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HUSH! CAUTION NOW.
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does it please you to listen to such villainy as this? I do not understand you."

"Not so loud, comrade; you have a neck, and these fellows a rope; besides, there's one to the left of us whose looks I like not."

The other turned in the direction signified, and saw the propriety of his companion's caution, as he beheld within a few feet the harsh features of the notorious Captain Huck, a furious and bloody tory-leader, well-known, and held in odious estimation, throughout the neighborhood. The stranger went on, still whispering:—

"Look pleased, friend Davis, if you can; this is no time to show any but false colours to the enemy. I am pleased, really, as you think, and have my reason for being so, which you shall know in good time. Take breath, and listen."

The paper was finished, and the detachment moved on its way to the "Royal George Tavern," the crowd generally following; and there it was again read. Our two friends kept together, and proceeded with the multitude. The stranger was eminently watchful and observant; he noted well the sentiment of indignation which all faces manifested; there could be no doubt of that expression. The sober farmer, the thoughtless and gay-hearted planter of the neighbourhood, the drudge, the mechanic, the petty chapman—all had in their looks that severe soberness which showed a thought and spirit, active, and more to be respected, as they were kept so well restrained.

"God save the king!" cried the officer, as he concluded the instrument, from the steps of the tavern.

"Ay, God save the king, and God bless him, too!" echoed old Humphries, at the entrance. A few only of the crowd gave back the cry, and even with them the prayer was coldly uttered; and there was nothing like that spirit which, when the heart goes with the decree of the ruler, makes the welkin ring with its unregulated rejoicings.

"You are silent; you do not cry with the rest," said one at the elbow of the stranger. He turned to behold the features of the tory captain, of whom we have already spoken, who now, with a scrutinizing glance, placed himself close beside the person he had addressed. The mean cunning—the low, searching expression of