{ title: 'Callicoon local record. (Youngsville, Sullivan Co., N.Y.) 1868-1868, August 07, 1868, Page 2, Image 2', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn90066293/1868-08-07/ed-1/seq-2/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn90066293/1868-08-07/ed-1/seq-2.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn90066293/1868-08-07/ed-1/seq-2/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn90066293/1868-08-07/ed-1/seq-2/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
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tS'i ■ ■ . •; 0 IfflWTlONAL SECOND EXPOSURE §:» s/wtqwmleut atca'spitticr, feotril to the gutcwst of tlw Sown, a«d fite of fjril®. Vol. I, Yoim gw ille, E Y., A ugust 7,1868. No. 20, '(SaUtooit $*ol gcrowi, P u b l i - i i e d W e e k l y , a t YOUNGSVILLE, SULL. GO?, N. Y. M J O A N S & CHILD.S, 1 ■ 1 11 jr.i and P u b lishers. Terms. Oae Dollar a year in advance. c f v j ) ,_Vq> * .■ f* *1 * r > .V j «*~l We are -Hvp.irpJ t > iVut P.uii.il.: 1 'ti-.- .T.n Bill ile a l . Leifer iJeeiN, LiteD, Aie t’eai ;.i. i otli. r II in, VU-; Ba-iue Wediiiu tub! A'Vu . - (’anls; Prua.uames. Ele -ii-in Tickets, Knvebqa-: Bank Uheek , Ye , either with Black; Or Colored Inks, or i:: I -mr/.e. AT. iv.ui. d a< ilii-eeleil l>jT t h e perron oruer- l'g it, and IV >’y w’-ai promised. K A T i A O F A O V K C -T iS IY iY . lw . 2 v . 3\r. D a . An. 3m (ini. l y In . ;V)C 75c -1 00 $123 77 >2.70 $3 50 C' B i-sine.-w C . m l i : u t exceeding C. e .-uc.s, ~2 70 a year. Editorial Notice- 7't rents an im-h. obituary “ “ A h inch fompri.-e 11 minion lines. S 3 ~ All t r a n s i e n t a I v e rtisemcnts m u s t i n v a r i a b l y be p.a 1 i u ad uuce. ISANTEO ^T THE C ^ . O S S - n O A D. I W&M; hurry to’reach home. No wonde'^r’r'it vras the wildest night I limCnver h down in all my life, and the i.-.-uutry I-., d ;rcr which I took my way a-; o id -.\.id a,; dark as country roads in general. C’oi.requetitly I was walking at a great rate, with the collar of a rough co it over my ears, and a com forter tied ot cr my soft hat and under my chin, to k*-jp it on and protect my ears, when suddenly a man stood full in my path, a.il caught me by the arm, ‘‘II illo!’- --aid heu “You’re just in time^vjan are wanted at the cross-roads to uight.” voice was the voice of aruffaiu. ■bad myself attacked by a high* Th I fa i way man. L stood quit-; still, and tried to show him by my ma.mer that I was able to protect mysei.’ “ W hat the dance a m i wanled a t the cross-roads would be he o’, to r*et i „r fo'? Unless mo I choose, it there.” r.dY M U S I ’ .*. 1 IY WILL I. I.-LAiiE. Fur the KiuorJ. H O M E . i Ill' >• I'Olk-’, a n . : u 'u urodueing u r uiuuo - a Ol 1,1 pistol man answered in an altered tone: M v Mn-s? il.veits ’mill Mel Nat o s ovrli W l n T f qa h i.irtli cry- ; t.niutain.', Bcm.-atli tin* inliaui- •_ cii: Where 1 n]. il i wari.’ < .w, T h e iw.-ilc~f ul' t! ir r.; An-1 j. mt I ne v i' - Tis tilcl C . llll.-J Jit I /-c i iit'IianU'il, •h her h .’.vcix, 1 tread; - t u I ! '* ! H in ti I 1 lind my-c _\vi, tV 'il.h m u : - itY -iiaiul. thmuJi v.'ihl iv'u. i ; spread. 1 hear the rj.-h --t poetry. I'm bleu a d by ii\s clini-un; And -peh. . re c-uning o'eriue, As 1 re-t in Mu-e's arms. Tla ve let ill - j e . f forever; T h e r e let m e ever m a m ; From her do nut me -ever; « There, let me make niv home. I l-mg 1 roam withtaiii. ,, T o region- mi,re e u h . i i n e , Where murn.l no tnme wearies, . And .ho 1' igu- diroughinit lime. JtiiTErsii-.viu.E, N. Y. Josh Billings, or “any other mm,” says; “Most enny man will couc-ile that it looks very' fooNh fn see a boy drag a heavy slay up a steep hill in- t ie flei tin 5 pUshur of ridiu’ down again, but appears to me that boy is a sag bi the side ov the young man hoo { works hard all the week and driux his * stamps up Sutterde night. An d d lady, reading au account of a distinguish'd old lawyer who was said to fie the father.of the New Yoik bar, ; exd:vm-dt man! he has a dred- fid set of children!” * \Beg pan ion thought it v. I made a mistake. I my brother, and wantedcaught Lim.. 1” said I. to frighten him Bad night, sir.” kuow the time? ” lie left the train “Good “ V e r y “You dou’t asked. “It was seven when I at L I mid. “Thank ye,” said the man. night!” ^ If his objec' had been robbery, prob ably he had decided, from my rougli uiu IIL ts , that I was too poor a man to be worth the kouble. But after ell, I said, probably he the trudi. A man may have spoke such a voice, v.;tliout being a highway man, no doubt. So I went « n homeward, and soon found myself ui, ier shelter, and partak ing of an warn and savory supper. My moiher v.ts there, and my broth er Ben. Ben was a great strapping fellow who could beat any other boy oflv.re', his age