Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 126, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 May 1911 — HAL O' THE HIGHWAY [ARTICLE]

HAL O' THE HIGHWAY

By George Bronson-Howard.

Copyright, The Frank A. Munsey Co. CHAPTER I. v Lovers Persistent Old King Street, in the crisp, cold February morning, was astir with life First had come the early ones, the woodsmen on their way to market, carrying slung over their shoulders braces of duck, wood-partridges and pheasants; designed to tempt the palate of the gentry of the town; following thbm, the market gardeners, in their primitive, rusty wagons, that squeaked and groaned at every turn of their wheels. Longshoremen passed swinging oars and grappling-hooks; and negro slaves hurried out of the side doors of the great mansions to the little shops, for the procurance of dainties left unbought the night before.

To the eyes of the man of today the scene was a quaint one. But a hundred years or so will have passed and our . ways and customs will be equally quaint. For this was the year of our Lord 1765, when the American colonies still called the tippling Hanoverian king, and sent their sons and daughters to the home country for their education and clothes.

The municipality of Baltimore was a young one then. Recognized as a town for but a decade, It had been before that time the estates of certain gentlemen who held their land by patent from His Majesty Charles the First, of lamented memory, who had granted them this privilege through their ancestors of a hundred and thirty years before. But now the town was bidding fair to outdistance the capital, Annapolis, the center of beauty, wit and wealth of the Southland. King Street had made some effort to appear like a street of London. The houses were built at intervals of some fifty yards, and gardens surrounded them on all sides, where'in the more tropical months grew flowers and shrubbery In abundance. Some were encircled by clipped hedges of box-yew, others placed reliance on privity when iron fences with huge spiked ends separated the outside world from the domicile. At each gateway or carriage entrance hexagonial lanterns were hung, and the portico was lighted by another placed between the two marble pillars which were to be found guarding every house which laid claim to any importance whatsoever.

The mansions were built with no more originality than is generally displayed when certain tastes mark the age. They were invariably of two stories and an attic, with sloping tiled roofs and diamond-paned windows. The material varied only in the color of the brick, some being buff and some red, while the window-sills and woodwork was in the majority of instances painted white. Here and there green shutters caught the breeze defiantly, and were remembered for somehow breaking into the peace and quiet of the general /olor. The early morning had passed now, and the sun was bathing the houses with its yellow light. The diamondpaned windows reflected it back dazzllngly, and following the sun rays ohe might have caught a very good idea of the Arundel House from having seen the family at breakfast. Fortunately for him who looked, Sir John had risen from the breakfasttable and was poring over papers in his library, while he puffed at his church-warden pipe and sent clouds of smoke into the atmosphere. We say fortunately, for Sir John was not a man with whom an onlooker would care to reckon if caught ia the act of peering into his house. Nor was Sir John at all a pleasant man with whom to deal unless the opposite party chanced to agree witl. him. Sir John was the LieutenantGovernor of Maryland, spending, at that particular time, a few days with his brother's widow and her daughter the Lady Mary and her daughter Anne. It was Anne's laugh that rang merrily through the wainscoated break-fast-room, as she wiped her Angers dantily on her bit of linen napkin and looked with roguish eyes at her mother.

Alice Calvert, Anne’s friend, divided between loyalty to Anne and respect for Lady Mary's hospitality, was guilty only of a smile. Lady Mary was disapproving. “Anne, child,” said I-ady Mary, "it is very bad manners to sing at table—and worse manners to be guilty of such a rbiald song as that. Where did you hear such things?” Miss Anne continued to hum: For the beggar shall ride, such a beggar as I, And ask for alms from the passers-by. He shall ask for alms on the King's Highway. And never a person tp say him nay. But never a penny he takes from a A gentleman born is Hurricane Hal!

