thereabouts
sets onaccountable store by their religious privileges."

"Do you know the prisoner, Ithuel Bolt--the person who is called Raoul
Yvard?"

Ithuel was a little at a loss exactly how to answer this question.
Notwithstanding the high motive which had led his fathers into the
wilderness, and his own peculiar estimate of his religious advantages,
an oath had got to be a sort of convertible obligation with him ever
since the day he had his first connection with a custom-house. A man who
had sworn to so many false invoices was not likely to stick at a trifle
in order to serve a friend; still, by denying the acquaintance, he might
bring discredit on himself, and thus put it out of his power to be of
use to Raoul on some more material point. As between himself and the
Frenchman, there existed a remarkable moral discrepancy; for, while he
who prided himself on his religious ancestry and pious education had a
singularly pliable conscience, Raoul, almost an Atheist in opinion,
would have scorned a simple lie when placed in a situation that touched
his honor. In the way of warlike artifices, few men were more subtle or
loved to practise them oftener than Raoul Yvard; but, the mask aside, or
when he fell back on his own native dignity of mind, death itself could
not have extorted an equivocation from him. On the other hand, Ithuel
had an affection for a lie--more especially if it served himself, or
injured his enemy; finding a mode of reconciling all this to his
spirituality that is somewhat peculiar to fanaticism as it begins to
grow threadbare. On the present occasion, he was ready to say whatever
he thought would most conform to his shipmate's wishes, and luckily he
construed the expression of the other's countenance aright.

"I _do_ know the prisoner, as you call him, 'squire," Ithuel answered,
after the pause that was necessary to come to his conclusion--"I _do_
know him _well_; and a master crittur he is when he fairly gets into a
current of your English trade. Had there been a Rule Yvard on board each
of the Frenchmen at the Nile, over here in Egypt, Nelson would have
found that his letter stood in need of some postscripts, I guess."

"Confine your answers, witness, to the purport of the question," put in
Cuffe, with dignity.

Ithuel stood too much in habitual awe of the captain of his old ship to
venture on an answer; but if looks could have done harm, that important
functionary would not have escaped altogeth