Our sweet Chaucer telleth of a mirror in the which he that looked did see all his past life; that magical mirror is no fable, for in the memory of love, old things do return and show themselves as features do in the glass, with a perfect and most beguiling likeness.
Last night, Deacon Dole's Indian--One-eyed Tom, a surly fellow--broke into his master's shop, where he made himself drunk with rum, and, coming to the house, did greatly fright the womenfolk by his threatening words and gestures.

Now, the Deacon coming home late from the church- meeting, and seeing him in this way, wherreted him smartly with his cane, whereupon he ran off, and came up the road howling and yelling like an evil spirit.

Uncle Rawson sent his Irish man-servant to see what caused the ado; but he straightway came running back, screaming "Murther! murther!" at the top of his voice.

So uncle himself went to the gate, and presently called for a light, which Rebecca and I came with, inasmuch as the Irishman and Effie dared not go out.

We found Tom sitting on the horse-block, the blood running down his face, and much bruised and swollen.