The Life and Adventures of Dick Clinton, the Masked Highwayman ... By the author of 'Nat Blake,' 'Ned Scarlet,' etc

Front matter

COMPANION TO "JACK SHEPPARD." THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF ELEGANTLY ILLUSTRATED. BY THE AUTHOR OF 'NAT BLAKE." "NED SCAR- LET,'' etc. etc. NEW YORK: G A R R E TÆm & CO., 2 2 ANN STREET. ■ wm 34 . --^^.-.Miia^---.-- -i • — !'ItI€E 2.5 CENTS. .///*/ Published, the following Lives of Celebrated Highwagmkri ; Dl'VAL, The Dashing Highwayman, Illustrated, price 33 Cents JD ADVENTURES OP DICK CLINTON, The masked Highwayman, do. 35 f TOM KING, The Companion of Turpin, do. 35 ARLET, The Dirln; Highwayman, do. 39 LIFFORD, Or Hurrah for the Road, do. 25 T MAC A IRE. Or the French Bandit. THE BEST AND CHEAPEST COLLECTION OF SONGS EVER PUBLISHED. WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS. PRICE 12^ CENTS WOOD'S contents. De Smeitis Darkey of de Ohio, Brurider Bone-i's Love Scrape, De Old -Li v-b. Would I were a Boy Again, Emma Snow.

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Chapter I. The Arrest And The Alibi

It was at the close of a busy market day in the town of Croydon, and a num ber of farmers, graziers, butchers, and others, were assembled in the snug par lor of the ' King's Head,' some discuss ing the probability of a rise in the (jujifte of wheat, others the^ relative menjts-.iof long and short-harned oxen, and a\fe'w so well satisfied with the businesses the day, that they smoked their pipes and quaffed their ale in silence,* as if they wished to abstract their minds from the cares of life. A cheerful fire burned up on the hearth, roaring and crackling as it blazed u$ the wide chimney, and heightening by its ruddy glare, the color which glared upon the broad, round fa ces of many of the farmers who sat around it. It was the month of Novem ber, and as candles had not been brought into the room, the twilight which had already set in, was only relieved by the cheerful log.fire, which diffused an agree able warmth throughout the apartment. ' Did you see the large bills posted up in the market-place, neighbor Owen?' asked an old man who brought pigs to the market, turning to a farmer who sat near him, after a pause of several min utes in the conversation. ' AVhy, I did see 'em, Master Morgan,' returned the farmer, ' but I did not s,top to read 'em.

What are they about?— sheep stolen, oi a horse, or summut?' ' No, a reward of a hundred pounds for the apprehension of the highwayman as robbed the gTazier on Salisbury Plain, : OR, suppose me to be ?' demanded the young larmer, while the rest of the company looked on with the most intense curiosity and surprise. ' Oh, it's a case of mistaken 'dentity, ain't it?' returned the stranger, with an ironical grin. ' Vy I am a hofficer from London,"my sucking-dove, and I have a varraut in my pocket to apprehend the high toby cove as robbed the Salisbury coach last week. So come along, and bless your stars that you havn't far to travel on such a dark uncomfortable night to the country goal.' the parlor, with a white apron before him. ' What is it to be, sir ?' said he, surveying his stranger guest by the red and flickering light of the fire. ' Bring a light, landlord,' said the stranger, gruffly. ' It is as dark here as the devil's tail.

And let me have a stiff glass of warm brandy and wateg and a screw.' ' Brandy and water, warm, sir ? — yes, sir,' responded the landlord, a little podgy fellow, with a red face and a bald head ; and giving the stranger a paper of tobac co from a pocket in his white" apron, he collected the empty pewter measures and glasses, anc1 quitted the room. ' I must be starting,' observed a young farmer who had been sitting in an ob scure corner of the room, as the landlord went out, and rising from his chair, he began folding a largehandkerchief round his throat; after which, he buttoned up his great coat. '1 do not understand all this,' per sisted the young farmer, upon whose collar the officer still maintained a firm grasp. ' You don't suppose that I am the man who committed the robberies in Wiltshire ?' 'How werry hinnocent he is, ain't he?' said the officer, grinning ironically. ' Jist like the rest of these coves — they are all hiryured hinnocence.' The landlord presently returned with the stranger's brandy and water, half of which the latter. swallowed at a gulp, and then he lighted a couple of candles, and placed them upon the table.

