On its receipt, Mr. Bishop took the necessary precautions to execute the contents of the letter, and on the third night proceeded to carry them out, being not unaware of the fact that he was closely watched. IX. Two men were standing in their respective doorways in the village of Andover, Ohio, on a November afternoon. The one was a broad-shouldered, full-chested man, with a flowing beard, a merry twinkle in the eye, a kind of devil-may-care negligence in his appearance, with a physique that betokened great power and endurance. This man had long been known technically as “Thribble X” of station “1001,” at Gustavus, Ohio, from which place he had migrated to Andover to proclaim the principles of the Universalist faith, and was known among his people as Elder Shipman, or more familiarly, “Uncle Charley.” The other gentleman was of slimmer build, sandy complexion, thoughtful mien, and the very manner in which he handled his pipe would guarantee that he was of “Hinglish stock.” As they thus stood, a buggy came driving from the east at break-neck speed, and dashing up to the parsonage the driver exclaimed, “Elder, can you do anything for this duck, for they’re after us hotter’n h—ll.” “Don’t you know there is no such place as that, Mose?” was the calm reply. “Well, well, I’ve no time to discuss theological matters now; all I know is if there is no such place, there ought to be a new creation at once for the sake of two fellows that must already be this side of the Shenango.” “So near as that? Set him out.” Immediately the colored man was bidden to alight, and whilst he and the elder struck out for the woods a short distance to the southwest, the buggy was turned and driven rapidly toward Richmond. Scarcely was it out of sight, when two horsemen came galloping into town, and riding up to our English friend, who had been an interested spectator of the little scene just described and was wont to express his satisfaction of English laws by quoting, “Slaves cannot breathe in Highland; if their lungs Received ’er hair, that moment they are free;” and inquired, “Stranger, did you see a buggy drive into town from the east a short time ago with two men in it?” “Hi ’ave, gentlemen.” “Was one of them black?” “’E was, gentlemen.” “Should you think the other was the man they call Mose Bishop?” “Hi should, gentlemen.” “Which way did he drive?” “To the north, gentlemen.” “Thank you, sir, and good day.” “Good day, gentlemen.” Clapping spurs to their horses, the riders were away with a bound, under the inspiration of the first genuine cry of “On to Richmond.”