The Wrong Man — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

6e THE WRONG MAN. chips and rubbish, before every door, showed that the edifice had just started into being. The stumps of the forest-trees were still standing in the road, some freslily cut, and others black- ened by fire; and “the merry green wood” yet waved its em- bowering branches over the place designated in the map as the Public Square. - So important an incident as that of the body of a murdered man being picked up in the river and brought to the village, iaturally created a great sensation among the little communit lor Adrianopolis. The night was not yet far advanced ; housed many of the simple inhabitants—having neither “ soirees ” to at- tend, nor “the last new novel” to read—were already snug in their beds. The news, however, spread rapidly from one to an- other, and in an incredibly short time there was perhaps not a man, woman or child in the town who had not heard the story, and aided in swelling the number of conjectures which the cir- cumstance gave rise to. The bar-room of the tavern, to which the body had been con- veyed, presented a singular group, drawn together by a common impulse of curiosity. For some moments no voice broke the silence, every mind being impressed with those vague yet power- ful seusations of awe which the sight of death—-especially sudden and violent death—never fails to occasion As they gazed on the pale, cold, distorted face of Overton, whom most of the assemblage had seen within a few days in the pride of health and strength, the suddenness of the catastrophe by which he had been cut off created a general feeling of commis- eration a the spectators. In some minds this feeling almost assumed the higher character of respect for the individual—a sentiment never entertained for him during life. Strange and variable is the mind of man! The most of those who now _ looked on the body of the lawless hunter had probably antici- pated some such termination to his career, and had thought, perhaps, that wf should scarcely be sorry if their anticipations were realized. But the event produced different feelings, Mur- A murs of regret for his fate soon swelled into denunciations : sainst his murderer. They who at first only ventured half whispered surmises, gathering confidence from each other, soon grew lond in their tone, and bandied conjectures back and forth, a. with a freedom of speech, which, however much it might show regard for the dead, at least evinced but little respect for the characters of certain living. Their allusions and inuendoes =" were so broad that it was easy to see which way Uie currentof - suspicion was setting. os = a * Oh, no doubt of it,” said a ms fat-cheeked, beetle-browed Man, in- reply to manellney Ww a small, thin, sharp-nosed Sth »in a faded suit of black, had raised himself upon tip- tee ‘to whisper in his ear—‘no doubt of it at all, Mr. Ferule. the pecdler, met him in full chase and bard ongheheele