Rutland Herald

The following story was published in our inside last week, and the demand for copies of our paper in consequence became so great, and has continued so throughout the week that we take pleasure in inserting it again. The keeper of a hotel not far from the city, where our young blades and those who are fond of an afternoon ride resort, as to the Mecca of the pilgrimage of pleasure. The story is true in every particular, we believe: and will be read with additional pleasure by those who are so fortunate as to know the worthy landlord, who forms a chief feature of the sketch. As it is the intention of the writer to dramatize the story, he trusts to find no other Richmond in the field.

The Old Clock.

"There she goes, there she goes."

Some years ago there came to this country a family from England, which settled on the upper part of this island, and opened a public house. Among their chattels was an old family clock, which they prized more for its age than its actual value, although it had told the hour for years on years, with the most commendable fidelity. This clock is now situated in one of the private parlors of the house, and many a time has it been the theme of remark, in consequence of its solemnly antique exterior.

A few days since, about dusk, a couple of madcaps drove up to the door of the hotel, seated in a light and beautiful wagon, drawn by a superb bay horse. They sprang out—ordered the ostler to pay every attention to the animal and to stable him for the night. Entering the hotel, they tossed off a glass of gin apiece, bemouthed a cigar, and ordered the landlord to provide the best game supper in his power. There was a waggish look in the countenance of the elder—a bright sparkling in his eyes which occasionally he half closed in a style that gave him the air of a 'knowing one,' and a slight curving of the corners of the mouth that showed his ability to enjoy, while his whole demeanor made every acute observer sure of his ability to perpetrate a joke. Now and then, when his lips parted and he ran his fingers through his hair with a languid expression, it was evident he was eager to be at work in his vocation—that of a practical joker! The other was a dapper young man, although different in appearance, yet with features which indicated that his mind was well-fitted to be a successful co-partner with his mate, and a dry pun or gravely delivered witticism was frequently worked off with an air of philosophy or unconcern that gave him the credit of being a first rate wit. Supper on the table, these two Yankees were not dull as a couple generally will be at table, but made mirth and laughter, and wit their companions, and as Wine in his parti-colored robes presided, there was a 'set out' fit for a prince and his associates. The Yankees ate and drank and were right merry, when the old family clock whirled and whizzed and the hammer on the bell struck one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve! The elder looked up at the old monitor before him, struck his elbow on the table and looked again steadfastly for a minute, and then laughed out heartily, awakening the waiter, who was just dozing by the window sill.

'What in the name of Momus are you laughing at?' asked the dapper Yankee, as he cast his eyes now over and around himself to ascertain where the jest of the joke was concealed. The elder winked slyly, and yawning lazily, slowly raised the forefinger of his right hand and applied it gracefully to his nose. The dapper man understood the hint.

'Oho! I understand—no you don't come over this child! Waiter, another bottle of champagne.' The servant left the room and our heroes inclining themselves over the table held a long conversation in a low tone, when the elder of the two raised his voice, and with an air of satisfaction exclaimed, 'Clocks always go it!' Then both cautiously rose from their chairs, and advancing to the clock, turned the key of the door, and looked within, the elder in a half-inquiring, half decided manner saying 'Won't it?' The waiter was on the stairs, and they returned to their seats in a trice as if nothing had happened—both scolding the waiter, as he entered, for being so lazy on his errand. Having heard the clock strike one, they were shown to their beds, where they talked in a subdued tone, and finally sunk to sleep. In the morning they were early up and ordered their horse to be harnessed and brought to the door. Descending to the bar-room they asked for their bill, and with becoming promptitude paid the amount due one to the keeper. The elder perceiving the landlord through the window, placed his arms upon the bar, and in a serious tone enquired of the bar-keeper if he would dispose of the old clock. The young man hesitated—he knew not what to answer. The old clock seemed to him such a miserable piece of furniture that he had an impression that it might as well be his as his employer's yet he could not comprehend why such a person should want such a hideous article. While he was attempting to reply, the good-natured landlord entered, and the question was referred to him for an answer.

'I wish to purchase that old clock up stairs—Will you sell it?' asked the elder Yankee, while the younger lighted a cigar, and cast his eye over the columns of the Sunday Morning News, which lay upon the table. The landlord, who had set no great value upon the clock, except as an heirloom, began to suspect that it might possess the virtues of Martin Heywood's chair, and be filled with dollars: and, almost involuntarily, the three ascended to the room which contained it.

'The fact is,' said the Yankee, 'I once won a hundred dollars with a clock like that.'

'A hundred dollars?' ejaculated the landlord.

'Yes! You see there was one like it in a room over in Jersey, and a fellow bet me he could keep the fore-finger swinging with the pendulum for an hour, only saying 'here she goes, there she goes.' He couldn't do it. I walked the money out of him in no time.

'You did? You couldn't walk it out of me. I'll bet you fifty dollars I can do it on the spot!'

'Done,' cried the Yankee.

The clock struck eight, and with his back to the table and to the door, the landlord got into a chair—'Here she goes, there she goes!' and his finger waved in a curve, his eyes fully fixed on the pendulum. The Yankee behind him interrupted—'Where's the money? Plank the money.' The landlord was not to lose in that way. His fore finger slowly and surely went with the pendulum, and his left disengaged his purse from his pocket, which he threw behind him upon the table. All was silent. The dapper man at length exclaimed—'Shall I deposit the money in the hands of the bar-keeper?'

