LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 608, 31 May 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

♦ WESTCHESTER TOWER, 0 ( Concluded.') ' I shouted ; I beat ; I kicked upou the door, in the hope of being heard by some stray passenger; but the re was no house within fifty yards, and I had heard the clock strike ten some time before. Wild with desperation, I ran back to my inanimate companion. By this time I had become so used to the obscurity as to be able to discorn that while I had been away he had lifted his arm on to the bench, although there was still no further sign of consciousness. Such moments, my dear fellow, make one religious, if nothing else does. I do not know whether you have ever experienced the wave of relief that succeeds the unexpected deliverance from extreme peril ; but I assure you that the conviction that poor Symes was not dead, brought me upon my knees, in thankfulness for the mercy that had protected us in such an awful crisis. • I was overcome with weariness and weakness holding the hand of my unconscious friend, and 1 almost think that I wa* dozing, when I heard the sound of an opening door and friendly voices. I cried aloud, and we were at once surrounded with lights, and eager, frightened, impairing faces, besieging me with questions, which for the time I was altogether unable to answer. Symes, still insensible, was carried to his lodgings on the other side of the green, whither 1 followed him, and waited for more than half an hour, until the doctor came and told me he was partly conscious, but must not on any account be disturbed or excited by seeing anybody. He said he would remain with him through the night ; and I returned witli anxious thoughts and an exhausted frame, but with a grateful heort, to my own home. 'lt turned out that little Jemmy Oxlcy had been the means of bringing us the help that we had despaired of. My old housekeeper had come into my room here two or three times during my absence, and could not understand my leaving the light burning, if I had intended to be away so long. She went over to Oxley's, and mentioned the circumstance, on which the verger said : "Why, my boy left them in the cathedral an hour ago. And you may depend upon it," added he, "that they've agone and locked theirselves in, and that 'ere young fellow has been and lost the key, and they can't get out!" Which turned out to be pretty nearly the truth. And now, let us have some tea.'

' Well,'said I, 'that's an adventure, certainly, and not badly told either. It made me feel very shaky about the knees, when

that poor fellow went down the hole. I suppose he got all right again V 'No ; poor man,' said Maitland, with a sigh; ' that is the saddest part of the history. He -was deadfully knocked down for some days, and then apparently recovered his general health, except that he had lost all his buoyant spirits, looked like an old man, and always seemed to avoid me. He has since gradually sunk into a state little better than idiotcy, -which the doctors attribute to the shock to a highly exoiteable brain, and declare to be quite hopeless.' 'Poor young fellow,' said I. 'I wonder how far he remembers the circumstances of that night.' ' Very little, you may be sure,' said Maitland.

And so we gradually floated away into the stream of friendly talk upon general subjects, until at a late hour we parted for the night. I awoke in the morning from an eerie and weary sleep-journey, and soon gathered what had been the mischievous spirit presiding at my dreams ! A bath set me to rights. And after breakfast Maitland drove me briskly out of the old city through the frosty morning air, to the station. ‘ May I make use of your story ?’ said I to him, as we parted. ‘ With all my heart,’ he replied. ‘ And if you like, I’ll send you up my memoranda. G ood bye. ’ And this is the use I have made of it.