nervous state; and even when I fell asleep, I was still haunted in my dreams by the idea of the stout gentleman and his waxtopped boots. I slept rather late the next morning; 5 and was awakened by some stir and bustle in the house, which I could not at first comprehend; until getting more awake, I found there was a mail coach starting from the door. Suddenly there was a cry 10 from below, The gentleman has forgot his umbrella! look for the gentleman's umbrella in No. 13!' I heard an immediate scampering of a chambermaid along the passage, and a shrill reply as she ran, 15 Here it is! here's the gentleman's umbrella !' The mysterious stranger then was on the point of setting off. This was the only chance I should ever have of knowing 20 him. I sprang out of bed, scrambled to the window, snatched aside the curtains, and just caught a glimpse of the rear of a person getting in at the coach-door. The skirts of a brown coat parted behind, and 25 gave me a full view of the broad disk of a pair of drab breeches. The door closed all right!' was the word—the coach whirled off; and that was all I ever saw of the stout gentleman! From Bracebridge Hall, 1822. THE BOLD DRAGOON; OR THE ADVENTURE OF MY GRANDFATHER 30 man not easily to be humbugged. He had seen service; or, according to his own phrase, he had seen the devil' and that's saying everything. Well, gentlemen, my grandfather was on his way to England, for which he intended to embark at Ostend; - bad luck to the place for one where I was kept by storms and head winds for three long days, and the divil of a jolly companion or pretty face to comfort me. Well, as I was saying, my grandfather was on his way to England, or rather to Ostend no matter which, it's all the same. So one evening, towards nightfall, he rode jollily into Bruges. Very like you all know Bruges, gentlemen, a queer, oldfashioned Flemish town, once they say a great place for trade and money-making, in old times, when the Mynheers were in their glory; but almost as large and as empty as an Irishman's pocket at the present day. Well, gentlemen, it was the time of the annual fair. All Bruges was crowded; and the canals swarmed with Dutch boats, and the streets swarmed with Dutch merchants; and there was hardly any getting along for goods, wares, and merchandises, and peasants in big breeches, and women in half a score of petticoats. My grandfather rode jollily along in his easy, slashing way, for he was a saucy, sunshiny fellow staring about him at 35 the motley crowd, and the old houses with gable ends to the street and storks' nests on the chimneys; winking at the ya vrouws who showed their faces at the windows, and joking the women right and left in the street; all of whom laughed and took it in amazing good part; for though he did not know a word of their language, yet he always had a knack of making himself understood among the women. My grandfather was a bold dragoon, for it's a profession, d'ye see, that has run in the family. All my forefathers 40 have been dragoons and died upon the field of honor except myself, and I hope my posterity may be able to say the same; however, I don't mean to be vainglorious. Well, my grandfather, as I said, was a 45 bold dragoon, and had served in the Low Countries. In fact, he was one of that very army, which, according to my uncle Toby, 'swore so terribly in Flanders.' He could swear a good stick himself; and, 50 moreover, was the very man that introduced the doctrine Corporal Trim mentions, of radical heat and radical moisture; or, in other words, the mode of keeping out the damps of ditch water by burnt 55 brandy. Be that as it may, it's nothing to the purport of my story. I only tell it to show you that my grandfather was a Well, gentlemen, it being the time of the annual fair, all the town was crowded; every inn and tavern full, and my grandfather applied in vain from one to the other for admittance. At length he rode up to an old rackety inn that looked ready to fall to pieces, and which all the rats would have run away from, if they could have found room in any other house to put their heads. It was just such a queer building as you see in Dutch pictures, with a tall roof that reached up into the clouds; and as many garrets, one over the other, as the seven heavens of Mahomet. Nothing had saved it from tumbling down but a stork's nest on the chimney, which always brings good luck to a house in the Low Countries; and at the very time of my grandfather's arrival, there were two of these long-legged birds of grace, standing like ghosts on the chimney top. Faith, but they 've kept the house on its legs to this very day; for you may see it any time you pass through Bruges, as it stands there yet; only it is turned into a brewery a brewery of strong Flemish beer; at least it was so when I came that way after the battle of Waterloo. My grandfather eyed the house curiously as he approached. It might not altogether have struck his fancy, had he not seen in large letters over the door, HEER VERKOOPT MAN GOEDEN DRANK 5 their pipes sullenly, eyed the enemy askance from under their broad hats, but said nothing. My grandfather was not a man to be browbeaten. He threw the reins on his horse's neck, cocked his hat on one side. stuck one arm akimbo, slapped his broad thigh with the other hand Faith and troth!' said he, but I'll sleep in this house this very night!' My grandfather had on a tight pair of buckskins the slap went to the landlady's heart. He followed