Welsh Newspapers

Search 15 million Welsh newspaper articles

Hide Articles List

6 articles on this Page

1'^EEPE^s whistle.

News
Cite
Share

y, (Copyrigld, ) 1 ^EEPE^s whistle. totlly LUoy hardy, )fi b" Th""P-t Room "A Madman's laf1. f' The etcher in the Church Porch, M b* ti j]o — traversiiig' a muddy DevonsBire 3: iJPpt 07 aut«maal evening, in anytime <i l> > frame <>f niir.d. Had tlL k? 4 Series of iri.>drentf'r-:s. ^C1 been induced too fag at IS rv,:aoorlaiid inn v ,'(' i iiad halted } to ^caicniatns^ vb- rhne it would kj the cZ* 110n I1 making a bicycle 1 j? u* town w'lcrc 1 intended to ii K^itiv through misdirection 1 Wl"'Vn bhui l.-rin- I had taken a lu^of f> 3ncl ^0UT'd :nv.iHi at last several it >'>hen ,1-* Way. Ami. as a crowning mis- con 1 struck again into the right CQ 3: iJPpt 07 aut«maal evening, in anytime <i l> > frame <>f niir.d. Had tlL k? 4 Series of iri.>drentf'r-:s. ^C1 been induced too fag at IS rv,:aoorlaiid inn -V)!' i iiad halted } to ^caicniatns^ vb- rhne it would kj the cZ* 110n I1 making a bicycle 1 j? u* town w'lcrc 1 intended to ii K^itiv through misdirection 1 Wl"'Vn bhui l.-rin- I had taken a lu^of f> 3ncl ^0UT'd :nv.iHi at last several it >'>hen ,1-* Way. Ami. as a crowning mis- con 1 struck again into the right Im 4tld ci: nasty per ovor a liv i'- en inyae'i' -evereiy, and so, %inlrulcyele that t was now reduced to iiivi .liecessity of leading instead of ^yr?C 'Ine- i tramped doggedly along <wtg j 111 and mist, devoutly hoping that J»UV glimmering in "the distance Men 5e of town of T and, ] 1* "°gberry, to '"write myself down j er starting upon this cycling trip C1- lit (iT With .mos^ West-Country ones, wai iff 0„^ high hedge on either side; but the k10ua' «aPs ir-a('° b.v a gate Utifi a(* nieadows stretching away tbi^he they met the river which flowed valley into which the road 4 '<* <iari'ended. It "was iate, past nine !iwet tu' rainy evening, and not a habita- nt 1 Wn th<- town, from which I fs{ w '1 still be about a couple of miles a pleasant finish to my day's 4} *1d ehi't rather savssrelv, for I was w^thg^en, and not a little anxious rt1i,irriount of damage which my pet have received; damage whose it1 'iehf as difficult to ascertain by the (j/'ly, the matches 1 had struck. lk\'0lfd the intense stillness around, a C0f 1 a,ld I sound of » I hePoimall's whistle, I should have iy 8tjanrci in London. I started at the i| JPot • t»?e and unexpected in this quiet, L 8t'le etl I remembered that the blower &WtnPEsibl y some mischievous boy, Vwere I rect me to a cottage or farm- tk 4 ca**1* least leave my machine, to\»Ie^ance to take it and myself V^aeh F?r one of my ankles was ^furiously, and the prospect of IL. f before me was not an agreeable ^ere,„ L>fNno 8houted- Si h5e^'y* and for a moment I won- I h»H u regarding the sound tW heard; and yet there was no PV.-1 clear' ^sonant whistle. J. thus questioning with myself, L s°Und rang out again, loud and t eyou tell me where is the St*° in»r ?ann' I ve met an )j T bicycle and want to get a lift K. ^sii touted through the mist; but as the grave N t^Ut'tr3n»e there was certainly no ►? « 8 tfiis time, and it 8ht AV !f°m the meadows which lay tb the rond, ? rson whistling is rather deaf," Sd5 m7 machine against the "8 for a gate which opened into KVn <ii!f.1%k(h0untry misfc g?therin?-an^ V lW L bln"ed and indistinct, but I of t river, and the outlines of Lb*f trees which dotted the pleasant tne- But there was neither Sun an>" humau figure. It seemed f should be strolling U1 e '*og in so lonely a spot at this ? L^ounui11^' but as I glanced at the that some keeper" k Cln5 r^t 1t" guard against riparian or tn choose to beguile the K,glv? Warning of his presence V Mg lowingr 0f [jj3 whistle. 1 again shouted out my N the same result as eyee j^8 the grave, and I vainly Jlhr,, darkness to distin- ftL y fancied r tl»e whistler. But as I A j^gest of s*w a faint light appear ^ysejf an,i .^r"up of trees which stood %«that ca.