othesis that could be started, however absurd, that
did not find advocates.

By some, he was supposed to be a murderer, whom remorse had driven
from the haunts of men, and who was endeavoring to expiate his
crimes by self-denial and suffering; others, asserted that he was the
Wandering Jew, though his long residence at the island militated
a little with the idea: however, that was balanced by his marked
reverence for the New Testament, and frequent references to the coming
of the Son of Man; while others insisted he was a pirate, who had
buried treasure on the lonely island, and there watched over its
security. This last opinion was received with especial favor by the
gaping vulgar, and further confirmed by the fact that the Solitary
never asked alms or was destitute of money, of which, indeed, he gave
away to those whom he considered poorer than himself. But whatever was
the truth, or however anxious the good people of Hillsdale might be to
discover the secret, no one ventured to meddle with him, though more
than one old woman had hinted that it was a shame he should be allowed
to run about with so long a beard, and a resolute fellow even once
suggested the expediency of arresting him on suspicion. As, however,
his life was perfectly harmless, and he had never been, nor seemed
likely to become, a burden to the town, nor had committed any act of
violence, such counsels were considered too harsh, especially as the
attempt to execute them might involve the town in expense and other
unpleasant consequences. Besides, it was known he had strong friends
in influential families, who would not permit him to be wronged or
quietly see the least of his rights invaded. The curiosity of the
place, therefore, was obliged to content itself with surmises, and to
wait until some more favorable period for its gratification.

The time of the year had now arrived when Holden was wont to show
himself more than usually restless and excitable. He had been
wandering one day since early in the morning, shooting partridges and
squirrels, until late in the afternoon he found himself at the Falls
of the Yaupaae. This was for him a favorite place of resort, and
here, stretched on the ground, he would lie for hours, with his eyes
fastened on the foaming water, listening to the cataract's roar, as
if it soothed his humor. Holden threw himself on the moss that
exuberantly covers the rocks, and essayed the spell. But this time, in
vain. He lay but a