The moment the light enabled him to distinguish the countenances of those present, the stranger with the white bull-dog fix ed his eyes with a penetrating glance upon the young farmer who was pre paring to leave ; and the latter, as if conscious that he was the object of the stranger's keen scrutiny, pulled his hat over his eyes, .and advanced towards the door. The stranger sprang to his feet at this movement, and grasping his knot ty cudgel in his right hand, he placed his massive form before the door ; while the dog, who had been lying near the fire, jumped up and watched his mas ter's motions with as much intelligence in his seamed face as it is possible for the canine race to exhibit. ' This is a very good joke, I dare say,' observed the young farmer, coloring vis ibly, and speaking in a tone of impatience; 'but I want to be getting to wards "home, so I would thank you to remove your hand from my shoulder. — Why, there are a dozen men in this room who know me, and can prove that I have not been absent from the neighborhood for a single night for the last six months.' The officer seemed startled by this bold assertion, and the confident tone in which it was spoken, and he glanced half-credulously round the room ' I know the young man,' said Farmer Owen, who seemed staggered by the charge so stoutly presisted in by the officer. ' His name is Clinton, and his father is a neighbor of mine.' ' That may be,' returned the officer; ' but it is no answer to the charge ot robbery; remember the Golden Farmer.

Mr. Clinton answers so closely to the description of the masked highwayman who robbed the Salisbury coach, that it becomes my painful dooty to lodge him in the county prison ; if he can prove an hallybey before the beaks to-morrow, so much the better for him.' 'You are my prisoner!

Surrender in the king's name !' exclaimed the stranger, as he grasped the collar of the young farmer's great coat with his left hand. ' What do j'ou mean ?' demanded the farmer, sternly, after a moment's pause, during which he stood passively in the grasp of his detainer, as if overwhelmed with amazement or confusion. ' Can I not be taken before a justice this evening ?' said the young farmer. ' I shall be able, by the evidence of my friends here, to prove that the charge is totally unrounded, and it will save them and me much inconvenience.' ' Oh, you know what I mean,' returned the other. ' It is no use to try the hinnoeent dodge upon me, and so you had better come along quietly ; you will get nuffin by being obstropulous, 'cept the darbies onyour mauleys.' 'Who are you? and what do you ' Well, be it as you say, let us go be fore the justice at once,' said the officer after a mofnent's hesilalion. ' Come, then, Master Owen, and you too, Master Morgan,' said young Clinton, preparing to accompany the officer. — 1 You are aware how utterly unfounded is rhis charge that has been brought against me.' ' We are with you, Master Clinton,' said those whom he had addressed, rising with alacrity ; and old Owen added, ' it would be .sad news to carry home lo your father to-night, that his son was a prisoner iu Croydon goal, ou a charge of highway robbery.' The party then left the inn, the officer going first with his prisoner, who was reserved and thoughtful on the way to the residence of the magistrate, and Owen and Morgan closely followed them, with several farmers who knew Clinton, and respected him both on his own account and his father's. the placard, which merely described him as about twenty-five years of age, five feet, ten inches in height, fair complexion, light hair, blue eyes, andacquiline nose; and usually dressed in a drab over-coat and top boots. ' Does the prisoner deny his identity?' inquired the magistrate. ' I do, your worship,' returned Clinton, in a firm but perfectly respectful tone. ' What is your name, prisoner ?' demanded the magistrate. 'My name is Clinton, and my father is a reputable farmer at Cheam, your worship,' replied Clinton ; ' I have friends here who can testify that I have not been absent from home one night during the last six months, and there fore that the charge of highway robbery in Wiltshire is completely without foun dation.' The eveuing was dark, and a miz zling rain was falling, which hung up on the clothes of the passengers like a mist, and rendered the pavement of the street unpleasantly wet and sloppy. — The magistrate's house, however, was not more than ten minutes walk lrom the King's Head, and after waiting half an hour for his worship to conclude his dinner, that functionary, with his clerk, entered the room. ' Why, the name on the warrant is Clinton !' exclaimed the magistrate, looking keenly at the young farmer, who started at the mention of his name as if he had inadvertently trodden upon a snake.