up the vow by jumping off his horse, and making his way past the staring Mynheers into the public room. May be you've been in the barroom of an old Flemish inn- faith, but a handsome chamber it was as you 'd wish to see; with 20 a brick floor, a great fire-place, with the whole Bible history in glazed tiles; and then the mantel-piece, pitching itself head foremost out of the wall, with a whole regiment of cracked tea-pots and earthen jugs paraded on it; not to mention half a dozen great Delft platters hung about the room by way of pictures; and the little bar in one corner, and the bouncing bar-maid inside of it with a red calico cap and yellow ear-drops. My grandfather had learnt enough of the language to know that the sign promised good liquor. This is the house for 25 me,' said he, stopping short before the door. The sudden appearance of a dashing dragoon was an event in an old inn, frequented only by the peaceful sons of traf- 30 fic. A rich burgher of Antwerp, a stately ample man, in a broad Flemish hat, and who was the great man and great patron of the establishment, sat smoking a clean long pipe on one side of the door; a fat 35 little distiller of Geneva from Schiedam, sat smoking on the other, and the bottlenosed host stood in the door, and the comely hostess, in crimped cap, beside him; and the hostess' daughter, a plump 40 Flanders lass, with long gold pendants in her ears, was at a side window. 'Humph!' said the rich burgher of Antwerp, with a sulky glance at the stranger. 'Der duyvel!' said the fat little distiller of Schiedam. My grandfather snapped his fingers over his head, as he cast an eye round the room: Faith, this is the very house I've been looking after,' said he. There was some farther show of resistance on the part of the garrison, but my grandfather was an old soldier, and an Irishman to boot, and not easily repulsed, especially after he had got into the fortress. So he blarney'd the landlord, kissed the landlord's wife, tickled the landlord's daughter, chucked the bar-maid under the chin; and it was agreed on all hands that it would be a thousand pities, 45 and a burning shame into the bargain, to turn such a bold dragoon into the streets. So they laid their heads together, that is to say, my grandfather and the landlady, and it was at length agreed to accommodate him with an old chamber that had for some time been shut up. The landlord saw with the quick glance of a publican that the new guest was not at all, at all, to the taste of the old ones; 50 and to tell the truth, he did not himself like my grandfather's saucy eye. He shook his head-Not a garret in the house but was full.' 'Not a garret!' echoed the landlady. 'Not a garret!' echoed the daughter. The burgher of Antwerp and the little distiller of Schiedam continued to smoke 'Some say it's haunted!' whispered the landlord's daughter, but you're a bold dragoon, and I dare say you don't fear 55 ghosts.' The divil a bit!' said my grandfather. pinching her plump cheek; but if I should be troubled by ghosts, I've been to the Red Sea in my time, and have a pleasant way of laying them, my darling!' And then he whispered something to the girl which made her laugh, and give him a good-humored box on the ear. In short, there was nobody knew better how to make his way among the petticoats than my grandfather. 5 In a little while, as was his usual way, he took complete possession of the house: 10 swaggering all over it; - into the stable to look after his horse; into the kitchen to look after his supper. He had something to say or do with every one; smoked with the Dutchmen; drank with the Ger- 15 mans; slapped the men on the shoulders, tickled the women under the ribs: never since the days of Ally Croaker had such a rattling blade 'been seen. The landlord stared at him with astonishment: 20 the landlord's daughter hung her head and giggled whenever he came near; and as he turned his back and swaggered along, his tight jacket setting off his broad shoulders and plump buckskins, and his 25 long sword trailing by his side, the maids whispered to one another-' What a proper man!' At supper my grandfather took command of the table d'hôte as though he had 30 been at home; helped everybody, not forgetting himself; talked with every one, whether he understood their language or not; and made his way into the intimacy of the rich burgher of Antwerp, who had 35 never been known to be sociable with any one during his life. In fact, he revolutionized the whole establishment, and gave it such a rouse, that the very house reeled with it. He outsat every one at table 40 excepting the little fat distiller of Schiedam, who had sat soaking for a long time before he broke forth; but when he did, he was a very devil incarnate. He took a violent affection for my grandfather; so 45 they sat drinking, and smoking, and telling stories, and singing Dutch and Irish songs, without understanding a word each other said, until the little Hollander was fairly swampt with his own gin and water, and 50 carried off to bed whooping and hiccuping, and trolling the burthen of a Low Dutch love song. and game, and country frollics, and huge kitchens, and portly burgomasters, such as you see about old-fashioned Flemish inns, till at length he arrived at his room. An old-times chamber it was, sure enough, and crowded with all kinds of trumpery. It looked like an infirmary for decayed and superannuated furniture; where everything diseased and disabled was sent