The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1883-09-01
KING PEPIN AND SWEET CLIyE.

Upon arriving at the middle of the Close
the Dean stopped. He had been walking
briskly, his chin from very custom little
tilted, but his eyes beaming with conde-
scension and general goodwill, while an
fndulgent smile playing about the lower
part of his face relieved for the time its mas
sive character. His walking stick was
swinging to and fro in loose grasp, his
feet trod the pavement of the precincts
with the step of an owner, he felt the
warmth of the sun, the balminess of the
spring air dimly, and somewhere at the
back of his mind he was conscious of a
vacant Bishopric and of his being the hus
band of one wife. In fine, he presented the
appearance of acontented placid, unruffled
dignitary until he reached the middle of
the Close.
But there, alas! the ferule of his stick
came to the ground with a mighty thud, the
sweetness and light faded from his eyes as
they rested upon Mr.. Swaimson's plot, the
condescenSiOn and goodwill became con-
splcuously only by their absence. The
Dean was undisguisely angry; he disliked
opposition as much as lesser men and met
with itmore rarely. For Bicester is old fash
Toned and loves the Church and State, but
especially the former, and looks up to
principalities and powers, and even now
eXecrateS the memory of a recreant Bices-
trian, otherwise reputable, on account of a
terrible mistake he made. 1t was at pub
lilo dinner. 81 remember" said this mis-
guided man, "going in my young days to
the old and beautiful cathedral of this city.
tGreat applause. | was only a child then,
and my head hardly reached above the top
of the seat, but | remember l thought the
Dean the greatest of living men. Whirl-
winds of applause.l Well, [smilingl per-
haps | don'tthink quite that now" Dead 81
lence. And 50 dull at bottom may even a
man be whose name is not unknown in half
the capitals of Europe that this degenerate
fellow never could guess why the friends of
his youth from that moment turned their
backs upon him.
Such is the faith of Bicester, but even in
Bicester there are heretics. To say that
the Dean rarely met with opposition is to
say that he rarely met with Mr.. Swanson,
and that he seldom saw Mr.. Swainson's plot.
AS a rule when he crossed the Close he
averted his eyes by a happy impulse of
custom, for he did not like Mr.. Swanson,
and as for the latter's plot it was dnathemG
a9drGnatba to him. The Dean was tall, Mr..
Swanson was taller; the Dean was stub
born, Mr.. SwainsonwaS obstinate; so there
arose between them the antagonism that is
born of similarity. On the other hand the
Dean was stout and Mr.. Swanson a scare
crow; the Dean was comedy and clerical,
but not over-rich; Mr.. Swanson was pallid,
iantern-jawed, wealthy, and lawyer, and
hence the dislike born of difference More
Mayor of Bicester, when there was little
dispute between the Chapter and the Bishop,
and he showed so much energy upon the
one side as to earn the nickname of the
"Mayor of the Palace" Finally, Mr..
Swanson delighted in opposition as a cat
an milk, and cared to have good reason
for his antagonism no more than puss in
the dairy about sixty years title to the
cream-pan.
But sixty years. title to his plot was
the very thing Mr.. Swanson did claim to
have. Exactly opposite his house-his
fathers and grandfather's house, too-in
which, said his enemies, they had lived and
grown fat upon cathedral patronage, lay
this debatable land. His front windows
commanded it, and on such morning as
this he loved to stand upon his doorstep
and gaze at it with the air of dog watch
ing the spot where his bone is buried, But
IL Mr.. Swanson was right, that was just
what was not buried there; there are no
bones there. True, the smoothly shorn
surface OF the little patch was divided from
the green turf around the cathedral only
by slight iron railing, but, said Mr..
swanson, ponderously Selling upon his
opponents weapon and using it with tell
ing effect, it was Of another sort altogether
of very different nature, indeed. 1t had
never been consecrated, and close as it was
to the sacred pile, being in fact separated
from it on two sides but by yard of sunk
fence, it did not belong to it, it was not of
At quoth he; it was private property, the
property of Erasmus John Swanson, and
the appanage Of his substantial red-brick
house just across the Close.
And no one could refute him, though sew
eral tried their best, to his huge delight. 1t
cannot now be exactly computed by how
many years the discovery of his rights pro-
longed his life-not certainly by some. His
liver demanded activity, namely, quar-
rel, and what a coil this was! If he had
been given the choice of opponents he would
probably have preferred the Dean and
Chapter, they were so substantial wealthy,
and all but formidable. And such a thorn
III the side of those comfortable personages
as these rights of his were like to be he
could hardly have imagined in his most
sanguine dreams or hoped for in his happi
est moments.
1t was great fun stating his claim, flout
ing it in their faces, displaying it through
the city, brandishing it in season and Out
of season, but when it come to making 9
hole in the smooth turf hitherto so sacred
and setting up an unsightly post and affix
ing to ii a board with 'Trespassers will bt
prosecuted. L. j. Swainson," the fun be
came furious. So did the Dean, so did the
Chapter, so did every salesman and verger
Bicester was torn in pieces by the contend
ing parties, but Mr.. Swanson was firm
The only concession that could be wrunl