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BOSTON, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1858.
{Drawn and engraved expressly for The Weekly Novelette.]
{Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Clerk's Office of
the cart of Masaschusetts.)
PAUIL ILAROON 3”
THE SCOURGE OF THE ANTILLES.
A STORY OF SHIP AND SHORE.
BY SYLVANUS COBB, Jr.
CHAPTER I.
PROLOGUE.
Tr was a cold, wet day in autumn, and the sun, which
had not been seen since morning, was near its western
.. .home of rest. Upon the road from Malmsbury to Bris-
tol walked a man and two children. The former was
young—not over six-and-twenty—and habited in the
. garb of aseaman. He was short in stature, and broad
and heavy in his build, witha face of a bronzed hue,
upon which was stamped much intelligence and wit. A
careful observer would have seen the index to a quick,
passionate disposition in that face, and from the dark,
sombre smile that sometimes played upon it, he would
have also concluded that its possessor was not burdened
with conscientious scruples*where his pufposes were at
stake. Upon his shoulder he carried a smatl bundle,
and upon one corner of the handkerchief which served
for a portmanteau was printed, in small, black letters,
the name—Marn Laroox, Such, we are to suppose,
was the name of the traveller, .
The children were a boy and girl. | The boy could
not have been over five years of age, aud he showed
signs of excessive fatigue. He wasa bright, intelligent
looking little fellow, and possessed much physical beau-
ty. ‘The girl was younger still, certainly not yet four
years old, and as she walked wearily along by the side
of her conductor, the tears ever and anon started from
*** her large, blue eyes... Her garb was plain and homely
in the extreme, but her other appearance did not at all
* MARL LAROON AND HIS NEW MAN, .
correspond with it. Her face was yery pale and deli-
cate, her hair long and glossy, and flowing in ringlets
which betrayed much previous care and dressing, while
her hands gave no, token of acquaintance with dirt
filth. The boy had shed some tears, for the traces
them were still to be seen upon his plump cheeks ; but
he shed none now, for he had received a blow for crying.
Just as we introduce the little party, they had come
to a stone which marked the line between Wiltshire and
Gloucestershife, and here they stopped to rest.
“ You're tired, aren’t you ?” said the man, addressing
the boy, and at the same time placing his hand upon
his head.
“Yes, sir,” returned the lad, looking up,.and shud-
dering as he met the gaze of his conductor.
“Well, never mind; we’ve only three miles further
to go before we reach the Cross-Hands Inn. You'll be
glad to get there, wont you?”
“Yes, sir.” The words were spoken timidly, and
with evident reluctance.
“And when you do get there, you'll remember that
you are my child, wont you ?”
“ But you aren’t my father.”
“Surely Iam.”
“O,no. Please don’t make mc say so.”
“ You'd rather be whipped, eh?”
“No, no!” shricked the boy. And as he did so, the
little girl sprang forward and threw her arms about his
neck and burst into a passionate fit of weeping.
Marl Laroon removed the girl with a strong grip, and
then looking the boy in the eye, he said:
“Tam your father, and you must know it and say so.
Where do you think ) our father is ?””
“ ¥lo’s dead, sir,” sobbed the poor child.
“Who told you so?” '
“Mr, Wumphrey.””
“He told you a lie, then. I left you with him two
years ago, and you are my boy. Twas going away,
and he said he would take care of you till f came back.
So when I came back I took you.” Perhaps he thought
Twas dead, though. Very likely he did. Now just
remember this, and if anybody asks you your name,
tell ’em ’tis Paul Laroon. Mind, new. Idon’t think
you want ime to kill you, but I shall if you don’t speak
Just as I have told you. Think you can remember?”
(See paze 333.}
Yes, sir.”
“And will you remember ?”
“Yos, sir.”
The little fellow’s lips trembled, and he would have
burst into tears, but the look of his master prevented
im.
“ Mary,”’ spoke Laroon, very kindly, ‘‘you are tired,
aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” lisped the child.
“Say ‘yes, unele.’””
“ Yes, untle,”’ repeated sho, as nearly as sho could.
“Mary is your cousin, Paul. Did you know it?”
«Yes, sir.”
“Allright. And now, my little Mary, you shallride
in my arms awhile; and perhaps I will carry Paul, by-
and-by, if he gets very tired.” — -
So saying, the stout sailor lifted the tiny form of the
girl to his arms, and then the trio were once more on
their way. It was fairly dark when they reached the
little village at the point where the roads cross, and
where stood the Cross-Hands Inn, at which place they
stopped. Laroon did not take the children into the bar-
room, but calling the landlord out, he had a room pro-
yided with two beds in it, and thither he took his little
charges. As it was too cold to sit up, and, a3 it would
cost too much for a fire, Laroon brought the children
up their supper, and as soon as they had eaten it he
helped them to bed, remarking, as he did so, tha? he
was going down below awhile, and that they must be
sure and make no noise.
When they were safely tacked up in their nest, he
gathered up the few dishes and left the chamber, being
careful to lock the door after him and take away the
key. Fora long while the. little ones lay there in si-
lence, for even the girl had forgotten to sob and weep
amid the strange thoughts that came fast crowding
upon her mind at thus finding herself put to bed by a
man, and in such a strange place. ~
“Mary,” whispered the boy, when he had seemed to
assure himself that the bad man would not hear him,
“where are we going?” :
~“Sde mama,” repliod the simple child, remembering
what her condactor had told her a hundred times dure
ing the day.
*'O, Mary, your mama is dead !” pttered Panl.
