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NOTES OF A TOWN TRAVELLER. 



" Truth is strange, 

 Stianger than fiction.' 



Lord Bvro.v. 



THE VICTIM. 



I WAS sitting in a corner of the traveller's room, at a small inn on the 

 road toNorthampton, comfortably smoking my pipe, and carelessly listening 

 to the conversation held by my fellow travellers, about five or six in 

 number, when one of them, a very genteel -looking man, of the middle 

 age, suddenly rose out of his seat, and after a few hems and has to gain 

 the attention of the company, said, " Gentlemen" — 



" Hear, hear," responded those around him. 



" You've each told some wonderful tale to-night, gentlemen," conti- 

 nued he, " and I have listened to them with pleasure ; because I believe 

 them to be true, though I must confess some of the situations were, in 

 my opinion, mighty marvellous." 



" Oh, oh !" 



" Now, gentlemen, what I am going to relate to you, is not an every- 

 day occurrence, simply because it happened to me in the night." 



" Morrison's pills !" whispered one. 



" I was travelling from Devonshire to London, in the year 1794, in 

 the month of December. On the first day's journey, I arrived, about 

 nightfall, at a small inn, or rather public-house, the only habitation of 

 the kind for ten miles round It being a dark winter's night and a 

 heavy shower of rain coming on at the same time, I was glad enough, 

 as you may suppose, to meet with this accommodation, bad as it seemed. 

 After seeing my horse and gig put into safe and happy keeping, I 

 entered the traveller's room, as they were pleased to call it, but which 

 to me, having been accustomed to the delightful and roomy parlours in 

 London, appeared nothing better than a common tap or pot room. A 

 bright fire was burning in the grate, which in some degree compensated 

 for the shabbiness of the room, but which sadly contrasted with the dark 

 features of three men, who were sitting in the farther corner. 



" I cannot say that 1 am an extraordinarily brave man, nor do I think 

 I am actually a coward ; but I must confess, the appearance of these 

 men threw a damp upon my spirits and 1 almost began to wish I had 

 gone on to the village, notwithstanding the rain. — I rang the bell. 



" Waiter, bring me a glass of brandy and water and a pipe." 



" ' Yes, sir,' replied a grinning dirty-faced bumpkin, who I suppose on 

 occasions served as waiter, ostler, and every thing. 



" • Damned unfortunate !' exclaimed one of the men in an under-tone. 



