Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1897-05-13

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out from pair of bushy eyebrows.
with my usual nose for seeming a
story, Immediately set this man down
as one who could furnish material,
and meant some time to work him.
zone evening sat in my little room
at the inn, smoking and watching the
piled up clouds that hung over the hor-
lion, betokening a coming storm. The
night was warm and sultry, and the sea
perfectly calm, and as the storm would
probably be hours coming up, stepped
out of the window, and set out up the
hill for a stroll.
II walked on, not thinking Of any
definite place, and presently found my
self at the old church, and at the same
moment smelt the odor of pipe. Then
! saw, sitting in the shadow of one OF
the pillars, figure, which the light of
the moon in the first quarter scarcely
revealed.
It's just NEE, sor, Old Roger, from
the 'Glades, cross the way, said cor
dial voice.
az often come here to smoke and
think. There is so much work over
yonder that man has no time to think,
an I'm gettin' bit old, now, sir.
You'll be the gentleman that is
stoppin' at Sawyer's, in the village. l
knowed yo' by your smokin' a segyar,
sor. Churchstile smokes pipe.
Thank'ye, Til try 1t, though I'm some
afeard of EN-; but to be social, sor, I'll
try it.
A few adroit questions set him to
talking about himself, his master, and
the old days at Hetherglade.
Master is strange man, and a
bit set, but i speak my mind to 'um
often, an he tells me to leave, but
I've served too long as man and boy
to turn out at my age. I got as good
a right to stay as he, an I tell him so.
I'm none afeard o. him, for all his
glOwerln' at me with his strange eyes.
Ever since the demon Of death ear
ried away the souls Of the two young
masters he's been lord O. the place his
self, an that were thirty years ago.
Aye, a black and sad day, and here in
this very church it were, and not
man, woman nor child but me, sor,
and now and then a visitor, has put
foot into it since. The simple folk are
afraid of the 'hants, but know that
there would be no ghosts but of my
dear young masters, an I'd be none
afeard O. them
The old man, flattered apparently by
an appreciative listener, pulled labor
iously at his cigar, and continued:
There were two masters o. Hether-
glade, and O. the church, for 1t was
never owned by the village, but were
built over three hundred year ago by
Sayman O. them times, and held by
their heirs ever since. Two kinder
nor better hearted lads never lived
than them, twins they were, an as
near alike as two peas. Tall, with
fiaxen curls that always marked the
Saymans, until this one. Their father,
who had ministered at this church for
two score Of years, were that proud of
them 1t were sinful One were a
preacher and one were a player, and
such music as come out O. that old or
gan! 1t was like the heavenly choir
"'Well, the old minister died, leav-
in everything to his two sons. an If
both O. them died without heirs. to
his brother in India, this same Jasper
Sayman. An it were down in the will
that the one should preach and the
other play so long as they lived, in the
old church here.
"'Well, looked like the old man
knowed somethin' were I'D, for he
turned up at the readin' O. the will an
were sore angry at the conditions. for
he said he were fifty then, an liable
to be an old man, an poor He's nigh
onto hundred now, sor, though you
mightn't think 1t. But the two BARNS
made him bide with them, an told him
he should be their care so long as they
lived.
sit were two years after the old
lords death,I was sexton O. this church
always, that were before were gar
dener, cook and footman, all rolled in
to one,' he added in parenthetical dis
gust.
can went up one morning to tidy
up a bit. The two lads spent much O.
their time here, one writin' Of his SER
mons, in the library O. the church. an
the other maxim music that took your
senses away, for the wonder of it.
"'When opened the door that morn
it seemed to me that the air was wrong.
1t were black with the shadow sin, 1
found in minute, an filled with the
very smell of hell.
Just in front Of the altar, to the
right of the organ, was the young
preacher, lynn dead, WI a knife in his
heart, his hand graspin' the hilt OF, as
If he had put it there hisself. The
other was sittin' at the organ, leanin'
forward, his head sunk down, an the
music crumpled up in his arms, which
were lynn on the keys. He were dead,
too, dead, as he were a playin' the
Lost Chord, they said. There were
an ugly knife wound in his neck, to