LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1971, 18 June 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

MURDER WILL OUT : A CUMBERLAND LEGEND. [Abridged from “Chambers’ Journal.”] On a fine evening in the summer of 1766, two young women, Maggie Armstrong and Eliza Wilson, met at a roadside well not far from the village of Dlstingdon, about four miles from the town of Whitehaven. ‘ The celebrated Mr Wesley is in Whitten (Whitehaven), Maggie,’ remarked Eliza in an off-hand sort of way ; * and is to speak in the market-place to-morrow night. Will you go with me to hear him V [This journey to Whitehaven, we may state parenthetically nearly proved fatal to the enterprising missionary, as the following extract from his journal shows :—‘Tuesday, June 24th, 17o6.—Before eight we reached Dumfries, and after a short halt we pushed on, in hopes of reaching Solway Eirth before the sea was come in. Designing to call at an inn by the Firth side, we inquired the way, and were directed to leave the main road and go straight to the house, which we saw before ns. In ten minutes Duncan Wright was embogged; however, the horse plunged on, and got through. I was inclined to turn back; but Duncan tolling me I needed only go a little to the left, I did so, and sunk at once to my horse’s shoulders. He sprang up twice, and twice sunk again, each time deeper than before. At the third plunge he threw me on one side, and we both made shift to scramble out. I was covered with soft sand from my feet to the crown of my head, but not hurt at all. Next day I rode on to Whitehaven, where I spent the rest of the week,] ‘ I will accompany you to Whitten, Eliza,’ promptly replied Maggie; ‘l’ve often felt a wish to see the famed man ; so, all being well, I’ll get ready and go with you.’ ‘ Will you ask Richard to come, Maggie ? ’ put In Eliza, with characteristic zeal, as they both lifted pails on their heads. ‘ I judge he will follow when he finds that I’m gone,’ quietly responded Maggie. It need scarcely be observed that the young man referred to was one who had for some time paid certain attentions to Maggie, or that Eliza Wilson was an ardent Methodist.

Saturday night came, and among the many who wore gathered around the enthusiastic little preicher were the two young women we have brought before the reader. They came in with sentiments as divergent as possible in respect to the preacher and his preaching. They returned one in mind and heart. The result of this change in Maggie was that she was cold to Richard Brunskill on the way home and unsympathetic. From that hour Richard was no more to her than any other youth. The first time he went to her home after that night he was told hia fate in a mild but firm manner—a decision which he received with anything but complacent feelings. Up to this time Brunskill had been a comparatively steady man, only now and then indulging freely in drink; but after his loss of Maggie he was often the worse for liquor and rushed to every cock fight and other brutal sport to which he could find access. Maggie Armstrong developed into a most ardent Methodist, so that what with the gravity of her deportment and her subdued conversation, her old friends scarce knew her. Eliza Wilson was her constant companion, nor did anyone_ rival her in Maggie’s affections for some time. But summer had not long given place to winter before a change took plaae. A young man nsmed Thomas Musgrove. who had recently begun to use his gifts as an occasional preacher among the Wesleyans, arrested Maggie’s attention. He was a builder in a fair way of business on his own account; and as Mias Armstrong possessed considerable personal charms, her secret preferences for him were soon drawn out by his avowed attachment to her; and before long it was well known by all the brotherhood and others that these two young folks were [likely ere long to become man and wife. Matters were in this condition when midsummer came round. It was again the “ leafy month of June,” when once more the famed apostle of il ethcdism paid his annual visit to Whitehaven, and every Methodist in Dlstington was overjoyed at the prospect of hearing him on the following Saturday night in the market piece. Amongst those who walked from Distington to hear him were Thomas Musgrove and Margaret ArmatrongA small dog belonging to the former accompanied them. The service did not_ last much over an hour, and Mr Wesley wished to meet his country officials, that he might aid them by his counsels. As Musgrove was one whose presence was required at this gathering, and as It was not certain how long he would be detained thereat, ho desired Maggie to go home with the others, observing that he would not fail to_ call on his return and spend an hour or so with her. The dog Viper might go back with her, he said, as It would be awkward to find him a suitable place to remain in while he was at

the meeting. So, bidding the company goodnight, he went on his way. Poor fellow! Little did he anticipate the fate that wac- ia store for him. He had cot gme far, before, on looking behind him, he nr Viper at his heels, looking shy, for he knew that he disobeyed orders. Nothing remained, however, but to take the dog with him, and make the beat arrangements ho conld for its safo keeping. The company from which he had parted went on their way, and as they left Whitehaven they met Richard Brunshill coming into it, the wo-se, as usual, for liquor. He saw hia old lover in the group which he had stopped to survey. But Ihe people passed on, and Richard was soon left far behind. This was the last they saw of him that night. On went the merry party, singing hymns as they went, some dropping off at Parton, others ut Moresby and Sunny Brow, and the residue reached Distingtoß full of satisfaction and pleasure. It waa just nine o’clock when Maggie Armstrong entered her house. Musgrove was expected back in about an hour.

When ten o’clock arrived Maggie began to listen fir his footfall. Put it cams not. She grew anxious ; and as the finger of the cloak rose towards eleven, she went to tne front door and looked down the road. It was a fine, warm, clear night Now a horseman passed by, then a conveyance rattled past; at intervals a pedestrian went slowly on, her hopes that it might be Thomas giving way with hia departure. “ What can have kept him until now!” the said aloud, her uneasiness overcoming her maiden diffidence. It was now f ast approaching midnight; still Thomas Margrave made net his appearance. She sat down before jhs kitchen fire, vainly striving to think r>leaa»n't thoughts . so again rising, with a sigh, she went once more to the door and locked down the road. A long time passed, but never a footfall. Concluding that Thomas had been detained against hia will, she was about to re-enter the house and go to bed, when Viper made his appearance whining dismally.

Surprised at this, she spoke kindly to the poor beast, and asked him where bis master was The dog looked up in her face with a scared uneasy expression; and en gazing into his face she saw that he held something in his mouth. ' What have you got there Viper!’ she asked, holding out her hand for the article which the sagacious creature laid in her palm. It was a piece of blue* cloth with a brass button attached. She looked at it, wondering where the dog had got it and what it signified. At a glance she saw that it did not belong to anv garment that her betrothed had on that nigh’, and bo far she was at ease. But on watching Viper she saw that he became more disturbed and anxious, for he ran about the home and to the door, looking earnestly at her the while, as though he wished her to go with kins somewhere.

Excited and perplexed, she awoke her father, and told him the circumstance. The old man dressed and came down stairs. A consultation was held, which resulted in a resolve to await; the arrival of daylight ere they took action. Day would dawn, they knew, soon after two o’clock, when, if Thomas did not arrive, they would get assistance and search for him. Thus resolving, the pair sat down by the fire, and to beguile the time the old man lit hia pipe. At last, when day broke, Armstrong aroused a neighbour, and telling him what he knew and feared, the pair set off on their road to Whitehaven, preceded by Viper. They had not gone above a mile before the dog, leaving the highroad, made for an unused stone quarry, a little off the highway and standing on an eminence which fianked the quarry, set up a loud and dismal howL The two min followed Viper into the quarry, which they entered by the cart road, which, wound around the base of the hillock on which the dog stood. On entering the road their eyes fell on a partly dried up pool of blood ; and as from thence to the quarry they saw patches of the same ominous fluid, their worst suspicion received strength. ‘ Something is wrong here, 1 said Armstrong, as he gazed at the blood. ‘Ton may reckon on foul play,’ responded hia companion, as he watched the dog, which was creeping down the mound into the quarry, (To he continued.')