South-eastern Independent. (McConnelsville, Ohio) 1871-1871, 1871-08-11
THE STRANGE VISITOR TOW
BY GEORGE L. CATLIN.


mer day, not many years ago, the daily
mail coach came down the shaded street
OF the quiet village of W, on its wal
to the old fashioned hostlery standing a
the cross roads in the centre of the town
where sign, swinging to the wind, an
nounced entertainment for man and beast
and where, in fact, for all travellers il tha
mail-coach the days journey ended. The
day had been mercilessly Y warm one the
dust, in great clouds, rolled up from the
wheels, the driver sat begrimed and coat
less on his box, and the jaded animals
barely kept up at gait faster than 6
walk, by the consciousness of their neal
approach to the nights resting place. Not
unpleasant, either, was the contrast which
the dusty vehicle with its occupants pre-
sented to the cool, quiet of the sidewalks
and verandas which it passed on its lazy
journey down the shaded thoIoughfaTe
Bareheaded urchins sat upon the grassy
banks, or tossed their hats aloft in wei
come. Bevies of laughing, fair-haired
children fitted by, while within the white
palings which lined the street could be
seen, seated here and there in the shadows,
happy family groups, DELIGHTFULLY."- sug'
/ gestive of refreshing GOODNESS and COM
fort.
So, .. any rate, thought the solitary
passenger whom on that particular even
ing the mail coach brought to w. He
had been riding all day, had Travelled for
several days previous, he said, and was
not 9 bit sorry to nearthe end of his journey.
A rather singular looking old gentleman
he was, too, at first sight, not at all such
q one as you would single out in a crowd to
ask for either sympathy or assistance. His
face had worn and forbidding look to
the casual observer, his dress was PLAIN,
rather inclined to seediness even, and,
when he spoke, his voice was quick and
testy, like thet of aman who had battled all
his life with care and anxiety, and had
learned to ask no odds but those which his
own energies and exertions gave him.
Good-nstured Boggs, the driver, who in
his decade of stage-coach existence had
made study of human nature in all its
phases, had made up his mind pretty
early in the day that his solitary passenger
was not man to be easily cultivated. Ali
efforts to draw him into conversation had
proved futile. And yet, thought Boggs,
there's something kind and good behind
that grabbed face and short answers, I'll
be bound"
He made final and partially successful
efforts, however, as they neared the vii
lage.
"Ever in W before, sir ?" he asked.
Yes-yes-but a long time ago. Has
the place changed much ?"
"Precious little, to my knowledge, for
twenty years back" answered Boggs.
Twenty It's twice that since l was
here" said the stranger,
Mere boy, then, s'pose," continued
Boggs.
Yes, quite youngster when left the
place." was the reply; and then the two
had relapsed into silence.
And now as they passed on through the
twilight shadows toward the village center,
the old gentleman peered eagerly out, now
on this side, now on that, now gazing
closely at some one or another of the gaunt
old dwellings embowered in flowers by the
roadside, now leaning forward as some
brook, or tree, or other familiar landmark
came back to his memory. And so, as he
looked and pom dered, the vehicle came TO
a halt before the tavern door, and the jour-
ney was over.
The old man-for he did seem old, as
with his short, bent figure, and imping
gait, he shufied up the hotel steps, and
across the sanded 1oor-gave some direc-
lions about his baggage-which consisted
of small superannuased trunk, and car
pet-bag which had seen its best days long
ago-inquired in a sharp, fitful way where
the proprietor was, and upon that III
dividual making his appearance, in the
form, not of the conventional rubicund-
visaged Boniface, but of demure, sober
faced man, whose lethargic movements
and resigned expression Of countenance
marked him as one who simply conde-
scended to make his earthly home and to
keep hotel in W because he couldn't
do any better, propounded in raDid mono
syllables the inquiry whether he had any
comfortable rooms vacant.
"Doyou simply want lodging over night,
sir" meekly inquired the host.
"No, sir" was the reply; "a week, two
weeks, month, or two perhaps"
A momentary CLEAN of the sordid SEEM
ed to overcome the submissive In the inn
keepers countenance, but it quickly faded
away again, as its owner said, q trust we
shall be able to accommodate you, sir.
Please register you name"
The stranger glanced over the pages of
the book before him. Not an arrival that
day-none the day before-in fact, only
two for a week back. To this beggarly
record of guests, he added his signature,
scrawling in little, dried-up characters,
which looked for all the world like him
self, the inexpensive name, John Thomp-
son, New Orleans"
The old gentleman was fstigued, and
after little repast, all to himself, in the
was shown up to his apart
ment. a corner bed-chamber, gorgeously
stiff and cool with its white curtains,
snowy bed-spread, and straight-backed
chairs. The window fastening were, as is
usual in rural taverns, all out of order,
and the simple country maid of all work,
who innocently held her ear to the key
hole, after bidding the guest good |
night" heard Mr.. Thompson fuming and |
fretting as he wrestled with the refractory |
catches, until finally the sashes went up, |
the blinds were flung open, and the opera |
ton eliminated in an emphatic grunt |
about equally made up of disgust and sat
isfaction Meanwhile the lOungers down |
stairs were airing all sorts of random |
as to the character and de- |
signs of the new comer-speculations |
which necessarily were of most unsatis- |
factory nature, in view of the limited In |
formation to be extracted from the taciturn |
Boggs and the almost illegible scrawl on |
the register.
But could they have known the thoughts |
that were crowding thick and fast upon |
the mind of him who sat in the window
above, looking out upon the mOon-lit
street; could they with him have recalled
the memories which came over him
memories saddened by the vision of want
and hardship. and moss-covered tomb
stone in the village church-yard-hard by
the most careless and callous of them
would hays prayed for a blessing on that
gray-haired head, with its weary, thought
full fac.
W, at the time of its revisitation by
the somewhat eccentric Mr.. Thompson,
was quiet country village, with scarcely
two thousand inhabitants, and possessing
no especial characteristics to distinguish it
from the hundred other villages which nes-
tie lovingly among the hills, or on the
bosom of the landscape within a circuit
of hundred miles from the metropolis.
Extending along the turnpike road for a
diatsnce of half mile or more on either
side were struggling rows of cottages,
here and there with more os-
tentatious dwellings, while an occasional
shop-wiHdow or sign peeped out from be-
meath the trees to vary the monotony.
About midway another street intersected
the main road, at about the junction of