Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1910-11-15
seems a bit rough, when all I'd sal,


was-&c.
The John Driveller, or Testamen-
tary Opening:
l, John Driveller, of st. Mary Pip
lington, in the County Of Devon, yeo-
man, being now in my sgd year, would
fain make clear, while yet there Is
time, those strange events which be-
fell me in the days when George was
king.
I have little skill in the use of
words, and my hands are more accus-
toned to the sword than the pen;
but If you would have plain story Of
stirring deeds and Of the love Of a
lad for a lass.
And here my dear wife looks over
my shoulder and playfully says she
must help me when I come to speak
Of these mathematics In which
she played so brave part.
'Tis hard to realize that sixty years
have passed since first we met. 1t
seems but yesterday, and yet today
our grandchildren are swarming like
bees in the orchard. Strange, strange!
But to our muttons, as the French
"a curious people-say.
Well, you must know I was born
&c.
Market day in Mudford:
A steady downpour Of rain had
given the High street an appearance
highly suggestive of the propriety Of
the name Of Mudford. A cold, per-
sistent rain. that ran swiftly down the
cutters Of the sloping old street, and
in thin and tortuous trickles through
the coblestones. A rain that made
every one miserable except the landlord
of the Green Pig, who did a thriving
trade in hot rum.
Nf 90 nd
drovers in the bar parlor sat man Of
a different stamp. A refined, intel
lectual man in well-fitting clothes Of
another cut than Mudford's. Mr..
Claude de Crespigny, the new tenant
of Mudford Hall-&c.
The Detective Opening:
My friend, Mr.. Henry Trapper, the
world-famous detective, leaned back
In his arm chair and puffed luxurious
ly at his disreputable clay pipe. Out
side the rain beat on the window panes
and the wind howled dismally in the
chimney pots.
fire and said cheerfully, TITS not mt
night for even a dog to be out"
Nevertheless" he replied, "a dog
is out, and, II I mistake not, is on his
way here even now. A sad dog, with
red hair and a smell of whisky
"Trapper!" I said involuntarily.
This is really too much. You are
making fun of me! How on earth
can you know
THAT he comes from Putney to tell
us about the mysterious murder Of a
middle-aged Anglo-Indian colonel at
the remote village Of Slushington?
Tut, tut, my dear fellow the thing is
comes Mr.. Jenkins. Let him tell his
own story"
The door opened and a wet, dis
hevelled creature, with red hair and
a strong smell Of whisky, entered the
room-&c.
The Peaceful Country House Open
ing:
The old tagged terrace at Row.
lands Tower was bathed in the warm
sun Of a glorious afternoon In late
September. Nothing stirred In the
shimmering heat save a big st. Ber-
nard, who snapped lazily and with
resentful grunt at a passing fly.
From the terrace one looked over
an old-world garden gay with roses
and hollyhocks. sunf1owers and larks-
SPURS, a riot of color and autumnal
beauty.
To the left lay the orchards, their
fruit trees bowed down with a gener-
Gus harvest. To the right the kitchen
gardens, flanked by the tall shelter
ing wall Of the stables. Between
them trim sloping lawns and quantity
slipped yews stretched away In the
distance to the banks Of the river,
and far beyond rose the line OF the
hills. -.,r---t.a,-.--z=,
In a hammock by the rivers bank
Law a slim young girl with a book.
The sun, filtering through the
branches Of the beech, touched her
hair with a soft caress-&c.
The Spirited, or Gadzook's, Opening:
Marked cards!"
, The cry rang through the crowded
room and was succeeded by silence
so still that one could have heard the
proverbial pin fall.
Instead there fell the hand Of my
Lord Rochester-across the mouth or
the Marquis de Chateauneuf du Pape.
In an instant swords were out and a
scene of indescribable confusion en-
sued. Chairs were overturned and
cards and dice trodden under foot
as the fashionable throng Of gamblers
pressed forward to get a glimpse or
the combatants.
MY Lord Rochester was seemingly
the coolest man in the room. with
a careless smile and an easy grace ne
took off his pale blue satin coat,
flicked a speck Of dust from the long
lace ruffles which hung over his
wrists, felt the temper Of his blade,
and, bowling courteously to his enc
my, "a votre service, Monsieur lie
Marquis" said he.
Now the Marquis de Chateauneuf
du Pape was notoriously the pest
sword that had come out Of France
ithaca manu- vaarS-&c
I write neither in sorrow nor IN
anger, much less in sarcasm, vile
habit Of which I am incapable. They
all seem to me very good openings,
and II I could I would write, quite
cheerfully, long and successful stories
in all the six styles and sell them for
large sums of money to publishers
and proprietors of papers.
AS that is beyond me, I can only
call your attention to the phenomena
and perhaps-who knows?-guide
the steps of the novice into the way
of gold Westminster Gazette.