The Hickman courier. [volume] (Hickman, Ky.) 1859-current, 1881-01-28
WAS HE MADE
BY CHARLES E. eoLDEr.

In visiting the south of England, have
Won ever gone out of your way TO enjoy
a few hours in one of the many delight
full. thriving towns which are scattered
like corn throughout that sunny land?
If not, then II has not been your fortune
10 view the sparkling landscape of Hazel
ton. a quaint, quiet village, with modest
little homes, whose white paint glistens
in the sunlight, and whose gardens.
trimmed and orderly, exhibit blushing
roses and sweet-scented flowers peeplng
from midst dense masses OF green foliage.
Some twenty years back, there was
situated on the outskirts of Hazelton, a
gloomy-looking mansion, surrounded by
a clump of oaks and cedars which well
nigh hid the edifice from view.
Bolton Hall had stood the storms of
many centuries, but time seemed only to
deepen the gloom of its surroundings
The house was square in form, with a
turreted wing attached to its eastern
wall This wing exhibited great signs
OF decay, and its moldering walls and
prison-shaped windows enhanced the
general gloom surrounding the whole
place.
In this wing were the fortunes of the
Bolton race made; here were formulated
those thoughts whose execution had
raised Peter Bolton, gentleman, from
comparative poverty and insigniticance
to wealth and knighthood; and here was
the splendor of the same maintained by
a long line of descendants, terminating,
at the time of which we write, III Sir
James Bolton.
Sir James was man who had lust
turned his fiftieth year; of tall statue
and well-rounded form, with a face
whose keen black eyes could either
twinkle with humor or sparkle with the
darkest of passions He had evidently
lived well in the past. and his close-fting
vest betokened a rare appetite for the
dehcacies of the table.
Sir James was a widower, his wife hav-
ing died shortly after their marriage
leaving her blessing in the form of q
newborn babe to her youthful husband
Twenty-four Vt ars had transformed the
babe into q broad-shouldered young
man with blue eyes trimming over with
gcod-nature, while mouth and chin be-
tokened the resolution of the soldier.
Arthur Bolton had met Lucy Grey
while visiting n village friend, and en-
ioyed her society in many little picnics
and parties cotton up in the neighbor-
hood, and had declared his love and been
accepted And now, the two young hearts
were patiently waiting for the day that
would bind them together in unity and
love.
1t was a beautiful spring morning.
Crisp winter had lifted her feecy cover
ing from off the fields and flowers, and
nature was once more re-asserting her
lovely sway, breathing sweet odors
through the sunny atmosphere.
Arthur Bolton was strolling through
the gardens, idly putting clouds of smoke
tl.a. 80 I,
sweet reflections which love might beSet
in such rosy bowers.
A rapid step sounded behind him, and
turning, he beheld his father.
Good morning. Arthur said Sir
James, in a CHEEKY tone. Il am glad l
have found you.
''Why, my dear father replied Ar
thur, with merry twinkle IN his eyes,
do YOU see your wild son so seldom
that the parternal heart is warmed at
beholding him enjoying a cigar amid the
sweet perfumes of your garden?"
Hal ha!'' laughed Sir James; and for
few moments both gentlemen INDUCED
in considerable merriment.
Sir James mirth finally ceased, and a |
look of deep seriousness settled over his |
cOuntenance. Arthur turned around !
and thoughtfully studied the old house |
which he had never called home.
Father, he exclaimed, wheeling back /
10 his former position, why do you not |
have that old, broken-down tower torn |
away, and erect modern wing in its /
place? | have often thought that it cast !
n gloom over our home, and this morn
ing 1t seems really forbidding."
Sir James raised his black eyes swiftly /
to the face of his son, and darted a keen, /
suspicious glance at him. Seemingly |
81 u, I.
IN his usual tones
mo, Arthur, your father has too few
moments of seriousness to remove, at
this late hour, the only objects that chain
his thoughts to the past. But, Arthur,
my object IN meeting you here this morn
ing Is of far too serious nature to wait
longer. To-day, Arthur Bolton''-and /
his voice became low and earnest-'the |
fate Of your father and your home lies in |
your hands,
What" -
''I am ruined, unless"
Good heavens, father, what do you |
mean?" exclaimed the young man with |
startled eyes and excited tones.
Unless, passionately continued Sir |
James, you save me
Thank God, if it lies in my poweri" |
was the glad response. but how is il |
10 pe 1OneI
Ny plan is very simple. Nv credi- |
tors are beginning topush me to the wall
can staye off the event for a month. |
and IN the meantime you can hasten To |
my plantation in Cuba-my last resource.
Straighten out its affairs, which have
through my carelessness become very
much confused, and sell it for what il |
viii bring. / have no doubt but the sum |
realized will cover all my debts, and
leave a handsome margin"
A look of glad resolution lightened
the face of Arthur as he replied:
will run over to the Meadows and
see Lucy tomorrow. and then awayl'
Sir James turned slightly pale. Shad,
ing his black eyes with his hand from his
sons gaze, he said:
Miss Grey left town this morning, to
visit her aunts in London; and besides,
Arthur, it is of the most vital importance
that you should depart this very after
noon"
This very afternoonl" Arthur invol-
unfairly murmured, in a tone slightly |
saddened, for his thoughts were rapidly !
travelling toward Lucy, his love. Rous- !
ing himself from his gloomy reverie, he |
replied, with force of cheerfulness:
Very well, father; / viii leave a note |
for Lucy IN your care, and this afternoon |
shall see me of" And with these words |
on his lips, the young man retired to
prepare for his journey.
For few moments Sir James Bolton |
pulled desperately on his cigar. He was
rejecting, and, as the thoughts chased
each other away, the varying expression /
OF his face was marked and serious.
p" He Is my son, he broke out fiercelv. |
throwing his cigar far from him. "God |
knows L love him, and fain would spare /
him, but the hand of fate is closing about |
me, and l must succumb. Heaven |
he groaned, pacing up and down the |
path excitedly. 'sWhat I suffer- And |
for whom, for what? For Arthur All. \
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