For a moment he seemed overpowered at the information revealed by the magistrate, and stood as if rooted to the spot by confusion and surprise; the warm blood rushed to his countenance, sufi'using it with crimson even to the roots of his light brown hair, and then sped back to his heart, leaving on his cheeks a deadly pallor. ' There is some mistake here, your worship,' he faltered, as soon as he had recovered from the confusion into which he had been thrown by the revelation made by the magistrate of the highwayman's name. ' Though by a remarkable coincidence, my name and personal appearance are the same as those of the robber whom I have been mistaken for, the fact that 1 have not been twenty-four hours together absent from Cheam, for the last six or seven months, must suffi ciently prove that I could not possibly have committed these robberies in Wilt shire.' ' Well, officer, what is the charge ? highway robbery, eh ?' said the magistrate, after glancing several times from Clinton to the officer, as if he were uncertain which was the prisoner, and which his captor. 'Your worship,' began the officer, ducking his head to the mayor, and advancing a step or two before his prisoner, ' I apprehended this prisoner at the King's Head, on a warrant signed by the mayor of Salisbury, and if your worship will be so good as to cast your eye over jhe dockyment, and this here bill of the reward, you will see that there can't be possibly any mistake about the matter,' Wilh these words, he handed to the magistrate the warrant for the prisoner's apprehension, and the primed bill where- •in he was described, and a reward of one hundred pounds offered for his capture.

The magistrate merely cast his eye over the warrant, but while perusing the bill— copies of which had been that afternoon posted in the market-place — he several limes glanced from the paper to the prisoner, as if comparing his per sonal appearance with the printed descriprion. It should be observed that t'".e highwayman's name was not mentioned in 'Is there any one here who knows the prisoner, and can testify to the truth of his statement?' inquired the magistrate, who seemed perplexed by the prisoner's confident assertions on one hand, and the coincidence of names and descriptions, and the evident confusion of Clinton when the highwayman's name was men tioned, on the other. ' That can I, your worship,' responded farmer Owen, pushing forward to the table at whic~h the magistrate and his I DICK CLINTON .

OR, 6 drew, followed by the friends who had accompanied him to the magistrate's residence. His manner was strange and clerk were seated, and Ihe oath having been administered to him, he deposed that he had known the prisoner and his father between five and six years, which was the whole period they had lived at Cheam. Old Mr. Clinton,' he said, reserved, and he more than once answer ed in an abstracted manner as they walked towards the ' King's Head ;' he aeclined the invitation of his friends to 'owns a freehold farm of about a hundred join them in a bowl of punch, and call ing for his horse, mounted immediately, and set off at a rapid pace in the direction which led to the village of Cheam. The accusation of which he had been acres, and his son lives with him. My own farm adjoins Master Clinton's and I have seen the young man every day for some weeks past, working with the men at ploughing and sowing wheat.' ' Did you see him last Monday ?' said the magistrate, the day mentioned being that which preceded the evening on which the Salisbury coach had been stopped, and the passengers plundered by a single masked highwayman, no rare occurrence at the period of which we are writing, the date of our tale being seventy years ago. 'I did, your worship,' replied Owen, after an instant's reflection. ' I saw him with a gun in a field adjoining my own farm, and we talked together about ten minutes.' the object, formed the theme of conversation in the tavern parlor after his de pariure ; and among those who knew him less than farmer Owen, comments were made upon the strangeness of the young farmer's behavior during and af ter the investigation.

