The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1897-02-27
PART 1.

PARI l.
The events of this story happened
many years ago in the uncomfortable
old days of stage coaches and post
horns, when human nature wore less
veneer than now and the honesty OF pow
srty was more than tradition. Then
tho little town of Market Wander, In
tho western shires. was a place or
mighty Importance, full of business.
Bucobc farmers of the old sort, nour-
ished on red beef and ss eet ale, swag-
0eped at fairs with their swollen hands
deep in their breeches, and were men
TO lie reclSoned with as voters in the
Tory iuterea. They rode their sleek
mares rolIghshod over the country, APP
prAising the value OF cattle with one
thrust of their crops, and were easily
recognizable at fifty yards as genuine
John Bulls by every Peeping Tom Of a
varabond artist. There were squires
then who lived in Oranges and Halls
and were great on a thousand pounds
Der annum: and shocked pessantry to
pull a meek forelock; ghosts walked in
the graveyasds. unabashed by physical
research societies; tobacco and liquors
were always good and often contra
band; the valde of a sheep was mans
life. In those days the national sense
of humor was of the rough-and-tumbie
eort; laws were framed on the club-and-
Ihim principle Britons loved their
wives sturduy, impartially thrashed
their sons and died respected in pickle
Of alcohol
In such hearty times, as you may sup
pose, the very commonplaces of life were
romantic. and the true tale that L am
about to teR is but one of a thick Sc
ries. 1t owes its survival TO one Jacob
Bern, or Barn, who served Hannah Wray
in MS youth and told me her story IN his
garrulous dotage.
She was a woman OF whom nothing
certain could be said Before her ad-
vent in the town Il was known that the
cottage which she afterward occupied
had been let To q London lady. The cot
tage was on the souire's land. and the
.squire's bailiff. sgnan full of affairs. was
made drunk in 1.-The Home Tap" and in
dustriously piled with questions. But
20 no satisfactory end. He gave her
name. and hazarded that she was mar.
ried and lived alone; ha did not know il
her husband were dJA OF not. Shs
was distinctly related % the squire, he
fancied; but even this Ne was not sure
of. He did his honest best to pay for
his liberal refreshment with liberal in
formation. but. having acted a. blind
agent in the matter, and being man OF
small Imagination, his success was
meagcr. At the end Of the cxDes-exam-
ination,the folk thought him but poor
sort of fellow, after all.
Hannah Wray came and was seen.
But hAr very appearance was mysteri-
GUS and battling. 1t was impossible to
tell her age. Her plentiful dark hair
was thickly streaked with white; but
her face, though mark ed by SORROW, was
youth; her eyes were lustnous,
her lips were proudly curved, the out
line of her chin and tlroat was round
and firm. She came prosaicaliy riding
on the London coach, burtiencd with
many feminine bundles and boxes. Tho
pcasantry watched her from afar and
spied upon her through the garden
hedge when she was at last installed in
her cottage. 1t was reckoned ~ en- un-
common misfortune that her cottage
was the last in Market Wander aud sep
arated from it 10y bluff OF hill.
On the second day of her stay In tho
little town some building operations
were begun in Hannah Wray's garden.
The heat vegetable mounds and bud
ding peas were swept away, an apple
tree was ruthlessly uprooted. tho
ragged rose and fruit bushes were cast
forth 10 wither in the road. A rectan-
fe4s4aH =. brick wall struck x4ap- from the
luscious soil, with one wide break for |
door. In month the building was fin
ished, and proved TO be a very handsome
stable. beside which the cottage had a
forlorn appearance, as IL weighed down |
with sense OF its comparative dingi- |
ness. For many weeks the stable re-
irained uroccupied, aud the name of |
Hannah Wray's Folly" fastened upon
IL. But one evening Shepherd Gurney
told strange thing at a meeting OF |
conversationalists In "The Home Tap"
II were thinkin' deep" he said, "or |
mayhap dozin,' when heerd the sheep |
a-sairryin' about an bleatin' wi fright. |
was razzled ike at first, an could not |
fetch at what was the tear An all the
while l could hear a thumpin' an
thumpin' for all the world like harse's
hoofs. was pitched near the top o the
hill. an the sheep came bundlin' up
from the thither side, in front o. the
noise like. / could pick 'em out in black
agin the clouds As they come up one on
one an huddled about. At last i ups
an climbs TO the right top o. the hill
an looks down. There was the sheep
still a-comin' up all in a wedge an
justle, wi the heavy owes behind. an
their bleat was pitifu'. An see the
cause of IL all In a wink. Sure emo,
rs had thought, IL were harse-a big
stallion, blacker than your funeral hat.
with a woman on IL. They was racin'
over the barrows like a shadder. the
Garse's name an tail an the woman's