done.

"Now, Dan," said Mr. Ropes, patronizingly, "I'll tell ye what you do. You jine with us, and show yourself a man of sperrit, a payin' off this yer abolitionist for his outrageous interference in our affairs."

"Sile," interrupted Dan, earnestly, "what 'ge mean I'm to do? Turn agin' him?"

"Exactly," replied Mr. Ropes.

"Sile," said Dan, excitedly, "I be durned if I do!"

"Then, I swear to gosh!" said Sile, spitting a great stream of tobacco juice across Mrs. Pepperill's not very clean floor, "you'll have a dose yourself before another sun, which like as not'll be your last!"

This terrible menace produced its desired effect; and the unwilling Dan was here, this night, one of Penn's persecutors, in consequence.

It was not enough that he had shown his "sperrit" by fetching the victim's own bed from his boarding-house, telling his landlady, the worthy Mrs. Sprowl, that Sile said she must "charge it to her abolition boarder." He must now show still more "sperrit" by bringing the tar. A well-worn broom had been borrowed of Mrs. Pepperill, by those who knew best how the tar in such cases should be applied: the handle of this was thrust by one of the men, named Griffin, through the bail of the kettle, and Dan was ordered to "ketch holt o' t'other eend," and help carry.

Dan "ketched holt" accordingly. But never was kettle so heavy as that; its miserable weight made him groan at every step. Suddenly the broom-handle slipped from his hand, and down it went. No doubt his laudable object was to spill the tar, in order to gain time for his benefactor, and perhaps postpone the tarring and feathering altogether. But Griffin grasped the kettle in time to prevent its upsetting, and the next instant flourished the club over Dan's head.

"I didn't mean tu! it slipped!" shrieked the terrified wretch. After which he durst no more attempt to thwart the chivalrous designs of his friends, but carried the tar like a gentleman.

"This way!" said Silas, getting the escaped feathers into a pile with his foot. "Thar! set it down. Now, sir," throwing away his own coat, "peel off them clo'es o' yourn, Mr. Schoolmaster, mighty quick, if you don't want 'em peeled off fur ye!"

Penn gave no sign of compliance, but fixed his eye steadfastly upon Mr. Ropes.

"I insist," said he,—for he had already made the request while the men were bringing the tar,—"on knowing what I have done to merit this treatment."

"Wal, that I don't mind tellin' ye," said Silas, "for we've all night for this yer little job before us. Dan Pepperill, stand up here!"

Dan came forward, appearing extremely low-spirited and weak in the knees.

"Is it you, Daniel, who are to bear witness against me?" said Penn, in a voice of singular gentleness, which chimed in like a sweet and solemn bell after the harsh clangor of Silas's ruffian tones.

Dan rolled up his eyes, hugged his tattered elbows, and gave a dismal groan.

"Come!" said Silas, bestowing a slap on his back which nearly knocked him down, "straighten them knees o' yourn, and be a man. Yes, Mr. Schoolmaster, Dan is a-going to bear witness agin' you. He has turned from the error of his ways, and now his noble southern heart is a-burnin' to take vengeance on all the enemies of his beloved country. Ain't it, Dan?—say yes," he hissed in his ear, giving him a second slap, "or else—you know!"

"O Lord, yes!" ejaculated Dan, with a start of terror. "What Mr. Ropes says is perfectly—perfectly—jes' so!"

"Your heart is a-burnin', ain't it?" said Silas.

"Ye—yes! I be durned if it ain't!" said Dan.

"This man," continued Ropes, who prided himself on being a great orator, with power to "fire the southern heart," and never neglected an occasion to show himself off in that capacity,—"this individgle ye see afore ye, gentlemen,"—once more hitting Dan, this time with the toe of his boot, gently, to indicate the subject of his remarks,—"was lately as low-minded a peep as ever you see. He had no more conscience than to 'sociate with niggers, and sell 'em liquor, and even give 'em liquor when they couldn't pay fur't; and you all know how he degraded himself by takin' Combs's Pete into his house and doin' for him arter he'd been very properly licked by the patrol. All which, I am happy to say, the deluded man sincerely repents of, and promises to behave more like a gentleman in futur'. Don't you, Dan?"

As Dan, attempting to speak, only gasped, Ropes administered a sharp poke in his ribs, whispering fiercely,—

"Say you do, mighty quick, or I'll——!"

"O! I repents! I—I be durned if I don't!" said Dan.

"And now, as to you!" Silas turned on the schoolmaster. "Your offence in gineral is bein' a northern abolitionist. Besides which, your offences in partic'ler is these. Not contented with teachin' the Academy, which was well enough, since it is necessary that a few should have larnin', so the may know how to govern the rest,—not contented with that, you must run the thing into the ground, by settin' up a evenin' school, and offerin' to larn readin', writin', and 'rithmetic, free gratis, to whosomever wanted to 'tend. Which is contrary to the sperrit of our institootions, as you have been warned more 'n oncet. That's charge Number Two. Charge Number Three is, that you stand up for the old rotten Union, and tell folks, every chance you git, that secession, that noble right of southerners, is a villanous scheme, that'll ruin the south, if persisted in, and plunge the whole nation into war. Your very words, I believe. Can you deny it?"

"Certainly, I have said something very much like that, and it is my honest conviction," replied Penn, firmly.

"Gentlemen, take notice!" said Mr. Ropes. "We will now pass on to charge Number Four, and be brief, for the tar is a-coolin'. Suthin' like eight days ago, when the afore-mentioned Dan Pepperill was in the waller of his degradation, some noble-souled sons of the sunny south"—the orator smiled with pleasant significance—"lifted him up, and hung him up to air, in the crotches of two trees, jest by the edge of the woods here, and went home to supper, intending to come back and finish the purifying process begun with him later in the evenin'. But what did you do, Mr. Schoolmaster, but come along and take him down, prematoorely, and go to corruptin' him agin with your vile northern principles! Didn't he, Dan?"

"I—I dun know" faltered Dan.

"Yes, you do know, too! Didn't he corrupt you?"

These words being accompanied by a severe hint from Sile's boot, Mr. Pepperill remembered that Penn did corrupt him.

"And if I hadn't took ye in season, you'd have returned to your base-born mire, wouldn't you?"

"I suppose I would," the miserable Dan admitted.

"Wal! now!"—Sile spread his palm over the tar to see if it retained its temperature,—"hurry up, Dan, and tell us all this northern agitator said to you that night."

"O Lord!" groaned Pepperill, "my memory is so short!"

"Bring that rope, boys! and give him suthin' to stretch it!" said Silas, growing impatient.

Dan, knowing that stretching his memory in the manner threatened, implied that his neck was to be stretched along with it, made haste to remember.

"My friends," said Penn, interrupting the poor man's forced and disconnected testimony, "let me spare him the pain of bearing witness against me. I recall perfectly well every thing I said to him that night. I said it was a shame that such outrages as had been committed on him should be tolerated in a civilized society. I told him it was partly his own fault that such a state of things existed. I said, 'It is owing to the ignorance and degradation of you poor whites that a barbarous system is allowed to flourish and tyrannize over you.' I said——"

But here Penn was interrupted by a violent outcry, the majority of the persons present coming under the head of "poor whites."

"Let him go on! let him perceed!" said Silas. "What did you mean by 'barbarous