"I guess," said Miss Green, "he feels kind o' awkward. Look how he's folded his arms. It's so long since he's been to meeting or conference, if he was ever in such a place before; he don't know how to behave."

"There's no sort o' set about his clothes," observed Miss Thompson. "They look as if he made them himself."

"Perhaps he did, but they're good enough to go with Faith Armstrong's cloak" (which had been made by a rival artiste), responded Miss Green. "What dark colors she wears, no variety, and how dreadful old they make her look!"

"Hush!" said Miss Thompson, "the deacon's going to open."

During the colloquy of the two spinsters a grave, respectable-looking man, somewhat advanced in years, had taken a seat behind the reading-desk, and opening the large Bible that lay upon it, selected a chapter, and now invited the attention of the audience to its contents. Upon its conclusion he gave out a hymn, the tune of which was announced by another person, who immediately on naming it pulled out a pitch-pipe from his pocket and making a slight sound, furnished the starting note. The singing proceeded principally from a certain part of the room, as if by some understanding the singers had been collected together, although scattered sounds also, of either rumbling bass or shrill treble whose trembling modulations betrayed the advanced age of the performers, were here and there heard. Some of these guerrilla passages were sadly out of time and tune, and according to the humor of the hearer might either provoke a smile or start a tear. The gay and thoughtless might, indeed, laugh at the wavering and undecided notes, but to the reflecting mind there was something profoundly pathetic in the feeble tribute to the praise of their Maker, of those whose voices in the ordinary course of nature must soon be silent in the grave.

After the singing was ended, the person who had hitherto officiated invited Deacon Baldwin, calling him by name, to make a prayer. Hereupon the deacon rose, and folding his hands complied with the request, while most of the congregation respectfully bent forward, or covered their faces with their handkerchiefs. The prayer evidently came from a sincere and earnest heart, but contained nothing that requires it should be recorded. Another hymn was then sung, upon the conclusion of which followed the sermon.

The person who came forward to perform this office was a short, thick-set man, of middle age, with a bull neck. His features were harsh and severe, and stamped with an expression of mortification, though the gross animality of the mouth and chin too plainly revealed how many and desperate were the conflicts it must have cost him to become a saint. As he passed to the reading-desk his clothes brushed Holden, who shrunk from the touch. The Solitary looked up, but as if what he saw was displeasing, he averted his face and shut his eyes.

The first thing done by Davenport on reaching the desk, and casting a furtive glance around, was to draw an East India silk handkerchief out of his pocket, and having noticed a spittoon by his side, to blow his nose sonorously. He then cleared his throat two or three times, and commenced reading.

It happened, singularly enough, that the subject was prophecy, considered as evidence of the divine inspiration of the Scriptures. The writer, after referring to the fulfillment of many prophecies contained in the Old Testament, came to those in the New, and amongst others he spoke of that in which Christ alludes to the destruction of Jerusalem. He said that even in the times of the Apostles, there were persons who, by putting too literal a construction upon the words, were misled into believing that the end of the world was at hand, and that there had never been a time when there were not victims to the same delusion.

It was impossible, with reference to the condition of Holden's mind, to have selected either a topic or reader more unsuitable. The aversion he had manifested at first increased every moment. It was one of those antipathies as unquestionable as they are unaccountable. It at first exhibited itself in restlessness, and an inability to remain quiet, and afterwards in half-suppressed groans and sighs. If he opened his eyes and looked at the reader, he saw a devilish figure, with a malignant leer glaring at him; if he shut them to exclude the disagreeable image it was converted into a thousand smaller figures, dancing up and down like motes in a distempered vision, all wearing that intolerable grin, while the whole time a hissing sound, as if it came from a snake, whispered in his ears temptations to some deadly sin. It was a trial the shattered nerves of the enthusiast were ill qualified to bear, and, finally, a torture beyond his powers of endurance. The very force of the reasons urged by the writer distressed him more and more. They seemed to his disordered imagination the subtle enticements of an evil spirit to lure him from the truth, and Davenport an emissary of Satan, if not the arch-deceiver himself. No adequate answers to doctrines which he was persuaded were false presented themselves to his mind, and this he ascribed to some hellish spell, which fettered his reason, and must soon be broken, or he was lost. Mentally, then, first ejaculating a prayer, he suddenly sprung to his feet, and in a loud voice bade the reader to stop.

"Forbear," he cried, "man of sin, to seduce the people with these soul-damning and abominable lies. I conjure thee, Satan, to leave the body of this man, and depart. Ha! thou wouldst lull them into security that they may slumber and have no oil in their lamps when the Bridegroom cometh, when He cometh in the clouds of heaven. My soul have not thou thy portion with the unbelievers."

The words were uttered with wonderful vehemence and rapidity, and upon their conclusion, he strode with long strides down the passage towards the door. Not an exclamation was heard, not a hand raised to stay his departure, so stupefied were all with astonishment. Upon leaving the room he rushed into the street, and, forgetful of his promise to Mr. Armstrong, took his way to his own hut. The tything man, awakening from his lethargy, and a few others recovering their presence of mind, went at last to the door, and gazed up and down the street, but the disturber of the meeting was not in sight, nor, sooth to say, were any of the number sorry, or wished to meet him that night. Contenting themselves, therefore, with this slight demonstration of zeal, they returned to the Conference-room. There, great as was the scandal occasioned by the interruption, all things soon settled down into their usual course, and the meeting was regularly concluded and dismissed.



CHAPTER XI.

Angelo.—We must not make a scarecrow of the law, Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape, till custom make it Their perch, and not their terror.

MEASURE FOR MEASURE.

The events of the preceding evening caused quite a sensation in the village. We shall better understand the various opinions and feelings of the inhabitants by stepping, at about eleven o'clock the following morning, into the shop, or, as it was called in those days, and would generally be called now, the "store" of Truman and Jenkins. This was an establishment at the foot of the hill, where it hung out its sign, in company with several others of the same character, which professed to supply all the wants of the community. Here everything was to be had from a gallon of molasses to a skein of thread, or a quintal of codfish, to a pound of nails. On one side, as you entered, were ranges of shelves, protected by a counter, on which were exposed rolls of flannels of divers colors, and calico and broadcloth, and other "dry goods," while a showcase on the counter contained combs, and tooth-brushes, and soaps, and perfumery, and a variety of other small articles. The back of the store was used as a receptacle for hogsheads of molasses, and puncheons of rum and wine, and barrels of whisky and sugar. Overhead and on the posts were hung pails, and rakes, and iron chains, and a thousand things necessary to the complete enjoyment of civilization. On the other side was a small counting-room partitioned off, with a door, the upper part of which was glass, for the convenience of looking into the shop, in order to be ready to attend to the wants of such customers as might come in. This little room, scarcely eight feet square, contained a small close stove, around which were gathered some half a dozen persons.

"I say, squire," exclaimed Tom Gladding, a tall, awkward, good-natured looking fellow, with legs sprawling out, and heels on the top of the stove, addressing himself to a man in a black suit, rather better dressed than the others, "what do you think of this here rusty old Father Holden cut up last night at Conference?"

Squire Miller, as one in authority, and who might be called to adjudicate upon the case, and for other reasons of his own, was not disposed to commit himself, he, therefore, cautiously replied, more Novo Anglicano, by asking another question, "Were you there, Mr. Gladding?"

"No," said Tom, laughing; "the old folks used to make me go so regular, when I was a boy, I guess I've done my part. So after a while I give it up."

"It is a pity you ever gave it up," said the squire. "You might get a great deal of good from it."

"There's two opinions about that," said Tom. "You see, squire, as long as mother was alive, I always went with her regular, 'cause it kind o' comforted her, though somehow or other I never took to it. So when she died I sort o' slacked off 'till now it's 'een amost two year since I been in."

"They say," observed Mr. Jenkins, "they've took the old man up."

"I'm sorry for that," cried Tom. "To go to take up a kind o' half-crazy man for speaking in meetin'!"

"Why," inquired the squire, "would you allow the man to go about disturbing the neighbors as he pleased?"

"I never heard tell of his disturbing nobody," said Tom. "Just take him off his notions about the ten vargins and their lamps, and the judgment day, and I don't know a likelier man than old Holden. In my opinion, he's a cleverer fellow than Davenport, by a long shot."

"I don't believe he's been caught," said a man in a pee-jacket, who, from his appearance, was a fisherman. "I passed his island this morning about sunrise, with a boatload of oysters, and I see the old man at his door."

"Well," observed Mr. Jenkins, "I hope he isn't. It's enough to make a body puke up his boots to hear Davenport, and I don't much blame Holden for cutting him short."

"I heard somebody say," said Gladding, "that the old man shook his fist right in old Davenport's face, and told him up and down he was a good for nothing liar. I want to know if he can sue him, squire?"

"Why, as to that," answered Miller, who being appealed to on a question of law, conceived it necessary to show his learning, "if a man strikes at me within striking distance, I can sue him for assault, though he shouldn't touch me. That I call one of the nice pints of the law. I decided so myself in the case of Samuel Pond versus Ezekiel Backus. You see Pond and Backus had a little quarrel about some potatoes Pond sold him, and Pond got mad, and told Backus he lied. Backus is rather hasty, and doubled up his fist, and put it near Pond's nose, and insinuated that if he said that again he would knock him down." Here the squire paused, and looked round to see what impression he was making on his audience, and the momentary silence was taken advantage of by Gladding to observe:

"That Pond's a mean cuss."

The justice took no further notice of honest Tom's not very complimentary remark than to cast at him a look of angry surprise, which the other endured with complete indifference.

"So," continued Squire Miller, "Pond went to Lawyer Tippit, and he brought the suit before me. Backus pleaded his own case, but he had a fool for a client; the law was all against him, and I had to fine him a dollar and cost."

