CHAPTER NINETEEN.
BROTHER SOLOMON.
The new-comer went slowly up the ladder, looked at my work, and then took out a small knife with a flat ivory handle, came down again, stropped the knife on his boot, went up, and pared my stump just round the edge, taking off a very thin smooth piece of bark.
"Good!" he said as he wiped his knife, came down, and put the knife away; "but your knife wanted a touch on a bit o' Turkey-stone.

How are you, Ezra ?" Old Brownsmith set down some cats gently, got up off the bushel basket slowly, and shook hands.
"Fairly, Solomon, fairly; and how are you ?" "Tidy," said the visitor, "tidy;" and he stared very hard at me.

"This is him, is it ?" "Yes, this is he, Solomon.

Grant, my lad, this is my brother Solomon." I bowed after the old fashion taught at home.
"Shake hands.

How are you ?" said Mr Solomon; and I shook hands with him and said I was quite well, I thanked him; and he said, "Hah!" "He has just come up from Hampton, Grant--from Sir Francis Linton's.
He's going to take you back." "Take me back, sir!" I said wonderingly.