to nurse, or to be forgotten. Or rather, it might have been taken for a general congress of old legitimate moveables, where every kind and country had a representative. No two chairs were alike: such high backs and low backs, and leather bottoms and worsted bottoms, and straw bottoms, and no bottoms; and cracked marble tables with curiously carved legs, holding balls in their claws, as though they were going to play at ninepins. My grandfather made a bow to the motley assemblage as he entered, and having undressed himself, placed his light in the fire-place, asking pardon of the tongs, which seemed to be making love to the shovel in the chimney-corner, and whispering soft nonsense in its ear. The rest of the guests were by this time sound asleep; for your Mynheers are huge sleepers. The house maids, one by one, crept up yawning to their attics, and not a female head in the inn was laid on a pillow that night without dreaming of the Bold Dragoon. My grandfather, for his part, got into bed, and drew over him one of those great bags of down, under which they smother a man in the Low Countries; and there he lay, melting between two feather beds, like an anchovy sandwich between two slices of toast and butter. He was a warm-complexioned man, and this smothering played the very deuce with him. So, sure enough, in a little while it seemed as if a legion of imps were twitching at him, and all the blood in his veins was in fever heat. He lay still, however, until all the house was quiet, excepting the snoring of the Mynheers from the different chambers; who answered one another in all kinds of tones and cadences, like so many bullWell, gentlemen, my grandfather was frogs in a swamp. The quieter the house shown to his quarters, up a huge staircase 55 became, the more unquiet became my composed of loads of hewn timber; and through long rigmarole passages, hung with blackened paintings of fruit, and fish, grandfather. He waxed warmer and warmer, until at length the bed became too hot to hold him. Faith there's no standing this any longer,' says he; so he jumped out of bed and went strolling about the house. 5 Well, my grandfather had been for some time absent from his room, and was returning, perfectly cool, when just as he reached the door he heard a strange noise within. He paused and listened. It seemed as if some one was trying to hum a tune in defiance of the asthma. He 10 recollected the report of the room's being haunted; but he was no believer in ghosts. So he pushed the door gently ajar, and peeped in. Egad, gentlemen, there was a gambols carrying on within enough to have astonished St. Anthony. By the light of the fire he saw a pale weazen-faced fellow in a long flannel gown and a tall white night-cap with a 20 tassel to it, who sat by the fire, with a bellows under his arm by way of bagpipe, from which he forced the asthmatical music that had bothered my grandfather. As he played, too, he kept twitching about 25 with a thousand queer contortions; nodding his head and bobbing about his tasselled night-cap. 30 My grandfather thought this very odd, and mighty presumptuous, and was about to demand what business he had to play his wind instruments in another gentleman's quarters, when a new cause of astonishment met his eye. From the opposite side of the room a long-backed, bandy- 35 legged chair, covered with leather, and studded all over in a coxcomical fashion with little brass nails, got suddenly into motion; thrust out first a claw foot, then a crooked arm, and at length, making a 40 leg, slided gracefully up to an easy chair, of tarnished brocade, with a hole in its bottom, and led it gallantly out in a ghostly minuet about the floor. The musician now played fiercer and 45 fiercer, and bobbed his head and his nightcap about like mad. By degrees the dancing mania seemed to seize upon all the other pieces of furniture. The antique, long-bodied chairs paired off in couples 50 and led down a country dance; a threelegged stool danced a hornpipe, though horribly puzzled by its supernumerary leg: while the amorous tongs seized the shovel round the waist, and whirled it about the room in a German waltz. In short, all the moveables got in motion, capering about; pirouetting, hands across, right 55 6 and left, like so many devils, all except a great clothes-press, which kept curtseying and curtseying, like a dowager, in one corner, in exquisite time to the music; being either too corpulent to dance, or perhaps at a loss for a partner. My grandfather concluded the latter to be the reason; so, being like a true Irishman, devoted to the sex, and at all times ready for a frolic, he bounced into the room, calling to the musician to strike up Paddy O'Rafferty,' capered up to the clothes-press and seized upon two handles to lead her out:- When, whizz! - the whole revel was at an end. The chairs, tables, tongs, and shovel slunk in an instant as quietly into their places as if nothing had happened; and the musician vanished up the chimney, leaving the bellows behind him in his hurry. My grandfather found himself seated in the middle of the floor, with the clothes-press sprawling before him, and the two handles jerked off and in his hands. Then after all, this was a mere dream!' said the inquisitive gentleman. The divil a bit of a dream!' replied the Irishman: 'there never was a truer fact in this world. Faith, I should have liked to see any man tell my grandfather it was a dream.' Well, gentlemen, as the clothes-press