A NIGrHT OF EMOTIONS.

Waikato Times, Volume X, Issue 745, 27 March 1877, Page 3

A NIGrHT OF EMOTIONS.

(From the " Danbnry News. w ) Concluded from our issue of the 24tb. A heavy object fell at our feet, and the small stones flew m nil directions. My first and ratherhasty impression was that a thunderbolt had struck the earth m bur proximity, but I was sopn. brought , fage tp fape with thp trutt. Mike was rolling and Writhing on the ground before us, and called upon a)l the bones of Saint Patiick.tp hear witness that he had nothing tia,, dp, with the dark, expedition. After many groans and lamentations, the Irishman, who was mora terrified -than hurt,' regained his feet,, and without further accident our ; patty scailed the wall and entered the cemetery. , ; . Beifore we had proceeded far m , queat of the new grave, Ernest Church remarked that the two formidable brothers might be on the watch, at which Mike nigh lost his pipr^ moved m the dismal Jlace f but t^e lightning flashed at AterValßfShowbgforkedfiamesinour path and illuminating the blakened tombs, making the, : surroundings still m6re ghostly, and showing our little army, trembling with cold and fear, oh its way to consummate the Bacrilege« The feelings of uneasiness that took possession of me, and the Pttflgs of vemm vW^ woke Vitfiin me, are still vivid m my memory. . We found the grave without difficulty. The rain and icy coldriess of the atmosphere had benumbed us „ completely. . ; We about emptied our • bbitl^ 'afid ! a,B Mike's courage had Badjy %ilted r he was tempted to imbibe more rum, which new lib f ation drove all recollection of the ' place he was m out of his head, and caused him to forget all the perils of the operation into which we were leading him. In the twinkle of an eve, he untied bis sack ? too^ out the iniplements, and pet to work with incredible energy. We assisted him with a will, hut did not perform as much work as he did. The rain ceased, tne lightning no longer lighted the heavens— bnt , the thnnder rumbled, as it rolled away m the difitance, as thongh t\\e celestial anger, hpd' thrown it's anathema upon us from the depths of the clouds. The obscurity was completed. By dint of hard digging we had, meanwhile, cleared away three feet of earth. But this was only half our task. ♦Gh! by the bones of Saint Patrick !' cried Mike, suddenly, 1 it'll be eight o'clock m the mornin' afore we're over wid this!" We werein ihe worst of humors, and had begun to curse our scientific Bon Quixotism, when a sudden noise, which seemed to puoceed from a spot very near to ur, arrested our attention, Each of us let hui implement drop, |and for one |or tyyo

minutes, we remained mute with apprehension. We could scarcely see our hand before our face, but could hear the sound of approaching footsteps upon the sod. Another unnecessary alarm ! The solitary promenader was simply an ass, which some economic farmer had locked m the cemetery. Iv less than half au hour our feet struck the lid of the coffin, and shortly thereafter it was raised from the ground. " New fright ! The footsteps . of a man; a human voice was heard. Both sounds we heard distinctly. Tkere could be no mistake ! Terrified, ! we crouched upon the ground, and with auxious faces waited. Five or six minutes elapsed ; all was still again . We breathed more freely. The most formidable part of our sacrilegious enterprise was not accomplished yet. "We worked ....courageously. Having once more looked about us through the gloom, we wrenched the lid, from the coffin, and the white moon, which appeared at that moment, threw; its pale liafht light full upon the poor inhabitant ot this last abode. We were already raising the corpse, when Ernest -exclaimed, letting it fall — *We are lost ! They are here !' His hand, which he had placed on my shoulder, trembled violently. I , looked m the direction his' eyes were riveted, and but too distinctly espied a man, if not two, advancing stealthfully along the wall. • 'We are discovered !' I cried as composedly as possible. 'They will murder us 1' resumed Ernest. . ■ 'Hand me my pistol,' said Mervalj' that I may have a ball to defend myself with/ Mike had heard our frightful colloquy. His face breathed horror. I believe I could have laughed, even- at that critical moment, at the aspect of his little black, glistening eyes, at the aspect of his pug nose, which the moon silvered. And to add to his ludicrous appearance, his mouth : was wide open, displaying a dduble row of white teeth, which knocked together with a, sound similar to that caused by hail falling ing on a window pane. ,'Hush! hush!' I whispered, cocking my pistol. . ( Merval followed my example. To give us the finishing stroke, the moon seemed to take" sides against us and robbed us of the rest of the feeble light she had distributed to us with such avarice. Before retiring behind her alcove of clouds, she allowed us to see another man who. was advancing from a.n opposite direction, 'We are surrounded !' some one cried. "We sprung from the . ground wrapped m such obscurity that we could not see one another. '. ' 1 Where are they 1\ called, a harsh voice. 'I am certain that I hear them 1 Ah, ah !' there : they are J there they are ! Do answer, !'., ' This was enough ; '. we, scampered off m all .directions, like, grape ; shot fired from the mduth, qf a cannon. I heard no explosion, .and withoutknowing; whither I : iyffli|,.l'was springing , Ojver the. to^bs,,'/ now slipping and rolling on the wet sod, now running against a sculptured stone, ever followed by the footsteps of a r man, • anid 'feeling 'his breath Oft my' shoulder, but not knowing whether it was friend or foe, At ,last, I came into violent 'contapj; with an iron raiiing, which stopped me,, bhort. I got round it, and finding. it open on both sides, doubled myself up arid concealed myselF under the coyer of a vast monumental stone on the inside. I no longer he.ird the footsteps qf the person whg had, fp,ljow{s me j a stifled cry, a hpjlow groa.n, t^e noise made By a body striking the water — a sort of rumbling noise made by a man \n deadly struggle, attracted my attention, "Without doubt, one of my comrades had been wounded. But what could I do? I did not even know on which side he was. The low moans continued; The night was dark.. It would be iu> possible for m_e $o forget tha,t hour, I dragged myself 1 slowly over the wet sod, over the moss, through the branches of the trees, not daring to breathe even crawling on my hands and knees^ and not knowing whether a second pistol shot would s^nd a balPthrou.gh niy head, o.r noli. A fine ■ position, really! . . -. . ...■ ■ \.^ ' . ."Y^hajb has , becqine gf comrades ? Shall I be; forced to , ; wait for daybreak, m such a plight ? In fine, what is -to be done ? • These questions flashed through my brain. 1 had began to grow astonished at the repose, and . profound silence that tjjen s;eeftie4 to prevail about me, when-the same paddling aid gurgling noise again drew my attention. It seemed to come from some place nearby. I could distinguish the sound of a strangled voice— l could distinguish voices — I listened. ' Blessed Saint Patrick, it's muiv ther, It's a murther,' said a voice. 'I'm kilt, pon 'my soul, I'm finished!' ■ . v * Gracious me !' I exclaimed, ' It's Mike !' But I did not know where to look for him. His monologue commenced anew. 'What have you done, ye baste ?' Did 1 ever see the likes o' such behaviour ! I)o ye think that the Lord will be helpin' ye ? Go on, you're but a sinner, and you'll be burned. Haven't ye done enough m your life, but ye must be after astealin' o' the corpses ! Yes, the Lord 'ill give it to ye right hot, and when ye'er dead, yell be treated like that, poor child, ye .murtherin'

