The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1889-03-02

! and if there were, how could one can
for help with that awful thing over
ones mouth? All this was very silly;
my excuse may be that was but a
boy, somewhat imaginative, always
pictu-ing possible and impossible
casualties. For the short time ]
was in London / never left Brook
street, SO there was no fear of losing
myself; my aunt kindly took me once
TO the play, and as we went and re
turned in a hackney coach l felt tol.
erably safe; but | confess much as ]
hated school, l was glad to go away
even to that nauseus place, SO that
/ might leave murderous London be
hind me.
| Let those of my friends who read
this confession with a contemptuous
smile on their somewh hat aged faces
remember the days of the garroters
and then let them lay their hands on
the place where their hearts ought to
be and then declare-if they can dc
SO without committing perjury-that
they never walked home from some
iovial gathering with the dread o.
| being choked and robbed before they
| got there!
l appeal to thee, my old friend
Rivers! didst not thou purposely put
on ragged coat and seedy trousers,
together with a wideawake, worn and
weather-stained fused in thy famous
picture of "The Starving Peasant'')
| so that the garroter might pass thee
| by as Improbable plumber? What
| but cowardly fear, similar to that
which l acknowledge, possessed thee
when thou misconducted thyself in
that dastardly fashion? And you,
o my friends Du Maurier and Prin.
| sep, do you not remember dining at
Pembridge Villas in garroting times,
| when your fellow-guest, Hepworth
Dixon, gave us a thrilling account OF
an attack upon him by two garroters,
how he struggled with them when
they tried to put "the hug"
upon him; how with a ma
tural dread Of those prowl.
ing miscreants, he had armed
himself with a bowie-knife, the first
fash of which in their faces fright
ened the garotters away; and even
before the applause of Dixon's valor
had ceased among us, did not you,
Du Maurier, declare that you were
one of the garotters, and that it was
Dixon who ran away? And did not
Prinsep, A. R. A, after declaring he
was the second garotter, produce a
penknife from his Waistcoat pocket
and exclaim: "And here is the bowie
knife which you dropped when you
RAM"
Gentle reader, this is but the pre-
Jude to my swelling tale, for the
truth of which l pledge my word.
Among my acquaintance are sew
eral deaf-and-dnmb artists, one or
two extremely clever ones. The study
of art recommends itselfpeculiarly to
those who are so terribly afflicted, be-
ing, perhaps, the only one they could
pursue, and then orly under condi-
tions of great. difficulty Mr.. George
Road, after passing some years in
Rome-as was the custom fifty years
ago-came to England and pitched
his tent in Southampton street, Fitz-
roy square. He was deaf, dumb, and
a bachelor, possessing, l believe, SUI.
ficient private means to make him
independent of his profession, and to
enable him to devote himself to what
are called "the highest branches OF
the art" he was, in fact, an historic
al painter of considerable merit. His
studio was q large room, with the
usual decorations and properties of
the. well-to-do painter. There were
casts from the antique, arnor, Ia
pestry and family of lay figures,
consisting of a male, female and O.
child; and in a smaller room, off the
studio, the artist keeps goodly as
sortment of brushes, colors and 9TH
er necessities of his profession. Ny
reader must bear in mind that 1 am
speaking of the time when Burke and
Hare, whose effigies now figure in
Madame Tussaud's Chamber. Of Hor-
rors-murders on the lines of Bishop
and Williams-had Mortified London
and the country by their crimes. 1t
was, in fact, just after the execution
of those worthless that Mr.. Road adj
vertised for a man-servant. The ar
fist had seen several specimens ofthe
London footman, none of which sat-
isfed him, when, to use parliamen-
tary phrase, he appealed to the
country" and on a dull morning in
November a young man presented
himself in Southampton street and
rang the painters bell.
l must premise that the wouh-be
servant was of a very timorous ma
ture; this was his. first experience of
London, a place in which murder was
in the air, with the dread of Burke
or rather, being burked, as it was
called-in full possession of him. He
had asked his way, and found il with
great difficulty, to Southampton
street. / have come from Gloucester
shire" said he to the woman who
opened the door to him, ito take a
place with this gentleman"-'fhowing
her the advertisement it suits
me thou knows" Albright, "said the
maid, walk in"
The house was dark, the staircase
gloomy, and the trembling country
man was shown into the dimly-lighted
painting room.
1t was an awful PLACED the only light
came from one halfclossd window.
The antique casts of faces, hands and
feet, looking like death in their ghast-
ly whiteness, deepened his terrors.
What did it all mean? had he fallen
into the den of a murderer? and what
are those three things covered up
with white sheets? AS he approached
the lay figures his fears were intensi-
fed; he touched the largest one-he