Roger Tichborne to his Solicitor Mr Slaughter in 1851 My Dear Sir Triviete. тли let me know clearly what amount 1. of Abrunry 1851. Coraliner. Paris within two months from that date. But nearly four months had elapsed, and there were no tidings. Between Christmas Day and New Years' Eve of that year there arrived in Alresford a mysterious stranger, who put up at the Swan Hotel in that little town, and said that his name was Taylor. He was a man of enormous bulk and of eccentric attire. He wrapped himself in large great coats, muffled his neck and chin in thick shawls, and wore a cap with a peak of unusual dimensions, which, when it was pulled down, covered a considerable portion of his features. The Swan is a good old-fashioned hostelry, with a wide entrance and extensive ranges of stables. Visitors there in the hunting season are by no means rare; but then the Swan generally knows its patrons, and this man was strange. He seemed to have no business there, and to know nobody. He preferred a private room to the coffee-room, and he went out for solitary walks. Yet he was not altogether shy and uncommunicative; on the contrary, he stopped poor people on the roads, asked the way to Tichborne Church, about three miles off, and casually mentioned the current rumor that Roger Tichborne was coming back. The stranger showed further signs of coming out of his reserve. Mr. Taylor sent for Rous, the landlord, and had a chat with him, in the course of which he asked Rous to take him the next day for a drive round the neighborhood of Tichborne. Rous complied, and the innkeeper, chatting all the way on local matters, showed his guest, Tichborne village, Tichborne park and house, the church, the mill, the village of Cheriton, and all else that was worth seeing in that neighborhood. In fact Mr. Taylor became very friendly with Rous, invited him to drink in his room, and then confided to him an important secret-which, however, was by this time no secret at all, for Mr. Rous had just observed upon his guest's portmanteau the initials "R. C. T." Indeed it was already suspected in the smoking-room of the Swan that the enormous stranger was the long-expected heir. Suspicion became certainty when the stranger telegraphed for Bogle, and that faithful black, once familiar in the streets of Alresford, suddenly made his appearance there, began reconnoitering the house at Tichborne, contrived to get inside the old home, to learn that it had been let by the trustees of the infant baronet to a gentleman named Lushington, and to examine carefully the position of the old and new pictures hanging on the walls. This done, "Mr. Taylor" and his black attendant disappeared as suddenly as they had come. But the news spread abroad, and reached many persons who were interested. Roger's numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins heard of the sudden appearance of the long-expected Australian claimant. The Dowager in Paris, the mother of the infant, then at Ryde, all heard the news; and finally Mr. Gosford, Roger's dearest and most intimate friend and confidant, then in North Wales, got intelligence, and hastened to London to ascertain if the joyful news could be true. But the enormous individual had vanished again. The circumstance was strange. Bogle, it was true, had written letters from Australia declaring that this was the identical gentleman he had known years before as Mr. Roger Tichborne, when a visitor at Sir Edward's; and the Dowager, though she had declined to show her relatives the "photographics," had declared herself satisfied. But why did the long-lost Roger hold aloof? Why did he not rush down to see his old friend Gosford? Why no note even to Lady Doughty ?-no token of old friendship to relations at Brookwood, at Townely, or at Knoyle. Arthur Orton to Miss Loader in 1852. Christmasday Torkeye [Torquay). take the opportunity of writing these que lines to you which i hope will findy unite well. as it leaves me madahuppy діть х same I battle though that i should have bon tarot bem farther than This now or i should have had christraaz at home. I have christmus it is true * Love to your my Mother and all enginren friends cont except the same from your affectionate and well wishingfriend Buther Orton Good bye Middelton lupt Storie Hobart Town |