A finer estate than that of Joshua Sowers could not be found in all Virginia. We will not give the exact date; let it suffice for us to say we begin our story April the first, in a certain part of the nineteenth century.

The morning was a clear, beautiful one. We locate the scene of our story in the county of Frederick, a short distance from the then small town of Winchester. The estate was rightly named Brookland, for the land was covered with brooks. Mr. Sowers owned a large mill. It had stood the storms of many years, and, to tell the truth, the old mill was beginning to look “rickety.”

Through the centre of the estate flowed the largest stream, and it was of so much importance as to receive the name of “Abram’s Creek.”^[1]

Half a mile west of the mill there was a “dam” made in the creek; then a “race” or small canal led the water down to the mill, where it was used to run the great water-wheel, and then it was free again. Enough of this. We will see who the inhabitants of Brookland are.

Two young men are sauntering along the road that leads to the country church, which is about one mile from Brookland.

We will first describe them, and then listen at what they are talking about. Both had dark hair, dark eyes, and fair complexion; they were tall and well built. They were so near alike that this was the common question asked as they passed a stranger: “Aren’t they brothers?” The answer was always “no,” if an acquaintance was near. Then the questioner would remark: “Well, they are the best-lookin’ ‘pine-hillers’ I ever saw!”

Now for what those two young men are talking about. We must also choose a hero from these two “pine-hillers.”

“This is my last day at Brookland,” said one of the young men, and, as he speaks honestly, we choose him as our hero. His name is William G. Reed. “I shall start for Chicago tomorrow morning. I must go away from here, for I am making nothing here.”

“That is so, Will,” said William’s companion, Albert King by name. “I ought to go, but Mother isn’t willing for me to go.”

“Well, Albert, abide by what your mother says,” advised our hero. “If I had a mother, I would obey her in all things.”

Poor William! He had never known a mother; he had been partially raised in Berryville by a man he thought was his father, Wilson Reed by name. There was some mystery connected with his parentage, a mystery he could not solve.

He was an amiable young man, much respected by all who knew him. Our hero and his companion were at last in sight of the church. Albert stopped suddenly and seemed to be in deep thought. Then he said:

“I don’t care about going into church, so I will take a stroll down through the woods. I may walk up to Winchester. ‘So long,’ William, I’ll see you this evening.” So saying, the young man was off through the woods, before his friend could say a word more than “good-bye, Al.”

To state the truth, Albert King was contemplating some deep project and wished to be alone with his thoughts. He was a gentleman in appearance. Whether he was a gentleman in principle or not, we shall find out bye-and-bye.

We will not follow Albert in his wanderings for a while. We will see what our hero is about. Arriving at the church, he concluded he would sit down awhile under a large tree hard by, for the simple purpose of watching for a young lady he expected to see. He loved this young lady, and he intended to tell her of his love before he left Brookland. He was compelled to ask her that day if she returned his love, for he was to start for Chicago on the following day. He seated himself under the tree in question and “watched and waited” to see his lady-love. After a while, he saw her coming on horse-back. He rose and went forward to meet her. Cordial greetings were soon exchanged, and they walked into the church. After services were over, William asked his lady to walk down to Mrs. Barton’s residence with him. She consented to go. Mrs. Barton’s residence was at Brookland. William boarded at her house. The lovers walked leisurely down to Brookland. William’s heart was throbbing fast.

“Willie, I am sorry you are going away,” asserted Ella Armstead—for such was the lady’s name. “You are still determined to go?”

“I am still determined to go,” answered William. “But I hate to go.” He grasped Ella’s hand as he spoke. She didn’t attempt to withdraw her hand. “Miss Armstead—Ella—dear—Ella. Will you try to love me? I love you with all my heart. Will you try to love me? A little?”

“I do love you, dear Willie,” answered Ella passionately. “I love you as well as woman can love man. I am so sorry you are going away. I will feel so very lonesome while you are away.”

“I must go, love,” said William as he clasped Ella to his breast.

They arrived at Brookland after a slow walk. The day passed pleasantly with William and Ella. Late in the evening, William accompanied Ella home and reluctantly bid her farewell at the gate.

“Are you going to write to me, Willie?” inquired Ella as she stood at the yard-gate.

“I don’t know whether I will or not,” said William. “I may go to California.”

“Well, come back as soon as you can,” asserted Ella. “I want you to stay so bad! Oh Willie, can’t you stay?”

“I cannot stay, dear,” said William as he and Ella walked down the lane. They stopped under a large willow tree, and William pressed her to his bosom. In the twilight of the evening, he bid her farewell.

His heart was too full for utterance, so he gave her a loving kiss and unwillingly started for Brookland. Oh! How his heart ached. As he walked briskly along toward Brookland, he felt a presentiment that he would never meet her again. Will he realize his presentiment? We trust not. When he arrived at Mrs. Barton’s, his supper was ready, and he sat down and tried to eat. He ate very little supper; in the course of the repast, he said:

“Mrs. Barton, have you seen Al since morning? I forgot to ask you while Ella was here. He said he would go up to town with me tonight. I will stay at the Taylor Hotel tonight—I wish he was here. He seems to be my best friend.”

