The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1866-02-08
MI@CELLANx
A STRANGE ADVENTURE
BY WALTER BYRNE.

which I have carefully abstained,
owing to smart appreciation OF the
therefrom accruing. AS
Il boy, for instance, 1 divided my
schoolfellows into two classes: first,
those who could thrash me; second,
those who conldn't. I never Sauced
the former. I never liked orchard
robbing; I preferred purchasing the
fruit at q reduced rate from those who
did. On breaking-up eve, when pill
low-fghts ragged in the bedrooms, I
placed my countenance likewise be-
meath the clothes. In fact, J in
stinctively avoided everything that
had the remotest chance of bringing
me blows. The consequence was 1
passed through my curriculum with
out any experience of the cane, and
each succeeding half obtained prize,
whose glory amply compensated for
its being the only one / got-the re-
ward of good conduct.
Without entering into any further
details-details which might possibly
be thought contemplate by those
who do not understand my peculiar
constitution would only add that
this timidity, this fear of things
dctatal, has accompanied me through
life. But as before observed, with
regard to things imaginary I have
ever been bold as brass, and this by
reason Of sheer infdelity. I perfectly
remember the day on which doubts
of ''Aladdin and his Lamp" entered
my yet unbreeched understanding. L
can trace minutely the progress of
thought from this point to that on
which L shocked the nursery by pro-
claiming my entire unbelief in its
classics, from ''Jack the Giant Killer"
down to "Puss in Boots" Since
then tales of the wondrous and the
wild have been my favorite provoca-
tives Of mirth. On dull night, for
instance, sitting up by myself and
depressed in spirits, [ wouldn't give
q downright real ghost story for the
best thing in ''Joe Miller or the
most side-sphtting facetin of the
Family Herald. I have strolled COM
fortably through church-yards at the
hour ''when graves give up their
dead, and never saw anything
winter than an owl. L have slept
luxuriously in a chamber across
whose threshold not one of the family
would have stepped for love or money
[ don't believe in ghosts.
That is, I did n till the 1st of
April, 1853. On the 1st of April,
1858, I went down to Shingletown a
sceptic and scoffer; on the 2d of
April, 1853, I returned from Shingle-
town a sadder but wiser man.
Shingletown is afalsehood; there is
nothing of town about it. A cleaner,
snugger little hamlet, on a wilder,
rocker coast, cannot be found in our
sea-girt-isle. A pretty wide bay gives
shelter from the storms Of the Ger
man Ocean, and terminates in steep
valley running up into the hills. A
single street of thatched cottages
stretches about half q mile up the
valley-and this is Shingletown.
1 had never been in Shingletown
before, and need not now enlarge on
the business which took me there
then. Suffice it to say that the coach
running on the coast road deposited
me at the door of the Jolly Trawlers
at half-past nine a. m., and cove
nanted to take me up again at six p.
m. | had thus determined to stay in
Shlngletown nine and half hours
but Ihonanae lo7opose, &C., &c.
MIR. Wutts was not at home; Mr..
Wutts had left word with Mrs. Wutts
that he would not be at home till to-.
morrow.
Now, do not like the country-I
rather hate it. One can knock about
for week in provincial town if the
theatre Is open, the cricket ground
good, and the society sufficiently
snobblsh to render it amusing to an
on-looker
But Shingletown! ugh! A whole
day to be passed in Shingletown-a
whole night in the Jolly Trawlers I
mentally wished sore i'll to Mr.. Wutts.
1t was very clear. however, that all
the lll-wishing in the world wouldn't t
bring MIR. Wutts back in time for me
to catch the six coach. It was palpa-
bic, too, that the further and more
unpleasant the locality to which my
angry feelings consigned him, the less
chance was there of Mr.. Wutts com
ing back at all. [ had two day, and
a night before me in the wilderness of
Shingletown-how to spend them?
CONTINUED IN OUR NEXT
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