«if i° *^ter; a faint flicker- Vern nly? glowworm or by a Mi *!Hg that- T i walked briskly for- Si-ted a, r found the JNID. at last. F^en i„ (?rew near tb« trees, seized W'Ht- 1Q^xphcable sease of terror. The ul,^?r7 Pale first, gradually grew of til it xorined a kind of halo about "V °f the trees. Out of this faint u. ^—I can describe it in no other ^7 form l>egan to evolve itself, in- M ,at first, but gradually becoming flf&c l e figures thrown upon the screen i^ a tern. The outline danced and I tbe b second or two, and t iieti, luminous h 1 ^^nTound of the mist, I beheld the It* of ln—Of a tall, gaunt man about Mi if^e" His dress, as ■well as I could >(" hf.1 light, was a suit of V ^ehelH .Was ljare, and, as I looked js hfe the blood oozing from a wound a fS^' r^ apparition .shewed dis- (> seconds, then wavered, and aWay like the "dissolvingviews" vf fat/?n> but, as the light grew dim, I §.» cied I hoard, a harsh, stern voice :0\1 V this enlightened a^i', none of us "Heo ghosts; I should have indignantly, IttiA Such a weakness up- a my own part Previously; but new—well, I am: *nd confess that my Wnees knocked' J the? that, a tew moments after I had i 4 ratp^' 1 was making tracks for the 1^ sPeed which l had not believed ^4 f e capable of enduring. i^V ^ly back a? 1 leaped into the ,Mysterious light had entirely Was silent save the pattering tu then, oh, blissful sound! I utrv of wheels behind me and ,an, y°kei common-place apparition of > •1in b 'nt^V^atlce A^his man, and arranged the d the of myself and my injured nllt. road As we slowly lumbered Rf ter all J began to ask myself if Ou 0rii" nf ^Jeen ^he victim of some the Wa, some chance ray of light "«hH,j0clUcinfr 0t" the wet tree leaves, & anrt And L i aPParition I had fancied ? Tk s'ght K could both my senses, **eJi e mist. e befn thus strangely' thL? tlle valley might perhaps tioQaj ^Sftlves into the likeness of ^'U'al white-robed phantom," but t tilat h Ca"es could I explain the felt featured, weather beaten' •? lt>aQ(1 s^,re I should recognise any- then—the wound upon ite Fd ac|t, i h that fk Ve °ften thought it strange .^t 0f he figure which I had seen n.accidenf actual living man, who had ^Ught never crossed my brain; h> tS;Ue*er\°f turning back to offer •! ^lution011^641 t0 me- Singularly >W ^tself t. ot the mystery never once 5st*h!!a'Ve dona mind' *nd perhaps it ^ncSs uone to the reader's in similar ^en f |Hlv*^erienr.« inclined to mention my lA>'o«S:e,t0 the driver of the cart, i tred Overiihly anxious, to leave S £ <uif behind me as fast as A th ,*8iha*L could—to persuade myself ck. 0n must have played me a ■VN th th*6 WartT»est and kindliest of i Wi3y driTort^y keeper of the little; jWfK ^et duly deposited me; my aUd on • dishevelled, was-duly; ^^eaf 1tindl<J?I^lserated' a bright wood y?I p»riour-m LJ good «- esPlt(* t!'e lateness of emptyn e»tl:?uUlry housewife's 4hf, *etirefl ?l' atld ohus warmed and fed *hiw my reat» and forgot alike my ««ets. y terrors amid the lavender- *dvenf *fterrLkftUra*d my mind n«t! Ik i at a m7 luckless machine! N roa^istihu1^ tn the town, II & Wari! and wandered the eio\1a ni h" the field where I had "b,,re 1 et!»at ^guisf. ln;^0ws- and the trees, 1 *<1P? ^ai»ge one beneath ^te^nt olt 3,beQt light had played- &To^ 6 Very atv.K gnarled roots—I could ^sgiip^duaiiy (iiV^ rp 1 l,ad beheld that h«er( of itj could atill recall 6 idea y a del ? her-beaten features. ?r-as an u°com- beoominZ m,,ul—'was I sickening mUl* Object to hallucin^ | Myfankle was still very stiff and painful, and I decided that I would call in the local doctor. He came, a genial country practitioner, and informed me that I had received a worse ,shaking than I had realised at the time, that Imy ankle needed complete rest, and that I had (better "lie up for a day or two. I still lacked courage to mention what I had fancied I had seen and heard the previous night—perhaps my fall had. stunned me a little, and confused ray :wits for the time being. The kindly landlord and landlady much com- miserated my enforce'1 confinement to the sofa, and worthy Mrs. Smith did her utmost to enter- tain me. She brought in my meals herself, and lingered long gossiping before she removed the cloth. I was informed of most of the private history of the neighbours: Who wore gingham, and who wore silk, Of the wages per week of the Weavers and Skinners, And what they hoile(l for their Sunday dinners, and also received a full account of my hostess's: own domestic afFn irs; how many children she had "reared a :d how many she had "buried," with much f;t• •• information