Connecticut western news., 1892-04-28
MAID SHELLS LOVER.

It was a sweet summers afternoon. toward the middle of the Fifteenth cen tury, and the inhabitants of the little village of Friars Holt were all assembled upon the green. watching the attempts of some of the younger men to send their arrows straight to the center of the butts which stood at one end of the chosen place of recreation.
 Another shaft missed the clout,' laughed an old man, as the arrow stuck quivering in the turf, falling three yards short of the butt. "The king will never complain that lads of Wainwood make havoc among his deer if he hears of such shooting as this"
 Hold your prate, Gaffer Jenkyn," said the young man who had discharged the last shot, pettishly unstringing his bow; lit was cross wind which marred my shooting, unless, indeed, it was the wizards ward." he added, crossing him. self devoutiy as he cast a glance of scorn and abhorrence at young maiden standing some little distance apart from the group of rustics-a fair haired girl of middle height, with pair of laugh ing gray eyes.
 Her age could scarcely have exceeded eighteen years, and the merry expres- sion of her face as she smiled at the woebegone look of the discomfited bow man had no more wizards glamour about it than is always to be found in the rippling laughter of pretty girl.
 "Yes, there she be, sure enough muttered Gaffer Jenkyn, with glance of malevolent hatred at the young girl What L~siness has she down here among us? Even if she can't cast spells herself she can tell all about us to that old warlock who lives in the ruined tower in Cairnstone Chase"
 By this time general attention was drawn to the beautiful intruder, and threats and generations were leveled at her head.
 At first the girl appeared unconscious of her danger. but all at once stone thrown by lad grazed her arm, and as she perceived the threatening attitude of the crowd look of intense terror passed across her face and she turned to fly.
 Do not let the witch escape" cried an old crone. "l lost two sweet grand children last autumn. They said it was the falling sickness. but l know better It was through the devilments of the old wizard and his ward"
 A menacing circle soon formed around the poor girl, whose entreaties for mercy were received with shouts of derisior, and she would have been seriously mal- treated had not a figure burst through the ranks of her assailants and loudly asked the meaning of their cowardly conduct.
 The man who interposed in the girls behalf was attired in the picturesque dress of forester, though he wore no badge or cognizance to show that he was the retainer of any noble house. and the cloth of which his Lincoln green doublet was composed was of finer character than that in which servitors were attired.
 "Hullo, my masters" cried he. step- ping between the maiden and her assail ants: "what wit is this? By the bones of Jonathan the Archer, call ye your selves Englishmen to behave in such a manner?
 A confused chorus of explanation rose from the little crowd, but the smith, who had first suggested violent meas ures, strode to the front.
 "This is no business of thine, Hob of the Butts," growled he. "Get ye to your own business of stealing the kings deer and leave honest men to look after their own affairs.
 "We will have no witches or warlocks among us, and this wench, who lives up at Cairnstone Chase with old Michael Rexthorpe. shall not come down here casting her spell over us and ours" As he spoke he laid rough, sinewy hand upon the shoulder of the shrinking | girl, but in a moment staggered back under the effects of heavy blow dealt him by the man called Hob of the Butts, who, placing the girls arm in his. drew her through the crowd, not one of which ventured to manifest any opposi- ton.
 Neither spoke word until they had left Friars Holt some little distance be- hind them, and then the girl said tim idly:
 | ''l thank you, fair sir, for your kind ness in rescuing me from that dreadful man. l thought 1 should have died with terror when he laid his hand on me-"
 The forester laughed merrily. Matt Clink and 1 understand each other pretty one," said he. But tell me, who are you? Why did they call you a witch and want to throw you into the pondY'
 Tears started to the girls eyes, ''l am called Sybil Tressider." answered she, "and am no witch, though live up in Cairnstone Chase with that fearful man, Michael Rexthorpe.
 My father, Reginald Tressider, who believed that ne could find the philoso pher's stono, was the owner of the house in the Chase and Michael Rexthorpe was his trusted familiar and acolyte but my poor father died and the fear some man Michael has taken every. thing He says am his ward. and though am not absolutely prisoner yet he has forbidden me to go beyond certain limits.
 Hob of the Butts stroked bis chir thoughtfully. "A sad tale." said he But what doth he up in the lonely tower, from whence as 1 have passed that way at night have seen strangely colored vapors issue and clouds ot bright sparks float away like evil de mons on their errand of ill"
 He searches for two things-the se cret of eternal youth and the waters O oblivion" replied Sybil Tressider.
 Hob of Butts looked puzzled 'Iknov not what you mean by the last. said he
 ''It is the draft which brings forget fulness." answered the maiden.
 "Then Matt Clink often finds tha when he quaffs the nut brown ale" re turned the forester, with his merry laugh "l cannot ask thee in." replied Sybil | sGl1af from tho hoffo,,, of