A Captain Alden lived in it now, who was himself quite a character. He had been in the British navy, with Admiral Nelson's command. When his time in the service ended, he had shipped with what he understood was a merchant vessel, but on learning it was a slaver, bound for Africa to gather up a human cargo, he sprang overboard, when he saw a vessel passing that halted for his signal. Several shots were fired at him, which he escaped. Later on, he was impressed in the naval service again, but at the first opportunity came to America. A hale, hearty old man, rather short in stature, but lithe and active, and with a merry look on his weather-beaten face, he was still proud of his schooner that lay at Stone Dock, at the launching of which, in the early part of the century, the Jersey Blues had turned out, and Major Stevens had christened it the "Northern Liberties." It had been all built of Essex County lumber, and constructed on the Passaic. But the river had been quite a famous stream in those days. There were no factories using up its volume of water. They sat on the stone coping and listened to the Captain's stories, indeed, could have spent all the afternoon, so entertaining did he prove. Then he took them through the old house with its ample hall and spacious rooms on one side. They concluded it must have been able to stand quite a siege, judging from its present solidity. And Mrs. Alden treated them to a pitcher of freshly churned buttermilk, and a slice of excellent rye bread, which they found delightful. "I shall have to come over again, and get some material for a story," declared Delia, when they were fairly started, tearing themselves away with quite a struggle. "That experience on the 'Slaver' was very graphic." "If you want to hear something that will make your hair stand on end," said Doctor Joe, "come up and talk to father. When I was a little lad, we had a farm-hand working for us who had gone through with it all, been to Africa for a cargo, and come to the States with what was left of it. He never spoke of it when sober; and though he was in the main steady, once in a while he drank enough to start him going, and he always rehearsed this horrible experience. I remember father used to lock him in the barn to sober up; because he did not want us children to hear the terrible story." "Were the slaves brought that way?" asked Hanny, with a shudder. "Most every civilised country condemns that part of the awful practice," answered Ben. "But it is a fact that the native tribes in Africa sell prisoners to one another, or whoever will buy them. Do you suppose Africa will ever be explored?" and Ben looked up at Mr. Whitney.