Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1873-10-04
MANTLE FERRY.

y
dents occurred that form the subject o
this story. twenty-five years ago
and yet not so far away in the past t
one who has lived bachelors life, an,
has few landmarks to look back upon
Whether my fault or another's matter
not. The counting days, if ever ha'
any, are misty retrospect, and tn
shadows that belong to them will no
trouble now. fr-5r
twenty-five years ago / was travel
ing for my health's sake in the north o
England. l had been recommends.
change too much study, or too muel
trouble, no matter which, had brough
me low, and absence from my duties
was imperative. The journey was on,
of the most miserable / had ever un
dertaken; the season was bad, m!
spirits were worse, and | was withou
companion in one of the drearies
parts of England. l had started OF
my tour without giving notice to th'
few friends l possessed in these time,
of my intentions. I felt that should
be bad company for any one whose
kindness might have prompted him tC
join me, and | went on my way alone
walking my thirty miles day, as dis.
NAL figure in an autumn landscape as
it is possible for my listeners to imag-
ine., .Ir A,.- .,-,t--.t .s1if
The night that begins my story was
a cold and dark night in the middle Of
October cold, windy night, with
few stars shining out, and no moon
due till the early morning. | had walk.
ed five-and-twenty miles that day, and
had three more to accomplish before
the little village of Mantle could be
reached. There was an ugly pass by a
dark hillside totravel, and a ferry over
Mantle River to be made before the
days journey was ended. and | could
escape the cutting northeast wind and
showers of dead leaves it rained upon
me and whirled before me on my road.
When the Mantle stream was reached
at last, and there was no sign of ferry
boat or ferry-man, began to wish
that I had finished my days's tramp at
the inn / had left behind two hours
ago. They had told me there it would
be a long and tedious journey, and L
shrugged my shoulders at their proph-
ecy, and marched off manfully. | was
seeking "a long and tedious journey
fatigue and exhaustion were good
friends to me, for they helped me to
sleepand forgetfulness. Still | thought
regretfully of the homely inn | had
left behind, of the great wood fire
burning on the hearth, and the bronz-
ed, good tempered face of the landlord
as he said, 1t was over late for trav-
eIers not well up in the roads,, when
| was standing at the waters edge
shouting, Ferry, holp and obtaining
no response, save faint " Ferry, no y
from the distant hills, that caught up
my words and Knocked me. Once be-
fore in my life | had travelled the same
road and crossed the Mantle Ferry |
knew | was not mistaken in the place,
though my late host had assured me
that Wisford, the ferry man, was al
ways at his post till the hope of pen
ny was entirely lost to him.
He's as miserly as he's cunning,
you must know" was the Observa-
tion made to me at an early hour Of
that night. "I've known him as late as
midnight at the ferry, hankering after
customers that never come. Itpleases
the old man to turn penny when
honest folks be sleeping. Some say he
carries over queer company at times
poaehers; ghosts, boggles; he's notpa
tieular, if he gets his money. Still, if
he bean't handy, sing out, Ferry hor
and he turn out of his crazy old hut
on t'other side of the river as joyfully
as if you had brought a fortune to
him." i ~ 4 . -.
The host had prophesied but i'll,
however, for here | was, shouting at
the waters edge, with my hopes of the
appearance growing fainter
every instant. [ was debating how to
proceed, after the echoes reused by
my last call had died away; looking
with no little dissatisfaction to the
long backward road, and with less to
fording or swimming to the opposite
side, and running on cold and wet to
Mantle, when harsh whisper in my
sar made me start, and set my heart
for a moment beating rapidly.
Do you think to wake the dead,
sir? q A-l.4I ~
| had always had some pride in my
self possession; but it was shaken
then, | confessed, with some little NOR
tifcatiop to myself. Still, a moment
| was outwardly calm and
and stood on the river bank,
quietly regarding my questioner. A
woman, whose age was difficult to de-
termine at that place at so late an
hour-a poor woman, probably, with
shawl of slight material drawn tightly
round her, q shapeless bonnet stuck
anyways on her head, and one lock of
hair struggling from beneath in mani
acal manner that suggested the first
witch Macbeth" A yard or two
from her was great furze- bush, be-
hind which she had probably been
or hiding when my voice arous-
ed her. She could not have been walk
ing lately, or I should have heard her
football On the loose, stony road | had
recently trayersed; and bad na faith
in supernatural appearances. n
NO" l said, in answer to her in
luiry shut ! hope to wake the ferry
man, my good woman, hetOfe ! catch
cold standing here"
Il don't think the mans alive that
will ferry you across the river to might;
do you think the hoatman's dead,
then ?"
Yes" with strong shuddar, that
could detect in the darkness.
May / ask if you have any reason
for that supposition 2" I
Il have been waiting here an hour
for him, and hehas made no sigma long
hour, and the river whispering such
awful things gr.. 81.
/ glanced toward the woman again.
She was standing with her hands clasp
ed, looking down at the dark water
The wildness of the womans manner
me for any danger, steeled my
nerves to resist also her eccentricity,
and made me ready to spring at her,
should she mediate leap toward the
river from the bank on which she
stood. 80.
5'.Do you believe in calls?" she asked,
after o moments silence
80 Well. my faith is shaken, npw In
getting hoarse,,, ~ 80
Itwas uphill work to strive for a
light turn to the dialogue but the wo-
mans manner was melodramatic, and