Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1886-08-06

l had been asleep some time, for the
moon was low in the sky and the dawn
breaking when | awoke with hearing O
tramplng o. feet coming down the lane.
l listened and the tramplng came
nearer and sounded hcavy-like, as IL
they were carrying something. II
stopped at the gate, and then heard
the click o. the latch. Mothers room
was at the back, so it was no use to look
out o. the lattice. l was creeping softly
down stairs, when mother awoke and
asked If father had come in.
| al think he's coming now, mother"
l said. 1'll fetch thee a cup o. tea"
and | went down and opened the door,
and there stood one o. the keepers,
William Balshaw, as married my cousin
Anne.
"Where's father?" said, trying to
look past him,
"See now, Eunicc," he Gays, "thou
nun keep brave heart, lass. How is
thy mothcrP"
"She's no better, and asking for
father"
"Well, thou nun, puther of. I've i'll
news for thee, poor lass; thy mother
must know naught of it There's been
n bit O. fight with them Northover chaps,
an'-an' we've browt thy father home. "
My heart seemed to turn to stone.
"Is father klledP" / asked. Thou
may as well tell me, William"
AYE, that is so. I'm main sorry for
thee, Eunice, I'll tell 'em to bring him
in and lay him on the settle here, and
I'll send Anne round to thee"
With that they carried father in and
laid him on the settle. He was very
peaceful-like to look at. William said
he had been shot in the chest, and died
quite quiet and easy. But all tiie while
seemed to know there was more TO
hear-ayc, and worse, for when was
STOPPING DER father one o. the men
said something to William that | didn't
rightly catch. and William says back to
him. speaking low: NAY, there's no
call to say more just now, poor lass; it II
do by-and-by." With that they went
away, and | took mother her tea, feel
ing all dazed-like.
"Where's thy father, EuniceP" she
says.
AMI | answered her:
Hes coming up presently, mother;"
and then she fell asleep again, being
very weak.
So the day wore on, and Cousin Anne
came, and Squire Lawson and some
other gentlemen; but didn't see them,
for William We're round again, and he
told them all about father. When they
were gone l left Anne sitting with
mother, and went down to William and
asked him how it came about that faeher
was shot.
"There was bit o. fight with tn
poachers, lass, an one o. them had
gun"
"Was there only one gun, WilliamP"
l says.
"Only one, lass, dunnot think thy
father was shot o. purpose. / were all
in the thick o. the bother. We were
iightin' with ash-sticks, an thy father
were in the midst, when the chap with
tn gun let fly at us, an the shot hit thy
father. That's how it were done,
Eunice."
"And where is he that did itp" | says,
lookin' out o the window.
Hes away, lass. In hiding some
where. There's no call for thee to fret
about that. Most like he'll get away to
furrin parts. see thou guesses who it
is, Eunice. It's main hard for thee"
he says, taking my hand, meaning
kindly, for he was a good man, was
William. But pulled my hand away
and ran out into the fields. 1t was get
ting on for sundown then, and as |
leant against the fence feeling sick and
giddy-liic, the corncrake began croak-
ing in the long grass. rs it had done
over night. And | thought of yestereve,
when Tom stood there with his gun and
l tried to turn him away from those
who led him astray. 1t had all ended
now; father was dead and mother
was dying, and Tom-but | would not
think of Tom. Then Anne came out to
me, saying mother was asking for me.
So | went in, and mother looked at me
and said:
Thou art good lass. l think thy
father is dead-I dreamt it just now
and thou art hiding it. 'Tis no matter;
l shall know soon. The Lord bless
thee, Eunicem
And after that she went into sort o.
faint, and died. So father and mother
were both buried on the same day, and
it was settled that i should go and live
with my Aunt Deborah, some six miles
away; William was TO drive me over that
same evening. Well, at sundown, all
the things being packed, and nothing
left to do, l went through the field to the
side o. the brook. where / had used to
meet Tom, and there | sat on a fallen
tree, thinking of all the Eouble, and
how my life seemed dead and buried
with father and mother Close by me
was thick clump o palm, willows, an
dog-roses, an grass all a-tangle, reach
ing DER the bank; an when I'd sat
thinking while, | heard n rustling, an
voice saying: "Eunce, lass!" / knew
the voice right well, though it gave me
start at the moment.
"ls it thou, Tomp" asked.
Aye he says, parting the leaves,
and looking through. 1--WE been lying
here all day to get glimpse o thee. ]
thought may be thou wouldst come
down here afore thou went of, there's
much that I've got to say to thee"
at may be much or little" answer
ed him "but l desire to have naught
from thee, Tom. Dost thou know father
is deadp
"Aye, Eunice; but that was ill-luck.
never meant to hurt thy father 1t
were all done in tn hurry. / didn't
notice as he were among the keepers.
That's why nun run the country. |
might stand to be took up if there were
naught against me but tn birds, but
this O. thy father is a hanging matter,
so / nun run the country. I'm going
on board ship tomorrow, and I've
brought thee enow to pay thy passage
out to me, lass, and We'll be wed when
thou lands. "
Tom" said, ''its not for we two
to wed now thou hast killed my father.
/ wonder how thou canst think o. such
n thing. May be trouble has made thee
dazed-l ke. ="
"Ididn't go for to kill thy father" he
says, angrily.
"That don't make no difference, /
says; sit was thy wrong-doing that
caused thee to be going with poachers,
and with gun in thy hand. Thou
vast warned, an thou paid no heed. 1
can nnunr ~ ed Ihen Tnm L told Ihne