ce been
told, although we got credit for poorer appetites than we possessed.
Uncle Eb took no chances and refused everything that had a look of
mystery and a suggestion of peril, dropping a droll remark, betimes,
that sent a ripple of amusement around the table.

John Trumbull sat opposite me, and even then I felt a curious interest
in him--a big, full bearded man, quite six feet tall, his skin and eyes
dark, his hair iron-grey, his voice deep like David s. I could not get
over the impression that I had seen him before--a feeling I have had
often, facing men I could never possibly have met. No word came out
of his firm mouth unless he were addressed, and then all in hearing
listened to the little he had to say: it was never more than some
very simple remark. In his face and form and voice there was abundant
heraldry of rugged power and ox-like vitality. I have seen a bronze head
of Daniel Webster which, with a full blonde beard and an ample covering
of grey hair would have given one a fairly perfect idea of the look of
John Trumbull. Imagine it on a tall, and powerful body and let it speak
with a voice that has in it the deep and musical vibration one may hear
in the looing of an ox and you shall see, as perfectly as my feeble
words can help you to do, this remarkable man who, must, hereafter,
play before you his part--compared to which mine is as the prattle of a
child--in this drama of God's truth.

'You have not heard,' said Mrs Fuller addressing me, 'how Mr Trumbull
saved Hope's life.'

'Saved Hope's life!' I exclaimed.

'Saved her life,' she repeated, 'there isn't a doubt of it. We never
sent word of it for fear it would give you all needless worry. It was a
day of last winter--fell crossing Broadway, a dangerous place' he pulled
her aside just in time--the horse's feet were raised above her--she
would have been crushed in a moment He lifted her in his arms and
carried her to the sidewalk not a bit the worse for it.

'Seems as if it were fate,' said Hope. 'I had seen him so often and
wondered who he was. I recall a night when I had to come home alone from
rehearsal. I was horribly afraid. I remember passing him under a street
lamp. If he had spoken to me, then, I should have dropped with fear and
he would have had to carry me home that time.

'It's an odd thing a girl like you should ever have to walk home alone,'
said Mr Fuller. 'Doesn't speak well for our friend Livingstone or
Burnham there or Dobbs.

'M