The spirits of the little party rose in proportion to the beauty of the morning; and they directed their course down a long, lonely, but very romantic lane, over-arched with old oaks, that formed a rich canopy over their heads.
Rachel ran laughing on before, filling a little basket she had in her hand with flowers; then, having passed a sudden angle in the lane, the friends were alarmed by her giving a loud scream.
“What can have happened?” cried Josiah, hurrying forward. “I am afraid she has trod upon a snake among the flowers.”
He had scarcely finished speaking, before Rachel came running towards them, out of breath, and very pale; and, flinging her arms round Josiah, she sobbed in the most agitated manner.
“Turn back! turn back, Josiah! There is something dreadful in the road.”
“Do not be alarmed, Rachel; it shall not hurt thee,” said Josiah, still fancying she had seen a snake.
“Oh no, it is dead! and the ground is all bloody! and it looks as pale as George did, when they took him out of the pond.”
Frightened in his turn, Josiah burst from the hold of the terrified child; and, bidding her sit down on the bank till he returned, the two friends, with faces almost as white as Rachel’s, proceeded to the spot she described.
What language can describe the horror they felt, when, on turning the projection of the lane, they beheld the mangled body of Daniel Simpson, lying dead across the path.
This wretched young man had stayed drinking late at the fair; and, returning home in a taxed cart, in a state of intoxication, the horse took fright, and, turning suddenly down this narrow lane, Simpson lost his balance, and fell out of the cart, with violence to the ground; and, the wheel going over his head, he was killed on the spot.