In the meantime Clinton reached' his father's homestead at Cheam, and having put his black mare in the stable, he eniered the house.

The servant girl who admitted him, observing his moody brow and abstract ed manner, was tempted by the demon curiosity, to linger at the door of (he apartment in which old Clinton was smoking his-pipe, awaking the return ot his son from Croydon, to hear the news, and the price of wheat; and contrived to overhear enough to still further excite her curiosity, and whet her desire to hear more. ' ' This is mostextraordinarj-,' observed the magistrate ; then bending his head down, he said to his clerk, in a low voice, 4 what do you think of this business, Mr. Driver ?' 'A mere accidental coincidence, sir,' replied the Clerk ; ' Clinton and Owen are both freeholders, and reputable farmers at Cheam; and Owen's evidence being credible, tbe alibi is clearly estab lished.' The first words of her young master, were spoken in a low voice, and she could not catch their purport. 'Discovered!' exclaimed the. old farmer, in a tone of mingled anguish and surprise ; and then he made some observation which the girl did not hear. ' The name is on the warrant, and the fullest description is given in the bills offering thereward,' returned his son. ' Unhappy youth !' ejaculated the old man, ' who would have thought it would ever come to ihis ?' ' Suppose I were to leave home for a time?' said young Clinton, aftera pause of same minutes, during which ihe grief of the old farmer vented itself in audible sobs ; and then the young man spoke for several minuses in a tone too low for the girl to overhear, but he appeared to be making some proposition, from which his father dissented. ' Then the prisoner must be discharged?' observed the magistrate. ' Decidedly so, in my opinion, sir,' returned Mr. Driver. ' If Owen has deposed falsely, he can be indicted for per jury ; and really I do not think it would be prudent to remand the prisoner, and put the county to the expense of bringing witnesses from Salisbury. ' This appears to be a remarkable case of mistaken identity,' said the magistrate, addressing the officer. ' The extraordinary resemblance between the highwayman and Mr. Clinton removes from you any imputation of carelessness in preferring the charge, and the evidence of Mr. Owen having completely exonerated the prisoner, he stnnds discharged from custody.

Blr. Clinton, I am happy to inform you that your inno cence of this charge has been proved to my entire satisfaction, and so make this public declaration that you leave this room without the slightest slain upon your character.' Clinton bowed, and immediately with- ' No, no, Ted.' said he, 'you have fortunately succeeded in removing sus picion from yourself, and I cannot con sent to any scheme of that sort.' So long a pause followed the last re mark of ihe old farmer, ■ that the girj thought the subject dropped, and steal- Ing from the door, she returned to the kitchen to cogitate upon what she had heard. ' his pipe from his mouth to speak with more freedom. ' Iwas in Jemmy Caxon's barber-shop, at Carshalton, to get shaved this morning, and he began talking about young Clinton and the Wiltshire robberies. ' How did they find out the highwayman's name ? and how come they to have his description so pat, when he wears a black mask, and the night's are dark ?' says I. ' I'll tell you,' says he; 'the London runner was in the Black Lion parlor, at Croydon, when I went in there last night, and I got into conversation with him to hear all I could about young Clinton.

Two or three nights after the robbery of the Salisbury coach, it appears that the same highwayman stopped a gentleman from London, who thought he had heard the robber's voice before, and called him by his name ; upon which he turned his horse's head, and galloped away. , This strange behavior confirmed the gentleman's suspicion, and on returning to London he communicated his information to the proper quarter ; he stated that he had several times met a person corresponding to the appearance of the highwayman at a gambling-house in London, and that if the highwayman was the man he supposed him to be, he was about twenty-five years of age, fire feet ten inches in height, and fair coinplexioned, with blue eyes and light hair.— Upon this information the reward bills were got out immediately ; and it was not until afterwards that the researches of the Bow Street runners.resulted in the discovery lhat the individual in. question was named Clinton, and that he repre j sensed himself as the son of a very weal ' thy farmer in Surrey.' That is the his ! tory of the whole affair, just as I heard j it from Jemmy Caxon's own lips.

