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FLARRY ASHTON:
recollection gleamed athwart the dark tablet of | Murtin, and Joe were assembled at their usual
his mind, it was but fora moment—his strug-|rendezvous—the former was pesy making a
a
gles to retain it were painful to witness; at such
limes he would press his withered hand to his
brow, as if to compress the agony it occasioned
_him—glare wildly round—then, with:a burst of
idiotic. laughter, fall into his former apathetic
state—and all again was darkness. © ;
As soon as he was sufliciently recovered ‘to
quit the abbey, Dr. Orme caused him to be ,re-
moved to the lone house of Chettleborough, the
sexton, a kind-hearted, singular man, whose |
character and habits well qualified him for the
task of guardian to the harmless lunatic. °-
The sexton of Carrow was perhaps the’ most
temarkable-looking person in''the ‘place—the
dread of the unruly urchins who would play in
the churchyard, despite his menaces—and ‘the
possi of their mothers and grandmothers, who
looked tp to him as.an indisputable authority in
all matters touching burials and christenings, *-
In height he was over six fect, gaunt in fig-
ure, with strongly-marked but not Unpleasant
features; his age: might be the shady side of
fifty; with him his occupation was not only a
taste, but a passion; from his earliest boyhood
his favorite place of recreation’ had been the
churchyard—in his eye no landscape could be
compared with it; the grave-stones were like
old, familiar friends—he studied them; the erec-
tion of a fresh oné was an event as interesting
to the sexton as the publication of a new novel
's to many of our readers—he was impatient
till he had'perused it—made himéelf acquainted
With its outline and. character, and’ criticised it
48 connoisseurs would criticise a statue. *
The grave-stones formed’ his” library—he
Possessed no other, 90 6 0 deter ae
This singular personage seldom left his cot-
tage,—whose windows were opened into: the
church-yard—unless to purchase provision in the
Village, In the first of the lower rooms: were
the implements of-his trade—it also served as a
Kitchen and office. The inner one, which was
furnished with some attempt’ at neatness, con-
talued a peal of hand-bells, ‘upon which ‘the
folitary master of the place loved to amuse him:
self, He would sit and play for hours his favor:
chem tunes—for he rarely attempted: any
i One shelf in this apartment excited great awe
2 the minds of his rustic visitors: it» was filled
he skulls and bones carefully polished, which
T sexton had picked up during -his' Iabors.
teh boys in the village told ‘most mysterious
ites Tespecting them—and they certainly con-
Fated in’no slight degree to maintain his au-
thority ‘over them, especially in the dreary
senate ot winter, when,’ in’ their way from’
rae they had to’ pass through the church-
ee to doubt, and even sometimes to. laugh ‘at
yet sunshine made them courageous, After
e description*we have giver. of, his person,
habits, and domicile, it 1s almost needless to add
that the sexton of Carrow was a bachelor. :
bat thers was one grave in the old; church-yard
thes 6 certainly tended :with more.care than
whe test he spot next to it he had long since
mle put for his own final resting-place. When
mnie oes he would shake his head and
thee And say that.the earliest daisies, grew
Here, and the turf seemed
ey, Could obtain no other answer.
comittin would sit for hours listening to his
Panion playing on the bells. The only sign
of satisfaction he gave i
, gave was by waving his head
to and fro to their chime—the music seemed. to
Soothe him,
When tho days were fine, the sexton would
ad his charge into the church-yard, and place
rsued nie neighboring. tombstone. whilst he
a Beane wocggcpation. ee these. occasions
requently. join them, and en:
deavor: by uestions and tid
mind— :
at hig but all. in vain,
by
a faint smile.
¢ dt be all useless,”
faim, with a knowing shake of the head.
