In the midst of the discussion old Sylvester suddenly awakening, and rearing his white locks aloft, in the voice of a trumpet of silver sound, cried out:--"If they be human, let 'em in!" As he delivered this emphatic order there was a deep moan at the door, as of one in great pain, or suffering keenly from anguish of spirit, and when it was opened to admit the new-comers, the voice of Chanticleer, raised for the second time, broke in, clear and shrilly, from the outer darkness. CHAPTER NINTH. THE NEW-COMERS. It was old Sylvester himself who opened the door and admitted the strangers; one of them, the younger, wore a slouched hat which did not allow his features to be distinctly observed, further than that his eyes were bright with a strange lustre, and that his face was deadly pale. He was partly supported by the elder man, whose person was clad in a long coat, reaching nearly to the ground. They were invited to the table, but refusing, asked permission to sit at the fire, which being granted, they took their station on either side of the hearth; the younger staggered feebly to his seat, and kept his gaze closely fixed on the other. "He had better take something," said old Sylvester, looking toward the young man and addressing the other. "Is your young friend ill?" "With an ailment food cannot relieve, I fear," the elder man answered. "Will you not remove your hats?" old Sylvester asked again. Turning slowly at this question, the young man answered, "We may not prove fit company for such as you, and if so the event shall prove, we will pass on and trouble you no further. If every thread were dry as summer flax," he added, in a tone of deep feeling, "I for one, am not fit to sit among honest people." "You should not say so, my son," said old Sylvester; "let us hope that all men may on a day like this sit together; that, remembering God's many mercies to us all, in the preservation of our lives, in his blessed change of seasons, in hours of holy meditation allowed to us, every man in very gratitude to the Giver of all Good, for this one day in the year at least, may suspend all evil thoughts and be at peace with all his fellow-creatures." The young man turned toward the company at the table, but not so far that his whole face could be seen. "Have all who sit about you at that table," he asked, glancing slowly around, "performed the duty to which you refer, and purged their bosoms of unkindness toward their fellow-men? Is there none who grasps the widow's substance? who cherishes scorn and hatred of kindred? Who judges harshly of the absent?" There was a movement in different members of the company, but old Sylvester hushed them with a look, and took upon himself the business of reply. "It may be," said old Sylvester, "that some of us are disquieted, for be it known to you that one of the children of this household is absent from among us for causes which may well disturb our thoughts."