The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1868-11-20
THE OLD KEEPERS STORY.
From Once q Week.

the freight flashing into each corner, and
the stuffed birds, foxes and pOlecats looking
life like in the learing blaze. A quaint
cottage room, but the essence of comfort.
As | pulled at the stiff glass of water and
whisky and muffed my meerschaum, [ felt
excessively comfortable. l was in no
hurry to get my wet boots dried, which lay
steaming ON the ample hearth.
My temporary host sat opposite /; fine,
athletic old man, with sncw white hair and
whiskers. The cut of his coat and the
wary look on the weather beaten, honest
face sufficiently told the ex game k, eper,
had not the retriever pup at his feet and
the gun behind him added evidence A
fine specimen of his class, he was well knit
even at eighty years of age. with frank,
CHEEKY look in his eye that told of straight
forward truth and worth.
had been snipe shooting on some
marshes rented of the lady of the manor,
and having got soaked in a deep rivulet
from fall, had sought sh4lter in the
keepers cottage. To be sportsman was,
to be sure, passport to his favor, added to
which his grandson, Tom, was my invaria
bic attendant and bag carrier The old
man l had seen but once, when on my
renting tie shooting from the Lady Lin
wood, he, as her head keeper, had shown
me the boundaries The great hall was
closed, for Lady Linwood, childless wild
ow, lived permanently at Nice, and her fair
estates were all let She was the widow of
poor Lieutenant Colonel, knighted for
gallant service and had succeeded to the
property in lack Of direct heirs.
Seamen, my host, was something more
than head keeper. Evidently he had been
one OF ancient trusted servants to whom the
honor and welfare of a family are dear as to
its own members. And by the sad look on
his face whenever he spoke of the squires
of Linwood [ fancied some portion of the
family history was mournful and unhappy.
DO you see much OF Lady Linwood p l
asked.
''Never, sir. She always is abroad.
And there's never been a LiLwood here
since the last squire died"
That was long ago p
Eyes, sir, long ago. Five and forty years
agone, sir" said he musingingly, his eyes
fixed on the fire. Five and forty years
agone-and like yesterday"
| was interested. The keepers manner,
action and expression were all unlike his
when something tells us of a hidden history.
stock of game p said [.
"Yes, sir. Hundreds of pbeasants he
turned out was youngster then-un-
derkeeper-and l used to fetch all the
sacks of barley to feed en-
And was he such a sportsman p
Eyes, sir. With the gun, rod and horse
he was unequalled all the country round.
He was tall, fine man, with coal black
hair and wbiskers, pleasant and kind to the
tenants, but with fearful temper, if any
thing should 60 wrong. He'd rave, aud
swear, and smash all around 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 look
of deep sad ness came over his rugged face.
You'll II have to stay q longish time, sir,
for your things are soaked. So, if you like
to hear it, LII tell you the story. l suppose
In like old men, sir, and like to maun-
DER" he added, with a smile of natural
dignity and courtesy, which might have be-
fitted prince.
MIR. George Linwood, FIVE and forty
years ago, was the squire. He lived with
his mother, gentle lady. She was always
on her sofa, and never well, but kind ss 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 they were glad-Miss
Doras parents l mean-when Mrs Lin
wood said shed adopt her as a daughter.
heard this, you know, from the lady's
mad at the Hall, who was afterwards my
wife. She died years ago." And the old
man sighed, and glanced at an empty chair
near his own.
We'll, sir" he resumed, "Miss Dora
came, and Mrs. Linwood was very fond of
her. So was everybody, for she was so
sweet and gentle, and her voice was like
black birds. Everybody about the estate
knew Miss Dora, and she used to 90 about
in her broad hat and carol her song, for all
the world like blaokbird in the holly.
The cottagers used to know her, for when
ever any one was i'll there Miss Dora was,
petting and cosseting them.
Sc, sir, resumed the old man after
pause, by and-by Mr.. George became
fond of Miss Dora. He used to follow her
about and watch all her wishes. He broke
In chestnut flly himself, and nsed to ride
with her. But she seemed shy to him.
His temper was so shifty, and she heard
his curses once when he was bitterly angry.
though he didn't know she was in 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
village girls used to call roses and lilies.
I've heard it said that portrait painter
came down to paint her face, and showed
1t in London as the greatest beauty he had
seen anywhere.
Mrs. Linwood, sir, the servants could
all see was very anxious about Mr.. George.
Shed murmur to herself for no urs abou,
him, and she was always looking at him and
Dora SO wis,ful like, as if she didn't care to
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 Linwood to dine,
and he did so, but he didn't see Mrs. Lin
wood nor Dora, for they were both in with
colds, and they stayed up stairs. The off
Ger was handsome young man, and a look
OF real honesty about him, sir. Mr.. Lin
wood asked him to come when he could get
leave and shoot
well, by and by he came-Captain Cal
ton was his name, and he wore the Water
loo medal, for he had been in the heat of
that. and ha ~ mo in tato opa r;cLt 49,