Whig and tribune. [volume] (Jackson, Tenn.) 1870-1877, 1874-02-21
FACE TO FACE WITsI

From London Society,"
Ny friend-ay friend Richard Ben
tick died upon the tenth day of De-
ccmber, 1870.
We had been flung together upon
| the world, had fought heavy fight
against desperate odds; fought boldly
and well.
He succumbed to brain fever Al
though we had been cstranged for
some time. attended him with az
aching heart, heard his low, quiver-
ing valedictory sigh, and received the
last look he was ever destined to cast
upon this side of his untimely grave,
ere he started for that mysterious
Journey which we must all, high and
low, gentle and simple, travel alone.
Unnerved, unfit for work, and with
n sense of utter desOlation hanging
darkly around me, like the mourning
cloak which /. had worn at his funer-
al, l rejected all offers of sympathy,
all overtures of companionship; was,
indeed, alone.
Christmas was ut hand; right merri-
ly the standard of holly aud ivy was
unfurled to the crisp wintry breeze,
and the Christian world, aglow with
preparation, was revelling in visions
of home mirth, and of home happi-
ness.
How to avoid Christmas was my
abiding thought.
Remain in London? No.
Accept the invitation of the Ches-
news, Of Chesney Void, to a party as
Joyous as that which assembled at
Dingley Dell? No.
Upon the Goth of December HUI
bert Reeve, man with whom l was
intimate, called to ny chambers on
matter connected with n case in which
1 held brief.
l was in the act of stepping iuto
the street when ] encountered mm; a
paltry half minute would have saw
ed me the interview. If Hubert
Reeve had been stopped by n friend,
delayed Mt crossing, attracted to a
shop window, the current of my life
might have run smoothly on; but it
was not to be. 1t WAS written other
wise.
lie was in deep mourning for his
young wife.
81 have shut up the old rookery in
Singleshire, he said; ''thc word
Christmas is hateful to me"
The tears rushed 10 his eyes, and
choking sob bespoke the griei yelling
up from his heart.
"Rookeryl" L observed, wishing to
divert his thoughts into another chan
nell
Eyes, rookery. II was built in the
reign of Queen Anne; and, with the
exception of new wing to replace n
I -, ,c Tho Ir,f11fDor Iy,,.,,t 1,,r-,,
/ II remains, furniture and all, musty,
/ fusty, tumblc-down old place; but L
| haven't the heast TO touch stick or
| stone in it.
"And you have hermeticaliy scaled
it?'
"Ycs, and dismissed the servants,
with the exception OF one cid crUne,
about as antique as Wyven Hall it.
self. 90 to Egypt, anywhere from
| Christmas in merry England.
/ instantly resolved upon spending
/ the holidays at Wyvern Hall My
dead friend had passed many hap
py hour beneath its hospitablc roof
tree.
Il should like to stop at the Hal,
during the forthcoming so-called tes-
tive season, if you woldn't mind it,
mind it, that's your look out, not
mine. You'll have a duh time OF it. -
Il shall take my chance for that,
and r0vlCus' o. { rose woqld not suit me
Just at present
\ few word. and the details were
arranged \ few words, and the seal
was fixed to 4 resolution binding
me, whilst memory lasts, to one ghast-
'lv-let the narrative speak for itself.
I started upon the afternoon of the
23d. by the / O'clock train, from
Kings Cross Station. The -compart-
ment was filed by a rolHcking, cffer.
vcsciug party On route for n visit to
some relatives in the North. l hated
them for their light-heartedness, and
churlishly refused to lower the win
dow next TO me, or to accord Permis
sion to one of the party TO smoke ;
cigar.
\ dull, dead, heavy, drenchinG rain
was >ulcnly falling as l ahghtcd q
Bycroft Station.
Il require fly to take me to Wy
vern Hall.
There be no hy here, and there b,
nobody there, was the laccnic reply
of the official whom addressed.
How am to reach the Hall?'
1T be only matter OF six mile
This meant that it would lie ncces
sary for me to welk.
IresoIved upon walking. There Wa
nothing else for It.
II My luggage consisted OF an old
= fashioned carpet-bag, into which hau
!, towed a change Of dress and q packe
' of private papers belonging 10 Rich
? ard Bentick l brought them wit
me in order to peruse them at leisure
and to place myself face to face wit
the past by the sad, solemn link c
the handwriting of the dead man.
, Singing the bag across my shoul
der and lighting my pipe, l set on
into the darkness.
The silence of that night was III
= natural-appaling; not a deg barket
The splash of q rat into an iuky pO,
alone broke the mOnotOnous echo {
nurV f1.or,NY,