"That's considerable to pay," exclaimed Tom, "just for skinning such a fellow's nose as Sam Pond's (I've heard of the case afore), but you ain't said nothing, squire, about calling a man a liar."

"Well," said Squire Miller, "that's what we call a mute point. I heard the affirmative and negative argued once by Lawyer Ketchum and Lawyer Tippit. Lawyer Tippit was the affirmative, and Lawyer Ketchum the negative. Lawyer Tippit's principle was in medio pessimus ibis, while Lawyer Ketchum held qui facit per alien facit per se. They, therefore, couldn't agree, they were so wide apart, you see. So they separated without either giving up, though I think Lawyer Tippit had a little the best of the argument."

"Lawyer Tippit knows a thing or two," said the fisherman, in a low tone.

Here Squire Miller handed to Mr. Jenkins twelve and a half cents, for the four glasses of Jamaica he had drank, a portion of which some way or other seemed to have got into his last speech, and took his leave.

He had hardly left the store when who should come in but Constable Basset, bearing in his hand a black staff, "having a head with the arms of the State thereon," the badge of his office, as provided by law, and which he was required to carry "upon proper occasions." Some such occasion had, in the judgment of the constable, evidently arisen, else it would not now be forthcoming.

He was a bullet-headed, carroty-haired little fellow, with a snub nose and eyes so diminutive and deeply sunken, that but for the sparks of light they emitted, they would have been undiscernible. The expression of his face was like that of a wiry terrier, being derived partly from his occupation, which, in his opinion, required him to be as vigilant in spying out offenders as the aforesaid peppery animal, in scenting vermin, and being partly the gift of nature. But though the person of Basset was small, such was not his opinion of himself. That was in an inverse ratio to his size, and at once the source of his highest joys, and, sooth to say, of an occasional mortification. But the former greatly preponderated, and, on the whole, it was a pleasure to a benevolent mind to look at him, if for no other reason than to consider how much enjoyment there may be in ignorance.

As soon as Gladding set his eyes on the constable, he hailed him:

"Here, Basset," he cried, "what are you going to do this morning with that are stick?"

The constable did not much relish hearing the badge of an office which he esteemed one of the most important in the State thus lightly spoken of and degraded to a common stick; he, therefore, replied somewhat shortly—

"I guess, Mr. Gladding, you don't see the head of my staff, do ye?"

"Don't I?" said Gladding. "I know old Authority-by-the-State-of-Connecticut a mile off, without seeing his head, I rather think. But what are you up to now?"

Basset, who, though no Solomon, had too much wit to admit every one into his confidence, answered:

"O, nothing; I was only looking for Squire Miller."

"Why," said Gladding, "he only left the store a minute ago. I say Basset, you got a warrant agin old Holden?"

"Why," said Basset, "what makes you ask?"

"Because," replied Gladding, mischievously, who strongly suspecting an intention to arrest Holden, and knowing the constable's cowardice, was determined to play upon his fears, "I shouldn't like to be in your skin when you go for to take him."

"I'd like to see the man what would dare to resist when I showed him my authority," said the constable. "I guess I'd make him cry copeevy in less than no time."

"Well," said Gladding, who all this while had been leisurely whittling a bit of white pine, "well, Basset, you know your own business best, and I'm not a man to interfere. My principle is, let every man skin his own skunks. You haint no wife nor children, have you?"

"No," said Basset. "What makes you ask?"

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. I always think it judgmatical, you see, to choose a man for constable who haint got no family; 'cause, if any accident should happen, 'twouldn't be of so much consequence."

"I don't catch your meaning clear," said Basset.

"You'll catch it clear enough, I guess," answered Gladding, "if Holden gits hold o' ye."

"Now, Tom Gladding, you needn't think you're going to frighten me," cried Basset, on whom the charm was beginning to work.

"I never had sich an idea," said Tom. "But folks does say he's a desperate fighting character. Did you never hear tell of Kidd the pirate, and his treasures, ever so much gold and silver, and rings and watches, and all sorts o' trinkets and notions, buried somewhere along shore, or perhaps on the old fellow's island? Folks does say that when it was kivered, two men was murdered on the spot, so that their sperits should watch it, and hender other folks from gitting on't. But them may be all lies. I heard tell, too," he added, bending down towards the constable, and speaking in a low, confidential tone, as if he wished to be overheard by no one, "that Holden's Kidd himself; but I don't believe a word on't. I tell you this as a friend of your'n, and I advise you to be prudent."

Poor Basset left the shop, with a much less confident air than that with which he had entered it. The truth is, he had in his pocket, all the while, a warrant issued by Squire Miller to arrest Holden, which he now most heartily wished he had never burnt his fingers with. He had heard before, the strange stories in circulation about the Solitary, but had listened to them with only a vague feeling of curiosity, without any personal interest therein, so that no impression of any consequence had been made upon his mind. But now the case was different. The matter was brought home to his own bosom. Here was he, Constable Basset, required and commanded, "by authority of the State of Connecticut," to arrest a man of the most violent character, "for," said Basset to himself, "he must be a dangerous fellow, else how would he venture to insult a whole conference? Tom Gladding's more'n half right, and I must look sharp." Gladly would he have abandoned the whole business, notwithstanding his cupidity was not a little excited by the fees, but he doubted whether the sheriff, his deputy, or any other constable would execute the warrant in his stead; nor did any plausible excuse present itself to account for transferring it to other hands. Thus musing, with fear and avarice contending in his breast, he walked up the street. But it may be necessary to tell how Basset got into the dilemma, and, in order to do so, we must retrace our steps.

The interruption at the conference had not a little offended Davenport. A pompous and conceited man, any slight to himself, any failure to accord a deference he considered his due, he felt sensibly as an injury; much more, then, an open defiance and direct attack. That Holden or any one should have the hardihood, before an assemblage of his friends and acquaintances, to interrupt him and load him with reproaches, wounded his self love to the quick, and he fancied it would affect his reputation and influence in the community were the offence to be passed over without notice. He therefore resolved that something should be done to punish the offender, though unwilling to appear himself in the matter, as that might expose his motives; and all the way home, his mind was engrossed with schemes to accomplish his purpose. It was little attention, then, he be stowed upon the "good gracious" and "massy on us" of his better half, as, with indignation becoming the provocation, she kept herself warm, and shortened the way. But, notwithstanding, he was forced to hear them, and they affected him like so many little stings to urge him to revenge. So excited were his feelings, that it was some time before he fell asleep that night, long after notes other than those of music had announced the passage of Mrs. Davenport to a land of forgetfulness, though not before her husband had matured a plan for the morrow.

Accordingly, after breakfast, Davenport walked round to the office of Mr. Ketchum. Ketchum was a young man, who, but a short time before, had, in the fortunate town of Hillsdale, hung out his professional sign, or shingle, as people generally called it, whereon, in gilt letters, were emblazoned his name and the titles of "Attorney and Counsellor at Law," whereby the public were given to understand that the owner of the aforesaid name and titles was prepared with pen or tongue, or both, to vindicate, a entrance, the rights of all who were able and willing to pay three dollars for an argument before a Justice Court, and in proportion before the higher tribunals. He was a stirring, pushing fellow, whose business, however, was as yet quite limited, and to whom, for that reason, a new case was a bonne bouche on which he sprung with the avidity of a trout.

This gentleman Davenport found apparently lost in the study of a russet sheep-skin covered book. A few other books, bound in like manner, were lying on the table, with pens and loose paper and an ink-stand, among which were mingled files of papers purporting to be writs and deeds. Against the walls were two or three shelves containing some dingy-looking books having a family likeness to the former.

After the usual compliments, Davenport made known his business. "A scandal," he said, "had been occasioned by the conduct of Holden, and a great injury inflicted on the cause of religion. It was for that reason," he intimated, "and not from any private feeling he wanted him brought to justice. Some people think him a little touched," he said, "though I don't believe it, and if it was only my own case I should overlook his insults, for it is the part of a Christian to suffer wrong without complaining, but there's others to be thought of, and I'd sooner cut off my right hand than not do my duty. So, squire," he concluded, "we must see if we can't learn him reason, and stop his disturbing the worship of God."

"There is no difficulty about that, Squire Davenport," said Ketchum, who was acquainted with the particulars of the occurrence of the night previous, before the arrival of his client, having heard them discussed over breakfast at his boarding-house. "You have the plainest case in the world. We'll soon put him through a course of sprouts."

"How do you think we had better proceed?" said Davenport.

"Why," replied the other, opening the Statute Book, "you have at least two causes of action; you can bring a civil action for the slander, and also proceed against him on the part of the State for the interruption of the meeting."

"I don't care about suing him on my own account," said the client, who, perhaps, not reposing unlimited confidence in the young man's knowledge of law, and doubting the success of a civil action, had visions of possible costs he might be obliged to pay floating before his imagination. Besides, Davenport was a shrewd fellow who had been "in the law" before; and experience taught him how to make allowance for the natural anxiety of a new practitioner to obtain business. "No, I have no feeling about it myself," said Davenport, "and it is my opinion we had better take him on the part of the State."

"It is just as well," said the attorney; "one suit will not interfere with the other. We can first proceed against him criminally, and afterwards bring an action for damages."

"Well, well," said Davenport, "now about the prosecution."

"Then," said Ketchum, opening the Statute Book at the title "Meetings," after first running though the index; "we can take him under the Act on the 492d page, entitled, 'An Act for preserving due order in town meetings, society meetings, and in the meetings of other communities, and for preventing tumults therein,'" and he read the act aloud.

"I don't exactly like that," observed Davenport, "The fine, in the first place, is only eighty-four cents, except the case is aggravated, when it is a binding over, and then the County Court cannot go over thirty-four dollars fine. There's no imprisonment and Tom Pownal or Armstrong would go bail, and pay the fine too, if it comes to that; so there would be nothing gained by the operation."

