The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1875-07-02

|
bers, foreboding death or heavy misfor-
tune. Well, whatever reason may tell
us, there is no doubt that these things
| have great influence on the mind; and
William here was never free from a GER
tain amount of dread of some day seeing
this appalling vision. Thus, when he
visited our little town, and spent an even
ing with friend, he objected very much
to going home alone. He was brave
enough by daylight; but when night
came ON, and he had the prospect of fac
ing the dark way to the Plas, his courage
failed him, and he earnestly begged for
company. But one murky night last
winter William found himself overtaken
by midnight in the house of Morris of
the Bryn, at the breaking up of little
bachelor party. Everybody was moving
off in different directions-for Morris
was an early man-but no one was going
the way of our friend William, and he
was afraid to traverse it by himself.
"You must know that William lives at
home with his grandmother and his
brother John, and that, curiously enough,
while William is very good-tempered
man, John is not little quarrelsome.
! For that reason the two brothers are not
always on good terms; and where you
see one of them, the other is pretty sure
not to be found. Indeed, like our young
gentry of days gone by, John is in the
habit of roaming about the country,
stopping first at one house and then at
another, taking free quarters with his
brothers tenants, who are not always
well pleased to- see him. John was not
at the party at Morris, and he and his
brother had quarreled violently that very
morning. I have good reason to know
that, for it so happened that John had
spent the evening with me.
81 left William standing at Morris
door, looking this way and that, and
feeling his heart growing weaker and
weaker every second; everybody had
gone except young Meyrick, who lodged
in the town, and he stood on the steps
lighting up his pipe. / wish you would
walk home with me, Meyrick,' said
Jones; it's so lonely Meyrick laughed
a sarcastic laugh. 'And who shall walk
back home with me?" he asked. Well,
you could sleep on bench in the hall at
Iur house, said William. i prefer my
own feather bed, replied Mevrick. But,
my good fellow, dO, said William, en-
treatingly. Look here, are you hun
gry?' Yes, indeed, said Meyrick-for
Morris had not given them any supper,
and Meyrick had dined early. Then if
you will come home with me we will
have a capital supper-corned beef and
red salmon, and plenty of good ale, with
some whisky punch afterward- you
shall sleep on the dining-room sofa.
Well, that tempted Meyrick.
"The way to the Plas at night is not
pleasant. First of all comes the bridge,
with the water moaning and whispering
down below, and there, you know, it is
said that a maid who had been wronged
threw herself into the river and was
drowned. After that you come to a dark
hillside, where the road winds through
a thick wood, just the place for anybody
to spring ont upon you and murder you;
and when You come out of the wood, you
pass between two high rocks, where they
say that thieves and robbers were put to
death a long while ago. And even then
you are a good way from the Plas, that
stands in the middle of grove of trees,
and looks wild and ghostly enough when
you get there.
at was tempestuous night; the wind
howled savagely, making all kinds OF
strange noises among the trees; dark as
pitch, for the moon would not rise for
an hour or more. The two men crept
quietly along, starting and quivering at
every noise. A sheep jumped up before
them out of ditch, and frightened them
almost out of their senses. A screech-
owl few over the wood, moaning and
shrieking like a child; and then they
gave themselves up for lost. But moth
ing happened, after all, till they had
come to the place between the two crags,
when in an interval of calm they heard a
distant sound from the direction of the
Plas. They stopped and listened in
tently. The sound was approaching. II
came nearer and nearer. At last il
proved to be the sound of horses hoofs.
Clop, clop, clop, clop. What can it be !
said Meyrick, seizing William by the
arm. There can be no horse coming
from the Plas at this hour of night.
William gazed and listened a moment
longer, and then began TO run as fast as
he could in an opposite direction. Run,
he cried in hoarse whisper to his com
panion-' run for your life; if it catches
us here we are lost They Just cleared
the rock as the horses hoofs echoed hol.
lowly behind them. William jumped
into the hedge on one side, and MeyricE
on the other. The horse went past like
the wind.
"After awhile they crawled out. Did
you see it p whispered William. i saw
something white White was itl Are
you sure2' Yes; white horse.
Then it's all over with one of us; there
will be a death in the family within
twenty-four hours. i wish l hadn't
come with you, said Meyrick. Come
on, said William, now in quite fever
of excitement. Dear, / hope it will not
be John; and we parted such bad friends
John fell out with me to-day, said
, Meyrick, and threatened TO break his
, head. We'll, let us hope it may be
: grandmother.
GAS they approached the Plas the
storm Increased. The trees were laslnne
each other fercely with their leafles.
branches, and showers of twigs were
hurled against their faces. The Plus wai
all in darkness, and looked so solen anC
funereal that they were afraid TO enter
William went first; then he stopped anc
| 4 r. II. L..