Morning journal and courier., 1891-01-24

me, he led the way through lsbyrinths of
cobwebbed arched Railways and huge de-
serted rooms TO a wretched apartment,
and, pointing to bed scarcely better than
pile of rags, took his departure This
was the once famous George, now the Cn-
| icorn, Inn. Eight coaches bound to Lon
don or Glasgow daily changed horses here
in the good old coaching times. Dickens
| and Browne had occupied this very room.
once a cheerful parlor chamber The
night, with untold furies of an awful
storm shrieking about the grewsome old
place, with windows rattling like crazy
castinets, doors of Railways and cupboards
opening as If flung into the room by un-
seen hands, and the very aoor-boards rest
less and disquiet as though struggling with
ugly gnomes below, seemed to unite all the
hateful and evil spirits of the dead past in
protest at disturbance by life and health
and inquiry.
But sleep will softly shut all hateful
things away from him who will come with
8 storm over Stsnemoor's wilds. When
awoke the sun was shining upon dead old
Bowes. There is silent bell-tower on the
roof of the Unicorn. / climbed to this
There lay the sinuous shell of the ancient
village-a winding, cobbled grass-grown
street of half mile in length. tianked by
| ruined houses, half OF whose thatched
rot, grass, weeds and even flowers Were
luxurisntly springing: as though nature,
seeking to hide the spot, had hidden the
winds and birds seed il for fitting dis
guise. Far TO the east the eve catches a
glimpse of the clRssic domain of Rokeby.
To the north the dells and fells where
flows the river Tees. To the south the
glen of Greta, where that river tumbles
and sings That huge, lone, stone struc-
ture, the first at Bowes from the Greta
bridge way, weird and ghostly under huge
sycamores, was once another Dotheboys.
Richard Golden once owned ii and made
it his home. Then the Cnicofn, with
acres OF out-buildings, empty and moss
grown. Opposite, another silent inn the
Rose and Crown Then, facing westward
a little Norman church Near IL the rI1-
ins of a Norman castle. Behind these ru-
ins the ancient Roman station of SavAtrae
where are remains of baths snd an aque-
duct. Then, rooted and unrOufed hoyel
on either side TO the westward. where YOU
will still see, Just as Dickens and his Mich.
olas Nickleby saw, "a long, cold-looking
house, one story high. with a few sirag-
Cling out-buildings behind, and a barn and
stable adjoining
That structure, just as 1t stands to-day.
was the abode of a real SqueeTs in the
flesh, of Mrs Squeers of Fanny Sgueers
and of a Master Wackford Squeers- All
the differnee was in the name That was
Shaw They possessed the same iguo-
rance, avarice, venality, brutality. The
old wretch of a master was ruined by the
exposure. Investigation and damage suits
stripped him of all, or rather made him TO
the end of his days an imbecile servitor TO
the man, Bousfield, who married his
daughter, Mary Ann Shaw danny
SqueersD, and who, now over eighty years
of age, savagely prevents your entrance to
the place with club and dog. If you cons.
to Dotheboys Hall you will have to con-
tent yourself with an exterior view of the
ramshackle old structure and peep from
over the hedge, behind the barn. at the
identical pump, around which the half
frozen boys gathered for their ablutions on
winter mornings Bousiield's wife. the
last of the Squeers family, died six years
since. The graves of all may be seen in
the little church-yard. Near all dread and
noxious things the divine compensation
leaves something tender, sweet and good
Close beside the execrated graves Is a tab
let erected to the memory of the two who
died for loyal love. Roger Wrightston and
Martha Railton they Were in life In i'm
mortality they are the Edwin and Emma
of Mallet's pathetic ballad. and rustic
Yorkshire lovers still find inspiration TO
endless fidelity beside these graves in the
little church-yard of dead old Bowes.
EDGAR l.. WAKEMAy