University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.

The leech was soon procured, and a few moments
of examination showed the wounds of Ralph
Colleton to be easily medicable. The loss of
blood alone had been the cause of his stupor, and
the moderate skill of our country surgeon sufficed
to put the mind of Forrester at rest upon the subject

of his charge. The hurts of the youth were
quickly dressed, and returning consciousness soon
enabled him to appreciate the communicative character
of his burly friend. Prevented from speech
himself, he was content to receive from the woodman
a brief account of the manner of his discovery
and his present whereabouts. From this point
the transition was quite natural to the subject of
the uproarious mirth going on in the apartments
below, the cause of which the woodman gave in
the following characteristic language.

“Why, you must know, 'squire, that the regulators
have made out to catch a certain, Yankee
pedler—one Jared Bunce; and you must know,
'squire, a more cunning and presumptious rapscallion
don't come from all Connecticut. They
caught the critter not an hour ago, and they'll
hammer him into another guess sort of machinery
'fore he gets through their hands; though I'm very
much afeared all that will be of little service; for,
you know, as the old people say, `what's bred in
the bone won't come out of the flesh.' Maybe he
isn't a great scamp. You can't measure his rascality,
'squire, if you was to try. Why, he can
walk through your pockets, and the money will
naturally cleave to him as if he were all wax.
His very look stands for dollars and cents. Ah,
but he's a raal one. He does come over the old
folks so with his tin wares—his coffee-pots and
kettles, put together with soft solder—and there's
no standing his blarney. He can cheat you
out of your eyes, and you won't know about it,
till it's all done, and too late to make a fuss. He's
been playing his tricks through the clearing, it's
now better than three years, and somehow he
always got off; but last year the regulators swore
for him, and he cut dirt, I tell you.”

“Who are the regulators?” inquired the youth.

“What, you live in Georgia, and never heard
tell of the regulators? Well, that's queer, anyhow.
But, the regulators are just, simply, you
see, our own people; who, every now and then,
turn out,—now one set and now another,—and
whenever a chap like this same Jared Bunce goes
about, living on everybody, and coming Yankee
over everybody, they hunt him up and pay off old
scores. Sometimes they let him off with a light
hand, but then, you see, it altogether happens according
to his behaviour. Sometimes they give
him Lynch's Law, after old Nick Lynch, who invented
it in Virginny, long before your time or
mine. Sometimes they ride him upon a rail, and
then duck him in the pond. It all depends, you
see, upon the humour of the regulators.”

“And which of these punishments will they inflict
upon the Yankee?”

“Well, now, I can't say—but I take it, he runs a
chance of hitting hard agin all of 'em. They've
got a long score agin him. He's taken in everybody
with his notions. Some bought his clocks,
which went only while the rogue was in sight, and
after that they came to a full stand. Some bought
ready-made clothes, which never lasted long enough
for soap and the washerwoman; and there's old
Jeremiah Seaborn that swears agin him for a fusee
he sold little Jeremiah, the son, that bursted into
flinders the very first fire, and tore the boy's hand
and arm, there's no telling how. I reckon he's in
a fair road for stumps.”

“And will they seriously harm the poor fellow,
and that too without law?”

The woodman turned more fully to the youth, as
if doubting the sincerity, as he certainly seemed

not a little surprised at the simplicity, of the question.

“Harm him—poor fellow! I wonder, 'squire,
that you should speak so of such a fellow;—a fellow
that's got no more soul than my whip-handle,
and isn't half so much to be counted on in a fight.
Why, he only goes about the country to rob and to
defraud; and ha'n't spirit enough, would you believe
it, either to get drunk with his friend or have
it out with his enemy. I shouldn't myself like to
see the fellow's throat cut, but I an't scrupulous to
say, I see no harm in his having the benefit of a
few hickories, and a dip in the horsepond; and if
you knew but half as much of his rogueries as I,
you'd soon come over to my opinion.”

Ralph well knew how perfectly idle must be any
effort in such an argument to overcome the prejudices
of the sturdy woodman, in which, from repeated
and extravagant impositions of the kind
spoken of, the humble classes of the South had been
taught but a common spirit. He contented himself,
therefore, with a single remark upon the general
propriety of forbearance where the laws could
administer ample justice. But Forrester had his
answer for this also.

“There, again, 'squire, you are quite out. The
laws, somehow or other, can't touch these conniving
fellows. They run through the country a wink
faster than the sheriff's deputies, and laugh at all
the processes you send after them. So, you see,
there's no justice, no how, unless you catch a rogue
like this, and wind up with him for all the gang—
for they're all alike, all of the same family, and
it comes to the same thing in the end.”