regarding the present cow?; :,f social status of her sur- viving 0fl's-]:r "Tom. in roll in Canady, and Ted's an engine this line," remarked Mrs. Smith, "aii Iels very well married up in London, ;t,, tiie finest pair of twins- now I'd just .i>;e to shew you their portraits, sir," and the good woman reached for a photo- graph album which lay in state upon a table in the window, and opened it to display the like- nesses of two excessively corpulent infants, wearing the scantiest attire. But I scarcely glanced at the picture upon which the fond grandmother was rapturously gloating; for my attention was riveted by a portrait upon the opposite page. That stern countenance, that tall gaunt figure, that suit of tweeds—had I not seen them all before-under the oak tree in the meadows ? "Whose likeness is this?" I asked rather abruptly, cutting short Mrs. Smith's encomiums! upon her grandchildren. "That?—oh, that's poor Jim Grant, the keeper I as was murdered just a year ago come yester- d<1Y," said Mrs. Smith, glancing at the portrait; "dear, dear, that was a sad story sure enough, and them as did it never found out to this blpssed day. But there's the twins, sir, and which of 'em 'ud you think to be the elder of the two?—no one ever guesses that right," continued the hostess, reverting to the subject which personally interested her. But I had neither eyes nor thoughts for anything save this' portrait. "You say this man was murdered," I ex- claimed "how did. that come about ? vn, it's a a oia story now," replied Mrs. vn, it's a a oia story now," replied Mrs. Smith, a little huffed at my palpable lack of due interest in the babies, "and it's never like to i be cleared up in this world now, I suppose. But, Jim Grant—he was a friend of my 'usband'a, land that's how his likeness comes in here—j !wa3 the water-keeper at Mr. C 's (naming a' local landowner), "andneither of 'em was vervj well liked in the neighbourhood, if I must speak itile truth. You see, Mr. C-, he bought the Iproperty, and was a stranger here like; and was !a sight harder about things than the old family —as had had the estate some three hundred I .years—had ever been. Desperate particular, |about the fishing, too, was Mr. C-—, and: set upon stopping what hs called "river poach- ing" on his property. Now, sir, where there's plenty of trout —well, it stands to reason there's folks as will be after them. And while it wasi only done in reason, the old family winked at it. They wasn't, perhaps, the worse of a scored of fish in the season after all. But Mr. 0-, he stopped up all the roads he could stop up in his property, and then he hired a river-keeper to watch the banks, 'Twas a bit of folly on his part, as all the other gentry said, for his place wasn't such a big one as to make it worth while; but, you see, his back was up, and he vowed he wasn't going to have his trout poached !no longer. And he brought down James Grant, a. Scotch keeper, to look after the place. I was never much set upon Grant myself," proceeded I Irs. Smith, after a pause, "and he wasn't popular hereabouts, being a dry, stiff sort of man, and as hard as nails. My'usband he liked him because they was both mad upon gardening, and I must say Grant, for all his hard ways, was a vety good, kind 'usband to the little woman he d married; a pretty young thing, young enough to be his daughter, but as wrapped up in him as he was in her. His wife was the only person Grant seemed re*lly to cotton to, though he made an honest, active servant to jMr. C-, and was down upon the very boys if i they listed to angle for minnows with a pin." "I suppose all this zeal for his employer's interest did not make the keeper more popular 'in the neighbourhood ?" I remarked. "Grant waa just hated by a good many folk," 'replied Mrs. Smith emphatically, "and 'twasn'fc quite unreasonable neither. You see, sir, there's ways of doing things; and Grant, he always took the roughest one. As I say, there'd never been real poaching of the fish, so to speak; only a few strays picked up now and then; but Grant watched like a cat at a mouse- hole, and ran in a couple of men afore he'd r<;ne1n. ore, six months, and one of 'em was a real bad 'uTi. Black Bill, as they used to call "Then he was an object of pity?" T "JWe!i?ir' ,^AS< aad he wasn't, to to sneak jl do believe Bill was a poacher of game of which there wasn't much to signify upon Mr |C -'s property; but the man always swore— and most folks thought truly-that he'd never! taken any fish afore the couple of trout which! Grant caught him and his pal Jones putting into; their basket one fine evening. But the two men I was had up to the court, and got a term for poaching; and Bill he swore to be even with: Grant one day, and I think he was." "Do you mean that he murdered the keeper ? I asked, becoming interested. "Ah, that's just what no one knows," replied! [Mrs. Smith, mysteriously; "all I can tell youi is that one night, just a year ago—an awful' windy night it was, too—Grant went out as usual for to so his rounds, and never come back. and they lound mm dead next morning, lying under' one of the trees in the meadow, with a great; ^sh in his bv.xzum." I Further questions e^citea all that was known of the tragedy. It seemed thai, Grant's wife had become apprehensive regarding the threats uttered against her husband, and had persuaded! him to wear a whistle, similar to a policeman's! call, when he went his night rounds. This very' whistle had, in fact, been found lyin<* on the! ground near the body; but, as Mre. Smith! remarked, "even if Grant had blowed it on that! night,no one could ha' heard it above the wind." The wound in the murdered man's breast had, the doctor said, been caused by a knife, proba- bly by one akin to an American bowie-knife in shape'; and it was remembered that a weapon of this description had been seen in the possession of Black Bill a day or two before the murder. Thi* man, in fact, frankly admitted this, but -Ki ed that it had been given him by a brother-in- law who had lately returned from Amwica, that he had merely retained it as a curiosity, and had| lost it bv accidentally dropping it into the river, a dav before the muider. This statement was AS by the of the djjjWjH the man at whose house IhH lodged, wlw swore to have been present when the knife was t lost. This young woman was, indeed, the cniet witness for the defence. Various circumstance, Coupled with the threats uttered against Grant by Kill and "Bill's landlord (the latter's "Pal and fellow sufferer from Grant's zeal),had cauafd lue arrest of both men on suspicion, but no proof* could be produced that they had any share in the murder; "though folks was mre they'd killed the keeper all the same," remarked Mrs. Smith, parenthetically. parenthetically. Alice Jones, the daughter, swore positively tint both her father and his lodger were sleeping in their cottage throughout the night when the murder was committed, she being up all that night, finishing a wedding dress for a friend, and sitting in a room into which both the men's bedchambers opened. She aIRe. confirmed the story of the loss of the knife, and Un severest ross-examination failed to shake her evidence. Everyone hereabouts thought as the wench was lying," tranquilly remarked Mrs. Smith, "but there, 'twas to save her father's neck, you know. So, in the end, Bill and Jones was let out again, but Jones he never held up his head from that day. And, 'twas a curious thing, 'ill three months afterwards they found him— '.rowned—in the riv r jnst by where Grant had lin dead, and no ore ever knew if he'd felt r; by accident, or chucked himself there a! purpose. Then Ally Jones, she took up with ali ■ran and went to Ameriky with him, and no onej hoard no more of her. Bill bides here still, andj works on at a farm—he's a good labourer wlieo lip. chooses; but folks are a bit shy of him; fOIe —they thinks what they thinks. But I'm losing! ill the day a-talking here," concluded Mrs" S nith, recalled to a sense of her domestic duties, and bustling away. The next evening set in one of those furious ?ales which occasionally sweep over our Western, -oasts; rows of 'tall trees fell as before the, woodman's axe, houses were unroofed, and the account of the damage done was so startling that wiien a calm succeeded, and the sun shon«| >rightly again, I readily accepted the landlord'* »iTer to drive me out "for a bit of air," and tc riew the havoc wrought by the "blizzard." It's deadly dull lying ail day within fo*u *ra.!1«. and