The Miller sun. (Miller, Hand County, S.D.) 190?-19??, 1907-04-06
CHAPTER III.

I had lodgings in an isolated cottage
which had once been a dollhouse on the
old London road, just outside the park
gates of The Chase. My landlady, Mrs.
Benham, was an old gentlewoman and a
widow, with a son at sea. She was sit
ting at her tambour frame by the parlor
window and rose in establishment when
the latch of the garden gate clicked to
see me at such an unusual hour I had
been her sole companion for three years
save at those rare intervals when her
son made a flying visit and when she
heard that had come to pack up my be-
longings and leave her she burst into
tears, confessing that it gricved her more
to lose me than her own son. But see
ing that l had a sore trouble of my own
to bear, she, like true woman, thrust
her own grief aside and did her best to
give me hope and courage. 1 got the
parting over as quickly as possible, and
then with a small portmanteau, which
contained all the personal effects that
needed, | struck out across the downs in
the direction of Sandhaven. The brisk
sea breeze revived my spirits, and by the
time l reached the cliff path a dozen
hopeful projects were revolving in my
mind.
1 fattered myself with the reflection
that l was in a far better position to
make my way in the world successfully
than many others who had won fortunes,
for besides energy, strength and health.
and a strong incentive to make the most
of them, / had over fifty pounds in my
pocket and a little property, which |
resolved to turn into money at once.
This property consisted of cottage and
a few acres of ground under the cliff,
midway between Sandhaven and Tower
bridge. 1t was called the Halfway House,
and had quite a romantic history. Orig
inaily it belonged to my great-grandfather-
Peter Beamish, and desperate rascal
he was, according to all accounts. Even
now, at the age of "a, the Oldest and most
disreputable inhabitant of Bonport, signs
of indOmitable will, cunning and reck
less daring were evident in the great
hooked nose that almost met his chin, the
dark Sits of eyes cleaning like jet under
the shaggy white penthouse of his over
hanging brows, and in the quick, abrupt,
decisive movements of his shrunken old
limbs. He was tyrant in his domestic
relations and would have no women or
children in his house. When his son
Ben married, the wife was sent to live
with her mother-in-law in Sandhaven,
and Ben was permitted to go and see her
on Sundays, unless business prevented. In
comparison with his father Ben was a
cherub, meek, iuoffensive man, a rascal,
doubtless, but one who would have pre-
ferred to fall in with the times and exer
else his rascaiity in a respectable way.
But there was no resisting the rascality of
his father, who used him as a tool and
kept him under from first to last-treat-
ing him as mere boy when old Ben
was white-headed. These two, father and
son, kept the Halfway House as an inn,
but in reality it was nothing but srore
for contraband goods and rendezvous
for the gang of smugglers of which my
great-grandfather was captain.
All along that par. of the coast the
soft cliff is undermined by the encroa ch-
ing sea. There was a cavern on the
shore into which the cargoes were run,
and it was said there existed a secret
way of communication between the cave
on the shore and the house on the cliff.
In those days the preventive service was
inefficient, and the revenue men kept
away from the Halfway House as much
as possible, the company there using their
pistols as freely as we might use lucifer
matches. It was, In fact, dangerous foe
anyone to 20 near the place