But the volubility of Forrester was now suddenly
concluded, as he discovered in his charge a manifestation
of slumber so unequivocal, as to lead him

to apprehend that much of his eloquence had been
fruitlessly and unprofitably uttered. Leaving him,
therefore, he descended to the hall from whence the
merriment proceeded. The pedler was in truth in
a custody by no means desirable, and the luckless
Jared Bunce, whose experience had been somewhat
extensive in difficulties of the like nature, now
found himself in a situation, in which, perhaps for
the first time in his life, he coveted nothing. His
prospect was indeed a dreary one. He was
dragged before judges, all of whom had complaints
to prefer, and injuries to redress; and none of whom
were over-scrupulous as to the nature or the measure
of that punishment which was to procure them
the desired atonement. The company was not so
numerous as noisy. It consisted of some fifteen
persons, villagers as well as small planters in the
neighbourhood, all of whom, having partaken ad
libitum of the various liquors distributed freely
about the table, which, in part, they surrounded, had,
in the Indian phrase, more voices than tongues, and
were sufficiently aroused by their potations to enter
readily into any mischief. Some were smoking
with all the industrious perseverance though with
little of the phlegm and gravity of the Hollander;
others, at brief intervals of the dialogue, if that
may be considered such in which all parties were
heard at the same moment, shouted forth songs in
honour of the bottle, and with all the fervour and
ferment of Bacchanalian novitiates; and not a few,
congregating about the immediate person of the
pedler, assailed his ears with threats sufficiently
pregnant with tangible illustration to make him understand
and acknowledge, by repeated starts and
wincings, the awkward and uncomfortable predicament
in which he stood. At length, the various
disputants for justice, finding it difficult, if not impossible,
severally, to command that attention to
their claims which they conceived they merited,
resolved themselves into something like a committee
of the whole, and proceeded to the settlement
of their controversy and the pedler's fate, in a manner
more suited to the importance of the occasion.
Having procured that attention which was admitted
to be the great object, more by the strength of
his lungs than his argument, one of the company,
who was dignified with the title of colonel, spoke
out for the rest.

“I say, boys,—'tisn't of any use, I reckon, for
everybody to speak about what everybody knows.
One speaker's quite enough, I take it, in this here
matter before us. Here's none of us that ha'n't
something to say agin this pedler, and the doings
of the grand scoundrel in and about these parts, for
a matter going on now about three years. Why,
everybody knows him, big and little; and his reputation
is so now, that the very boys take his name
to frighten away the crows with. Indeed, for that
matter, I take it, the name of any Yankee would
be just as good, for of the two, the crows take less
of our corn than the Yankees, and are more easily
frightened. Now, one person can jist as well
make a plain statement as another. I know, of my
own score, there's not one of my neighbours, for
ten miles round, that can't tell all about the rotten
prints he put off upon my old woman; and I knows
myself of all the tricks he's played at odd times,
more than a dozen, upon 'Squire Nicholls there,
and Tom Wescott, and Bob Snipes, and twenty
others, and everybody knows them just as well as
I. Now, to make up the score, and square off with
the pedler, without any fuss or flustration, I move
you that Lawyer Pippin take the chair, and judge
in this matter; for I take it the day has come for

settling off accounts, and I don't see why we
shouldn't be the regulators of Bunce, seeing that
everybody agrees that he's a rogue, and a pestilence,
and desarves regulation.”

This speech was highly approved, and chimed
in admirably with all prejudices. The pedler had
many misdeeds to answer for, and the voice that
called Lawyer Pippin to preside over the deliberations
of the assembly was a unanimous one.
The gentleman thus highly distinguished, was a
dapper and rather portly little personage, with
sharp twinkling eyes, a ruby and remarkable nose,
a double chin, retreating forehead, and corpulent
cheek. He wore green glasses of a dark, and a
green coat of a light, complexion. The lawyer was
the only member of the profession living in the village,
had no competitor save when the sitting of the
court brought in one or more from neighbouring
settlements, and, being thus circumstanced, without
opposition, and the only representative of his craft,
he was literally, to employ the slang phrase common
in that quarter, the “cock of the walk.” He
was, however, not so much regarded by the villagers
a worthy as an able man. It required not
much erudition to win the credit of profundity,
and the lawyer knew how to make the most of his
learning among those who had none. Like many
other gentlemen of erudition, he was grave to a
proverb when the occasion required it, and would
not have been seen to laugh out of the prescribed
place, though “Nestor swore the jest was laughable.”
He relied greatly on saws and sayings—
could quote you the paradoxes of Johnson and the
infidelities of Hume without always understanding
them, and mistook, as men of that kind and calibre
are very apt to do, the capacity to repeat the old
absurdities of others as a proof of something in

