A COUCH OF HORRORS.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 1167, 14 November 1871, Page 3

A COUCH OF HORRORS.

LOST ON BUNDLES MOOR. (From M ss BradJ oil's Summer Tourist.) I don't know what induced me to cross Bundles Moor ou :i doubtful winter's duv. The i:ay was lowerirg, suow was in tlie air, the track whs ;it places faintly trace.!; here and there it fai.ud altogether. But I laughed at warnings. A wan who had coi - quered virgin peuk.s of Swiss A'pswasnot l.kely to bu daunted by the dangers of Uundlcs Moor Notwithstanding ray experience in the Swiss Alps and elsewhere,' I am bunnd to confess that I lost my way ; thaD I wandered many hours in fog, mid mist, and snow showers ; that I tin lly was very glad to abandon all hopes of reaching Bnngieford, and to crawl warily along the track of a little stream, which i.t all events led some where. The sulky day was almost quenched in night when I reached an euclosud country, and struck upon a stony lane hedge > in by loose atone walks. Ou clearing the ridge of the next hill, I sow through a rift in the fog, lyiug in the valley beneath me, a little town, grey and slaty Presently I came >o a high road bordered by a footpath of beaten ciaders, and passing oue or two detent houses, sheltered by stag-headed hkle-b.uind trees, found myself in a street of grey btone cottages, varied here and there by the gateway of some factory. The only signs nf life about tfie piacu was the dull reverbera tion of machinery, he gush of escaping steam. The towu setuied deserted of itihabitunts, but coining to the opening of another street, 1 was convinced that such was not the case; for with a great clatter of clogs a human being was advaucing. •• My friend,' 1 said to him gently " can you tell me if there is an inn in this place ?" " Aw doun't know." " Isn't there a public house ?" " A pooblic house ! Now do you think a tawn loike this 'ud Le without a pjobJichouse ?" " No, I should think not indeed." " What do you u.sk such fools questions for, then ?" said my frieud, passing on, indignant. I went on melancholy and forlorn, but again I met a man, vdiite faced, and wearing shoes. Him 1 accosted briskly. Perhaps, after all, it was well to be a little brusque. " My lad, « Here's public- house ?" He stopped and scrutinised me narrowly. " ow, v here do you come fro' — London ? Nay, you're none come fro' London. You'll be a chap fro' a warehouse co' Bradford." "<. ome, tull us the way to the publichouse." "Nay, ft don't much matter wi public houses. Nubbut what a can do with a good glass a yale now and then." " Then you shall have a glass with me ii you take me to the best inn in the place " In this way I succeeded in finding the inn, a ding\ square stone building flush with the road; behind it were outhouses, brewe ies, piggeries, and such like It was a bit out of "Pilgrim's Progress," my experience in this Yorkshire town. The landlord gave me no cordial welcome. " What was ihe name of the place ?" " Well, it i-eeme 1 very strange as a chap should come to a place and not know the name of it." " Could I have a bed ?" " Well, he didn't know; they didn't matter much wi' letting beds \o folks they knew nowt about. Suinmut teat ? Nay, he didn't think they'd aught to eat ; he'd axmissus." Missus enme. Ever I have found that the kind heart of woman is open to the cry of distre s. But I thought at first that Yorkshire was an exception. Missus was just as cautious as her master. I wag really exhausted and worn out, or I would have quitted the place at once. I said that t ha I met at the wells a wellknown countryman of hers, Mr Bungs, then she expanded. <• Aye ! well if ye know Billy Buujrs ye're all right. I can give ye a bed in the billiardroom, if ye like. Dinner, my lad, it's getting supper time. I'll pet thee a bit of supper, and make thee coaifortable, never fear." Really, after the walk I had had, the roaring fire in the inn-parlour and the comfortable^ arm-chair were sufficiently pleasant. And the missus's bit of ; supper was a good one. :. "Ah !" you say, " t see it now — hot supper, bad dream, woke with a start--regular thing !" Wrong again, reader. You shall hear. • ' Supper finished, I settled myself in the big arm-chair by the fire, with the Times, « smoking tumbler of toddy, and a well-filled pipe, prepared to enjoy myself. But my pipe fell out of my mouth, and I Blept. I

