ages they had excited in the bosoms of their victims a
desire for revenge that only awaited the occasion to manifest itself.

Mr. Stevens, in happy unconsciousness, that, owing to his habiliments, he
represented one of the well-known and hated faction, walked on quite
leisurely; but, unfortunately for him, his way home lay directly through
the camp of their bitterest and most active enemies.

Standing in front of a tavern-window, through which a bright light shone,
were a group of young men, who bestowed upon Mr. Stevens more than passing
attention. "I'm blest," exclaimed one of them, if there ain't a ranger!
now that it a saucy piece of business, ain't it! That fellow has come up
here to be able to go back and play brag-game."

"Let's wallop him, then," suggested another, "and teach him better than to
come parading himself in our parts. I owe 'em something for the way they
served me when I was down in their district."

"Well, come on," said the first speaker, "or he will get away whilst we are
jawing about what we shall do."

Advancing to Mr. Stevens, he tapped that gentleman on the shoulder, and
said, with mock civility, and in as bland a tone as he could assume, "It's
really very obliging of you, mister, to come up here to be flogged--saves
us the trouble of coming down to you. We would like to settle with you for
that drubbing you gave one of our boys last week."

"You must be mistaken," replied Mr. Stevens: "I don't know anything of the
affair to which you allude."

"You don't, eh! Well, take that, then, to freshen your memory," exclaimed
one of the party, at the same time dealing him a heavy blow on the cheek,
which made the lamplights around appear to dance about in the most
fantastic style.

The first impulse of Mr. Stevens was to cry out for the watchman; but a
moment's reflection suggested the impolicy of that project, as he would
inevitably be arrested with the rest; and to be brought before a magistrate
in his present guise, would have entailed upon him very embarrassing
explanations; he therefore thought it best to beg off--to throw himself, as
it were, upon their sympathies.

"Stop, gentlemen--stop--for God's sake, stop," he cried, as soon as he
could regain the breath that had been almost knocked out of him by the
tremendous blow he had just received--"don't kill an innocent man; upon my
honour I never saw you before, nor ever assaulted any of you in my life. My
dear friends," he continued, in a