himself. His business was not large, however,
and among the arts of his profession, and as a mean
for supplying the absence of more legitimate occasions
for its employment, he was reputed as excessively
expert in making the most of any difficulty
among his neighbours. The egg of mischief
and controversy was hardly laid, before the worthy
lawyer, with maternal care, came clucking
about it; he watched and warmed it without remission;
and when fairly hatched, he took care
that the whole brood should be brought safely into
court, his voice and words and actions fully attesting
the deep interest in their fortunes which he had
manifested from the beginning. Many a secret
slander, ripening at length into open warfare, had
been traced to his friendly influence, either ab ovo,
or at least from the perilous period in such cases
when the very existence of the embryo relies upon
the friendly breath, the sustaining warmth, and the
occasional stimulant. Lawyer Pippin, among
his neighbours, was just the man for such achievements,
and they gave him, with a degree of shrewdness
common to them as a people, less qualified
credit for the capacity which he at all times exhibited
in bringing a case into, than in carrying it out
of court. But this opinion in nowise affected the
lawyer's own estimate of his pretensions. Next
to being excessively mean, he was excessively
vain, and so highly did he regard his own opinions,
that he was never content until he heard himself
busily employed in their utterance. An opportunity
for a speech, such as the present, was not suffered
to pass without due regard; but as we propose
that he shall exhibit himself in the most happy
manner at a future period in our narrative, we
shall abridge, in few, the long string of queerly associated
words in the form of a speech, which, on
assuming the chair thus assigned him, he poured
forth upon the assembly. After a long prefatory,
apologetic, and deprecatory exordium, in which
his own demerits, as is usual with small speakers,
were strenuously urged; and after he had exhausted
most of the commonplaces about the purity
of the ermine upon the robes of justice, and
the golden scales, and the unshrinking balance, and
the unsparing and certain sword, he went on thus:

“And now, my friends, if I rightly understand
the responsibility and obligations of the station
thus kindly conferred upon me, I am required to arraign
before you, on behalf of the country, which
country, as the clerk reads it, you undoubtedly are;
—and here let me remark, my friends, the excellent
and nice distinction which this phrase makes between
the man and the soil, between the noble intellect
and the high soul, and the mere dirt and
dust upon which we daily tread. This very phrase,
my friends, is a fine embodiment of that democratic
principle upon which the glorious constitution is
erected—but, as I was saying, my friends, I am required
to arraign before you this same pedler, Jared
Bunce, on sundry charges of misdemeanor, and
swindling, and fraud—in short, as I understand it,
for endeavouring, without having the fear of God
and good breeding in his eyes, for endeavouring to
pass himself off upon the good people of this
county as an honest man. Is this the charge, my
friends?”

“Ay, ay, lawyer, that's the how, that's the very
thing itself. Put it to the skunk, let him deny that
if he can—let him deny that his name is Jared
Bunce—that he hails from Connecticut—that he is a
shark, and a pirate, and a pestilence. Let him deny
that he is a cheat—that he goes about with his notions
and other rogueries—that he doesn't manufacture

maple seeds, and hickory nutmegs, and
ground coffee made out of rotten rye. Answer to
that, Jared Bunce, you white-livered lizard.”

Thus did one of his accusers take up the thread
of the discourse as concluded in part by the chairman.
Another and another followed with like
speeches in the most rapid succession until all
was again confusion; and the voice of the lawyer,
after a hundred ineffectual efforts at a hearing,
degenerated into a fine squeak, and terminated at
last in a violent fit of coughing that fortunately
succeeded in producing that degree of quiet around
him in which his language had, singularly enough,
entirely failed. For a moment the company ceased
its clamour, out of respect to the chairman's
cough; and having cleared his throat with the
contents of a tumbler of Monongahela which
seemed to stand permanently full by his side, he recommenced
the proceedings; the poor criminal,
in the mean time, standing mute and motionless,
perfectly stupified with his terror, conscious of repeated
offences, knowing perfectly the reckless
spirit of those who judged him, and hopeless of
escape from their hands, without, in the country
phrase, the loss at least of his “wing and tail
feathers.”

The chairman with due gravity began:—

“Jared Bunce—is that your name?”

“Why, lawyer, I can't deny that I have gone by
that name, ever since I began business, and I guess
it's the right name for me to go by, seeing that I
was christened by the name of Jared, after my old
uncle Jared Withers, that lives down at Dedham,
in the state of Massachusetts. He did promise to
do something for me, seeing I was named after
him, but he han't done nothing yet, no how. Then
the name of Bunce, you see, lawyer, I took from
my father, his name being Bunce, too, I guess.”

“Well, Jared Bunce, answer to the point and
be particular, and without circumlocution. You
have heard some of the charges against you.
Having taken them down in short-hand, I will repeat
them to you severally.”

The pedler approached a few steps, advanced
one leg, raised a hand to his ear, and put on all
the external signs of devout attention, as the chairman
proceeded in the long and curious array.

“First, then, it is charged against you, Bunce,
by young Dick Jenkins, that stands over in front
of you there, that somewhere between the fifteenth
and twenty-third of June, last June was a year,
you came by night to his plantation, he living at
that time in De Kalb county; that you stopped the
night with him, without charge, and in the morning
you traded a clock to his wife for fifteen dollars,
and that you had not been gone two days,
before the said clock began to go whiz, whiz, whiz,
and commenced striking, whizzing all the while,
and never stopped till it had struck clear thirty-one,
and since that time it will neither whiz, nor strike,
nor do nothing.”