wretch ! Oh ! by me soul, am I kill't or drowned V It seemed to me as though the struggle m the water had resumed. The eloquent orator had.paused. He began again : • ' It's cauld here, by Saint Patrick ! What a bath ! Oh! niurther, by me soul, wlis.it a bath !' \Mike! Mike !' I called, softly. Profound silence. ' Mike, answer, what is the matter \ with you ? Where are you i* ■ He did not, answer ine> but continned to address himself. : ■ ' Yes, I'm kill't, dead, murthered, an' that's all!' ' Mike, I say, listen, answer !' 'Oh ! 'Mike ! Mike !' ye can cry as much as ye like — go to the devil ; I'll be' hanged if I spake wid ye !' ' Mike,- yon. fob! , it is I.' ' Oh ! me sweet gintleman, it's ye, is'it.l Faitli, it is yerself i Well, are ye kill't? What has become o' ye? Where , are • the others, m prison?' ; •' But yori, 'Mike, what on earth are you doing there ? and where are you?; ; ..., ' A.': bath, a little bath, yer honor. A few yards from us we could hear the sound 6f a struggle. I distinguised the. voice of Ernest calling for help. : The voice increased. I felt my way ahead. Mike, who had fallen into an open grave, seized my foot ; I assisted him out of his bath, and we proceeded towards the spot from whence we heard the voice. Beneath the vague light' of the moon, which had jnst reappeared, we discovered ; two men engaged m a struggle, hand to hand. They were rolling; . over one another without uttering a word, and wjere endeavouring to clutch each other's throat. .When the last cloud vanished before the moon, whom do you think I ■ ;,' recognised' ? ; Our coachman, whose fat and chubby face was pale | with terror. He was. fighting furiously with Ernest. The poor coachman, surprised at our. absence, had disobeyed orders, left his coach, and, on hearing a ! noise m the cemetery, had scaled the wall and groped his way towards us. It was him we had seengliding along the wall ; it was his shadow we had mistaken for another man. When he had almost reached us he called to us, and we had begun to run like fools. Thinking he had fallen into a den of thieves, he also had taken to flight, and sought refuge behind a tomb. Unfortunately, the retreat he had chosen was already occupied by Ernest. They encountered each other, and without knowing why, began to flourish their fists m deadly combat. Both bore the marks of rough usage, As for • poor Mike, his romance was none the less, painful. He had followed me at the top of his speed, and had fallen, as I have said, m a grave .filled -with 'water-; The poor fellow remained there/ with his fe.et imbedded m the' hea,yy clay, not daring to .raise his voice for fear of being discovered. . . •:iyiervaland Gone were not long m putting m their appearance, when they disooyered the mistake that had been made— and our little band once moreresumed work, i The ooffi.n was lowered into the grave again and covered wi|;h the earth, 1 After over coming, so riiany 'calamaties and obstacles, we; were not yet free of, embarrassments. It was no easy matter to pass the subject over the wall, and, wheii we reached the spot Wher.e . we had left the coach, we found it overturned, one of the horses stretched out m the- ditch, and his companion kicking glorj, ously. ;;_>■ It gee.ms that the animals on being left to themselves had approached the ditch, tempted by the; turf that bordered the lane, where they capped the climax by overturning the vehicle. So we were obliged to put down the corpse,set the coach to right, and make ourselves masters of the horses, all that took so long that the morning had dawned when we again say the outskirts of London, We were a sorry looking party. The coachman was hatless, with his face, hair, and clothes bedaubed with mire. Ernest and myself were m no better plight, , J^ejcyal and Cone were the most respectable-looking of ; alljt while Mike," who slept, soundly ; beside the ominous sack, was simply I a bundle -of soaked rags and foul clay. And I sworej ; with the son of, Hibernia, that ' 'Pon me §oul, and by the bones of Saint Patrick, I'd niver b,e eatched agin arobbin' o' cprps-es i' ]'.'' ..,.;. (Here the memoir ends, I hear you exclaim, reader, and not without justification, ' But why isn't the ypunggiiTs complaint revealed to us ?' This I cannot, answer, as the old doctor has undoubtedly deemed proper to say no more. lam quite m the dark, and as much mystified as you are.— D. W. M»)