was a mighty heavy body, and my grandfather likewise, particularly in rear, you may easily suppose two such heavy bodies coming to the ground would make a bit of a noise. Faith, the old mansion shook as though it had mistaken it for an earthquake. The whole garrison was alarmed. The landlord, who slept just below, hurried up with a candle to inquire the cause, but with all his haste his daughter had hurried to the scene of uproar before him. The landlord was followed by the landlady, who was followed by the bouncing bar-maid, who was followed by the simpering chambermaids all holding together, as well as they could, such garments as they had first lain hands on; but all in a terrible hurry to see what the devil was to pay in the chamber of the bold dragoon. My grandfather related the marvelous scene he had witnessed, and the prostrate clothes-press, and the broken handles, bore testimony to the fact. There was no contesting such evidence; particularly with a lad of my grandfather's complexion, who seemed able to make good every word either with sword or shillelah. So the landlord scratched his head and looked silly, as he was apt to do when puzzled. The landlady scratched-no, she did not scratch her head,- but she knit her brow, and did not seem half pleased with the explanation. But the landlady's daughter corroborated it by recollecting that the last person who had dwelt in that chamber was a famous juggler who had died of St. 10 Vitus's dance, and no doubt had infected all the furniture. This set all things to rights, particularly when the chambermaids declared that they had all witnessed strange carryings on in 15 that room; and as they declared this upon their honors,' there could not remain a doubt upon the subject. From Tales of a Traveller, 1824. THE DEVIL AND TOM WALKER name of Tom Walker. He had a wife as miserly as himself; they were so miserly that they even conspired to cheat each other. Whatever the woman could lay 5 hands on she hid away; a hen could not cackle but she was on the alert to secure the new-laid egg. Her husband was continually prying about to detect her secret hoards, and many and fierce were the conflicts that took place about what ought to have been common property. They lived in a forlorn-looking house, that stood alone and had an air of starvation. A few straggling savin trees, emblems of sterility, grew near it; no smoke ever curled from its chimney; no traveler stopped at its door. A miserable horse, whose ribs were as articulate as the bars of a gridiron, stalked about a field where 20 a thin carpet of moss, scarcely covering the ragged beds of pudding-stone, tantalized and balked his hunger; and sometimes he would lean his head over the fence, look piteously at the passer-by, and seem to petition deliverance from this land of famine. The house and its inmates had altogether a bad name. Tom's wife was a tall termagant, fierce of temper, loud of tongue, and strong of arm. Her voice was often heard in wordy warfare with her husband; and his face sometimes showed signs that their conflicts were not confined to words. No one ventured, however, to interfere between them; the lonely wayfarer shrunk within himself at the horrid clamor and clapperclawing; eyed the den of discord askance, and hurried on his way, rejoicing, if a bachelor, in his celibacy. 30 A few miles from Boston, in Massachusetts, there is a deep inlet winding 25 several miles into the interior of the country from Charles Bay, and terminating in a thickly-wooded swamp, or morass. On one side of this inlet is a beautiful dark grove; on the opposite side the land rises abruptly from the water's edge, into a high ridge on which grow a few scattered oaks of great age and immense size. It was under one of these gigantic trees, according to old stories, that Kidd 35 the pirate buried his treasure. The inlet allowed a facility to bring the money in a boat secretly and at night to the very foot of the hill. The elevation of the place permitted a good look-out to be kept that 40 no one was at hand, while the remarkable trees formed good landmarks by which the place might easily be found again. The old stories add, moreover, that the devil presided at the hiding of the money, and 45 took it under his guardianship; but this, it is well-known, he always does with buried treasure, particularly when it has been ill gotten. Be that as it may, Kidd never returned to recover his wealth; being shortly after seized at Boston, sent out to England, and there hanged for a pirate. One day that Tom Walker had been to a distant part of the neighborhood, he took what he considered a short cut homewards through the swamp. Like most short cuts, it was an ill-chosen route. The swamp was thickly grown with great gloomy pines and hemlocks, some of them ninety feet high; which made it dark at noon-day, and a retreat for all the owls of the neighborhood. It was full of pits and 50 quagmires, partly covered with weeds and mosses; where the green surface often betrayed the traveler into a gulf of black smothering mud; there were also dark and stagnant pools, the abodes of the tadpole, the bull-frog, and the water-snake, and where trunks of pines and hemlocks lay half drowned, half rotting, looking like alligators, sleeping in the mire. About the year 1727. just at the time when earthquakes were prevalent in New- 55 England, and shook many tall sinners down upon their knees, there lived near this place a meager miserly fellow of the |