The Journal of Jonathon Lindey From the main part of the journal - Page 17
The town it turned out is very small, as I would have expected from the Census returns (such as they were!). It was really little more than a village based around a cross roads. There was only one inn - the curiously named and badly run down 'Falling Star Inn'. I pushed the door open and went in to ask about a room. I need not have worried, there were no other 'guests' at the inn. The innkeeper seemed ordinary enough, though of an extremely gloomy countenance. "I assume you are just passing through and want the room for a night?", he enquired. I explained my cover story and he looked perturbed. "I wouldn't suggest you choose Crystal Falls, sir", he ventured, "Very unhealthy." Noting my raised eyebrow he continued, "It's the swamps you see - they give off vapours that cause the ague and other, worse ailments." "I didn't notice any swamps on the way in", I murmured. "They're on the other side of the town," he explained with some haste. I nodded, making a mental note that he couldn't possibly have seen which side of the town I entered from. The room was as depressing as my host, but there wasn't exactly a lot of choice and I booked it for three days. If I hadn't ascertained what was going on by then, I thought, I wasn't going to be in luck. Dumping my valise on the bed I went out to look around the town. There were few citizens on the streets, but what there were seemed to have a normal age distribution. The buildings were shabby and neglected, the population had a similar look to it. I found the church on the north western edge of the village, not far from the inn. It looked strange to my eye, not being of the clapper board construction usually favoured in New England. Instead, this one was built of stone, and I recognised the English style with a square bell tower from engravings. Marking the graveyard for later, closer, examination I moved on. I found a bar - Barclays & Perkins' Bar - the sign said, but it was boarded up. I could have sworn I heard muffled sounds from within, but when I banged on the door there was a sudden silence, and the noises were not resumed. A little further down on the other side of the road was a cottage with a patch of grass. A child of about ten was sitting on the grass looking at a large, leather bound, book. As I approached she looked alarmed, dropped the book and fled into the cottage. Puzzled I picked up the book, and was staggered to find it was an original German version of Hegel's 'Science of Logic'. What was a ten year old doing with such a book? I knew very bright students at college who found this book difficult to understand. And I could have sworn the child was actually reading it. A few moments later the door to the cottage re-opened and a young woman in her late twenties came out. She approached me and said "Oh you have it. Lotte likes looking at the gothic typestyles, but she is always leaving the books lying around." I smiled as best I could - the story was much too glib - and handed her the book back. "An unusual book to find in upstate Rhode Island, if I might say so miss...?", I said. She gave me a wan smile. "My name is Jeannette Francoise, and explaining the book would take more time than I have at the moment. Would you care to come round to the cottage tomorrow afternoon? I will explain the whole story then." I eagerly accepted the offer and made my way back towards the centre of the village. |
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