"Let as see if we cannot find something else," said Ketchum, "to suit your taste better I think (for he now perfectly understood the temper of his client, and read the vindictive purpose of his soul, and, alas! was willing to descend to the meanness of ministering to its gratification,)—I think it would be a reproach to the law if such a high-handed outrage should be permitted to pass unpunished." He again referred to the index and apparently finding what he wanted turned the leaves till he came to the title, "Workhouses." "Here," cried he, "at the 688th page, in the seventh section, we have got him;" and he read from the Statutes a provision, authorising and empowering an associate or Justice of the Peace to send "'all rogues, vagabonds, sturdy beggars, and other lewd, idle, dissolute, profane and disorderly persons that have no settlement in this State, to such workhouses, and order them to be kept to hard labor' &c.; and here on the next page, 'also such as are guilty of reviling and profane speaking.'"

"That last will do, if the law will hold him," said Davenport.

"Leave that to me," said Ketchum. "That section will hold water or nothing will. Give me the names of your witnesses, and we will set the mill a grinding. I suppose," he added, carelessly, "you have no objection to bringing the case before Squire Miller?"

"Oh, none in the world," answered the other, who knew perfectly well the influence he exercised over the Justice. "But you haven't said a word about the Grand Juror to make the complaint."

"That will be all straight," replied Ketchum. "Two Grand Jurors I know were at the meeting, either of whom will answer our purpose. Trust that to me, and I will attend to it."

Hereupon, Davenport mentioned the names of the witnesses he wished subp[=oe]ned. "And now, Squire," he added, "that this matter is concluded between us, how comes on my case with Fanning?"

Ketchum felt some surprise at the question, although his countenance expressed none, for it was only a short time since he had gone over the whole subject with his client, and the plan of operations had been agreed on between them. He understood, however, the character of Davenport too well not to know that he had a reason of his own for asking, and not doubting it would come out in the course of the conversation, he replied very composedly that it would probably be reached the next term.

Davenport went on for awhile, talking of his case, Ketchum all the time wondering at his drift, until, having concluded what it pleased him to say, he rose to take leave. After bidding good morning by way of farewell, he walked to the door, when suddenly turning, as if the thought had just struck him, he observed—"By the way, if anybody should happen to notice that I had called on you, I have no objections to your saying I had a talk with you about that case of Fanning's."

As soon as the door was closed, Ketchum leaned back in his chair and indulged in a low sarcastic laugh. "The old sinner," he said, aloud; "he is a cute one; sharp as a pin, but needles are sharper. What a knack he has of whipping the devil round the stump! To look at that man you would suppose he was too good for preaching. And he flatters himself he is imposing on me! He must get up earlier for that. It is my opinion his only chance when his turn comes will be in cheating his Satanic Majesty. Well, practice makes perfect, and he has enough of it. I do declare," he added, after a pause, as if scruples of conscience were arising in his mind, "I am almost sorry I undertook this business. But all trades must live."

Consoling himself with this reflection, Ketchum started to hunt up the grand juror. He found no difficulty in inducing him to make complaint to Justice Miller, having first satisfied him that an offence had been committed which the law compelled him to notice officially.

Squire Miller, however, seemed disposed, at first, to take a different view of the subject. He said he had known Holden a good many years, and never heard harm of him except that he was a little flighty sometimes; but if the grand juror insisted, of course he would issue the warrant.

The minister of the law must have been inexorable, for the complaint was made, and the warrant signed in due form and delivered to Basset to be executed.



CHAPTER XII.

Esculus.—Come hither to me, master Elbow, come hither, master constable. How long have you been in this place of constable?

MEASURE FOR MEASURE

We have seen that when the constable left the shop he felt some anxiety about the proper course to be pursued. On the one hand were his duty and avarice, on the other his fears. After some meditation he finally effected a compromise between them, by adopting the resolution to wait until the formidable Holden should make his appearance again in the village, where, he thought he would be less likely, in open day, and surrounded by others, to resist, or, if he did, the assistance of the bystanders might be commanded.

Two or three days passed in this manner, none, excepting the five persons above-mentioned, having any knowledge of the issuing of the warrant. The excitement had died away, and the little community supposed no notice would be taken of the occurrence, and, for the most part, were disposed that none should be. Meanwhile, Basset, like a spider in the centre of his web, watched for his victim, ready to pounce upon him, as soon as the propitious moment should arrive. It is curious how the desire to capture Holden increased with delay. At first, and in the prospect of immediate danger, the business was far from being relished, but as time slipped along, and his mind became familiarized to its contemplation, it began to assume something of even a tempting character. He began to fancy that if he could secure the Recluse, he should achieve for himself a reputation for courage, which he was far, at present, from possessing. Yet, still he desired to discharge his commission in the most prudent manner.

But Holden did not appear. Was it possible he could have obtained information of the threatened danger, and was keeping himself concealed? At the thought, Basset stood two inches higher; his courage mounted rapidly, and the terrible pirate dwindled into a submissive culprit.

Ketchum, meanwhile, began to be importunate. He had become impatient at waiting, and demanded of the constable the reason of the delay. The latter, unwilling to confess the true cause, put him off with such excuses as his ingenuity suggested, until he had exhausted his stock, and was obliged to apply himself to the discharge of his duty. He, therefore, made up his mind to face the danger, but not to monopolize the glory of the achievement. He dared not go alone, and accordingly looked round for somebody to assist him in the perilous enterprise. Now, the veteran Primus, by virtue of his exploits in the Revolutionary War, and the loss of one of his legs on the field of battle, enjoyed a high reputation for bravery. Backed by the old warrior, or rather led by him, for Basset meant to yield him the post of honor, the constable thought he should stand a much greater chance of success. He determined, therefore, to apply to Primus, secure his services, and take counsel with him on the best mode to apprehend Holden. With this view, he betook himself to the bachelor quarters of the black—a hovel on the outskirts of the village, where we find him at this present moment.

"I hab some interjection, Missa Basset," said Primus, evidently in reply to a proposition of the constable. "Suppose you come to ketch me, how I like to hab somebody help you?"

"No danger of that, Prime," said Basset; "you are too clever a fellow for me to go with a warrant after; and if it was your case, I should more likely give you a squint of what was going on, than be plotting how to git hold on ye. You don't know your friends, Prime."

"Dey say 'tis a wise child dat know his own fader," answered Primus. "Now, if a child dat see his fader ebery day, and been brung up in de same house, not know him, how is it possible dat I know you, Missa Basset, who neber before do me de honor ob a visit?"

"Why," said the constable, who hardly knew what reply to make, "you never come to see me, Prime."

"Dat is de trute," said Primus, "and dat look as do you and me is no great friends, arter all. But," added he, observing the other's embarrassment, "dat is needer here nor dere. I always suspect you bery much, sar, and is willing to do anything to obleege you. Tell us, now, 'xactly, what you want me to do."

"Why, you see, I want somebody to go along with me to be there when I take him, that's all. The island's three or four miles off, and I shall want you to help row the boat."

"O, if dat is all, I is 'greeable," exclaimed Primus. "When you tink of going, Missa Basset?"

"I ain't just made up my mind on that pint, and that's one thing I want to talk about. When will he be most likely to be at home? What do you think? Had we better go in the morning, or wait till afternoon."

"Dat inquire some deflexum. Let me see: I don't know about de day, at all. If he see you coming, he make off, probumbly, and den de job is lost, and de fire is in de fat. De night is de best time, I guess, to ketch dis kind ob fish."

But this opinion did not suit the notions of the constable.

"It won't be half so pleasant," he said. "It's plaguy cold at night; and if it keeps on at this rate, the river will soon freeze up. I expect we can git him easier, too, in the day-time than at night."

For some reason Primus seemed to entertain a decidedly contrary opinion.

"You suspec'," cried he, "de ole man let you put you hand an him as easy as Frisky wink (looking at a little mongrel, that at the mention of his name jumped into his master's lap). Ketch a weasel asleep! De old man beard too long for dat."

"Why, I can't see," said Basset, "what objections you can have if I take the risk. You can't deny it's a great deal pleasanter in the day time than to go along shivering at night, and, perhaps, catch a tarnation cold. So, Prime, what say to going down to-morrow in the forenoon or afternoon, I don't care much which? It's all one to me."

"It's all no use," persisted Primus. "You just hab to pay for de boat and my sarvices, and git noting. Dat is what I call a berry bad spec, Missa Basset."

"Well, what's that to you, I tell you? If I choose to run the risk, that's enough, and you ought to be satisfied. You git your pay, and what more do you want?"

"Dere is someting more I want," exclaimed the General, "I want de satisfacshum ob victory. I want de satisfacshum here," he repeated, laying his hand on his breast. "Do you tink, sar, dat a genlmn, dat fight in de Resolutionary war, and gib one leg, dat you may stand on two free leg, hab no feeling ob honor? Beside, dis old soger don't want no bread he don't arn."

"Well, I'll make a bargain with you, that if we don't catch Holden, you shan't have anything. That horse is soon curried."

"Ah, dat won't do. My time is precious, and de hire is wordy ob de laborer. No, Missa Basset, if you want to go in de day time, you can go. Dere is nobody will hender you. But dis child you will please 'scuse. Beside, dere is a good reason I say noting about 'cause I don't want to hurt you feelings."

"What's that?" said Basset. "Don't be afeared, spit it out."

"Well, seeing as how you is so pressing you see I tink someting ob my 'spectability."

"Your what?" exclaimed the constable, utterly at a loss to imagine the meaning of the other.

"My 'spectability," repeated Primus, gravely. "You see, when I was a young man I sociate wid da best company in de country. I members de time when General Wayne (dey called him Mad Antony cause he fight so like de dibble) say afore de whole army dat haansome fellow—meaning me—look like anoder Anibal (Anibal I guess was a French General). Ah," sighed Primus, "dey made more 'count ob colored pussons den, dan dey does now."