“Why, lawyer, I an't the man to deny the truth
of this transaction, you see; but then, you must
know, much depends upon the way you manage a
clock. A clock is quite a delicate and ticklish article
of manufacture, you see, and it an't everybody
that can make a clock, or can make it go
when it don't want to; and if a man takes a hammer
or a horsewhip, or any other unnatural weapon
to it, as if it was a house or a horse, why, I
guess, it's not natural to expect it to keep in order,
and it's no use in having a clock no how, if you
don't treat it well. As for its striking thirty-one,
that indeed is something quite remarkable, for I
never heard one of mine strike more than twelve,

and that's jest the number they're regulated to
strike. But, after all, lawyer, I don't see that squire
Jenkins has been much a loser by the trade, seeing
that he paid me in bills of the — Bank, and that
stopped payment about the time, and before I could
get the bill changed; it's true, I didn't let on that
I knowed any thing about it, and got rid of the paper
a little while before the thing was known abroad
in the country.”

“Now, look ye, you gingerbread-bodied Yankee
—I'd like to know what you mean about taking
whip and hammer to the clock. If you mean to
say that I ever did such a thing, I'll lick you now,
on the spot, by the eternal scratch.”

“Order, order, Mr. Jenkins—order. The chair
must be respected. You must come to order, Mr.
Jenkins—” was the vociferous and urgent cry of
the chairman, repeated by half a dozen voices—
the pedler, in the meanwhile, half doubting the
efficacy of the call, retreating with no little terror
behind the chair of the dignified personage who
presided.

“Well, you needn't make sich a howling about
it,” said Jenkins, wrathfully, and looking around
him with the sullen ferocity of a chafed bear. “I
know jist as well how to keep order, I reckon, as
any on you; but I don't see how it will be out of
order to lick a Yankee, or who can hinder me, if I
choose it.”

“Well, don't look at me, Dick Jenkins, with such
a look again, or I'll have a finger in that pie, old
fellow. I'm no Yankee to be frightened by sich a
lank-sided fellow as you, and by dogs, if nobody
else can keep you in order, I'm just the man to try
if I can't. So don't put on any shines, old boy, or
I'll darken your peepers, if I don't come very nigh
plucking them out altogether.” So spake another

of the company, who, having been much delectified
with the trial, as it may be called, had been particularly
solicitous in his cries for order, and to
whom therefore the glance of Jenkins had been
specially directed. Jenkins was not indisposed to
the affray, and made an angry retort, which provoked
another still more angry; but other parties
interfering, the adjustment of the new difficulty
was made to give place to that already in hand.
The imputation upon Jenkins, that his ignorance
of the claims of the clock to gentle treatment,
alone had induced it to speak thirty-one times, and
at length refuse to speak at all, had touched his
pride nearly; and, sorely vexed, he retired upon a
glass of whiskey to the further corner of the room,
and with his pipe, nursing the fumes of his wrath,
he awaited impatiently the signal for that wild
mischief which he knew would come. In the
mean while, the examination of the culprit proceeded;
but, as we cannot hope to convey to
the reader a description of the affair as it happened,
to the life, we shall content ourselves with a simple
and brief summary. The chair went on rapidly
enumerating the sundry misdeeds of the Yankee,
demanding, and in most cases receiving, rapid
and unhesitating replies—evasively and adroitly
framed, for the offender well knew that a single
unlucky word or phrase would bring down upon
his shoulders a wilderness of blows.

“You are again charged, Bunce, with having
sold to Colonel Blundell, a coffee-pot, and two tin
cups, all of which went to pieces, the solder melting
off at the very sight of the hot water.”

“Well, lawyer, it stands to reason I can't answer
for that. The tin wares I sell stand well
enough in a northern climate: there may be some
difference in yours that I can't account for; and I

guess, pretty much, there is. Now, your people are
a mighty hot-tempered people, and take a fight
for breakfast, and make three meals a day out of
it—now, we in the north have no stomach for such
fare; so here now, as far as I can see, your climate
takes pretty much after the people, and if so, it's
no wonder that solder can't stand it. Who knows,
again, but you boil your water quite too hot? Now,
I guess, there's jest as much harm in boiling water
too hot, as in not boiling it hot enough. Who
knows? All I can say, in the way of excuse to
the colonel, is, that the lot of wares I bring to
this market next season, shall be calkilated on
purpose to suit the climate.”

The chairman seemed struck with this view of
the case, and spoke with a gravity to his auditory
corresponding with the deep sagacity he conceived
himself to have exhibited.

“There does seem to be something, my friends,
in this particular; and it stands to reason, what
will do for a nation of pedlers and patchers won't
do for us. Why, when I recollect that they are
buried in snows half the year, and living on
nothing else the other half, I wonder how they get
the water to boil at all. Answer to that, Bunce.”

“Well, lawyer, I guess you must have travelled
pretty considerably down east, in your time and
among my people, for you do seem to know all
about the matter, jest as well and something better
than myself.”

The lawyer was not a little flattered by the
compliment so slyly and evasively put in, and responded
to the remark with a due regard to his own
increase of importance.

“I am not ignorant of your country, pedler,
and of the ways of its people; but it is not me
that you are to satisfy. Answer to the gentlemen

around, if it is not a difficult matter for you to get
water to boil at all during the winter months.”

