National Republican., 1883-07-16

Hurricane Hall is large old family mau-
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 floods were high, the
loud roaring of the wind through tho wild
mountain gorges, and the terrific raging of
the torrent over its rocky course, gave to
this savage locality its ill-omened names of
Devils Hoof, Devils Run, and IIurrioah
Hall.
Major Ira Warfield the lonely proprietor of
the Hall, was n veteran officer who, in dis
gust at what he supposed to bo ill-requited
services, had retired from public life to spend
the evening Of his vigorous age on this his
patrimonal estate. Here he lived in seclu-
sion with his old-fashioned housc<eepcr,
Mrs. Condiment, and his old family servants,
and his lavorite dogs and horses.
In person Major Warfeld was tall and
oJIUnBlg DullNI llhC bOlut
of the olden time.
In character Major Warfield was arrogant,
domineering, and violent; equally loved and
feared by his faithful old family servants at
home; disliSed and dreaded by his neighbors
and acquaintance abroad, who, partly from
his house, and partly from his character, fixed
upon him the appropriate nickname Of OLD
HURRICANE.
There was, however, other ground of aver
sion hpaidps that Of his arrnunht mind vi
temper, and domineering habits. Old Hurri-
cane was said to be an old bachelor, yet ru-
NOR 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 oc the
only person in the world who had n strong
interest in his taking off" However those
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 wretched life of ill-requited
toll severe privation, and painful infirmity,
in distant city, unaided unsought, and un-
cared for by her cruel brother.
1t was the night of the last day of October,
eighteen hundred and forty-fivc. The even :
ing had closed in dark and gloomy. About
dusk the wind arose in the northwest, driv-
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 All Halow Eve, tho 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 body to banjo
break down held in the quarters of their next
neghbor.
Upon this evening then, there was left at
the hall only Major Warheld, Mrs. Condi-
ment, his little old housekeeper, and Wool
his body-servaut.
Early in the eveningt the old house was shut
up closely to keep out as much as possible the
sound of the storm that roared through the
mountain chasms, and Cannonaded the walls
as If det rmned to force an entrance. AS
soon as she had seen that all was safe, Mrs.
Condiment went to bod and to sleep.
1t was about 10 o'clock that night that Old
Hurricane, wrapped up in his quilted flannel
dressing gown, sat in his padded arm chair
before warm and bright fire, taking his ease
in his own bedroom. This was tho hour of
the coziest enjoyment to the self indulgent
Sybarite Aud, indeed, every means and ap-
pliance of bodily comfort was at hand
Strong oaken shutters, and thick, heavy cur
tains at the windows, kept out every draft of
air, and so deadened the sound of the wind
to remind one of the stormy weather without
in contrast to the bright warmth within. Old
Hurricane, as / said, sat we'll wrapped up in
his wadded dressing grown, reclining in his
padded easy chair, with his head thrown
back, and his feet upon the fire irons toast
ing his shins and sippinghis punch.
On his left hand stood his cOzy b.dstcad,
with its warm crimson curtains festooncd
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 cor
ner of tho Fireplace stood Old Hurricanes
ancient body-servant, Wool, engaged in
warming II crimson cloth nght-cap
II take this" said Old Hurricane, as he
slipped his punch and smacked his lips-"I
take this to be the very quntessenoe of hui
man enjoyment--sitting here in my soft warm
chair before the fire, toasting my 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.
/ wonder now if there is anything on the
face of the earth that would tempt me to leave
my coay freside and so abroad tonight?
wonder how large promise of pleasure or
profit or glory it would take nowP'
Much as ebber Congress Itself could give
If it give you penance for all your saryins,"
suggested Wool.
Yes, and more for | wouldn't leave my
home comforts tonight to insure not only the
pension but the thanks of Congress-" said tile
old man, replenishing his glass with steaming
punch, and drinking it of leisurely.
The clock struck eleven. The old man again
filled his glass, and, while slipping its contents,
said:
You may fill the warming-pan and warm
my bed, Wool The fumes of this fragrant
punch are beginning 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 luxurious Old Hurricane. The old man
continued to toast his feet, sip his punch, and
smack his lips. He finished his glass, set il
down, and wcS just in the act of drawing on
his woolen nlght cap preparatory to stepping
into hE well-warmed bed, whom he was sud
den>3 startled by loud ringing of the hall
door bell.
What the foul fond 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, l ask your"
Deed, dunno, sar, less It's some benighted
trabeller in search o. shelter outn de storm"
"Humph aud in search of supper, too of
course, and everybody gone away or gone to
bed hut 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 'biged TO sturb ourselves
wild answering of it," sugge ted Wool
What, sir do you think that am going