His manner was that of a man discontented with the world, which, he said, needed a great deal of reforming; indeed, that it could be reformed, ought to be reformed, and that he was the man to do it.

He had been the founder of Dogtown, Massachusetts, where he had built up a very select community of keen-witted men and women--just to set an example to the world of how people ought to live.

Dolly Chapman, his wife, (for what would a reformer be without a wife,) was a ponderous woman, weighing more than two hundred pounds, and a proof that even in matrimony the opposites meet.

She was a fussy, ill-bred woman, spoke with a strong nasal twang, and a sincere believer in all the reforms advocated by her husband, though she differed with him on one or two points of religion.

And there was Mattie Chapman, a bright, bouncing girl of fifteen, with rosy cheeks and fair hair, ambitious for one of her age, and evidently inclined to make a show in the world.