"What has all this to do with your respectability?" inquired Basset who began to be a little impatient.

"I come to dat at de end ob de roll call," responded Primus. "Do you tink it bery 'spectable now, for a man who, in his younger day, fight for liberty, to go for to take it away in his old age from anoder man?"

"But just consider," said Basset, whose cue was flattery and conciliation, "Holden went agin the very laws you made."

"I make de law, Missa Basset?" roared Primus, "haw! haw! haw! I make de law, haw! haw! haw! does you want to kill me! O dear!"

"Yes," said Basset stoutly, "and I can prove it. Now say, if the Americans didn't make their own laws, wouldn't the British make 'em for 'em? And who was it drove the British out and give us a chance to make our own laws eh?"

"Pity you isn't a lawyer," said Primus, suddenly abandoning his mirth at the other's explanation, "dere is a great deal in what you say—de white men owes a big debt to us colored pussons. Dat is a fust rate reason why I should want to see de law execute but not for me to go myself in particular, when, perhaps de ole man point his rifle at me, and tell me to clear out."

"Why, you don't think he'll resist?" cried the constable somewhat startled, feeling the apprehensions revive which Tom Gladding had occasioned, but which the passage of a few days had almost lulled asleep.

"'Tis bery hard to tell what a man do when he git in a corner," said Primus, shaking his head, and fastening his eyes on the constable's face, "but, if you want to know my 'pinion, it is just dis—if Missa Holden know what you up to, he make day light shine trough you, in less dan no time, rader dan be took."

"Poh?" exclaimed Basset, affecting a courage he was far from feeling, "you're skeary, Prime. So, in your judgment, it's safer to go by night, is it?"

"My 'pinion is made up on all de pints," said Primus, resolutely, and bringing all his batteries to bear. "Dis case hab two hinge, de fust is de 'spectability, and de second de safety. Now, if any man suspect me to go on work ob dis a kind in de day time, when ebery body see me in you company, he as much mistake as when he kiss his granny for a gal. De night is de proper time for sich a dark business, and it suit me better if I 'scuse altogeder from it. But I wish to 'bleege you, Missa Basset. Now, de second hinge is de safety, and it 'stonish me dat an onderstanding man, and a man ob experunce and larning like you, Missa Basset, should dream o' going in de daytime. Dere stand old Holden probumbly wid his rifle in de window and all he hab to do, he see so plan, is to pull de trigger and den where is you, Missa Basset? Or perhaps," he added laughing, "'stead ob shooting at you, he shoot at me, and dat would be bery onpleasant. In de day-time, a colored pusson make a better mark dan a white man; but in de night we has de advantage. Haw! Haw!"

This was a view of things that did not please the constable at all, and the mirth of the negro appealed excessively ill-timed. He, therefore, said:

"Don't talk so, Prime; it's dreadful to hear you. Well, if you're afraid, say so, and done with—"

"Me, 'fraid," exclaimed Primus, "me dat is as 'customed to de bullets as de roof to de rain! No, sar, you is better 'quainted wid de genlmen dat is 'fraid dan dis child."

"Don't git mad though," said Basset, in whose mind one apprehension drove out another, and who began to fear he might lose altogether his new ally. "Everybody knows you're as brave as Julius Caesar, Prime."

"Please, sar, not to repair me to no Caesar," exclaimed the indignant General. "De Caesars ob my 'qaintance was nebber no great shakes. I hab a better name dan dat. My name is Primus—dat mean, in Latin, fust—so I hear genlmn say, and Ransome, and de meaning ob dat is, dat in de glorious Resolution I run some arter de British (dough de foolish doctor abuse me and say dey give me de name 'cause I run away), and putting bote togedder dey makes a name any genlmn may be proud ob. But, Missa Basset, what you going to gib me for dis job?"

"Why, a quarter'll be good wages, I guess."

"A quarter ob a dollar! Do you s'pose I dispose myself to ketch cold on de ribber, and die afore my time, and arter dat to be shoot at, like a duck, for a quarter? I don't 'list on no such tarms."

"We'll say a half. I'm inclined to be liberal, but I shall expect you to be lively, Prime."

"Dat is too little;" grumbled Primus. "And who else you got to help you?"

"Why, hain't two enough? I might as well give up the job at once, and done with it, if I'm to pay out all the fees."

"One more will make all sure," said Primus, who, prudent general that he was, thought no odds could be too great against an enemy. "S'pose I speak to Missa Gladding to insist?"

"Tom Gladding be hung. I won't give him a cent."

"But," said Primus, who seemed determined to have his own way in everything, "you no interjection, I guess, if it don't cost you noting."

"No," replied Basset, who was glad enough of another auxiliary, provided his own packet was not affected. "But, mind ye, I don't pay him a red cent."

"I pay him myself, out ob my own pass. De danger won't be so much, and de work will be done up right, sartin. So, atween genlmn, de business is settle."

They parted with the understanding that the General was to see Gladding and induce him to take part in the enterprise, and that the three would meet at a certain place in the evening, the constable being careful to repeat that he couldn't afford more than fifty cents for any assistance that might be rendered. Primus accordingly called upon Gladding, and the arrangement must have been satisfactory, for the three were all at the place of rendezvous at the appointed hour.



CHAPTER XIII.

"All these tales told in that dreamy undertone with which men talk in the dark, the countenances of the listeners only now and then receiving a casual gleam from the glare of a pipe, sunk deep in the mind of Ichabod."

Legend of Sleepy Hollow

It was on the village wharf that the coadjutors met. Basset, as he contemplated the martial bearing of the General and the burly form of Gladding, felt comforted. The clouds that all day long had lowered above his mental horizon parted, and patches of blue sky began to appear. It was a cause of special gratulation to him, which he realized more sensibly in the darkness than by day, that assistance so important as Gladding's had been secured, and that without additional expense. He was confident now of an easy victory. The associates jumped into the boat, the painter was cast off, the constable, as principal, took the steersman's seat, and Tom and Primus disposed themselves to row.

The night was neither clear nor dark, or rather was both by fits and starts. Light fleecy clouds were constantly passing over the heavens, now gathering densely together and completely hiding the stars, and now breaking up and revealing between the rifts then shining points. A low wind softly moaned through the leafless trees on the banks of the Severn, sadly chiming in with the murmur of the tide, which rose quite up to the Falls of the Yaupaae. In the indistinct light, just enough to stimulate and keep in active play the imagination, softening away all those harshnesses which the garish brilliancy of day discloses, and inviting the mind to supply with its own creations what is vague and deficient, the village presented an appearance more attractive, if possible, than by day. Along the margin of the river, and up the hill-sides, the lights scattered in every direction, and rising irregularly one above another, contended successfully with the struggling stars to light the way of the adventurers; while a low sound, the faint indication of life, hardly distinguishable from other noises, rose from the village, for it was yet early in the night, and imparted a sense of security by the consciousness of human propinquity. But gradually, under the skillful strokes of the oars, the sounds became fainter and fainter, and one light after another disappeared till, at a turn in the stream, the bold promontory of Okommakemisit hid the town from view.

A feeling of loneliness now, in spite of the presence of his two friends, began to creep over the constable. So long as the lights had been visible, he felt a strength derived from the vicinity of the habitations of his fellow-beings, as if, were anything untoward to happen, assistance was close at hand and ready to be proffered, but now he might die a thousand deaths, and none be the wiser for his wretched end. As these and other thoughts equally dismal chased each other through his mind, the silence became more and more oppressive (for it was only now and then, hitherto, a word had been uttered), and it was with an emotion of thankfulness and relief he heard it broken by the voice of Gladding.

"I say, Primus," he said, "do you know where you are?"

"I guess I does," answered the black, speaking from between his shut teeth, which the necessity of retaining the stump of a pipe he was smoking compelled him to keep tight together, "I is on de river 'joying a row wid two white genlmn."

"Any fool knows that," said Tom, "though for the matter of the enjoyment, there might be two words about that. Some jugs has two handles."

"Well, if dat doesn't please you, I all in a shiver wid de cold. My wood toe is almost freeze."

"That's a plaguy curus thing," said Tom. "You know Jim Hardy. Well I hearn him say he can feel the fingers in his hand that was ground off in the mill, just an much as in tother. I expect your experience is pretty much the same."

"Dat's a fact," said Primus. "I can feel de foot and de toes just as much as ebber, only de leg is a sort o' kind o' shorter. Now, Missa Gladding, you is a man ob gumption, can you splain dat?"

"Sartin," said Tom, who didn't wish to appear ignorant to the presence of the negro; "there's no great difficulty about that, though I rather think it takes more larning than you've got to onderstand the thing. You see," he added, recollecting as well as he could some Latin words he had heard used by the doctor, "the narves of the rigdum flagdum in circumnavigating through the humorous rusticus, deflastigated by the horrentibus oribus sort o' twist the aures arrectos into asinos, and that you see, to a man of larning makes the whole thing as clear as one of elder Sillyway's sarmons."

Primus fairly caught his breath at Tom's display of learning, who rose considerably higher also in Basset's estimation. After somewhat recovering from his astonishment, and as if he had been reflecting on the subject, the General said—

"Larning is a great ting, and perhaps you is right and perhaps you isn't, but I hear anoder way to 'count for it."

"Out with it then," cried Tom.

"White folks," said Primus, "hab one way to 'count for tings, and colored pussons hab anoder way. Now I hear a colored pussun, who come all de way from Africa, where dey onderstands dese tings, say it was de jumbee."

"The jumbee! What in natur's that!" inquired Basset, who had not before mingled in the conversation.

"Now, none of your tricks, Prime," cried Tom, suspecting the negro of an intention to mystify them with a jargon like that he had palmed off; "jumbee ain't Latin."

"Nobody say it was," returned Primus, "I guess de old fellow nebber hab much chance to study Latin. He better 'quainted wid de shovel and de hoe. Dat mean in de Congo language, sperit."