“Why, to say the truth, lawyer, when coal is
scarce and high in the market, heat is very hard
to come. Now I guess the ware I brought out
last season was made under those circumstances;
but I have a lot on hand now, which will be here
in a day or two, which I should like to trade to the
colonel, and I guess I may venture to say, all the
hot water in the country won't melt the solder off.”

“I tell you what, pedler, we are more likely to
put you in hot water than try any more of your
tin ware in that way. But where is your plunder
—let us look into it, and see this fine lot of notions
you speak of;” was the speech of the colonel already
so much referred to, and whose coffee-pot
bottom furnished so broad a foundation for the
trial. He was a wild and roving person, to whom
the tavern, and the race-course, and the cock-pit,
from his very boyhood up, had been as the breath
of life, and with whom a chance of mischief was
never willingly foregone. But the pedler was
wary, and knew perfectly his man. The lurking
and but partially suppressed smile and sneer of
the speaker had enough in them for the purposes
of warning, and he replied cautiously and evasively.

“Well, colonel, you shall see them by Tuesday
or Wednesday. I should be glad to have a trade
with you—the money's no object, and if you have
furs, or skins, or any thing that you like off your
hands, there's no difficulty that I can see to a long
bargain.”

“But why not trade now, Bunce?—what's to
hinder us now, you leather-faced Jew? I shan't
be in the village after Monday.”

“Well, then, colonel, that'll just suit me, for I
did calkilate to call on you at the farm, on my

way into the nation where I'm going looking out
for furs.”

“Yes, and live on the best for a week, under
some pretence that your nag is sick, or you sick, or
something in the way of a start—then go off, and
cheat and laugh at me in the bargain. I reckon,
old boy, you don't come over me in that way again;
and I'm not half done with you yet about the kettles.
That story of yours about the hot and cold
climates may do for the daws to peck at, but you
don't think the hawks will swallow it, do ye? Come
—out with your notions!”

“Oh, to be sure, only give a body time, colonel,”
as, pulled by the collar, with some confusion and in
great trepidation, responded the beleaguered dealer
in clocks and calicoes—“they shall all be here in
a day or two, at most. Seeing that one of my
creatures was foundered, I had to leave the goods,
and drive the other here without them.”

The pedler had told the truth in part only. One
of his horses had indeed struck lame, but he had
made out to bring him to the village with all his
wares, and this fact, as in those regions of question
and inquiry was most likely to be the case, had
already taken wind.

“Now, look ye, Bunce, do you take me for a
blear-eyed mole, that can't look upon the daylight,
and never seed the light of a man's eyes?” inquired
Blundell, now closely approaching the beset
tradesman, and taking him leisurely by the nape of
the neck, “Do you want to take a summerset
through that window, old fellow, that you try to
stuff us with such tough stories? If you do, I
rether reckon you can have your desires without
much difficulty or delay.” Thus speaking, and
turning to some of those around him, he gave directions
which imparted to the limbs of the pedler

a continuous and crazy motion, that made his teeth
chatter.

“Hark ye, boys, jist step out, and bring in the
cart of Jared Bunce, wheels and all, if so be that
the body won't come off easily. We'll see into
the collection for ourselves.”

It was now the pedler's turn for speech—and,
for a few moments forgetting the precise predicament
in which he personally stood, and only solicitous
to save his chattels from the fate which he
plainly saw awaited them, his expostulations and
entreaties were rapid and energetic.

“Now, dear colonel—good gentlemen—my dear
friends—to-morrow or the next day you shall see
them all—I'll go with you to your plantation—”

“No, thank you. I want none of your company
—and look ye, if you know when you're well off,
don't undertake to call me your friend. I say, Mr.
Chairman, if it's in order—I don't want to do any
thing disorderly—I move that Bunce's cart be
moved into this very room—here, in the midst of
us, that we may see for ourselves the sort of substance
he brings here to put off upon us.”

The chairman had long since seemingly given
up all hope of exercising, in their true spirit, the
duties of the station which he held. For a while,
it is true, he battled with no little energy for the
integrity of his dignity, with unlocked lungs and a
stout spirit; but though fully a match in these respects
for any one, or perhaps any two of his competitors,
he found the task of contending with the
dozen rather less easy, and in a little while, his
speeches, into which he had lugged many a choice
ad captandum of undisputed effect on any other
occasion, having been completely merged in, and
mingled with those of the mass, he wisely forbore
any further waste of matter, in the stump oratory

