The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1882-12-31


good and brave and sturdy old duke.
She was a sparkling star which
glittered in those ancient halls;
Will-o-the-wisp that attracted scores
of the giddy and reckless SONS Of
dukes, lords and barons to the man
sion. Ethelbert, the eldest son, was
about thirty years of age. His
figure was tall and slender. He
possessed Z. handsome face, with a
noble, dignifed bearing. He was
proud and naughty in disposition;
suspicious, revengeful, and peridi-
Gus. He was seldom at the family
mansion, and whenever he visited
the neighb erhOod, evil, sorrow and
trouble followed. He passed the
most of his evil life Ia London, low
ing more the ease, pleasures and
voluptuOusnesS of courts and
palaces, than the hardships and
dangers of war, or the fatigues of
the chase. He took little interest
in the feud5 and quarrels between
his house and the neighboring
chiefs. His prevailing vice was
the qualification of an ungnverna-
able passion. His amorous nature
burnt within him, and consumed
every better and nobler feeling.
Female chastity was, in his estima-
ton, the only fortress worthy
of assault. Hhe more pure and
chaSte the victim upon which his
evil eye rested, the more certain
the attack; the swifter and more
complete the victory and ruin. His
triumphs were gathered from all
classes: from the delicate, richly
ROBBED, easy conquest of princess,
and the gilded butterflies which
fitted about the royal palace, to
the lowly peasant girl, and the pure
and innocent daughter of the hum
BILE cottager. He was known
among the former as q gay and
festive Iibertine; to the latter, he
was a Shiny, painted serpent, whose
breath was poison and whose sting
was death.
Close TO the southern boundary of
Longleat forest, and about three
miles distant from the ducal man
sion, there is a little hamlet or vii
/ lage, called Woodlands. A more
appropriate name could not be
applied to this enchanting locality ;
except, perhaps, Fairy-land, for
surely it would be hard to find a
loVelier spot, even in that elsie of
| Beauty" The old stage-coach road
to the towns of Wells, Weymouth
and Dorset, runs through the vii
lage, and most of the quaint old
cottages can be seen by the traveller
along the road; the moss-covered,
thatched roofs, here and there seen
between the trunks of gigantic oaks
UNCOVERED walls, with little dark
openings for windows, peeping out
through thick foliage Of chestnut,
elder and ash trees. Here and there
a little column Of grey smoke curls
up lazily from an iYy-clOthed Chin
ney, the only evidence Of a dwelling.
To the east of the village the land
scape for some miles is more open.
It is grand sweep of pasture, green
as emerald, dotted with trees-~here
in clusters, there a stately oak or a
knotted elm, with not foot of
straight wood in its branches. A
little crooked river runs through
the meadows at the bottom of the
sweeping vale of green, like silver
| thread, fringed on either size by
willow trees and alder bushes.
A short distance from the hamlet
on the west, reposing in quiet soil
tude among willows and oaks,
stands the old parochial church.
| Around the grey, crumbling walls
sleep the dead of many generations.
There is no obstructing fence or
hedge around the sacred place. None
is needed-it is holy ground. More,
it is the undebated domain of the
dead, and the sanctifed temple Of
the living. And in those days, the
old church porch, the sacred walls,
the holy altar, and the sanctuary
! of graves, were things invested with
a solumn awe and reverence; and
these feelings were sufficient pro-
lection against needless intrusion
or wanton Dissertation. Not piety
only, but superstition also, stood
guard over this weird spot. The
time-worn tombs, the Wondering
headstones, leaning over the half
sunken graves; the black and
withered trunks Of dead trees,
stretching out their long, skeleton
arms, and the dread consciousness
of the presence Of the departed, all
helped to inspire feeling of awe in
the minds of those simple and sus-
ceptible villagers.
But there was one individual who
did not partake of the feeling of
dread and awe which was felt by
the most of his neighbors. This
was Seth Morton. His little cottage
was in near proximity to the church.
He was the priests right-hand man.
| He was usher, clerk and sexton. He
cleaned the pews and said "amen y
after The reading Of the collect
digged the graves, and threw hand
full of dirt upon the coffin, when the
priest said, flashes to ashes; dust to
DUST" and tolled the church bell
for service and for the dead. The
old church seemed to him a part of
his home. He felt as little fear
among tombstones and graves, as
he did in his little flower garden
back of his cottage. Seth Morton
had filed the responsible Office of
sexton for thirty-five years, just
half his life, forhe was now seventy
And the SHOWS which he had fol-