"Colored people are curus folks," ejaculated Basset

"I don't see fairly what you're driving at yet," said Gladding. "Suppose jumbee does mean sperit, what then?"

"I mean dat de hand turn into a sperit. Don't you see, Missa Basset," exclaimed Primus, suddenly poking his wooden leg at the constable, "de sperit ob my leg?"

"Don't, don't, Prime," cried the startled constable, drawing back and nearly falling in his fright into the water. "What's the use of talking about sperits now? Come let us talk about something else."

"Well," grinned Primus, "if you don't see de sperit, I feel him."

"Don't talk so; you're spoiling all the pleasure of the sail by such kind o' nonsense," urged Basset.

"Don't you believe in sperits?" inquired the persevering General.

"I tell ye I don't like to talk about such things now," responded Basset.

"Why I can give you chapter and varse for 'em," said Tom. "You remember, Basset, all about Samuel and the witch o' Endor, and that's authority, I guess."

"Well, if I do I don't care to be chattering all the time about 'em, though there's some says, they don't appear now as they used to in old times."

This was an unfortunate remark for the badgered Basset. His two friends, as if it were of the extremest consequence to convert him from an opinion so heretical, opened for his benefit a whole budget of ghost stories In spite of most unwilling ears he was obliged to listen with a fascinated reluctance to tales of supernatural wonders, in most of which the narrators had themselves been actors, or derived their information from persons, whose veracity it would be a sin to doubt. Among them was a legend told by Gladding, of a murdered fisherman, whose ghost he had seen himself, and which was said still to haunt the banks of the Severn, and never was seen without bringing ill-luck. It is the only one with which we will trouble our renders, and we relate it as a sort of specimen of the others:

"You see," said Tom, "it was the spring o' the year, and the shad begun to swim up stream, when I joined Sam Olmstead's company, and took a share in his fishing. Well, things went on pretty well for a while, it was fisherman's luck, fish one day, and none the next, and we was, on the whole, tolerable satisfied, seeing there was no use to be anything else, though towards the end, it's a fact, there wasn't many schools come along. We had built a sort o' hut of boards by the side of the river where we kept the nets, and where some on us slept to look after the property. Well, my turn came to stay at the shanty, and I recollect the night just as well! It was coolish, not so cool as this, though something like it, for there was some clouds floating around, but it was a good deal lighter, 'cause the moon was in her third quarter. I felt sort o' lonesome there, all alone with the nets and the fish, and I don't know what I should have done but for some of the 'O be joyful' I had in a jug. I tried my best to fortify my stomach, and keep up my sperits agin the damp, but I didn't seem to succeed. Finally, thinks I to myself, I'll go and take a snuff of the night air, perhaps it will set me up So I sort o' strolled down towards the shore, and then I walked up a piece, and then I walked back agin, and once in a while I'd step into the shanty and take a pull at old Rye. Well, seeing as how it agreed with me, and I begun to feel better, I kept making my walks longer and longer till I strolled to a considerable distance. It was in one of them turns I see the ghost. I supposed afore that ghosts always appeared in white, but this one didn't. He was dressed just like any other fisherman, in a dark grey jacket and trowsers and a tarpaulin. It seemed to me at first he wanted to git out of the way, but I made tracks for him, for I didn't then a bit mistrust about its being a sperit, and halloed out, 'Who's that?' The sperit, as soon as he heard me, came straight up, and then I noticed he had two fish dangling down by a string, and says he, in a sort o' hoarse voice, as if he'd caught cold lying in the ground, 'It's me; it's the ghost of Jimmy Lanfear.' Well, when I heard him speak so, my flesh began to kind o' crawl, though I didn't know but it might be some fellow who had stole the shad out of the shanty, for I never heard of ghosts carrying fish afore. So says I, 'What are you doing with them fish?' Then, says he, 'Them ain't any real fish; see if you can touch 'em.' And then he swung 'em round and round in the moonlight, and I did my best to catch 'em, but I might just as well have snatched at the moonshine, for my hands went right through 'em agin and agin, till I stubbed my toe, and fell somehow, and when I got up, the sperit was gone. Then I knew it was Jim Lanfear's sperit, who was murdered years ago right opposite the spot where I asked you, Prime, if you knew where you was; and I was sartin the luck was all up for that season, and sure enough it was, for we didn't make more'n two or three hauls more of any consequence."

"I am sure dere was one sperit dere," said Primus, in a musing way, and shaking his head.

"Now, Prime, what do you mean by bobbing up and down your wool? Do you intend to signify, you unbelieving old scamp, you doubt my word? I tell you I was no more corned than I am now. Why, if you want to, you can see Jim almost any dark night. Perhaps he's walking along shore now."

"What dat?" cried Primus, pretending to see something on the land.

Basset started, and strained his eyes through the darkness in the direction indicated, but could discover nothing. The vision of Primus and Gladding was better.

"Don't ye see someting," said the former, lowering his voice, "right under de bank. I can't just see de shape, but it seem as if it swim in de air widout legs. You eyes is younger, Missa Gladding; guess dey see furder dan mine."

"I can make him out now," whispered Gladding. "It's a man, sure as rates Golly!" he exclaimed, suddenly, "if it ain't Jim—look, Basset, look."

The constable had listened in an agony of terror to the colloquy, and at the exclamation of Primus, availing himself of his post as steersman, turned the bow of the boat towards the opposite shore, to place as great an interval as possible between himself and the spectre. The action had not passed unnoticed, though neither of his companions made any remark upon it. Repeatedly his head had flown round over his shoulder, to catch a glimpse of what he dredded to see, but, notwithstanding the excitement of his imagination, he could behold nothing.

"O, Tom! O, Prime!" exclaimed the poor fellow, "let us go home. I wish we was fairly out of this scrape."

"Why," said Tom, "we're 'most there now. We should be laughed at if we was to give it up so. Who's afraid o' sperits? They're nothing but moonshine. I vow," he cried, pointing over the opposite side of the boat, "if he ain't there agin! Look, Basset."

But Basset was too busy with his paddle to look. With a twist of his wrist he had whirled the bow of the boat in the direction of the bank they had just left, and was paddling away for dear life. This time he appeared to arrive at the condition that the middle of the stream would be the safest position, and having attained that, he kept, as nearly as he could judge, at equal distances from the banks. A short space only now remained to be passed over, and in a few moments they were abreast of the island. Here the two men rested on their oars, and a whispered consultation was held, at the conclusion of which the boat was quietly pulled towards the goal. This was not done, however, without another attempt on the part of the constable to postpone the capture for that night, but the proposal was overruled by his associates, who scouted at his fears, and declared there was no danger.

Basset's nerves were in a shocking condition. The doleful stories croaked into his ears the whole passage down; the darkness of the hour; Holden's terrible character; and the remoteness from any assistance other than that of Gladding and Primus, in whom his confidence diminished every moment, conspired to throw him into the abjectest trepidation. But there was no retreat; Gladding was as obstinate as a mule, and as for the General, true to his military reputation, he insisted on advancing, and the unfortunate officer of the law, who was as much afflicted, with spiritual as with material fears, found himself in a dilemma, the solution of which was taken away from him. No alternative remained. He must, be the consequences what they might, see the adventure through. Borrowing, therefore, courage from despair, with a timid step and palpitating heart, he left the boat and closely followed his companions.

No light was visible, and the constable began to hope that Holden was away from home, and made the suggestion that since such was undoubtedly the fact, they had better return and come another time. But Gladding, pointing to a canoe not before observed, convinced Basset of the contrary, and it was then agreed that they should first according to the plan arranged approach the cabin and reconnoitre through the window. This being the post of danger was offered to Basset who however could be prevailed on by no entreaties to accept it which finally forced Gladding to volunteer. They all stood now on a side of the hut where there was neither door nor window, being, indeed, the side they had been careful to approach in the boat. Gladding was to steal to one of the windows and after examining the interior (if possible) to return and apprise them of his discoveries. Accordingly he started off.

He had been gone but a few minutes when Primus began to be uneasy and proposed to change their position to one nearer the hut their figures being too much exposed where they were, in consequence of standing in relief against the sky and water. The constable would gladly have stuck by the boat, as furnishing a means of retreat, but dared not remain alone. Reluctantly therefore, and cursing the obstinacy of the provoking black he crouched his body towards the ground, and followed in the rear of the General, that brave officer seeming disposed to talk louder and make more noise generally than pleased his companion who, from time to time, earnestly remonstrated with him on the imprudence.

"What dat!" suddenly exclaimed Primus recoiling on the other and pointing with his hand directly in front.

"Where? where?" whispered Basset, with his heart in his mouth raising himself, and catching bold of Primus' arm.

"Hush!" said the General, "is dat a groan?"

At that instant a tremendous blow was applied to the shoulders of the constable which sent him flat upon his face, dragging the General who caught a part of the application after him. As Basset fell his hat dropped off and a paper flew out which Primus picked up and immediately pocketed, hastening then as fast as his wooden leg would permit towards the boat which lay only four or five rods distant. There he found Gladding preparing to push off, and scrambling in, they had just succeeded in getting her afloat, when Basset, without his hat flung himself, in the extremity of his terror, headlong in, pitching Primus down upon the bottom, breaking his wooden leg, and capsizing Tom into the water. It was so shoal that he found no difficulty in getting in again, escaping with only a thorough ducking. It was now sauve que peut, and the three addressed themselves, so far as their bewildered faculties would permit, to the business of escape.