dean body only lives—the brain and heart be
- Joe said nothing;
Tt wag on one of
Of Nowerg—t
bajar
nig
of the bird is sweetest—that the sexton,
| grave,
ful of the.rich, fat earth, be indulged in his
usual half-grumbling, half-moralizing strain,
In summer-time the young ‘rebels vent-,
me said he had never loved— perhaps not;
greenest and freshest
‘ \ kindness, to. awaken
tomething {ike recollection in the old. man’s
,, Martin seemed pleased
Presence and attentions, which he repaid
Chettleborough would éx-
but. he hoped against rea-
0 J ped against r
¢ Tere with patient perseverance resumed his
in: those bright, sunny morn-
%8, when all nature is redolent of . the breath
it wn. When the busy bee makes music as
Musues its industrious avocation, and the
As he threw, forth spadeful after spade-
—{*Tam as well acquainted with the, skulls I
turn up in the churchyard,” he observed,: ‘(as
the rector is with his books upon the shelves of
his library... Now this,” he added, wiping: the
mold carefully from a cranium, and. placing
the relic of humanity upon the mound be had
heaped up, ‘was one of-the first I buried. I
was a hale young fellow then, and the girls
would look. at. me as I passed through the vil-
age. |, te iety ee aleeet? ‘
...** And whose skull was it?”.demanded Joe,
with asmile.. Beko beens ty Ne
_.**Old Harwin’s, the schoolmaster’s. - Many
a strapping he has given me when I was a boy!
This’ he continued, handing from the grave a
similar ossment of tiny dimensions, ** belonged
to his grandson—poor Mary’s boy.” . .
-“ Tg she not buried near him?” inquired his
companion,, Pee A . A”.
_ To the right, Joe—to the right!” replied
the oldman. ‘*‘I would. not disturb his grave,
poor little fellow!” he continued, apostrophiz.
ing the skull of the infant; (‘I have seen him
a hundred times chasing butterflies over the
graves, or gathering the daisies which grow
upon: their. turfs! Well, welll he is happier
than we are—he is an angel in heaven!” .
~“««Humph!” ejaculated, Joe Beans, with a
doubtful air, Os la yty
The sexton looked up, evidently surprised
and shocked at the interjection, which savored,
in his opinion, of infidelity. :
-_.'* Joe! Joe!” he exclaimed, reprovingly, “1
expected better things from thee! Of course
he is an angel: all babies who dic go to heaven!”
“That I believe,” replied the rustic; ‘‘but
they are not angels for all that!”
_* What are they, then, in the name of good-
ness?” said Chettleborough. Pole
“© Oherybums ,and , sereyfims,” answered the
rustic; ‘and that’s, why so many. are taken
young. . Hasn’t ’ee hear parson say every Sun-
day,.at prayers, ‘'The cherybums and serayfims
continually do ery?’ Of course they must have
been babies 1”, _
The sexton knew not. whether to feel offended
or amused at Joe’s explanation.” He looked at
the speaker for a moment reprovingly., At last,
seduced by the merry twinkle in the eye of the
speaker, and the half smile, upon his lips, he
permitted his own witbered features to expand,
“© Thee beest a strange lad, Joe!” he said, ‘‘ to
jest upon such matters!”
Further conversation was arrested by the ap-
earance of a fourth person in the churchyard.
Throw h an-opening in the cypress, ayenue
which led to the spot where the old sexton was
digging the grave, they saw the warrener ac-
yancing: Joe. who Was seated with his. back
to oue of the tombstones, was the first to observe
him, and pointed him out to the sexton,
“What brings Will Sideler here?
“No good!” replied the old man. To my
certain knowledge he has not entered the church
for many a year; prayer is denied to his heart
and lips., .1t must be a sad thing,” he added,
seriously, ‘‘ when both are closed!”
‘As the wairener had not perceived them, the
idea suddenly struck Joe that it would not be
amiss for himself and the sexton to hide bebind
the tombstone, and watch his proceedings. He
had never got. over the impression, the vague
suspicion, which the incoherent words and agi-
tated manner of the ruffian bad produced. on
him on the night of Sir William’s tuneral. He
also felt curious to witness his meeting with
Martin the groom, who was. seated upon &
grassy mound near them, amusing himself with
picking the daisies and wild flowers, which he
would hold in his hands for a few moments,
then drop them listlessly, with a vacant laugh,
and, commence . plucking fresh ones, which
ed the same fate.
seerQuicket” he said to the sexton, “Stoop! Do
not let him see you! I will creep behind the
stone!” coe ae
Chettleborough bent himself till his head dis-
appeared behind the mound of earth which he
had raised on either side, whilst the speaker
drew ‘himself like a snake along the grass till
he had disappeared—but, not to so great a dis-
tance as to prevent his hearing every word
ich might pass, .
we was painful, ‘ag well as curious, to observe
the effect which the sudden appearance of the
warrener produced upon the hitherto harmless
and quiet idiot. The instant he beheld him he
65
| Started to his feet, his aged countenance became
couvulsed with passion, and; he stood with his
right hand extended, as if to point him out as:
au object of detestation or terror. Low, inco-
-| herent sounds broke from his lips.
