MR. TRADDLES' TALE.

Southland Times, Volume III, Issue 209, 29 January 1866, Page 3

MR. TRADDLES' TALE.

(From ike Welcome Ghiest.J " Down in Link's Hollow, where the gibbet was?" "Aye." " A ugly place and a ugly night. I wouldn't go." " It won't be the first time that gibbet kept him here," said the landlord between the whiffs of his pipe, " as his wife could tell. Ever hear about it, Sir ?" " No," said the pimpled-faced man, who was a stranger. " Come, sit down, Traddles, and tell it." Mr. Traddles looked at the fire and at the window ; he cast an upward glance at the shining brasses on the shelf; a corner of his eye too in the preparations for supper which were going on quietly; a pewter measure threw an affectionate twinkle at him, which said " Stay ;" the stout old arms of the wooden settle stretched themselves out to their rough but kindly fashion, and said, " Come, nonsense about going — sit down and don't bother !" The settle finished it. Such beaming good humor there was in its polished back — such an air of reckless jollity in the way its arms were held out, and its feet, one kicking one way, one another ; and so shiny was its seat, from much rubbing of drab unmentionables and marvellously embroidered smock frocks. It wasn't everywhere you could see such a settle as that ; for the march of civilization and refinement is against settles, and chimney corners, and high mantels with glittering brasses. Mr. Traddles then sat down obediently ; he put out his knees wide, with a hand resting on each of them; he looked amongst the hams and flitches for inspiration, and the pimple-faced man proffered him a pipe, which he refused ; for Mr, Traddles couldn't smoke, it gave a tickling sensation in the throat, and if persevered in, produced a sort of blur before the visual organs, in which the brasses were seen to make rapid circuits round the room, the fire-irons to conduct themselves in a very light manner, and even the arms of the settle to hit out with such violence against everything in general, as to give rise to the idea that it was parting company in the middle, and going to pieces under him. Mr. Traddles did not say all this to the stranger, he merely remarked that smoking was a bad habit for young men to get into, and shook his head with a self-denial very virtuous under the circumstances. "It was in the days," began Mr. Traddles, " -when there was a good deal doing on the road — not that the trade is quite used up yet, but it's damaged; things are a little altered since Dick Turpin did his bit of a step with Black Bess — there was a farmer lived down yonder " — with a jerk of his thumb towards the window — "Link's Hollow?" " Aye ; it was about the time my mother sent me — being a lad of genius, but, as she called it, poor soul, a ' Jack-of-all ! trades, matter-o'-none' — away to learn farming, expecting X should have money left me — which I had, but that's neither here nor there, for it's gone, somehow, long ago. It's a curious thing now," said the little man, looking into the fire, " how that money did go ! It was in a bank, safe enough, as I thought ; I just drew a bit*now and a bit then, thinking to make it up by- and-by ; and one morning, going to ask for a small sum — a mere trifle — they said it was all gone. I don't wish to wrong anybody, but it was curious, you know !" " But the gibbet," said the pimple-faced man, impatiently. '" What about the gibbet ?" " Well, the farmer was well to do ; had no chick nor child, and plenty of money ; a rich man, so to speak. He used to go, like other farmers, to market, to sell his grain and get the money for it ; and it was a lonely ride enough between there and Link's Hollow, but he was a bold man, and it didn't trouble him. He had been to market as usual, and had received money. He had it about him, bank notes and soverigns, tied up in a brown-holland bag, which looked all the richer because it was dirty. He took his grog well, and gave it freely to the man who paid him, as he always did, for he ■ was openhanded enough. There was a stranger sitting in the same room, but his back was turned, and he seemed to be just minding his own business, and taking no notice of any one, till, all at. once, the farmer felt a sort of spell on him to look up. He did so, and saw the stranger's eye fastened on the bag, which he had just tied up. " ' Your health,' says the farmer, looking at him, and taking a pull at his grog. " ' Some to you,' says he, laughing. " It's to be hoped you carry arms if you mean to ride far with that sort of thing at this time of night.' " ' Arms,' says the farmer. 'Aye, and fists at the end of 'em.' "He doubled his fists as he spoke, and the man laughing again, wished him a presant ride, and went away. " The farmer mounted his horse and rode off. He had ten good miles before him, and most on 'em across a common, with no house near, not even a cottage. He looked about as he left behind him the the last house he should see till he reached his own, and then set off at a trot, whistling as he went. He had often done the same thing before ; he had often ridden home as late, with as much money in his pocket, and he had no fear now. Very soon he heard the ring of hoofs on the hard road behind him. He quickened his pace a bit' but not enough, for, before he was aware, a horse was stretching neck-for-neek with his, and a blow from some weapon staggered him in his seat. " * Aye, aye,' says the farmer, gathering up the^reins, and rising in his stirrups, for fche moon had shone right across the robber's face, and he knew him again. ' Arms, is it ? Aye, and fists at end of 'em. Tour health, my friend !' " Hitting out, and spurring his horse, off he started, and 'my freind' after him. The robber had a tough nag, but the farmers waa &e fleets^ if eb,a oould only

