The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1867-05-29

h.
-h;ssv and water and puffcd my mer,
schaum, l felt excessively comfortaple. :
WAS In no hurry to get my wet wa.el-
boots dried. which lay steaming On 'he
ample hearth. .,,,o.,,a. . f,ne.
.,his,;c old man, with snow-white mar
s ud .h,.lers. The cut Of his coat ana
. aaa n,arv look on his weather-beaten, no.
ans G.ce sufficiently told the ex-game-
,'oener had not the retriever pup NJ MS
,aa, and the gun behind him added evil
lance fine specimen of his class, ne
w" VOL. knit and active even at eighty
rears of age. and with frank, CHEEKY LOOK
- his ewes that told Of straightforward
truth and worth. Gonna
I had been snipe-shooting on some
marshes rented of the lady OF the nauo,'
and having got wet in deep rivulet ron TON
a fall, had sought shelter in the Keeper
cottage. To be sportsman was ., oJa L.
a nassport to his favor, added to which us
grandson. Tom, was my invariabie atteha,
snt and bae-carrier. The old man hao
seen hut once, save when, on my renting
,be shooting from Lady Linwood, ne ana
her head keeper had shown me the bounaa-
r;ns The great hall was closed; for Lazy
Iinwood. childless widow, lived Perha-
nantlv AT Nice, and her fair estates were
al Lot She was the widow OF poor
lieutenant. colonel, knighted for gallant
snry;cc and had succeeded to the property
| in lack of direct heirs.
Seaman, my host, was something more
,ban lead keeper. Evidently he had been
ono of those trusted ancient servants w
,ybom the honor and welfare OF fanny
,ro lear as to its own members. ana ny
tho cad look on his face whenever ne
smoke of the squires of Linwood l iancied
some portion of the family history was
mournful and unhappy. 49,, -,
EDO You see much of Lady Linwood"
| asked. .,s
"Never. sir. She always is abroad.
And there's never been Linwood here
since the last squire died"
"That was long ago?"
eyes. sir, long ago. Five and forty
wears agone, sir" he said, musingly, MS
ewes fixed on the fire. give and forty
wears agone-and like yesterday,
| was interested. The keepers man
ner, diction, and expression were all unlike
his class, and l felt a curiosity, as we all
do when something tells us OF hldden
history.
II suppose the last squire had good
stock of game ?" said l.
eyes, sir. Hundreds of pheasants he
turned out. was youngster then-un-
derkeener-aud used to fetch the sacks
of barley for EN-"
"And was he much of sportsman =,
"Yes, sir: with gun, rod, and horse he
wasn't eaualled in all the country round.
He was a tall, fine man, with coal-black
hair and whiskers, pleasant and KIND TO the
tenants, but with fearful temper II any
thing went wrong. He'd rave, and swear,
and smash all round him in the room when
he was in one of his storms. The only
person who managed him was Miss Dora"
Here the keeper became silent, and a
look of deep sadness came over his rugged
face.
you'll have to stay longish time, sir,
for your things are soaked. So, if You like
TO hear it, I'll tell you the story. l sup
pose I'm like old men, sir, and love to
maunder," he added, with a smile of such
natural dignity and courtesy as might nave
beftted a prince.
"Mr. George Linwood five and forty
wears ago was the squire. He lived here
with his mother, gentle lady. She was
always on her sofa, and never well, put as
kind as an angel to the poor. MISS Dora
Maitland, her niece, came to stay up at
the hall with them. Her parents were
very poor, and she'd six sisters; SO 'hey
were glad-Miss Dora's parents, mean
when Mrs. Linwood said she'd adopt her
as her daughter. ! heard this, you Know
sir from the lady's maid at the hall, VINO
was afterwards my wife. She died years ;
aoon And the old man sighed' anu
glanced at an empty chair near ms own.
uWe,l. sir" he resumed, !" Miss Dora
and Mrs. Linwood was very iona OF
her So was everybody, for see was 3, 50
sweet and gentle, and her voice was llkc
or ,Iooeb;rd,s. Everybody about the estate
$50 o Miss Dora, and she used to go about
a. Iar broad hat, for all the world like a
n ~ III in a holly. The cottagers used
~ nno,y her. for whenever any one W as Ill,
t6are Miss Dora was, petting and cossetlng
$50. sir" resumed the old man, after a
ronse. by-and-by Mr.. George became
Fond of Miss Dora. He used to follow her
ahout and watch all her wishes. He broke
her in a chestnut filly himself, and used to
ride with her. But she seemed always
shy of him. His temper was so shifty,
and she'd heard his awful curses once
when he was bitterly angry, though he
didn't know she was hearing; and she
seemed to shrink from him. She was such
beauty-golden hair, and eyes, sir, just
like the sky on clear day, such deep
clear blue, while her complexion the vii
lace girls used to call roses and lilies
I've heard it said that celebrated por.
trait-painter came down to paint her face
and showed the sketch in London as that
of the greatest beauty he'd seen anywhere
"Mrs. Linwood, sir, the servants could
see, was very anxious about Mr.. George
She'd murmur to herself for hours about
him, and she was always looking at him
and Miss Dora so wistful-like, as if she
didn't dare say what was on her tongue
So things went on, till one day company
of soldiers marched into the village. The
officer in command was invited by Mr.
Linwood to dine, and he did so, but ht
didn't see Mrs. Linwood or Miss Dora, fo
they both were i'll with colds, and the!
stayed up stairs. The officer was hand
some young gentleman, with keen gra!
eyes and quiet manner, and look lkt
real honesty about him, sir. And Mr.. Lin
wood asked him to come when he coult
get leave, and shoot.
"Well, by-and-by he came-Captair
Gallon was his name, and he wore the Wa
terloo medal, for he'd been in the thick o
that; and he came late one night, anC
after dressing $50 Polly, my poor wife, theI
| ladv,s maid said) he came into the draw