Thus closed the adventures of that disastrous night. All the way home, Primus kept groaning over the loss of his leg, the only consolation he could extract out of the calamity, being that it was easier to mend than one of flesh, and cheaper, and upbraiding Basset with his haste and carelessness. Gladding insisted on being landed in order to prevent, by exercise, taking cold, threatening in his turn the constable, that if his clothes were spoiled he should come upon him for the damage. Poor Basset, quite confounded by these harrowing events, had not a word to answer, and replied only by shrugging and twisting his shoulders with pain. The departure of Tom made it necessary for him to assist the negro in rowing back the boat, which he did with a handkerchief tied about his head, which Primus lent him and wincing with the soreness of his bones, the negro interspersed his moans with expressions of sorrow over their ill luck and of wonder whether it was Holden or the ghost of the fisherman that assaulted the constable vowing he would "hab satisfacshum for de loss ob de leg."



CHAPTER XIV.

Celia.—Here comes Monsieur Le Beau, Rosalind.—With his mouth full of news.

AS YOU LIKE IT.

"You strike dreadful hard, Missa Gladding. If you can't write, I guess you can make you mark," said the General, rubbing his shoulders.

"I was larned to do one, and t'other come natural," said Tom, laughing; "but I didn't lay it on a bit too hard. You see I had to bring him a pretty good polt, so as to lay him flat, else he might ha' found it all out, the good-for-nothing son-of-a-gun, to go to sarve a warrant on an old man, just for speaking his mind in meeting. I go in for liberty. And then to insult you and me, Prime, by asking us to help him! But I didn't mean to strike you, except in the way of friendship."

"You friendship too smart for me, Missa Gladding, and s'pose I break my neck in de fall, what you friendship good for den?"

"But you hain't broke nothing but your leg, and I see you've got another rigged, and the half dollar Basset give you will more'n pay for that; though, if I was you, I'd come down upon him in damages for the loss—'twas in his sarvice—and then his digging his head right into your stomach, when he come thundering into the boat, I call a regular assault and battery."

"How you like you cold duck wid sea-weed saace, Missa Gladding?" retorted Primus; and here the two united in peals of laughter.

"Cunning fellow, dat Basset," said Primus. "He kill two bird wid one stone—knock me into de bottom ob de boat, and chuck you oberboard, all at once." And the merriment was renewed.

"Do you think he has any suspicions, Prime!" said Tom.

"Dat question acquire some reflexum," answered the General. "Whedder it was old Holden or de fisherman ghost dat gib him de strike on de back?"

"No, I don't mean that. I mean whether he thought you or me had anything to do with it."

"I guess not," said the General, doubtingly. "If sich an idee git into his head, somebody will put it dere."

"Well, what did he say coming home?"

"Not much; dere he set in front, wid his back to me, rowing, and his head all tie up wid my bandanna, and he seem sort o' snarl up, as if he want a night's rest to take de kinks out ob him. He was not much 'cline to 'greeable conversashum. I feel kind o' sorry when I see him so mellancholliky like."

"You needn't be so liberal with your sorry. The scamp desarves it all and more, too. The cretur's cheated us out of half our fun." How I should ha' liked to leave him, as we intended, alone with old Holden on the island! The chicken-hearted booby would ha' half died o' fright, and then 'twould ha' been worth nuts to see how he looked when the old man caught him in the morning, and asked after his business."

"He nebber stay till dat time. He would hab swum 'cross de channel, and run home."

"Well, he'd found out, then, how a fellow likes to be soused in the water, as the blundering blunderbus did me, darn him."

"O, nebber bear no malice. I 'scuse Basset 'cause he don't know no better, and you must forgib him."

"As to that, you needn't fret your gizzard. But how did you git home, Prime, with your broken leg?"

"Dat is a secret atween me and Basset; but I didn't walk."

"Then, I vow," said Tom, bursting into a laugh, "he either trundled you along in a wheelbarrow, like a load o' pumpkins, or else carried you on his back."

"Nobody roll me in a wheelbarrow," said the General, drawing himself up, and affecting to be offended.

"I would ha' given all my old shirts to see a darkey riding Basset," said Tom, whose merriment increased the more he dwelt on the idea.

"A colored pusson as light complexum as a white man in de dark," exclaimed Primus, grinning.

"Well, old Prime, you're the cleverest nigger I ever did see," said Tom, slapping him on the back, and still laughing; "but take care you don't feel too proud after your ride. Put a nigger on horseback, and you know where he goes. But what have you got there?" he inquired, seeing the General draw a paper out of his pocket.

"Dis paper fall out ob Missa Basset hat when de ghost strike him last night, and I pick him up."

"Golly! if it ain't the warrant. Prime, you're the ace o' clubs. I'm gladder of this than if I found a good dinner."

"Well, what shall I do wid him?"

"Why, man, burn it up; it's the constable's sword and gun, and baggonit and cartridge-box; he can't do nothing without it; why, without the warrant, he's just like a cat without claws. He daresn't touch a man without a warrant."

"If Missa Basset trow de paper away, I 'spose he don't want him, and he ain't good for noting, and nobody can find fault wid me for burning up a little piece ob waste paper, just to kindle de fire," said Primus, throwing the warrant into the flames, where it was immediately consumed.

"There, we've drawn Basset's eye-teeth now," said Gladding. "Holden's as safe as you or me. And, Prime," he added, rising, and, as he took leave, making a peculiar gesture with the thumb of his right hand touching the end of his nose, and his fingers twinkling in the air, "you're too old a fox to need teaching, but it will do no harm to say I advise you to keep as dark as your skin."

Such was the conversation that, on the morning after the adventure of the island, took place at the cabin of Primus, and the reader will now perfectly understand (if, indeed, he has not before discovered it) the relation which the associates bore to the constable. Yet, there was some difference in the feelings of the two: Gladding felt only unmitigated contempt for Basset, while the good-nature of the negro (proverbial of the race) infused some pity into the sentiment.

"Tom Gladding hab no manners," said Primus to himself, after the departure of his friend. "It is bery onpleasant to hear sich pussonal inflections. But, probumbly, arter he keep company wid me a little longer, he larn better."

How it got out, nobody could tell. Tom and the General both declared they had said nothing about it, and Basset was equally positive he had not opened his mouth. It is, therefore, singular that, before twelve o'clock the next day, rumors of the adventure had reached the ears of more than one-half the inhabitants of Hillsdale. True, none were very accurate, nor did any two agree; for, as is apt to happen, in such cases, each one who told the story took care, most conscientiously, it should lose nothing in the repetition. Hence, before noon, it was, like most of our modern literature, "splendidly embellished."

It was not strange, then, that the doctor, in his morning round among his patients and friends, should get some inkling of it. Divested of ornaments, enough remained to satisfy him that an attempt to arrest Holden had been made. For the cause, he was at first at a loss; for, though he had heard of the disturbance at the conference, he hardly supposed that an offence which he regarded as so venial, would have drawn along such serious consequences. But when he heard that generally assigned as the reason, having no words of his own to express his astonishment, he was obliged to resort to his unfailing treasury—

"'Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer cloud, Without our special wonder?'"

The quotation did not seem fully to answer the purpose, and he added, "Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun: it shines everywhere." This gave him relief. It acted more soothingly than his own anodyne drops; and, having thus recovered his equanimity, he determined to ascertain if the Armstrongs had heard the news.

He found Miss Armstrong at home, but not her father.

"You have heard the news, Faith, this morning. I suppose?" said the doctor.

"No; we are not much like the Athenians. Neither my father nor myself are accustomed to get the first edition. What is it, doctor?"

But the doctor did not relish being called, by the remotest implication, an Athenian. As inquisitive as the most prying Yankee is said to be, he stoutly repelled the imputation of inquisitiveness, as applied to himself or to his countrymen. "It was," he was in the habit of saying, "a slander invented by your porter-guzzling Englishmen and smoking Dutchmen. What can you expect of people who are involved in a perpetual cloud either of their own raising or of the making of Providence? They are adapted to circumstances. It never was intended they should have more than one idea a week; it would be too much for their constitution; and therefore they ask no questions. No wonder, then, they feel uncomfortable when they get into a clear climate, where they can see the sun, and hear ideas buzzing about their ears like a swarm of bees."

The doctor appeared to have forgotten his own question, and not to have heard Miss Armstrong's.

"You are looking remarkably well," he said. "You ought to be ashamed to meet me: if everybody else were like you, I should starve."

"All your own fault, dear doctor. Your presence brings cheerfulness and health."

"To say nothing of the medicine. Of that (in confidence between us), the less the better. If I should ever become crazy enough to prescribe any other than bread pills, be sure to throw them out of the window. There, you have the secret of medical success; though if I pursue the system much longer, I think I shall be obliged to adopt the Emperor of China's plan, and require a salary for your health, on condition it shall stop when you are sick."

"I admire the Emperor's plan, so let it be understood that is the arrangement between us. I have the best of the bargain, for I shall secure a greater number of visits."

"You provoking creature! smothering me with compliments, and pretending you are not dying with curiosity. This is always the way with your tormenting sex:

'Let Hercules do what he may, The cat will mew'"—

"And girls will have their way," interrupted Faith, laughing, and finishing the quotation to suit herself. "But, doctor, you have conquered, and please now 'unmuzzle your wisdom.'"

"Methinks," cried the doctor, "'sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man; but I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit,' else I should not allow you to tease me. But," added he, in a more serious tone, "there is a report in the village that an attempt has been made to arrest Holden."

"To arrest whom?" exclaimed Faith, turning pale, "father Holden! For what?"

"He is not taken yet, and, were one to believe all the stories one hears, not likely to be. According to them, his enchanted castle on Salmon Island is protected, not only by his own stalwart arm, but by legions of ghosts and hobgoblins; and, since that is the case, he may safely defy the posse comitatus itself, with the sheriff at its head. But, for the cause—

"'It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul, Let me not name it to you, ye chaste stars, It is the cause'—

Why, because he made the most interesting speech at conference the other evening."

Miss Armstrong, whom the jesting manner of the doctor somewhat re-assured, begged him to give her all the information he had obtained; but, throwing aside what he considered the embellishments of fancy, it was no more than what he had already imparted.

"What would be the punishment for such an offence?" inquired Faith.

