The Argosy — page 209: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

192 CARAMEL COTTAGE. UNDER THE SUMMEK-APPLE TREE. WE. have a saying in England, “It never rains but it pours,” as _ applied, not to the rain, but to the occurrences of daily life. Dyke Manor was generally quiet enough, but on Thursday evening— the Thursday already told of—we were destined to have visitors. First of all, arrived Mr. Jacobson, our neighbour at Elm Farm, with his nephew, young Harry Dene; he had his gig put up, meaning to make an evening of it. It turned out to be a night, or nearly so, as you will soon find. Close upon that, Charles Stirling of the Court (my place) came in; and Mrs. Todhetley went to the kitchen to say that we should require supper. ‘The stirring events of the week had brought them over—namely, the encounter on our land between the poachers and the keepers, and the flight of the valuable yard dog, Don, a Newfoundland. That afternoon, Thursday, we had heard, as may be remembered, that Don was at Evesham, under the keeping of Mr. Dick Standish ; and I had been told by Katrine Barbary that Mr. Reste had sud- denly and unexpectedly disappeared from Caramel Cottage. Old Jacobson predicted that Dick Standish would come to be hanged ; Charles Stirling said he ought to be transported. ‘““Of course you will prosecute him, Squire ?” said Charles Stirling. ‘““Of course I shall,” replied the Squire, warmly. ‘‘ The police have him already safe enough if they've done their duty, and I shall be over at Evesham in the morning.” After a jolly supper they got to their pipes, and the time went by on wings. At least, that’s what the master of Elm Farm said when the clocks struck eleven, and he asked leave to order his gig. It was brought round by Giles, the groom; and we were all assembled in the hall to speed the departure, when old Jones, the constable, burst in upon us at the full speed of his gouty legs, his face in a white heat. . Private information had reached Jones half an hour ago that the poachers intended to be out again that night, but he could not learn in which direction. Then commotion arose. The Squire and his friend Jacobson were like two demented wild Indians, uncertain what was best to be done to entrap the villains. ‘The gig was ordered away again. Some time passed in discussion. In these moments of excitement one cannot always bring one’s keenest wits to the fore. Charles Stirling offered to go out and reconnoitre ; we; you may be quite sure, were eager to second him. I went with Charles Stirling one way ; EOMIGIOOKS (EO) m