Little did William Reed think what an enemy he had in the person of Albert King. ÷^[2] We anticipate not but wish Willie Godspeed.

“No, Willie,” said Mrs. Barton. “Al has not been here, and let me caution my boy not to trust so much in Albert’s friendship. I have several times noticed him looking at you, an Evil gleam of hate in his Eyes.”

“Oh! Pshaw! Mother Barton, I know Al. He always treated me well; we have been pals for two years.” William, honest-hearted Willie, thought Mrs. Barton had done Al a serious injury. ÷

“Willie,” said Mrs. Barton, “I saw someone strolling around the mill today. I don’t know but what they were at some mischief.”

William looked surprised. “Mr. Sowers and family were away all day, were they not?” inquired William.

“Yes, they have been away all day,” replied Mrs. Barton.

“Well, where is Kate today or night?” inquired William. “Strange they are all away at once. Has she gone out visiting?”

“Yes. She is off somewhere,” answered Mrs. Barton. “She has been away all day.”

“Well, I wish Al was here,” said William as he arose from the table. “Will you let your boy harness up a horse and take my trunk into Winchester?”

“Certainly I will,” said Mrs. Barton. “Joe, get the horse and wagon ready.”

“Yes, Joe, get it quick please and I will give you half a dollar,” asserted William.

“All right, sah, I will get ’em pretty quick,” said Joe as he started off, greatly delighted to hear of receiving a reward for his services.

“There you are, Kate,” said Mrs. Barton as Kate at that moment came in. Kate was a flaxen-haired sensible (?)^[3] girl. Knew a little too much? “Where have you been all day? Enjoying yourself somewhere? Well, eat your supper for it is getting late.”

“Old lady,” said Kate to herself after Mrs. Barton went out. “You are not aware of the fact that I am playing a—”

She did not finish the sentence, for she was afraid she might be heard by someone. William came in to bid all of Mrs. Barton’s family farewell. He bade them farewell and then went to the mill to get his trunk ready. Whilst he is there or on his way there, we will give a description of Ella Armstead.

She had raven tresses that hung in pretty ringlets around her plump face. She had a beautiful complexion and was just the size to look sweet.

William went into his room at the mill and proceeded to the desk, not noticing his trunk at the time. But he noticed the window being hoisted. He then looked around at his trunk. What was his surprise when he perceived it was wide open and his clothes was [sic] thrown out of it. The trunk was literally “ransacked.”

He went to his trunk peremptorily, and began placing his things in his trunk again.

While he is fixing his effects, we will visit Ella. She proceed[ed] to the house as soon as William was out of sight. She had fearful forebodings that she would never see her “dear Willie” again.

She blushingly told her mother of the promise she had made to William.

“I hope you will keep your promise, Ella,” was all her mother said.

“I will do so, Mother, as long as I live. I shall never lose faith in William.”

“That is the way to talk, Ella,” said her mother approvingly

The time intervening between sunset and bedtime soon passes with country people.

Their motto is: “Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”^[4] In most all cases, country people stand to that rule; still, there are some exceptions to all rules. Mr. Armstead and family retired early, as they expected to rise early the next morning.

Ella was thinking of William all that evening. So when she went to her room and prepared for bed, she knelt, {as} was her custom, and prayed to the {. . .} of all good. Prayed long and earnes{tly for} the welfare of her lover. We will {presently} see what “her lover” is doing.

He placed his clothes in his trunk. He looked earnestly but vainly for his best suit of clothes. They could not be found. His best shoes were also missing.

“Who could have taken my clothes?” William asked himself. “Someone has stolen my best suit of clothes, two shirts, and low-quartered shoes. Well, that beats all I ever witnessed. I’ll say nothing about it to anyone as it will do no good to tell them now as the clothes are gone.” So saying, he locked his trunk and carried it out on the mill porch.

Joe soon had the wagon there, so William put his trunk in and told Joe to drive on pretty lively as he wished to get to town as soon as he could. Arriving at Winchester, at the “Taylor Hotel,” William gave Joe an ample reward for his services. William then went into the hotel. He had a room engaged, so he went immediately up to it. He soon went to bed. He slept well and rose early. [He] went immediately to the depot [and] had his trunk checked and also procured his ticket. He took his seat just as the cars moved off from the depot.

“I do wish I could have seen Albert before I started,” asserted William to himself. “I ought to have went up to London Street and seen Mrs. King. Perhaps Albert was at home. Whoever it was that stole my clothes, I hope they will never do any good with them. Mrs. Barton’s words were strange, very strange. I never thought Albert was my enemy. I can’t believe it now, for he has always treated me right.”

It was too late for William to wish now, for the “Iron horse” was fast carrying him away, far away from those he loved. He was being carried to a good or evil destiny. It is hard to tell whether it was good or evil.

On, on sped the train, and so we part from William, to see him no more until [he] returns. We go back to Brookland, and presumptuously enter the proprietor’s house.

We find him in bed. Listen!

What does he say as he opens his eyes?