holdher pace long enough. On they went, the sparks flying up from the hard road after them. A neck-or-nothing race it wag, but thefarmer gained on his friendfast. Hewasjustbeginningtodrawacomfortable breath, and think about home, when a sharp whistle came from behind, and another horseman sprang into the road right before him. He wasn't going to give it up even then ; they grappled together for a minute, and the dancing and. capering of horse's feet mingled with their heavy breathing. It waa but for a minute; the farmer got his bridle free, doubled suddenly, and sending his ridingstick at his assailant, as a last fond remembrance, he made for a low fence, cleared it, and got in front again. They were both after him, however, at a spanking gallop., He dug his spurs into the i mare, and she spun along like the wind with him, all panting and stift as he was, for he had got some blows, too. And now, getting near his own house — where he could see the smoke curling up from the chimney, and knew his wife was sitting there waiting for him, and keeping up the fire for him — the mare's foot caught against a stone. See what little things turn the balance ; it was but a moment or so lost, but it was that too much. He was seized, pinioned, and his pockets rifled. He never spoke, never asked for mercy, but he struggled hard, and the robbers had no easy task to keep Him fast while they searched him. They took his money, and one of them, with a curse, struck a heavy blow on the mare's reeking flank that made her spring off again like mad, while the other, perhaps his bad blood was up at the farmer's hard fighting, drawing something from his bosom, steadied his hand a minute, took aim, and the farmer tumbled from his horse like a rook out of a branch. That was in sight of his own door." " Was he dead ?" "He lived long enough to tell it, and to swear to the man who stopped him first. The other got off." "He did die, then?" "He did. His wife took on horribly ; shut herself up, and never spoke a word to anybody, making no sound but a moaning, which kept on all day and all night, asleep and awake. At* last she took a fancy to go rambling about the house at night, like a moaning ghost, upstairs and down-stairs, along the passages, in and out of every room but the one he had lain in ; and one night she tried that too. Perhaps she heard the strange creaking outside, or perhaps some spirit was in her dragging her on ; she must have pulled up the blind and looked out, however, and, in the tree- within a few yards of her, swinging backwards and forward in the wind — we know what the moon was shining on, and she must have seen it. There came from that room a shriek that rung through the house and startled everybody out of their beds to see what was the matter. But they could only guess — she never told." " You don't mean to say — " "Mad!" said the little man, shaking his head — " raving !" " Humph !" said the pimple-faced stranger — "robbed in sight of his own door ! that sounds rather — rather — " "That man," said Mr. Traddles, striking his drab knees emphatically, " was my uncle. I was at his house when it happened. That horrible thing in the gibbet swung there, creaking, in sight of the house, crowds of people coming to see it every day — swarms of people. After that night they took it down, but it was too late to save my aunt !" " And that gibbet," said the landlord, shaking the ashes out of his pipe solemnly, " was the last gibbet as ever 1 see, and I don't care if I never see another, nor hear ! on it. Pass the grog." •. j