"I am more learned in pills than in points of law; but I suppose some trifling fine."

"It would be of no great consequence, were it any one else," said Faith; "but it would grieve me to have Mr. Holden subjected to an indignity he would feel sensibly. It was through my father's and my entreaties he attended the meeting, and if censure is to fall anywhere, it ought to alight on us, and not on him, who certainly supposed he was performing a duty, however much he might be mistaken. Dear doctor, I shall trust in you to watch that no harm befalls him. I should forever reproach myself as the cause, if any did."

"You may rely on me, my dear. It is not so much on account of the old fellow, who richly deserves to be fined and shut up a week for running about the country and frightening the children with his long beard—why my horse started at it the other day—but because you take an interest in him, and I am above all jealousy; therefore, command me,

'Be't to fly, To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride On the curled clouds; to thy strong bidding task Ariel and all his quality."

"My commands will not be so difficult to perform, I trust," said Faith, smiling.

"Understand me metaphorically, parabolically, poetically," cried he, taking leave.

After he was gone Miss Armstrong sat musing over what she had heard. The idea that any annoyance should happen to the Solitary, growing out of a circumstance with which she was in some manner connected, distressed her exceedingly, and, dissatisfied with the meagre statement of the doctor, she determined to go over to Judge Bernard's, to try to procure more satisfactory information.

"He will, at least," she said, "be better acquainted with the law than Doctor Elmer, and there is no favor he will refuse me."

But the Judge was unable to add anything of importance. He had heard the same rumors, but could not vouch for their truth. With regard to the issuing of a warrant for such a cause, he could not say but that persons might be found malignant enough to get one out, and justices of the peace foolish and ignorant enough to be made their instruments, but if it came to the worst, the penalty could only be a fine, which he would gladly pay himself.

"He cannot be imprisoned then?" inquired Miss Armstrong.

"No; they would not dare," he said, to himself in a tone so low that Faith could catch only a word or two here and there, "send him—disorderly—no settlement—no, no—too bad—might be done. No, Faith," he said, "you need anticipate no serious trouble about your protege."

"Cannot we prevent his being arrested? It would mortify him exceedingly."

"For that, perhaps, there is no remedy, but we will see. We are all equally amenable to the laws. But after all, the thing may not be noticed. These may be only rumors put out by some mischievous person to keep Holden away from the village."

"They can have no such effect."

"No: and yet the rogue who invents them may think they will."

"I should not be at all anxious, Faith," said Anne. "Here are my father, and yours, and my chivalrous brother, and—"

"And Mr. Thomas Pownal," said Faith, smiling, observing she hesitated.

"Yes, and Mr. Pownal; I am sure they would all be happy to spend a great deal of breath and a little money in your service. They will protect Father Holden. What are the gentlemen good for, if they cannot grace a fair lady thus far?"

"And Mistress Anne, should they fail, would, like another Don Quixote, with lance in rest, charge the enemy, and release the captive knight, herself," said her father, pinching her cheek.

"Like Amadis de Gaul, father, and then would I present the captive of my sword and lance to you, Faith, though what you would do with him I do not know."

"Do not let us hear of swords and lances from you, Anne," said her mother. "Thimbles and needles become you better."

"If I had been a man," exclaimed Anne, "and lived in the olden time, how I would have gloried in such an adventure! You, Faith, should have been the distressed damsel, I the valorous knight, and Father Holden a captured seneschal. How would I have slashed around me, and how would you have blushed, and hung about my neck, and kissed me, when I appeared leading by the hand your venerable servitor!"

"What! what!" cried her father, "before the seneschal?"

"He would be so old he could not see, or, if he was not, tears of joy would fill his eyes so that they would blind him," said Anne.

"An excellent idea, my dear," said Mrs. Bernard: "hand me my knitting-work."

"What! a knight hand knitting-work?"

"Certainly," said her father. "It is a knight's business and delight, to be employed in the service of the fair."

"Here is your knitting, mamma. I am an enchanted knight, changed by some horrible incantation into a girl," said Anne, resuming her needle.

"Worth twice all the preux chevaliers from Bayard down," said the Judge, kissing her blooming cheek.

"Who is in great danger of being spoiled by the flattery of her fond father," said Mrs. Bernard, smiling.

"Dear mother, how can you speak so of an enchanted knight?"

"I will crave your aid in the hour of peril, Sir Knight," said Faith, rising. "Meantime, accept this kiss as guerdon for your good will."

"Or retainer," said the Judge.

Faith left her friends in better spirits than she had met them. The assurances of Judge Bernard had relieved her mind of a weight of anxiety. It was evident, she thought, from the manner in which the subject was treated by the family, that they felt no apprehensions. The gaiety of Anne, too, had not failed of its design. It was, indeed, scarcely possible to be in the presence of this sweet girl without feeling the charm which, like the sun, radiated light and happiness about her. It was the overflow of an innocent and happy heart, and as natural to her as light to the sun, or fragrance to the rose.

Faith found her father in the house on her return. She communicated to him what she had heard, and asked his opinion. He knew, he said, that while there were some—probably the majority—who, regarding Holden's conduct as only an impropriety, would be disposed to overlook it; there were others who would desire to have him punished, in order to prevent a repetition of such scenes. "Such," said he, "are the feelings of the world, but they are not mine. So far from deserving censure, Holden is entitled to all honor and praise, for he spoke from the inspiration of conviction. Nor, whatever may be the attempts to injure him, will they succeed. As St. Paul shook the deadly viper from his hand, so will this man rid himself of his enemies. There are more with him than against him, and the shining ones are the stronger."

The confidence of her father harmonized so well with the hopes of Faith, that it was easy to participate in it, nor in the excitement which she felt, did his language seem other than proper for the occasion.



CHAPTER XV.

See winter comes to rule the varied year, Sullen and sad with all his rising train Vapors and clouds and storms. THOMSON'S SEASONS.

The charming poet depicted truthfully, doubtless, as well as poetically, the English winter, but such is not the character of the season in New England. Clouds and storms, indeed, herald his advent and attend his march; capricious too his humor; but he is neither "sullen" nor "sad." No brighter skies than his, whether the sun with rays of mitigated warmth but of intenser light, sparkles o'er boundless fields of snow, or whether the moon, a faded sun, leading her festal train of stars, listens to the merry sleigh-bells and the laugh of girls and boys, ever glorified a land. What though sometimes his trumpet sounds tremendous and frowns o'erspread his face! Transient is his anger, and even then from his white beard he shakes a blessing, to protect with fleecy covering the little seeds in hope entrusted to the earth, and to contribute to the mirth and sports of man.

A few days have passed since the occurrences last detailed. The weather had gradually become colder; the ground was as hard as a stone; there had been a heavy fall of snow, and the streets were musical with bells. The snow had fallen before the intense cold commenced, so that the glassy surface of the ice that bridged the rivers and lakes was undimmed, and presented unusual attractions to the skaters.

It was on the afternoon of a fine day that the smooth Severn, hardened into diamond, was covered, just where the Yaupaae and the Wootuppocut unite, to give it form and an independent being, with a gay throng of the people of the village of both sexes. They were mostly young persons, consisting principally of boys from school (for it was Saturday afternoon) with their sisters. Besides these were some young men and women, with here and there one more advanced in years.

It was a scene of gaiety and exuberant enjoyment. The children let loose from school, where they had been confined all the week, put no bounds to the loud and hilarious expression of their delight, which the seniors showed no disposition to check—remembering they once were children—and the banks of the stream rung with shouts and answering cries and laughter. Here, flying round in graceful curves, a dexterous skater cut his name in the ice; there, bands of noisy boys were playing tag, and on the ringing steel pursuing the chase; while every once in a while down would tumble some lubberly urchin, or unskillful performer, or new beginner, coming into harder contact with the frozen element than was pleasant, and seeing stars in the daytime, while bursts of laughter and ironical invitations to try it again, greeted his misfortune. In another place were girls on small sleighs or sleds, capable of holding two or three, whirled along by half-a-dozen skaters with great rapidity; while, holding on to handkerchiefs, were others drawn upon their feet at less hazardous speed. Dispersed among the crowd were little boys with flat, tin boxes suspended by a strap from their necks, containing molasses candy, whose brittle sweetness appeared to possess great attraction. All was fun and jest, and laugh and merriment.

Among others, allured by the beauty of the day, which though clear was not so cold as to be uncomfortable, to witness the sports, were Faith Armstrong and Anne Bernard, escorted by Pownal and young Bernard. The cheeks of the ladies were crimsoned by the wholesome cold, and their eyes shone with a brighter lustre than usual, and many were the looks of envy or of admiration cast upon them as they passed, greeting their acquaintances and joining in the revel.

At the time when the little party arrived there happened to be a circle gathered around one of the most accomplished performers to witness an exhibition of his skill, and surely nothing could be more graceful. Without sensible effort, and as if by mere volition, he seemed to glide over the glossy surface, now forwards, now backwards, now sideways, now swiftly, now slowly, whirling like an eagle in rapid or dilatory curves, describing all the lines that Euclid ever drew or imagined, and cutting such initials of the names of the spectators as were desired. The performance, though hailed with very general expressions of admiration, did not seem to give universal satisfaction.

"He does pretty well," said an elderly man, with a woollen scarf or muffler about his neck and a fox-skin cap on his head, "He does it pretty well; but, Captain, did you ever see Sam Allen?"

"You mean," answered the person addressed, who was a man of about the same number of years, "Allen who married old Peter's daughter, and afterwards run away. Yes; it didn't go with him as slick with her as on the ice."

"Well, she didn't break her heart about it. She got married agin as soon as the law allowed. I was in court when Judge Trumbull granted the divorce. 'Twas for three years willful desartion and total neglect of duty."