vn.i n^.n rout un vnur loo- urvm t.h* I seat of the chaise," remarked the worthy Boniface; and I readily agreed. We drove down the road I already knew so well; and Mr. Smith, moved by the associations of the locality, related once more to me the story which I had already heard from his wife. "If that b)wie-knite--which there's no doubt killed the keeper—had ever turned up it might have been awkward for Bill Wilson," concluded Mr. Smith, "for 'twas such a queer shaped sort of thing that many who'd looked at it in Bill's cottage would ha' known it again. I expect it was after, not afore, the murder that he chucked it away." "You seem quite sure that this man com- mitted the crime, although the magistrates acquitted him," I remarked. "The magistrates said as there wasn't evidence to convict him," said Mr. Smith drily; and I appreciated the force of the distinction. The fair meadow land was strewed with fallen trees: I looked towards the clump I remembered so well, and saw that the ancient oak (which I could not yet glance at without a slight tremour) was now lying prostrate and uprooted upon the sward. But around it was gathered an eager group, talking, exclaiming, gesticulating, and as Mr. Smith halted by the field gate to inquire the meaning of this excitement, a dozen eager voices shouted: 'Tis the knife as killed keeper Gra.nt-we've found 'un here-under the ould tree! Forgetting my injured ankle, I scrambled down and stumbled across the meadows. Yes, the uprooting of the tree had revealed a long, cruel-looking knife, which had apparently been concealed by being thrust deeply down into one of the fissures in the gnarled roots, and thus safely buried out of sight for ever, save for the unexpected disclosure made by the uprooting of the tree. the tree. "'Tis the very knife I've seen in Bill Wilson's hands; I'd swear to it anywhere," cried a man. The rest of the story may be briefly told, Bill, on being again arrested, saved the authorities further trouble by making what he called "a I clean breast of the business." According to his own account, the murder was not, however, a premeditated crime. Wilson and Jones were returning home late one evening, and encountered Grant, who accused them of again attempting to poach in his master's waters. High words ensuect, a scuffle followed, in the course of which Bill, who chanced to be carrying the bowie-knife, stabbed the keeper in the breast. "He fell like a log, and died in a minute or two, and we buried the knife under the roots of the tree and corned away," concluded the murderer. Fears for her father's safety made it easy to square" Ally Jones, as Bill remarked, Of course this version of the occurrence rested "square" Ally Jones, as Bill remarked, Of course this version of the occurrence rested wholly upon the murderer's own statement, but it apparently had weight with the authori. ties, for the death sentence upon Wilson was afterwards commuted to that of "penal servi- i tude" for life; and for aught I know that worthy is still "doing time" at Dartmoor or Portland. One expression used by the criminal at his trial struck me as somewhat remarkable-in face of my own experience. "I was about tired of the business of keeping quiet," remarked the man, who had evinced a singular callousness throughout, "for, though I wasn't such a bloomin' fool as Jones, who used to snivel and say as he allers saw Grant standing by him bleeding, I'd nasty dreams ibout the fellow. And at times I've been woke up in the middle o* the night by fancying as I heard Grant a-blowing that dratted whistle of his." Now, it chances that the criminal was not the only person who had fancied he had heard that mysterious whistle. The "missing link" to the murderer has been found, the tree beneath which the tragedy took place has long ago been sawn up into logs, and, of course, no one believes In ghosts nowadays. Still, I should not—no, I am sura I should not —care to keep a lonely vigil in that Devonshire meadow where I believe (no, of coarse I only fancied) that I heard the murdered keeper's whistle, and beheld that awful light, that strange phantom. rrn Em.

Local Football News. -- 4

--------.. COLLLIERY FATALITY…

LLANTRISANT NATIONAL SCHOOLS.

Advertising

_-::_------------RHONDDA UIIBAN…