"Anne!” protested Lady Mary. "Anne!" The young lady suddenly ceased in a second rendition. "i can’t see the harm in it, mother,she said very sweetly. “As for the learning of it, i’ faith, it was taught me by as gbod a gentleman as I know —whose name, dear mother, I shall even keep to myself. It was gotten at first hand by him, for he heard Hurricane Hal himself sing it, so he said. He said also the highwayman possessed a very passable voice, mother.” - ~ Lady Mary shuddered in quite the fashionable way. "Oh, la!” she tremored. "Suppose we should meet this dreadful man, this highwayman! Does he not infest the road to Annapolis—this—what is it they call him, child?” Her daughter responded promptly. "Hurricane Hal,” said she. “And by all accounts, his name was rightly gotten, for he can outride any man in Maryland. * But have no fear, mother: But never a penny he takes from a gal— A gentleman born is Hurricane Hal. A very fair sight was this Mistress Anne Arundel, but a year past eighteen, and the belle of the upper Chesapeake. Her hair was as black as her skin was creamy white, and the little ringlets fell rebelliously upon the satiny surface of her forehead.

Her nose was small, and had the faculty of looking quite contemptous of the other sex, while her lips refused to join in the contempt, and defiantly expressed a desire to be kissed. For they were very kissable lips indeed, those of Mistress Anne, curved and just full enough to show that whatever else she might be, she was most certainly impulsive and harum-scar-um.

Her eyes were hazel ff they remained stationary for a length of time sufficient for one to denominate them a color at all, but in the ever changing expression of her face the lights played strange tricks with them and one remembered only that they were very large and might hold the uttermost depths of love. Not that Anne had ever proven the possibility. She was the despair of every gallant not otherwise attached, and she had acquired some art in refusing to marry many youths qtiite eligible for the position of husband. “Do tell us about the highwayman, Anna dear,” begged Alice Calvert, no longer able to restrain her curiosity. “Think—we might meet him on the road—wouldn’t that be spl—terrible!”

But “terrible” was not the word Mistress Alice had intended to use. The young lady of the Calvert family had been weeping over ‘'Clarissa Harlowe” the night before anif many nights subsequent ’ She had also read a very gaudy edition of the exploits of certain gentlemen of the road —Duval, Sheppard, Turpin, and others of less fame, but of equal aptitude in the pointing of a horse-pistol and getting away with the proceeds.

Mistress Alice thrilled with pleasurable fear at the thought of meeting face to face one of her light-fingered heroes. A little slip of a girl was Alice, older than Anne, but one of the impressionable, languishing sort that would be a baby at fifty and kittenish even when a grandmother. “I only know the song,” returned Miss Anne. ‘‘And that the highwayman was once a gentletnan. No one knows more than that. And he’s'never killed any one.” After a moment’s pause she added ! ‘‘They fiay he’s very handsome.” ‘‘Anne, my child!” said her shocked mother.

“I' faith, mother, I’m not responsible for his looks,” explained the mischievous Anne. "If you were his mother as you are mine, it might concern me—” “Anne!” Lady Mary had risen from the table to the full dignity of five feet two, and wrapped her morning shawl severely about her. “You speak of your mother and a highwayman in the same breath—”

“By your leave, mother, it’s the only breath I have,” said Anne, and smiled at Alice, who was rolling her babyblue eyes in imaginative meetings with gentlemen of the road. “Yeu are a saucy baggage!” cried Lady Mary tn a tremulous, wrathful falsetto. "And It is in my mind to disallow you to go to Annapolis at all—”

Anne smiled again. “You want to go yourself, mother dear,” she cooed. "And besides. Uncle John has ordered it— ** She blew out her cheeks and swelled like a turkey-cock until she grew red in the face, then, in an imitation of Sir John's rumbling voice of authority “Mary, ahem, ahem. State ball, ahem. Want you and that impudent wench Anne, ahem. Good-looking, the pair of you, ahem. Must make a showing of women folks— *’ *

Lady Mary left the room exhaling an arctic atmosphere. Anne rested her head on her hands and laughed again.