of the south, usually so precious; and drawing
himself up proudly and profoundly in his high
place, he remained dignifiedly still and sullen, until
the special reference thus made by Colonel Blundell
again opened the fountains of the oracle, and
set them flowing. The lawyer, thus appealed to,
in a long tirade, and in his happiest manner, delivered
his opinion in the premises, and in favour of
the measure. How, indeed, could he do otherwise,
and continue that tenacious pursuit of his own interests
which had always been the primary aim and
object, as well of the profession as the person. He
at once sagaciously beheld the embryo lawsuit and
contingent controversy about to result from the
proposition; and, in his mind, with a far and free
vision, began to compute the costs and canvass the
various terms and prolonged trials of county court
litigation. His fancy, in the approaching docket,
enumerated at least twenty cases of tort—assaults
and batteries were in abundant store for the criminal,
and the Common Pleas calender teemed richly
to his view, with case after case, in trespass, assumpsit,
trover, detinue, contract, &c. &c., to all
which, as plaintiff's attorney, should be tacked the
pretty and plump cognomen of Peter Pippin, Esq.
He saw fee after fee thrust into his hands—he beheld
the opposing parties desirous to conciliate, and
extending to him sundry of those equivocal courtesies,
which, though they take not the shape of
money, are money's worth, and the worthy chairman
had no scruples as to the propriety of the
measure. The profits and pay once adjusted to
his satisfaction, his spirit took a broad sweep, and
the province of human fame, circumscribed, it is
true, within the ten mile circuit of his horizon, was
at once open before him. He beheld the strife, and
enjoyed the triumph over his fellow-labourers at
the bar—he already heard the applauses of his
neighbours at this or that fine speech or sentiment;
and his form grew insensibly erect, and his eye
glistened proudly, as he freely and fully assented to
the measure which promised such an abundant
harvest. Vainly did the despairing and dispirited
pedler implore a different judgment;—the huge
box which capped the body of his travelling vehicle,
torn from its axle, without any show of reverential
respect for screw or fastening, was borne in
a moment through the capacious entrance of the
hall, and placed conspicuously upon the table.

“The key, Bunce, the key!” was the demand of
a dozen.

The pedler hesitated for a second, and the pause
was fatal. Before he could redeem his error, a
blow from a hatchet settled the difficulty, by distributing
the fine deal-box cover, lock and hinges, in
fragments over the apartment. The revelation of
wares and fabrics—a strange admixture, with propriety
designated “notions”—brought all eyes immediately
around, and rendered a new order, for
common convenience, necessary in the arrangement
of the company. The chairman, chair and
man, were in a moment raised to a corresponding
elevation upon the table, and over the collection;
and the controversy and clamour, from concentrating,
as it did before, upon the person of the pedler,
were now transferred, very rationally, to the commodities
he brought for sale. Order having been
at length procured, Colonel Blundell, who assumed
to be the spokesman, and undertook the assertion of
his own and the wrongs of his fellow-sufferers from
the cupidity of the pedler, obtained and kept uninterrupted
possession of the floor.

“And now, Mr. Chairman, as you have already
heard the case, I will jist, with your permission, go

a little into the particulars of the rogueries and rascalities
of this same white-livered Yankee. Now,
in the first place, he is a Yankee, and that's enough,
itself, to bring him to punishment—but we'll let
that pass, and go to his other transactions—for, as
I reckon, it's quite punishment enough for that
offence, to be jist what he is. He has traded rotten
stuffs about the country, that went to pieces the
first washing. He has traded calico prints, warranted
for fast colours, that run faster than he ever
ran himself. He has sold us coffee-pots, kettles,
and other tin stuffs, that didn't stand hot water at
all; and then thinks, do you see, Mr. Chairman, to
get off in this thing, by saying they were not made
for our climate—and, let me ask, Mr. Chairman, if
they wasn't made for our climate, why did he
bring 'em here? let him come to the scratch, and
answer that, neighbours—but he can't. Well, then,
as you've all heard, he has traded clocks to us at
money's worth, that one day run faster than a Virginny
mare, and, at the very next day, would strike
lame, and wouldn't go at all, neither for beating
nor coaxing—and besides all these, neighbours, if
these an't quite enough to carry a skunk to the
horse-pond, he has committed his abominations
without number, all through the country, high and
low—for hasn't he lied and cheated, and then had
the mean cowardice to keep out of the way of the
regulators, who have been on the look out for his
tracks for the last half year? Now, if these things
an't desarving of punishment, there's nobody fit to
be hung—there's nobody that ought to be whipped.
Hickories oughtn't to grow any longer, and the
best thing the governor can do would be to have
all the jails burnt down from one eend of the
country to the other. The proof stands up agin
Bunce, and there's no denying it; and it's no use,
no how, to let this fellow come among us, year
after year, to play the same old hand, and take our
money for his rascally goods, and then go away
and laugh at us. And the question before us, Mr.
Chairman, is jist what I have said, and what shall
we do with the critter? To show you that it's high
time to do something in the matter, look at this
piece of calico print, that looks, to be sure, very
well to the eye, except, as you see, here's a tree
with red leaves and yellow flowers—a most ridiculous
notion, indeed, for who ever seed a tree
with sich colours here, in the very beginning of
summer?”

Here the pedler, for the moment, more solicitous
for the credit of the manufacturers than for his own
safety, ventured to suggest that the print was a
mere fancy, a matter of taste—in fact, a notion,
and not therefore to be judged by the standard which
in a spirit rather more Procrustean than was necessary,
had been brought to decide upon its merits.
He did not venture, however, to say what, perhaps,
would have been the true horn of the difficulty,
that the print was an autumn or winter illustration,
for that might have subjected him to condign punishment
for its unseasonableness. As it was, the
defence set up was to the full as unlucky as any
other might have been.