Chapter II. Mystery And Love

On the following evening several men were seated iu the tap-room of the Red Lion, at Cheam, smoking their pipes over mugs of bright and foaming ale. — They were mostly laborers on the farms of Clinton and Owen, and wore clean smock-frocks and corduroy or leather breeches, with leather gaiters over their blue worsted stockings.

The circumstance of its being Saturday night, had caused them to drop in to take a mug of ale and smoke a pipe together, before re turning to their respective homes, the cottages which composed the village of Cheam, being situated widely apart, though it is of small extent compared with those villages in the neighborhood the population of which are more en gaged in manufactures than in agricul tural pursuits. ' I thought you would be gone, before I got here to have a glass of ale with you,' observed the man who had entered last, as he placed his flag-basket under the settee, and sat down near the cheer ful fire. ' Well, so I should, £.3 I have further to go than most of you,' returned the man whom he addressed, who was one of Farmer Clinton's ploughmen, 'but the old man could not pay me for want of sufficient silver, and he promised that Edwin, who has gone to Mitcham, would be passing here after his return.' ' I cannot help thinking that young Clinton behaved very strange, according to what my master told me this morning,' observed an old man who was shepherd to one of the farmers who had been at the Head,' at Croydon, the preceding evening. ' That was a rum start at Croydon yesterday,' observed the other. ' Yes,' rejoined the ploughman. ' It was quite clear, though, that our young master couldn't have been the robber in he black mask.' ' So I suppose,' said the other rustic, ' but if so be the highwayman wore a olack mask when he committed the robberies, how do they know he is young and fair complexioned, and has blue eyes?' 'That is just what I asked Master Morgan, the pig-jobber,' returned the ploughman. ' It was him that told me all about it, but he was as much puzzled on that head as I was.' ' Hush ! here he is,' said the plough man, in a subdued tone. '.You all seem to be enjoying your selves pretty well,' observed the young man who entered at that moment, after pausing an instant on the threshold. ' Yes, master,' returned one of the rustics, ' and as we don't catch you ve ry often at the alehouse, what are you going to stand ?' ' Why, as you do not catch me very often at the alehouse, as you say,' said ' I will tell you how that transpired,' said the village blacksmith, remosing : OR, 8 Mitcham ; otherwise you would not have had to wait for youi money.' As he spoke, he took a half-gumea and several shillings from his pocket, and laid them on the table before the ploughman. ' I did not mean from Mitcham,' returned Giles, as he picked up the money and transferred it to a small leathern bag — ' I meant you had not long been up the village.' ' I do not understand you, Giles,' ex claimed Edwin Clinton, looking at the ploughman with an air of surprise. ' I have not been up the village, but came direct here immediately I reached home.' The rustics looked at each other with surprise and incredulity legibly expres sed in their countenances, and fora moment there was a pause of profound si lence. the young man, with a strange kind of smile, I

shall not object to treating you with a gallon of ale.

Landlord !' said he, calling towards the bar, 'bring a gallon of ale for these honest fellows.' As he thus spoke he sat down, and one of the men whispered to another that he thought his young master must have been drinking, as he had never been so liberal before, and never sat down in their company except at their annual bean-feast, and ' the harvest-home' sup per. The ale .was brought in by the landlord, and the donor poured out a glass for himself, and lighting a pipe, was soon enveloped in a cloud of his own raising. The ploughman was some what surprised at not receiving his wa ges, but as he thought that the young man would not remain long in their company, he resolved to say nothing until he prepared to depart without pay ing him.