'Here she goes, there she goes,' was the only answer.

One of the Yankees left the room. The landlord heard him go down stairs; but he was not to be disturbed by that trick. Presently the bar-keeper entered, and touching him upon the shoulder, asked—'Mr. B., are you crazy? What are you doing?'

'Here she goes, there she goes,' he responded, his hand waving the fore-finger as before. The bar-keeper rushed down stairs: he called one of the neighbors and asked him to go up. They ascended, and the neighbor seizing him gently by the collar, in an imploring voice, said—'Mr. B.— do not sit here. Come, come down stairs: what can possess you to sit here?'

'Here she goes, there she goes,' was the sole reply, and the solemn face and the slowly moving finger settled the matter. He was mad!

'He is mad,' whispered the friend in a low voice. 'We must go for a doctor.' The landlord was not to be duped: he was not to be deceived, although the whole town came to interrupt him.

'You had better call up his wife,' added the friend.

'Here she goes, there she goes,' repeated the landlord, and his hand still moved on. In a minute his wife entered, full of agony of soul. 'My dear,' she kindly said, 'look on me.— It is your wife who speaks!'

'Here she goes, there she goes,' and his hand continued to go, but his wife wouldn't go, she would scold stay, and he thought she was determined to conspire against him and make him lose the wager. She wept, and she contrived—'What cause have you for this? Why do you do so? Has your wife'

'Here she goes, there she goes,' and his finger seemed to be tracing her airy progress, for anything she could ascertain to the contrary.

'My dear,' she still continued, thinking that the thought of his child, whom he fondly loved, would tend to restore him, 'shall I call up your daughter?'

'Here she goes, there she goes,' the landlord again repeated, his eyes becoming more and more fixed and glazed, from the steadiness of gaze. A slight smile, which had great effect upon the minds of those present, played upon his face, as he tho't of the many unsuccessful resorts to win him from his purpose, and of his success in baffling them. The physician entered. He stood by the side of the busy man. He looked at him in silence, shook his head, and to the anxious inquiry of his wife, answered—'No madam. The fewer persons here the better. The maid had better stay away; do not let the maid'

'Here she goes, there she goes,' yet again, again, in harmony with the waving finger, issued from the lips of the landlord.

'A consultation, I think, will be necessary,' said the physician.

'Will you run for Dr. W-ms?'

The kind neighbor buttoned up his coat and hurried from the room. In a few minutes Dr. W-ms, with another medical gentleman, entered.

'This is a sorry sight,' said he to the doctor present.

'Indeed it is sir,' was the reply. 'It is a sudden attack, one of the'

'Here she goes, there she goes!' was the sole reply.

The physicians stepped into a corner and consulted together.

'Will you be good enough to run for a barber? We must have his head shaved and blistered,' said Dr. W-ms.

'Ah poor, dear husband,' said the lady; 'I fear he never again will know his miserable wife.'

'Here she goes—there she goes!' said the landlord with a little more emphasis, and with a more nervous yet determined waving of his finger, in concert with the pendulum; for the minute hand was near the twelve—that point which was to put fifty dollars in his pocket, if he had arrived at it without suffering himself to be interrupted. The wife in a low, bewailing tone continued her utterances—'No! never; nor his daughter'—

'Here she goes, there she goes,' almost shouted the landlord, as the minute hand advanced to the desired point.

The barber arrived: he was naturally a talkative man,—and when the doctor made some casual remark, reflecting upon the quality of the instrument he was about to use, he replied—Ah hm! mon Monsieur, you say very bad to razor—tres beautiful—oh look—look—very fine isn't she?

'Here she goes—there she goes!' screamed the landlord, his hand waving on—on, and his face gathering a smile, and his whole frame in readiness to be convulsed with joy.

The barber was amazed. 'Here she goes—there she goes!' he responded in the best English he could use—'Vare? vare shall I begin? Vat is dat besay'

'Shave his head at once' interrupted the doctor, while the lady sank into a chair.

'Here she goes—there she goes!' for the last time cried the landlord as the clock struck the hour of nine, and sprang from his seat in an ecstasy of delight, screaming at the top of his voice, as he skipped about the room—'I've won it!—I've won it!'

'What?' said the bar keeper.

'What!' echoed the doctors.

'What?' re-echoed the wife.

'Why, the wager—fifty dollars!' But casting his eyes around the room, and missing the young men who induced him to watch the clock, he asked his bar keeper—'Where are those young men who supped here last night? eh? quick, where are they?'

'They went away in their wagon nearly an hour ago, sir?' was the reply.

The truth flashed like a thunderbolt through the mind. They had taken his pocket book with the one hundred and seven dollars therein, and decamped—a couple of swindling sharpers, with wit to back them. The story is rife on all men's tongues in the neighborhood where this affair occurred; but we regret that the worthy landlord in endeavoring to overtake the rascals, was thrown from his own wagon, and so severely injured as to be confined to his room at the present moment, where he can watch the pendulum of his clock at his leisure.