“I'll tell you what, Master Bunce, it won't do
to take natur in vain. If you can show me a
better painter than natur, from your parts, I give
up; but until that time, I say that any man who
thinks to give the woods a different sort of face
from what God give 'em, ought to be licked for his
impudence if nothing else.”

The pedler ventured again to expostulate; but
the argument having been considered conclusive

against him, he was made to hold his peace, while
the prosecutor, for so we may style him, proceeded.

“Now then, Mr. Chairman, as I was saying—
here is a sample of the kind of stuff he thinks
to impo e upon us. But it won't do, Mr. Chairman.
Look now at the rottenness of this here article,
and I reckon its jist as good as any of the
rest, and say whether a little touch of Lynch's law
an't the very thing for the Yankee!”

Holding up the devoted calico to the gaze of the
assembly, with a single effort of his strong and
widely distended arms, he rent it asunder with
little difficulty, the sweep not terminating until the
stuff, which, by-the-way, resigned itself without
struggle or resistance to its fate, had been most
completely and evenly divided. The poor pedler
in vain endeavoured to stay a ravage that, once
begun, now became an epidemic. He struggled
and strove with a tenacious hand and unreluctant
spirit, holding on to sundry of his choicest bales,
and claiming protection from the chair, until warned
of his imprudent zeal in behalf of goods so little
deserving of his risk, by the sharp and sudden application
of an unknown hand to his ears, which
sent him reeling against the table, and persuaded
him into as great a degree of patience, as, under existing
circumstances, he could be well expected to
exhibit. Article after article underwent a like
analysis of its strength and texture, and a warm
emulation took place among the rioters, as to their
several capacities in the work of destruction.
The shining bottoms were torn from the tin-wares
in order to prove that such a separation was possible,
and it is doing but brief justice to the pedler
to say, that, whatever, in fact, might have been the
true character of his commodities, the very choicest

of human fabrics, could never have resisted the
various tests of bone and sinew, tooth and nail, to
which they were indiscriminately subjected. Immeasurable
and wild was the confusion that followed.
All restraints were removed—all hinderances,
moral and physical, were withdrawn, and
the tide rushed onward with a most headlong tendency.
Apprehensive of pecuniary responsibilities
in his own person, and having his neighbours
wrought to the desired pitch of phrensy,—fearing
also, lest his station might somewhat involve himself
in the meshes he was desirous of weaving
around the limbs of others, the sagacious chairman,
upon the first show of violence, roared out
his resignation, and descended from his pride of
place. But this movement did not in the least impair
the industry of the regulators. A voice was
heard from the crowd, proposing a bonfire of the
merchandise, and no second suggestion was necessary
to this end. All hands but those of the
pedler and the attorney were employed in building
the pyre in front of the tavern some thirty
yards, and here, in choice confusion, lay flaming
calicoes, illegitimate silks, worsted hose, wooden
clocks and nutmegs, maple-wood seeds of all descriptions,
plaid cloaks, scents, and spices, jumbled
up in ludicrous combinations of most infinite variety.
A dozen hands busied themselves in procuring
materials for the blaze, and in applying the
torch to the toppling and devoted mass—howling
over it, at every successive burst of flame that went
up into the dark atmosphere, a wild and savage
yell of triumph that tallied well with the proceeding
in which they were engaged. The shouts and
screams of the revellers, for such they literally
seemed, were broken occasionally into something
like a methodical arrangement of sounds, of a
character rather euphonous than otherwise, which
took at length the form of a barbarous chorus,
well known to that part of the country, and recited
the modes of punishment usually adopted in the
cases of the obnoxious.

With something like the stupor of despair, not
venturing nigh, however, did the unfortunate merchant
survey the conflagration which in a moment
consumed the substance of a long season of industrious
labour. Whatever may have been his demerits,
his case deserved the sympathy which it
did not find on this occasion. A verse of the wild
and savage chorus referred to, and in which all
the voices joined, smote harshly on his senses, and
aroused him to a something of exaggerated consciousness.
The strain ran on in most uncouth
doggerel, in a variety of measures, and detailed
the luxuries of a ride upon a rail somewhat at
length and by no means unattractively. A single
verse has been preserved as properly introductory
to this chapter; but the song itself, and at full length,
had been long before made familiar to the ears
now most deeply interested in the burthen. The
pedler heard but seemed heedless; all senses, it
would appear, having been lost or locked up in that of
sight; for, motionless and mute, with immoveable
feature, the perfect imbodiment of despair, he
looked forth from the window, not venturing nigher
to the spot where, in a huge pile, smoking and kindling,
lay his devoted commodities—his entire stock
in trade. The lawyer alone stood by him, wearing
an expression of countenance as meaningless
as it might well be made.

“Do you hear that song, Bunce?” was his question,
as a stanza of the wild chorus swelled upon
the ear—“Does your spirit take in its meaning, my
friend.”