■ was awakened by a knocking at the door. It . was the missus. "Am going to lock \ip now, maister. • yoVU find th' ostler up th' yard ; he'll shoe you where your bedroom, is, and give you :i light." I stumbled through the darkness up tinyard; at an open door, at the farther en<! • T t lie yard, stood a man with a light in his hand, i c called to me as I approach?. i, "What! you've come to take your couch, then, huve you ?" At the time I was struck with the ppculi r nature of his address. My couch ! Fancy .1. Yorkshireman asking you if you are goh:g to retire to your couch." "Yes; give me a candle, pi ase,'" I said '• lla'nt you brought a lamp, then ? Well, here's a candle." He hamied me a bit of stick,- which h d .•>. tallow. dip stuck at the end of it. Possibly it. was the customary chamber-candlestick in Yorkshire - at any rale, I was too ured r.> care, I took it, and entered the open door, ihe flickering light of the candle ouiv showed me for a momenta vast blnck iiir,--rior, then the door slamme -to behind mi-, blowing out my ■ anclle. ' I was in total darkness. >'ill I had in my pocket a tin box <. ' ve-uviuns. Without venturing to more, 1 iVlt for this and found it. It is possible t-. Ob aiu a flame from a vesuvian if, at tV momi-nt of ignition, when the phosphorous is fl;» riny, you apply a puce of paper to it - still, it"s about three to one aga-nst doing if. Thi-re wore only two vesuviaus left in 1. v hnx — with encb I failed to light a piper. 1 Mir (.'.■■ <o tlif <!oor I had entered it w.-;s I. irked. Sli 1 I hud been told that my !ip;iriinent •vns a liillitrd-room. I should belik. !y to fin/i matches somewhere ; probably on thi; o. ■imni.'v piece ; the- re urn usually a miteh box "n.l a hundred or two loose matches lying -< n n billiard ro m ehimney-pirce. The hi ; liurd (able must be in the centra of th<> room ; it" I could <nee grasp that, I could in ke my way round the room, and my eje--, a enstoined to the darkness, might discern the fireplace. I took two steps carefully for wiird, and was precipitated into an abyss. E <!oti't know how far I fell, consciousness letc me fi«r a moment When I recovered my senses, I was lying in pome yielding matter, unhurt, but gm dually sinking. Yes, I was being gradually swallowed up in some horrible viscid pulp. I couldn't swim, I couldn't move, except by swinging my arms purposelessly abont; in .1 few moments they 1 00 would be sucked in, and then -suffocation iv its most horrible lurm. And yet I couldn't believe it. No, it couldn't be that tlm was really^ my last moment. lV hilst slowly sinking ihto this mysterious death I became aware of a bright light, as from a lantern, flushing upon me, and Unit a human form was peering at me from above. One of: the murdering gang who Ind'*inveigled me into thic trap, no doubt, and wlw was here to satisfy himself that the dastardly deed had been accomplished. The fiend ! he was actually prodding at me with au iron bar ! Rage restored my strength for a moment, and I clutched the bar, which the man lin-l thrust into my breast with both my hands; the villain, over- balanced, fell in o the pit. the pit prepared for me, and I, with all the energy of deep.-iir, grasped him, and actuary using him as a float, succeeded in raising myself par iy out of the viscid mass. How he roared for help for more assassins ! ant how I-, hto a madman, crammed great doublehandsful of the sticky stuff we were struggling in -crammed them into his mouth ! But his cries had done their work; the doors wre 1 brown open, and two rerulsivo wretches, carrying stable lanterns, rushed in. " Eh, missus ! Coome here, quick ! Dangc I if supervisor han't tumbled into t'eouch frame, and here's another (say gent) atlirottling hiiv !" I had in eed found my way into the malthouse instead «f into ray bedroom, had tumbled into the malt, and' had nearly kilhd ! a responsinle officer of her Majesty's revenue. After we had been fished out, and rubbed down and dried— my clothes smell beery to this very dny — my friend the supervisor, who seemed a 1 first to be strongly inclined to invoke tlif terrors of the law, and give niu iato custody for what he called •'compressing :i couch," began to take a more cheerful view of the occurrence. He was a Scotchman, and willingly agreed to my proposal to bury the remembrance of our struggle in mi amicible toddy tournament. '•Eh, moa," he said, " I thocht ye were tl.e <!ivil." " But, I say, what did you want to prod me with that iron thing for ?" "Prod ye, rauii ! I was just taking my gauge, that's ail. Ye see we gauge the malt always and nt all times — in the cistern, iv the couch — that's the couch where ye were— and ie s ptit there to germinate, d'ye see ; and then it's spread on the floor, and then roasted in the Kiln, and we measure it all ways. But. nion, I t'opo I'll never have to gauge sic another couch J" And may I never rest agiia on such a couch of horrors ! ■"•'i~* w "»*'i v " t —''*i"T"T > " ■"*?!'■ T'"i fiHiwmiTwrißtmMwiri