The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1883-07-17

THE NOCTURNAL VISIT.
*** Whence is that knocking?
How is't with me when every sound appalls me?
$50 hear a knocking
In the south entry, Harkl-more knocking!
SHAKESPEARE.
Hurricane Hall is large old family man
sion, built of dark, red sandstone, in one of
the loneliest and widest of the mountain re-
gions Of Virginia.
The estate is surrounded ON three sides
by range OF steep, gray rocks. spiked with
clumps of dark evergreens, and called, from
its horseshoe form, the DEVILS Hoof.
On the fourth side the ground gradually
descends in broken rock and barren soil to
the edge of the wild mountain stream known
as the DEVILS Run.
When storms and foods were high, the
loud roaring of the wind through the wild
mountain gorges, and the terrific raging of
the torrent over its rocky course, gave to
this savage locality its il-omened names of
Devils Hoof, Devils Run, and Hurricane
Hall.
Major Ira Warfield, the lonely proprietor
OF the Hall, was veteran officer, who, in
disgust at what he supposed to be ill-requit-
ed services, had retired from public life to
spend the evening of his vigorous age on this
his patrimonial estate. Here he lived in Sc
clusion, with his old-fashioned housekeeper,
Mrs. Condiment, and his old family servants,
and his favorite dogs and horses.
In person Major Warfield was tall and
strongly Dnilt, like some iron limbed Doug
las of the olden time.
In character Major Warfeld was arrogant,
domineering, and violent; equally loved and
feared by his faithful old family servants at
home; disliked and dreaded by his neigh
bors aud acquaintance abroad, who, partly
from his house, and partly from his charac-
ter, fixed upon him the appropriate nick
name OLD HURRICANE
There was, however, other ground Of aver
sion besides that of his arrogant mind, VIC
lent temper and domineering habits. Old
Hurricane was said to be an old bachelor
yet rumor whispered that there was in some
obscure part of the world, hidden away
from human sight, deserted wife and child,
poor, forlorn, and heart-broken. 1t was
further whispered that the older brother of
Ira Warfield had mysteriously disappeared,
and not without some suspicion of foul play
on the part of the only person in the world
who had strong interest in his stalking
off," However these things might be, it was
known for certainty that Old Hurricane
had an only sister, widowed, sick and poor,
who, with her son, dragged on a wretched
life of ill-requited toll, severe privation, and
painful infirmity, in distant city, unaided,
unsought and uncared for by her cruel
brother.
1t was the night of the last day of October,
eighteen hundred and forty-five. The even
ing had clesseed N dark anu geccs 80 ~
dusk the wind arose in the northwe. -4Iy-
ing up masses of leaden-hued clouds, and in
a few minutes the ground was covered deep
with snow, and the air was filled with driv-
ing sleet.
As this was ALI Hallow Eve, the dreadful
inclemency of the weather did not prevent
the negroes of Hurricane Hall from availing
themselves of their capricious old masters
permission, and going off in a body to ban
10 breakdown held in the quarters of their
next neighbor.
Upon this evening, then, there was left at
the hall only Major Warfeld, Mrs. Condi-
ment, his little old housekeeper, and Wool,
his body-servant
Early in the evening the old house was
shut up closely to keep out as much as pos
sible the sound of the storm that roared
through the mountain chasms, and cannon
AIDED the walls as if determined to force an
entrance. As soon as she had seen that all
was safe, Mrs. Condiment went to bed and
to sleep.
1t was about ten O'Clock that night that
Old Hurricane, wrapped up in his quilted
flannel dressing-gown, sat in his padded
armchair before warm and bright FIRE, TAX
ing his ease in his own bedroom. This was
the hour of the contest enjoyment to the
self-indulgent SYbarite. And, indeed, every
means and appliance OF bodily comfort was
at hand. Strong oaken shutters, and thick,
heavy curtains at the windows, kept out
every draft OF air, and so deadened the
sound of the wind that its subdued moaning
was Just sufficient to remind one of the
stormy weather withC ut in contrast with the
bright warmth within. Old Hurricane as |
said, sat well wrapped up in his wadded
dressing gown, reclining in his padded easy
chair, with his head thrown back, and his
feet upon the fre-irons, toasting his shins
and slipping his punch.
On his left hand stood his coy Dedstead,
with it's warm crimson curtains festooned
back, revealing the luxurious swell of the
full feather bed and pillows with their
snow-white linen and lambswool blankets
inviting repose. Between this bedstead and
the corner of the fireplace stood Old Hurri
canes ancient body-servant, Wool, engaged
in warming crimson cloth night cap.
81 take this, said Old Hurricane, as he
slipped his punch and smacked his lips-'I
lake this to be the very quintessence of hu-
man Djoyment-sittiDg here in my soft,
warm chair before the ire, toasting nay legs,
slipping my punch, listening on the one hand
TO the storm without, and glancing on the
other hand at my comfortable bed waiting
there to receive my sleepy head.
81 wonder now IL there is anything on the
face of the earth that would tempt me to
night? l wonder how large a promise of
pleasure Or profit or glory it would take
nowp
ssMuch as ebber Congress Itself could give
If it give you penance for all your sarvins."
suggested Wool.
Eyes, and more! for wouldn't leave my
home comforts tonight to insure not only
the pension but the thanks of Congress-"
said the old man, replenishing his glass with
afnr lpisIIrp-
ly.
The clock struck eleven. The old man
again filed his glass, and, while slipping it's
contents, said:
"You may fill the warming-pan and warm
my bed, Wool. The fumes of this fragrant
punch are b. ginning to rise to my head and
make me sleepy"
The servant filled the warming-pan with
glowing embers, shut down the lid, and
thrust It between the sheets, to heat the
couch of the Injurious Old Hurricane. The
old man continued to toast his feet, sip his
punch, and smack his lips. He finished his
glass, set it down, and was ju t in the act OF
drawing on his wooden night-cap preparatory
to stepping into his wel.-warmed bed, when
he was suddenly startled by a loud ringing
of the hall-door bell.
'sWhat the foul fiend can that mean at this
time of night?" exclaimed Old Hurricane,
dropping his night-cap, and turning sharply
around towards Wool, who, warming-pan in
hand, stood staring with astonishment.
"What does that mean, ask you?'
"'Deed, dunno, sar, less it's some be-
niQhted trabeller in search o. shelter outn
de storm"
sHumphl and in search of supper, too, of
course, and everybody gone away or gone to
bed but you and me-"
At this moment the ringing was followed
by loud knocking.
"Marse, don't les you and me listen to it,
and then we amt 'biiged to sturb ourselves
wild answering of IT," suggested Wool.
"What. sirl do you think that / am going
to turn deaf ear to a stranger that comes
to my house for shelter on such night as
this? Go and answer the bell directly"
"Yes, sar."
ssRut ston-look here-mnd l am not to