The features of Will Sideler became very pale.
as he recognized the poor, old man—alike the
victim of his brutality, and the witness of his
crime. . Af each fresh effort which Martin made
to speak, his agony increased; at last he pressed
his. hand heavily upon. his head, and. with. a
wild, unearthly yell sunk back upon the grave
from which he had just risen.)
-A grin of satisfaction gradually replaced tha
pallor of fear upon the face of Will. Sideler,.
who mentally rejoiced at the confirmation of
the reports he had heard, that his old enemy.
was an idiot for life. os...)
‘What be the fool gibbering at?” he ex-.
claimed. — , eke
A deep-drawn sigh was.the only response,
and a tear dimmed: the clear blue eye of tha
groom. . Flee sl? venient cs
~ “What ‘dost thee mean?” continued. the
ruffian, looking carefully round to see if. any
beside himself and Martin ,were in the church-
yard. ‘*I owe thee a long account, and have
a good mind to pay thee!”
“ The grasp of Joe Beans; ‘who. heard every
word “biel passed, began to tighten on his
cudgel. : “ A , oe
By the direction of the surgeon who had at-
tended the poor aged servitor of the’ murdered’
baronet, a cap with a steel lining had been made
to cover that portion of the skull which had
been fractured, which cap’ was not to be re-
moved day or..night, as the slightest blow, or
even pressure of the bone which rested on the.
brain might prove fatal. : os
This Sideler knew, and, approaching the old:
man, who shrunk like a frightened child as _he-
advanced, he seized him by the taroat, and’ be-
gan to unbuckle the strap which fastened it
upon his. head—muttering the while something
about ending such folly and fears at once.
The strap was already loosened, and he was
about to raise the cap, when a hand ‘as strong”
as his own was entwined in the warrener’s long,
jron-gray hair. He was dragged from the terri-
fied idiot, and dashed violently against one of
the neighboring grave-stones. / .
Martin gave alow chuckle, which gradually
broke into shrill screams of laughter, as Joe-
Beans, whose arms had defended him, stood
with his cudgel raised between him andthe:
prostrate ruffian, mo
~ Suddenly his mirth gave place to a moan of
pain, and he pressed his hand to his brow again,
as if to restrain’ its throbbing. ||” :
“What would ’ee do?” exclaimed Joe, glar-
ing defiance at Will Sideler. | ‘‘ Commit u mur-
2
Qa
@
re aa)
:“* Murder!” faltered the surprised and detected.
warrener, ts : '
“Ay, murder? thee don’t look as if it would
have been the jirat / What does ’ee want with »
the poor old man?”
“Nothing!” replied the brute, slowly: rising-
—for he had been sorely braised against the
tombstone. ‘‘I only thought l’d justsee where.» -
he. wor hurt, loike.”
“Tfumph!” muttered his’ assailant, doubt-
fully; ‘‘maybe!” :
““Maybe—it is!. what else should I want wi’
n?” .
“ Thee knowest! and I guess there be one,”
added the honest rustic, ‘‘that knows better
than either of us.”
«And who be that?” demanded Sideler, in a.
tone of defiance, not, however, unmingled with.
alarm. .
The young man raised his hand and pointed
toward heaven. oe
“This. be all folly—nonsense! . Why should.
Lharm the old fool?” observed the fellow.
“ Ask thee conscience.” ‘
“Haven't got one!” was the bravado reply.
“That be true, at.any rate!” observed the
sexton, popping up from the grave where he
had lain perdu. ‘‘1can answer for that, Master
Will, and so can all who know thee!” ;
“But I have a character,” replied the war-
rener, sullenly, ‘‘which is not to be taken away”
—so look to it Joe!” ‘
“Taken away!” repeated the rustic, ‘‘ the
man that takes thy character away will be the
S
best friend thee bast ever had!”
“Why so?” : a
“Tt may give the a chance of getting a new
one, or leaving thee without any—and no char-
acter is better than a bad one; but I don’t want
to bandy words with thee. Look’ee, Will Sido-
eee