e few
stalks that still remain in the field where the tempest passed. I have
fought against the foreign foe for your sake; they have disappeared from
the land, and you are free; the strength of my arm delays, and my feet
fail me in the way; the hand which fought for your liberties is now open
to bless you. In my youth I bled in battle that you might be
independent--let not my heart, in my old age, bleed because you abandon
the path I would have you follow."

The old patriarch leaned his head upon his hand, and the company was
silent as though they had listened to a voice from the grave. He
presently looked up and smiled--"Old Ethan, I call to mind now," he
renewed, "had a quality which our poor Barbary inherited, and for
which," he added, looking toward his son William, "and for which I
greatly honor his memory. He counted the money of this world but as
dross. From his manhood to the very moment of his entering on the
ministry, he never would touch silver nor gold, partly, I think, because
it was the true Scripture course, and partly because a dreadful murder
had once happened in the Barbary family, growing out of a quarrel for
the possession of a paltry sum of money."

The bread she was raising to her lips fell from the widow's hand, for
she could not help but think of the history of her absent son; and the
voice of Miriam, who did not present herself at the table, was heard
from a distant chamber, not distinctly, but in that tone of chanting
lament which had become habitual to her whether in house, garden, or
field. It was an inexpressibly mournful cadence, and for the time
stilled all other sounds. They were only drawn away from it by descrying
Mopsey, the black servant, at a turn of the road, hurrying with great
animation towards the homestead, but with a singularity in her progress
which could not fail to be observed. She rushed along at great speed,
for several paces, and suddenly came to a halt, during which her head
disappeared, and then renewed her pace, repeating the peculiar
manoeuvre once at least in every ten yards. In a word, she was
shuffling on in her loose shoes, (which were on or off, one or the other
of them every other minute,) at as rapid a rate as that peculiar species
of locomotion allowed. Bursting with impatience and the importance of
her communication, her cap flaunting from her head, she stood in the
doorway and announced, "We've beat Brundage--we've beat Brundage!"

"What's this, Mopsey?"