Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-06-15

IdcneQ lie almost uniformly IN low anu
damp situations. They are embedded in
trees; their appearance is gloomy and mel
ancholy. The vegetation grows rank around
them. The drive is overgrown with weeds
and MOSES, and lichens cling to the walls.
Carne's Hold possessed none of these fea-
lures. It stood high up on the slope of a
hill, looking down into the valley of the
Dare, with the pretty village of Carnesford
nesting among its orchards, and the bright
stream sparkling in the sunshine.
There was nothing either gloomy or for
bidding about its architecture, for the term
"Hold' that the country people applied to
it was now q misnomer, for the bombarders
of Essex had battered the walls of the old
fortified house. and had called in the aid of
fire 10 finish the work of destruction. The
whole of the present house was therefore
subsequent to that date; it had been added
to and enlarged many times, and each of its
owners had followed out his own fancies in
utter disregard of those of his predecessors;
consequently the house represented med
ley of diverse styles. and, although doubt
less an architectural monstrosity, was spictur-
esque and pleasing to the eye of men igno-
rant Of the canons of art.
There were no large trees near it, though
a clump rose a few hundred yards behind it,
and took away the effect of baroness it
it would otherwise have had The
garden was we'll kept, and bright with
flowers, and it was clear that no biighting
influence hung over them, nor, it would be
thought, upon the girl, who, with straw
hat swinging in one hand, and basket
moved among them. But the country peo-
pie for six miles round firmly believed that
a curse Law on Carne's Hold, and even
among the county families no one would
have been willing to give a daughter in
marriage to an owner of the place. The
family now simply called their abode The
Carnes.
Carnesford, now good-sized village, had
once been a tiny hamlet, an appanage of
Carne's Hold, but it had long since grown
out of leading strings, and though it still
regarded The Carnes with something of its
old feudal feeling, it now furnished no suit
or service unless paid for so doing. Carnes-
ford had grown but little of late years, and
had no tendency to increase. There was
work enough in the neighborhood for such
of its inhabitants as wanted to work and in
summer cart went daily with fruit and
garden produce to Plymouth, which lay
about 20 miles away, the coast road
dipping down into the valley, and crossing
the bridge over the Dare at Carnesford, and
then climbing the hill again to the right of
the Hold.
Artists sometimes stopped for week or
two to sketch the Quaint old-fashioned
houses in the main street, and especially the
mill of Hiram Powlett, which seemed to
have changed in no way since the days
when its owner held it on the tenure of
grinding such corn as the owners of the
Hold required for the use of themselves and
their retainers. Often, too, in the season, a
fisherman would descend from the coach as
it stopped to change horses at the Carne's
Arms, and take up his quarters there, for
there was rare fishing in the Dare, both in
the deep still pool above the mill and for
three or four miles further up, while sea
trout were nowhere to be found plumper
and stronger than in the stretch of water
between Carnesford and Dareport, two miles
away.
Here, where the Dare ran into the sea,
was q fishing village as vet untouched, and
almost unknown even by wandering tour
lists, and offering indeed no accommodation
whatever to the stranger beyond what he
might perchance, obtain in the fishermen's
cottages. The one drawback to Carnesford
as its visitors declared, was the rain. It
certainly rained often there, but the villagers
scarcely noticed it. 1t was to the rain,
they knew, that they owed the bright green
of the valley and the luxuriousness of their
garden crops, which always fetched the top
price in Plymouth market; and thev were
so accustomed to the soft mist brought up
by the southwest wind from over the sea
that they never noticed whether it was
raining or not.
Strangers, however, we're less patient, and
3 young man who was standing at the door
of the Carnes Arms just as the evening was
> - = Al.
ming of October, 1850, looked gloomlly out
at the weather. Zone does not mind when
one is fishing" he muttered to himself,
''but when one has once changed into dry
clothes one does not want to be prisoner
here every evening. Another day like this,
and shall pack up my traps and get back
again on board.
He turned and went back into the house.
and entering the bar, took mis- seat in the
little sanctum behind it, for he had been
staying in the house for a week, and was
now a privileged parsonage. 1t was a snug
little room; some logs were blazing on the
hearth, for although the weather was not
cold, it was damp enough to make a fire
pleasant. Three of the landlords particu-
lar cronies were seated there: Hiram Pow
lett, the miller, and Jacob Carey, the black
smith, and old Reuben Claphurst, who had
been the village clerk until his voice became
so thin and uncertain treble that the vicar
was obliged to find successor for him.
''Sit down, Mr.. Gulston," the landlord
said, as his guest entered. "Fine day it
has been for fishing, and nice basket you
have brought in.
"It's been well enough for fishing. land
lord, but l would rather put up with a
lighter basket, and have a little pleassnter
weather"
The sentiment evidently caused surprise.
which Jacob Carey was the first to give ex-
preston to.
"You don't say, now, that you call this
unpleasant weather, sir? Now 1 call this
about as good weather as we could expect in
the first week of October; warm and soft,
and in every way seasonable"
"It may be all that" the guest said, as he
lit his pipe, "but I own don't care about
having the rain trickling down nv neck
from breakfast time to dark
"Our fishermen about here look on lit
tie rain as good for sport, Hiram Powlett
remarked.
"No doubt it is; but 1 am afraid I
am not much Of a sportsman. 1 used to
be fond of fishing when was lad, and
thought should like to try my hand at it
again, but am afraid am not as patient
as was don't think sea life is q good
school for that sort of thing"
'I fancied now that you might be sailor
Mr.. Gulston, though / didn't make so bold
as to ask. Somehow or other there was
something about your way that made me
think you was bred up to the sea. didn't
know, for can't recollect as ever we have
had sailor gentlemen staying here for the
hshing before"
No" Mr. Gulgton laughed. tI don't