g the hamlet, flowed into the Nanticoke River
a few miles, by its course, above Twiford's wharf. Two streets, formed
by two roads, ended in a third street along the sandy, flattish river
shore, and there stood four or five larger dwellings, like their
humbler neighbors, built of wood, but with bolder, greater chimneys,
rising into the air as if in rivalry of four large ships and brigs that
lay at anchor or beside the two wharves, and threw their masts and spars
into the sailing clouds, making the low forest that closed river and
village in, stoop to its humility. But the beautiful river, with
frequent bluffs of sand and woods, flowing two hundred yards wide in
stately tide, and bearing up to Cannon's Ferry fish-boats and pungies,
Yankee schooners and woodscows, and the signs of life, however lowly,
that floated in blue smoke from many hearths, or sounded in oars,
rigging, and lading, seemed to Hulda human joy and power, and she cried
to Levin:

"Levin, oh, look! Did you ever see as big a place as this? Yonder is the
road to Seaford, just as far as we have come! The big ships are taking
corn for West Indies, and bringing sugar and molasses. That is the ferry
scow, and on the other side it is only five miles to Laurel."

"Do you like to travel that road?" asked the Captain, with his pleasing
lisp and blush returned again.

"It makes me sad," replied Hulda; "but I do not mutter when I go past
the spot, like grandma."

"What spot?" asked Levin.

"Where father killed the traveller," Hulda said. "He died shamefully for
it. You could almost see the place but for yonder woods, where the road
to Laurel climbs the sandy hill."

"What's this?" said Van Dorn, seeing a little crowd around one of the
single-story cabins, and turning his team into the parallel street.

A very tall, grand-looking man towered above the rest, and seemed unable
to stand upright in the low cottage, with his proportions, so that he
took his place on the grassy sand without and gave his directions to
some one within:

"Levy on the spinning-wheel! Simplify the equation! Stand by your _fi.
fa.!_ Don't be chicken-hearted, constable--she's had the equivalent; now
she sees the quotient, too."

Van Dorn looked on and saw a spinning-wheel come out of the door, and a
little wool in a bag after it. Jacob Cannon put his foot on the wheel
and poked his head in the door.

"I see an axe and a coffee-mill there, constable: levy onto 'em with
your _distringas.