"No, I guess she didn't. She was published the very next Lord's Day, and got married in the evening. She was a mighty pretty cretur. Well, I never see such a skater as Sam. This fellow is nothing at all to him. He don't kind o' turn his letters so nice. Now, there's that v, you might mistake it for a w. I like to see a man parfect in his business."

"I've hearn tell," said the Captain, "though I never see it myself, that Sam could write Jarman text as well as Roman."

"I never see it," said the Fox-skin cap, "but guess it's so. There wasn't nothing Sam couldn't do on skates."

"Do you recollect whether he used smooth irons or hollow?" inquired the Captain.

"Oh, smooth; they ain't so easy for beginners, but when a fellow gits the knack of 'em they're a great deal better."

Very different from the remarks of these laudatores temporis acti, were those of the rising generation.

"How beautiful!" exclaimed Anne. "What wonderful skill! Can anything be more graceful?"

"It is, indeed, graceful," said Faith; "and it must require considerable boldness as well as skill to venture on some of those evolutions. The least mistake would cause a violent fall."

"Dear Faith, why did you mention it?" said Anne. "I was not thinking of the possibility of falls."

"Have no fear," said Pownal; "he is too completely master of the science to hurt himself."

"In Holland the ladies are said to skate as well as the gentlemen," said Bernard.

"That is a poor compliment, William," said Anne. "If I cannot skate better without practice, than half of this awkward squad, I will never bind skates on my feet a second time."

"I know of nothing you cannot do," said her brother.

"Come here, Andrew," cried Pownal, to a boy standing opposite in the circle, and holding a pair of skates in his hand. "Come here and lend me your skates. Here, Miss Bernard," said he, presenting them to her, "here is a fine pair. Allow me to buckle them on. And then like a winged Mercury to fly."

"Please to compare me to no heathen gods, Mr. Pownal, or you may make these old Puritans burn me for a witch. Let me see if they fit. No, they are too large, I could never do myself justice on them. Here, my little fellow is a ninepence for you; away with you."

The boy took the little piece of silver with a grin, tied the rejected skates upon his feet, and was soon lost among his companions.

"I say," said an urchin, who was looking on with admiring eyes, "I say, Bill, that beats all natur. Did you ever see such shindys?"

"They ain't so bad," returned Bill; "but I guess I can do some of 'em myself."

"Which ones?" inquired the other.

"Why," answered Bill, "when he throws himself right about face, and then goes sculling backwards."

"I'll bet you can't do it the first time."

"What will you bet?" cried Bill.

"I don't care; say a stick o' candy."

"Agreed!" cried Bill. "You see I've done it afore."

"You ought to told us that," said his companion.

"A bet's a bet," said Bill. "You don't want to back out, do ye?"

"Go ahead," cried the other, with some spirit. "I'll risk it. Let's see what you can do."

Thus exhorted and defied, Bill commenced preparations. He first stooped down on one knee and then on the other, and tightened the straps of the skates; next he took a handkerchief from his pocket, and fastened it tightly around his waist, and lastly, moved slowly about as if to determine whether all things were as they should be.

The spectators who had overheard the conversation between the boys, and were ready for any kind of fun, now began to express interest in the trial, and various were the words of encouragement addressed to Bill, as well as the mutterings of doubt over the result. The skater who, until now, had attracted the most attention, ceased his diagrams and approached Bill, in order to give him instructions, notwithstanding the remonstrances of his companion, who loudly vociferated it wasn't fair.

"Hold your yaup," cried another boy, standing by; "if you don't like your bet, Hen Billings, I'll take it off your hands."

But little Billings seemed to think he had made a good bet, and although loth to concede to Bill any advantage that did not of strict right belong to him, was far from being disposed to relinquish it. "Go your length, Bill," he said, "I ain't afeard of the expense."

The space being now cleared, Bill began to circle round preparatory to the trial. It was evident he was not very skillful, and the opinion of the bystanders, who amused themselves with criticising his preliminary performances, was about equally divided respecting his ability to perform the undertaking. After a few turns Bill cried out:

"Now, Hen, look out." With that he darted forward, until he supposed he had attained the required momentum, when suddenly making a twisting motion with his feet, he threw himself round. But unfortunately he had made some miscalculation or slip, for instead of alighting square upon the skates, his heels flew up, and with a tremendous thump, down came poor Bill upon his back.

"Hurrah!" cried Hen Billings; "there you go, candy and all. I hope you ain't hurt you," he said, good naturedly. "I'd rather lose my bet than have you hurt."

"No," whined Bill, squirming round his body, and rubbing the back of his head, "not much. What are you grinning at, you monkey? Did you never see a man fall before?" cried he, shaking his fist at another boy, whose face it seems did not wear an expression of condolence to suit him. "I vow if I don't try that again," he added, after having recovered a little from the effects of his fall.

Thereupon space being again allowed, Bill, with genuine pluck, tried the experiment once more, and this time with better fortune. His success was greeted with shouts of congratulation, and with expressions of "true grit," "stuffy little fellow," &c., and he presently disappeared with his friend, Hen, in search of the candy-merchant.

Faith and Anne, with the two young men, had witnessed the whole scene with some interest, and the different manner in which the girls were affected was characteristic. Faith betrayed a lively sensibility when the boy fell, and was hardly restrained from condoling with him; while Anne took but little notice of it, but exhibited exquisite delight at his courage and final success. But something else now attracted their attention. A shout was raised, and exclamations were heard of "There comes the ice-boat; there comes Grant's ice-boat."

Turning round, they beheld what had the appearance of a boat under sail, flying round the promontory of Okommakemisit. A slight breeze was drawing up the stream, and before its favoring breath, the little vessel, or whatever else it might be called, advanced with great rapidity. In a few moments it had reached them, and with a sharp grating sound as of iron cutting into ice, came suddenly to a stop, and the persons gathering round had an opportunity to examine it. It was the work of a village genius, and consisted of some boards, cut in an elliptical form (as, perhaps, the most convenient), supported by two pieces of iron, parallel to each other, to which the boards were fastened, and running the whole length from bow to stern. In the forward part was rigged a mast, to which was attached a sail, like the mainsail of a sloop, and the whole was controlled by a piece of sharp iron, fixed on the stern in such a manner as to turn like a rudder, and to cut with any required degree of pressure, by means of a lever, into the ice. With this simple regulator it was made perfectly safe, being stopped as readily, and on the same principle, as a skater arrests his course.

Grant, to whom Pownal and Bernard were both known, invited the little party to take a sail with him, assuring them there was no danger. The invitation was at once accepted by Miss Bernard, though the more timid Faith hesitated, and the four took their seats. The group of persons, as before observed, were at the head of the Severn, and the wind was drawing up the river, it was, therefore, necessary, to beat against the wind at starting. To the surprise, in particular of the ladies, this was done with the most perfect ease, the vessel, on her sharp runners, making but little lee-way, and obeying her helm more readily than any boat in water. Indeed, obedience was instantaneous. She whirled round as quickly as one could turn one's hand, requiring promptness and presence of mind in the steersman. Thus, like a bird, with smooth and equable motion, she flew with her delighted passengers, in many a zig-zag, down the Severn, until they had gone as far as desired, when round she spun, and before the breeze, houses, and men, and trees, gliding by as in a race, dashed up to the starting point.

Upon leaving the ice-boat, the eyes of Pownal discovered the tall form of Holden, in the midst of a group of persons whom he appeared to be addressing; and upon his mentioning the circumstance to the others, it was proposed to join him. Accordingly, they added themselves to his audience. Several large baskets were lying near him on the ice, and so engaged was he in his subject that he took no notice of the approach of his four young friends. The address was not without a burst or two of eloquence, springing out of the intense conviction of the speaker, and was listened to respectfully enough. Not that a convert was made; not that there was a person present who did not regard his notions as the hallucinations of a disturbed intellect, but a part of the bystanders esteemed and respected him as a man of noble and generous disposition, lavish of his small means towards those whom he considered poorer than himself, and never faltering in any act of kindness on account of hardship or privation; while the rest, as already intimated, felt a sort of awe in his presence from the mystery that surrounded him. Among the spectators was our old friend, Tom Gladding, leisurely engaged in whittling out a chain from a pine block, some twelve inches in length, from which he had succeeded in obtaining three or four links that dangled at its end, and listening with a comical expression, as if he were anticipating some fun.

The Enthusiast had hardly concluded his exhortation before Basset, who stood on the outside of the ring during its delivery, stepped forward, and placing his hand on Holden's shoulder, informed him he was his prisoner. Holden made no resistance, but drawing himself up to his full height, and fastening his eyes sternly on the constable, he demanded:

"What art thou?"

"My name is Barnabas Basset," answered the constable, a little embarrassed.

"I care not for thy name," said Holden, "but by what authority darest thou to lay thy hand on a free man?"

"By authority of the State of Connecticut," replied the constable, recovering from his momentary confusion, and feeling quite safe in the crowd. "It's true, I hain't got my staff, but everybody's bound, according to law, to know the constable."

"And, therefore, is an innocent man to be treated as a malefactor?"

"I don't know about the innocence," said Basset, "and it's none of my business. You must talk to the justice about that. All I've got to do is to execute my warrant according to law."

"It is written, resist not evil," said Holden, musingly. "Behold, I am in thy hands; do with me what thou willest."

But some of the spectators appeared indisposed to be so passive. Pownal and Bernard walked up to the constable, and demanded to know the meaning of the outrage.

"You may just call it what you please, Mr. Pownal," answered Basset, indignant at being interfered with, as he called it, in the discharge of his duty, "and I advise you not to git your fingers catched in the law; but if you must know, the justice, I guess, will tell you."

"Keep your advice until it is asked for," said Pownal; "but before what justice are you taking him?"

"If you come with us, you'll find out," answered Basset, whose ill nature seemed to increase.

"That I certainly will. I must leave you," said Pownal, turning to the ladies, "to see that this brutal fellow behaves himself."