for mile-- around, if it came toniier, wrestling, or 1 ,xing. aud as goqd hu mored a boy as ever lived; a boy al ways to bis mother, although he exer cised his right to vote already in oneed PresedeutiA .1 e!t :lion. When supper was over, and we had ehatted for an hour, we went up stairsn icgether. We share one room. The moment Hen’s head touched the pllow, he alwaj went to sleep. Thats nigni I followed his example. Bit I did if t sleep long without a Jreaii—a divatn in which I felt a rough grip on my arm and was roused by a cry it g iu my ear. “ ,Yake up! you ’re w a n t e d at the crost roads .” It was so real, so palpable, that when I sf'rted broad awake I actually be lieved that some one was in the room —the man who had met me ou the r :ud, perhaps, and who intended robber r or violence. But when I had lit my amp the iuom was empty, except myselt and Ben lying snoring on his pillow. I vent to the door; it waslockel.— I went to the window; the rush of rain agtii :t the panes was all.I heart I even .vent across the passage to my rukhnTsroom. She was awake. T iere ha-r been no unusual sound, she was sure Oily a dream born of my me. .mg with the strange man upon the roal I felt mre had awakened me. I wei.t to bed and fell asleep again. Again I vas awukcned by the same words—-his time' shrieked iu my ear by an uneaith- !y v ‘ice. • • uV,! v-ike up’ You’re want ed at llie i-.O. ., . --a... ’ I was on my feet once more, arjd Ben’s hand as he came to my beck “Wbat ails you ?” he cried. “ Nothing,” I replied. “Did you hear a voice?” '•Yours,” said Ben, “yelling ‘wake up.’ You fairly frightened me.” \Ben said I, “wait until I light the lamp. I heard another voice, must be some one iu the house, the outside. to I lit the lamp, and we searched,solitary but in vain. “Nightmare,” saiij Ben, when I hud told him the story. “Ben,” said I, “what is there at .he cro-s roads?” “A house,” said Ben. He had livedtion, iu he neighborhood a long while, aud I but a short time. “One little house, besides two oik trees, aud a fence. An old man l.tes t a rich old fellow, and a bit cl aaughs. i they say. His grand-daugliier keeps house for him.” “Ben,” said I, “that fellow may have meant harm to them. I may be want at the cross roails.” “Bother,” said Ben; go to sleep.—and You had a nightmare” and Ben plungedom i betwten the blankets, aud was suon snoring again There or ou we were wanted at I also in ten minutes was sleeping J fhe cross roads,” aud then, understand- mildly as before, but the awaken.ng big each other, without more words, we quickly came agaiu. ~ made our way to a window, through I opeued my eyes to see a girlsta..J-| which a light shone. A muslin eur« i°3 at the foot of the bed. A girl in? (Continued on fourth page.) V X white robe-t with golden hair all about her should ;rs, who wrung her hands, and cried 1 wake up! You’re wanted at the cross roads/’ This time I started out of bed bathed in a cold perspiration. I trembled like a leaf, and had no dnubt that I had reeieved a upernatural Warning. “Ben,” I cried, “Ben, for tbe third time I have deen told that I am want- ad at the cross roads, and I am going.” And I b.‘gan to dress myself as rap idly as possible, listening meanwhile to the storm, raging madder and wilder than ever since its commencement. Ben remonstrated with, me in vain. At last he also began to huddle on his clothes. “If you have gone mad, I must go with you,..and take care of yon, he said. 1B ‘ artorsey-Ysotber man going in a storm like this to the eross roads, because a nightmare advises him 10.^0 so, and what would yon think of him?; I said nothiug. All I could have an swered would have been: “I am impelled to go; I must go; I t.ot, n •• 70 ‘.vhaiever i,uay be tnougkt of me.” In ten minutes we were splashing through mud and rain along the road. It was perfectly dark; now and then a blazing red ftar in the distance told us that a lamp was gleaming through the rain in some cottage window, but other wise would not have been conscious of our proximity to any habitation what ever. At last nearing the spot where the road from S crosses the road from II , we were, indeed, in as a place as could well be imag ined. The house, which abutted on the very angle of the roads, called in familiar parlance the cross roads, was the only oue for some distance in either direc and certainly on such a night, we were not likely to meet many travelers. Ail was silent as the grave. We stood quite still.* Iu. a moment Ben broke out with oue of his wildest i “Well.” he said, “how now ? Will you go home now, and have another nightmare?” But hardly had the words escaped bis lips, when a shriek broke on the air, a woman’s voice, plainly coming fr the interior of the cottage, cried: “Help! help! helpl’ “.Bea,” said I,
