ng it excessively unreasonable and rude, and expressing her
sentiments thereupon with great freedom. In one of these moods, she
had been overheard by Master Prout, in a colloquy with one of her
gossips, contrasting the "wearyful and forlorn" condition of women in
the colony with the merry times she used to have in England; and upon
her friend suggesting a few words in favor of the change, bursting out
with sundry epithets more sounding than musical, and more energetic
than complimentary.

We will not pretend to say whether Master Prout was more scandalized
by the sentiment of dissatisfaction at the colony, or by there
proaches lavished on the other goody, who, indeed, to do her justice,
was not slow in the use of that formidable weapon wherewith Nature, as
if to make amends for physical weakness, has armed the lovelier sex.
It may be that both combined roused his righteous indignation, in
consequence whereof Dame Bars had to expiate the sins of her tongue by
silencing its eloquence in a cleft stick, and cooling her heels in the
stocks.

But the appearance of the poor woman was now anything but belligerent.
So far from manifesting a refractory disposition, her face was covered
with her hands, and tears of shame and mortification were stealing
through the fingers. Her husband was standing by her side, and
endeavoring to comfort her, while Master Prout, with his long staff,
was threatening some idle school-boys, who, with the mischief natural
to their age, were showing an inclination to proceed to extremities
against the captive, which was not approved by the grave _custode_ of
order.

As the Knight drew nigh, a feeling of pity was excited in him, and he
stopped, and addressed some words to the officer of the law.

"I am unwilling," said Master Prout, in reply, "to refuse any thing to
a gentleman so highly esteemed by the Governor, as yourself, Sir
Christopher, and therefore will I release the woman; but truly was it
my intention to detain her an hour or two longer, in order that she
might have time for serious and profitable reflection. Verily, as
saith James, in his epistle, the tongue can no man tame; it is an
unruly evil, full of deadly poison."

"Methinks then," said the Knight, smiling, "thou hast performed an
achievement which holy St. James himself might deem a miracle, for the
good dame's tongue is tame enough at present."

Master Prout's demure features ventured as near to a smile at the
jest, as his prin