawyer
Johns-Jesuit Johns they called him. 1t was
sad business. First, the husbands sued the
Squire for their wives share of their mothers
fortune then, when they got it, and found it
not to be so much as they expected, they i'll
used the poor things. Langston, that married
Miss Georgy, gave up the law and opened
public-honse, where all the racing and sporting
fellows from the High Moor training grounds
used to go and poor Miss Georgy, that al
ways had spirit of her own, when Langston
got in the way Of be ting her, ran off with
Captain Lurtcher of the Lancers, the steeple-
chase rider. Whet became of her afterward
| don't know but they did say she died in q
London workhouse Miss Maria th4- CT one.
was always meek SIT and when she found
that Mr.. Sam Woods had only married her
for her money, she fretted away to shadow,
and soon faded away altogether.
" The next that left us was Master Norman,
the spoiled darling. He was keen baud from
child, aud would take anything he could lay
his hands on. He cheated at marbles was
never so happy as Wien he could get few
halfpcnce and play pi chand-toSs with the
farm lads or the poStillions down at the Fly
ing Childers. He took to betting by going on
the sly to his brotherin law Langston's public
house. How he got the money we could not
tell but he came to be regular blackeg be-
fore he had beard, at every race he could
steal away to- He finished by breaking open
the Squire's desk, when it was full of the price
of the wheat-stacks, and going off to Doncas-
ter, where we heard he won sight of money.
He never showed again until he was come of
age. Then he drove up, dressed like lord,
i'll currice, with two men servants, a bulldog,
and hlack-faced blackgnard looking dandy
fellow alongside of him. T, e Squire was get
ting feeble then, but more fond of money than
ever. Norman frightened him so, that he was
glad TO give him more than his share of his
mothers fortune down the nail, to get rid Of
him. When he heard what had become OF his
sisters, the hoy cursed and swore awfully From
what his groom said it seemed as if he had
brought the black k-loOking dandy to marry one
of his sisters His last words were to warn
the Squire that he should be back in a wear
for more cash But he never came for he
was upset and killed coming from Newmarket
spring meeting, the year before we heard Of
Mr. Rupert's death.
" So there was none left but Mr. Charles.
who was always quiet careful lad. and had
persuaded the Squire to let him go into the
Peterborough bank, where they were glad
enough to have him. So he used to be there
all the week, and come up on Sundays, walk
ing the ten miles, unless he could get a cast in
gig, and going back the Monday with me in
the market cart. He was the very same sort
as the Squire. bnt not uch spirit You might
see the old man and the young one, with a very
old look and STOPPING shoulders, walking up
and down the terrace, deep in talk, every Sun-,
day Sometimes they stopped and looked over
printed papers Mr.. Charles would bring ont Of
his pocket. If the weather was too rough,
they would take their walk in The long gallery,
and so save fire. Then they would sit down
to down 10 dine off n bit of bacon, or perhaps
a rabbit caught in the park, or any cheapmeSs,
and all the time their tongues went slowly,
steadily on--but never about ANYTHING that
could understand but money, money, money.
After a while, Mr.. Charles left the bank,
and set up in business for himself, and, accord
ing to what we heard. grew wonderfully rich
Then there came time of plans of American
mines, where the orchids came from and canals,
railroads, and all sorts of schemings. The old
Squire's eyes used to gliSten again when he
heard what sight of money Mr.. Charles was
likely to make. He used to say, when Mr.
Charles was getting ready on the hall-steps to
go home on Sunday nights, Good boy, good
boy if all your specuiationS ,ome of right,
you'll have all have ...s ....
90 How much may that be, father 2 Mr..
Charles asked him one night.
" The old mans eyes glistcned, and he rub
bed his hands together gleefully. Thousands,
boy thousands ? he said, and then went back
into the parlor, rubbing his hands faster than
ever
After a while, however, things changed
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