“Friend!” was the very natural exclamation of

the person so addressed, as he shrunk from the
touch of the inquirer's hand, while a glance of concentrated
bitterness and scorn passed rapidly into
his eyes, giving to his countenance, at that moment,
a degree of fierce manhood, which somewhat elevated
his character even in the sight of Pippin
himself. The sentiment, however, passed from
his features, if not from his heart, as he replied,
reproachfully enough, and justly enough, we may
add, from our knowledge of the whole transaction—

“Why, lawyer, you needn't ask me that question,
or indeed any question, seeing that I owe as
much of this misfortune to you as to anybody
else; for though you did stop when they began the
mischief, yet if you had but acted like a friend,
you could have saved the stuff and kept me out of
harm.”

“There you do me wrong, pedler. They had
sworn against you long ago, and you know them
well enough to know the devil himself couldn't
stop them when fairly upon the track. But now,
Bunce, don't be down in the mouth. I'm the man
to have justice done you, and get you recompense
for this.”

“You, lawyer? well, I should like to know how
you calkilate to do that?”

“I'll tell you. You know my profession.”

“I guess I do, pretty much.”

“Thus, then—most of these are men of substance;
at least they have enough to turn out a pretty good
case each of them—now all you have to do is to
bring suit. I'll do all that, you know, the same as
if you did it yourself. You must lay your damages
handsomely, furnish a few affidavits, put the
business entirely in my hands, and—how much is
the value of your goods?”

“Well, I guess they might be worth something

over three hundred and twenty dollars and six
shillings, York money.”

“Well, give me all the particulars, and I venture
to assure you that I can get five hundred dollars
damages at least, and perhaps a thousand. But of
this we can talk more at leisure when you are in
safety. Where's your cart, Bunce?”

“On t'other side of the house—what they've left
of it.”

“Now, then, while they're busy over the blaze,
put your tackle on, hitch your horse, and take the
back track to my clearing; it's but a short mile and
a quarter, and you'll be there in no time. I'll follow
in a little while, and we'll arrange and deliberate
upon the matter.”

“Well, now, lawyer, but I can't—my horse, as
you see, having over eat himself, is struck with the
founders and can't budge a step. I put him in
'Squire Dickens' stable, 'long with his animals, and
seeing that he had'nt had much the day before, I
emptied the corn from their trough into his, and jest
see what's come of it. I hadn't ought to done so,
to be sure.”

“That's bad, Bunce; very bad—but that must
not stop you. Your life, Bunce, is in danger, and
I have too much regard for you to let you risk
it by longer stay here. Take my nag, there—the
second one from the tree, and put him in the
gears in place of your own. He's as gentle as a
spaniel, and goes like a deer; so you need'nt be
afraid of him. You know the back track to my
house, and I'll come after you, quietly bringing
your creature along. I 'spose he's not so stiff
but he can bring me.”

“He can do that, lawyer, I guess, without difficulty.
I'll do as you say, and be off pretty slick.
Five hundred dollars damage, lawyer—eh?”

“No matter about that, till I see you. Put your
nag in gears quickly and quietly—you have little
time to spare!”

The pedler proceeded to the work, and was in
a little while ready for a start. But he lingered at
the porch.

“I say, lawyer, it's a hard bout they've given
me this time. I did fear they would be rash
and obstropulous, but did'nt think they'd gone
so far. Indeed, it's pretty clear, if it had'nt been
that the cursed cretur failed me, I should not have
trusted myself in the place, after what I was told
they meant to do with me.”

“Well, but Bunce, you have been rather too sly
in your dealings, and they have, you must confess, a
good deal to complain of. Now, though I said
nothing about it, that coat you sold me for a black
grew red with a week's wear, and threadbare in a
month.”

“Now, don't talk, lawyer, seeing you ha'n't paid
me for it yet; but that's neither here nor there.
I have, as you say, done some queer things in my
time, and did sell my goods for something more
than might have been their vally; but I hadn't
ought to had such a punishment as this.”

The wild song of the rioters rung in his ears,
followed by a proposition, seemingly made with
the utmost gravity, to change the plan of operations,
and instead of giving him the ride upon the
rail, cap the blazing goods of his cart with the
proper person of the proprietor. The pedler lingered
to hear no further; and the quick ear of the
lawyer, as he returned into the hall, distinguished
the rumbling motion of his cart hurrying down the
road. But he had scarcely reseated himself and
resumed his glass, before Bunce also reappeared.

“Why, man, I thought you were off. You burn
daylight; though they do say, those whom water
won't drown, rope must hang.”

“There is some risk, lawyer, to be sure; but
when I recollected how much I want this box, which
you see is a fine one, though they have disfigured
it, I thought I should have time enough to take it
with me, and any thing that might be lying about;”
looking around the apartment as he spoke, and
gathering up a few fragments which had escaped
the notice of the enemy.

“Begone, fool!” exclaimed the lawyer, impatiently.
“They are upon you—they come—
fly for your life, you dog—I hear their voices.”

“I'm off, lawyer”—and looking once behind
him as he hurried off, the pedler passed from the
rear of the building as they who sought him re-entered
in front.

“The blood's in him—the Yankee will be Yankee
still, though his ears suffer for it,” was the muttered
remark of the lawyer, as he prepared to encounter
the returning rioters.