Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1892-07-21

WasTraTeillng ID The south
western part of yifs ii ess5, owing
10 the yiolence u <nsI5en snow.
storm, vas belas. ma forced 10
pass the night 1t littzs wayside
tavern remote from 9linary routes
of travel.
don't mind I'd <sine that /
was then good e ng bachelor
on the sunny side i s; IT.. nor that
l uas r'l.ss.-. -. xkesi S.ssss4z -.zss..
chant, but most folks denominate a
pedler. Now, ] am only super
ANIMATED old man, fit for nothing
but to tell tales of what happened
to Eim in his younger days.
That was before network of rail-
roads covered the country, and we
commercial gents" who could
afford it travelled in light, covered
wagons, carrying our goods with us.
| had been making a longish stay
in Norfolk, laying in my stock, and
when my business there was finished,
/ started west, intending to visit
some of the inland villages and
plantations. As / said before, l
had got belated and bewildered by
the storm, and stumbling on this
little lonely house of entertainment,
determined to put up there for the
night.
1 can't say was much pleased
with the looks of things, for more
lonesome and desolate place / never
beheld; nor were the countenances
of mine host and his wife more pre-
possessing. l had some valuable
goods in my wagon and a good
horse, besides some money, SO / was
worth robbing and perhaps mur-
dering. 1t was Hobson's choice,
however, so / decided to make the
best of it; and after supper of fried
bacon and eggs and corn bread, /
asked to be shown to my room.
that room, eefhgl tn9lE EOlEas lKEEsa5ssAsSS saiS
a shed attached to the rough, board |
ed cabin dignified by the title of
tavern, with single unglazed win
dow closed by heavy shutter. 1t
was as cold as the dickens, and after |
having my packs placed in the room |
and seeing the door and window
securely fastened, / tumhled into
bed, not examining the condition
Of the sheets too closely, but pray
ing there might be cover enough to
keep me from freezing.
l soon fell asleep, for l was dead |
beat from driving so far in the cold,
aud over the vilest roads that ever
mortal travelled. Unjust have slept |
for some time, for when l awoke |
Ill the lights in the house were out,
and everything was profoundly |
quiet. What had awakened me i |
could not tell. but all of a sudden |
| found myself sitting up in bed, |
with my eyes staring wildly at the |
blank darkness, and my hair STIR
ring and lifting on my head. A
strange feeling possessed me that
something uncanny, something
dreadful, perhaps deadly, was near
me, but could neither see nor hear
After waiting for some moments
in that state of intense suspense
which follows q sudden shock from
sleep, l regained sufficient self
possession to remember that had
a box of matches in my pocket, and
reached out my hand for my
clothes which l had left lying on a
chair by the bedside. Something
moist and warm touched it, licking
it like the tongue of a dog.
/ felt immensely relieved. OF
course it was dog; a dog which had
been sleeping under the bed and
had crawled ont to make acquain-
tance with the new inmate, l lay
down, drew the bedelothes over me,
and tried to sleep again; but could
not. The strange, eerie feeling
grew stronger every mement. L
could not persuade myself it was
really dog in the room. A dog
would have made some noise;
should have heard it scratching or
moving about, but everything was
deadly still.
While / lay vainly trying to rea-
son myself into going to sleep,
soft, warm touch. passed rapidly
over my face. What on earth was
it? What could it be? Nothing
human, / was sure. Now, / really
must strike light and see what