Clinton drank his ale, knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and, at the end of a quarter of an hour, without making the slightest allusion to the ploughman's wages, was about to leave. 'Did your father say anything about paying me, Mr. Clinton?' said the man. 'Has he not paid you himself?' in quired Clinton. ' No, he had not change sufficient,' replied the ploughman. ' He paid the others, and said as how you should bring mine here to me when you came back from Mitcham.' ' Then it was your fetch which was here just now !' exclaimed Giles, opening his eyes to their utmost extent, as soon as he could recover from his sur prise sufficiently to speak. - Clinton now seemed as much bewildered as the assembled rustics, and he fixed his eyes upon the countenance ot Giles as if (o discover whether he was joking, or under the influence of liquor; but the serious expression of the plough man's features denied both of these suppositions. ' You must be mistaken,' said he, at length. ' 1 tell you, again, that I have only just returned from Mitcham, and have come straight here from the farm.' ' Why, Master Clinton,' said the old shepherd, in a deprecating tone, ' we all saw you, and the gallon of ale which you treated us wilh is not all drank yet ; we can't all be mistaken, or all liars.' ' He said nothing to me about it,' said Clinton, and then die added, after a moments reflection, ' I have not the money now, but I shall receive some up the vil lage, and I will look in as I come back.' ' Thank'ee, Mr. Clinton,' said the ploughman ; and the young man quitted the tap-room, and passing the bar, he quickly disappeared in the darkness, which the feeble light of the lamp over the door of the alehouse only illumed for a few yards around.

Edwin Clinton glanced hastily from the countenance of one to that of another, unlil his eyes had passed round the table, and seeing the same expression upon each, a pang of the heart seemed to agi tate his countenance, and he abruptly quitted the room. Leaving Giles and his fellow-labour ers in earnest confabulation at the vil- Some remarks were made by ihe men upon the singularity of young Clinton's visiting the alehouse forno other pur pose than smoking a pipe in their com pany by the tap-room fire, and treating them with a gallon of ale ; but they were suddenly cut short, at the expira tion often minutes, by the young farm er's entrance. lage ale-house, we must now introduce the reader to the fire-side of Farmer Owen, by which he and his wife and daughter were seated. A cheerful log fire was blazing and crackling on the hearth, and by the sides of the wide chimney a side ofbacon and acouple of hams were suspended.

Over the man tle hung the farmer's double-barrelled gun, and a rough lurcher lay curled up ' You are soon back, sir,' observed "the ploughman. 'Soon, Giles,' said Clinton, with some surprise. 'I ought to have been home an hour ago, but I was unexpectedly detained at athis feet, while a large black cat basked before the fire on the other side of the rug. Old Owen sat in tbe spacious chimney corner smoking his pipe, and at intervals applying his lips to a brown jug which stood convenient to his hand ; and his wife, a little thrifty woman, and a pattern of neatness and industry, was plying her knitting-needles by the light of a candle which stood in a polished brass candle-stick upon a walnutwood table which shone like a mirror. The farmer's daughter was about twenty years of age, and, like her mother, of low stature and petite figure ; but on her countenance and admirablymoulded form, sat a thousand charms and graces which time, the remorseless reaper, had gathered as he flew from those of her parent.

Her dark brown hair was parted smoothly over her white and polished forehead, aud arranged in simple bands upon her temples, and contrasted in a pleasing manner with the delicate purity of her complexion, which was clear and colourless as the purest alabaster, save where the faintest tinge of rose tinted her soft and damask cheeks,- as if to mark her as a childof earth, lest the admiring beholder should be tempted by her exceeding beauty to worship her as a seraph from the skies. The maiden raised her head from her work as the sound of a horse's feet cantering past the farm met her ears, but as the sounds passed away, and in a few minutes ceased entirely, she sighed gently, and resumed her work. ' Edwin will not come to-night, Fanny,' said old Owen, with an arch look athis daughter, which slightly heightened the colorupon herdamask cheeks, i ' He has gone over to Mitcham, and as " he has been working hard all day, he i will be tired when he returns ; so you I need not expect him, lass.' Fanny Owen made no observation, ] but i'. was evident that her father's words t caused her to feel a considerable degree I of disappointment.