The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1899-03-11
TIE RUINED VILLAGE
ON THE HILL.
a REALISTIC STORY or CECIL
COUNTY BY j. X. POLK
RACINE

Days have passed swiftly by. weeks have
glided into months, months have tumhled
into eternity, and now we see the curtain
go up three years after And what is the
prospect beyond? All, see, we are back at
the ruined village on the hill, and standing
where first beckoned my readers at the
opening of our story. We see the cros
eyed fiddler come out of the front door of
one of the huts across the way, with Becky
Jane under his arm We hear female
voice calling from the back yard, where are
you going, Ben?
Ga, said Ben, am going down to uncle
Georges, but WILDE hacl, before night
Well, leave Beck home or You won't be
back to play for Rachel AIMS party, for
you will play all day at your uncle
Georges store and they will fill you so full
Of whislley that you cannot get home,
much less play for dance.
All right then, said Ben, nj only go as
far as the Tad Pole. The place is now
known as Knights Corner. And thther-
ward Benny started, still hanging on to his
darling old Beck. Ben did stop at the Tad
Pole and played four or five tunes, got out
side of that many doses of the ardent, then
amhled on down TO Back Creek mills not
the Neck, but the mills which are several
miles below Pivot Bridge and Chesapeake
City. Ben's, uncle George had recently
opened whiskey store at this place and
nothing greater above, below or beyond
than this heaven on earth to him.
Sometime previous to the opening of this
chapter George, the landlord, had gotten
into trouble with one of his frequent Gus.
toners and George had tried to eject him
but the customer being robust and much
younger man than George, he pummeled
the old man in an a la Sharkey style, and
George had promised to quit square with
him in the end.
Ben had been playing old Beck to the
delight of his uncle's frequenters, with
Ian, the troublesome customer, included
The flowing glass had been around many
times.
Just after sunset some girls living across
the way had sent over for the cross eyed
fiddler to come over that they might hear
the sweet strains of Becky Jane for little
while under their own roof. The violinist
had gone and the tingling sensation of the
ardent which he had quaffed at the dingy
bar Of his uncle was causing his crooked
optics to flash more hellish fire than ever.
Sometime in the night, but tin writer
does not know just at what particular hour,
George had concocted the plan by which
he was to get even with Fan, who had
drubbed him few weeks before IAN was
standing at the entrance. One OF Georges
cronys who had been thoroughly instructed
by George slipped out CT the rum mill and
fired off pistol, then ran to where cross
eyed Ben was playing for the girls and
yelled out, Ben, IAN has shot your uncle
George. 1t is said that Ben even dropped
old Beck to the floor and coatless and hat
less ran from the place yelling, where is
Ian? | will cut his heart out Where is
he? Where is he? By this time several
had called to IAN to run for his life, and
the poor intoxicated wretch started to run
up the road
We are informed that hedge barrier
was on either side of the highway up
which IAN was fleeing from the terrible
cross eyed fiddler for his life. On, on the
poor victim fed but with cleaning knife
uplifted crooked eyes was gaining at every
stride. IAN looked back and took in the
situation at a glance. He utters a cry OF
terror then bolts for the hedge. Great
guns! he is fast in the thorns and crooked
eyes is upon him. All hands up with
mortal horror, then hasten down with the
curtain on the terrible scene by the road
side.