“Where he is sartainly to remain, I 'd say, sir,--sartainly to remain! I 'd rayther give up the Temple, ay, and all the fixin's, than I 'd give up that man. There ain't one spot in creation he ain't fit for. Take him North, and he 'll beat all the Abolitionists ever talked; bring him down to the old South State, and hear him how he 'll make out that the Bible stands by slavery, and that Blacks are to Whites what children are to their elders,--a sort of folk to be fed, and nourished, and looked arter, and, maybe, cor-rected a little betimes. Fetch him up to Lowell, and he 'll teach the factory folk in their own mills; and as to the art of stump-raisin', rotation of crops in a new soil, fattenin' hogs, and curin' salmon, jest show me one to compare with him!” “How sad that such a man should be lost!” said Layton, half to himself. But the other overheard him, and rejoined: “It's always with some sentiment of that kind you Britishers work out something for your own benefit. You never conquer a new territory except to propagate trial by jury and habeas corpus. Now look out here, for I won't stand you 're steppin' in 'tween _me_ and old Poll.” It was not enough for Layton to protest that he harbored no such intentions. Mr. Heron's experiences of mankind had inspired very different lessons than those of trust and confidence, and he secretly determined that no opportunity should be given to carry out the treason he dreaded. “When the lecturin'-room is a-clean swept out and dusted, the table placed, and the blackboard with a piece of chalk ahind it, and the bills a-posted, setting forth what you 're a-goin' to stump out, there ain't no need for more. If _you_ 've got the stuff in you to amuse our folk, you 'll see the quarter dollars a-rollin' in, in no time! If they think, however, that you 're only come here to sell 'em grit for buckwheat, darm me considerable, but there's lads here would treat you to a cowhide!” Layton did not hear this alternative with all the conscious security of success, not to say that it was a penalty on failure far more severe and practical than any his fears had ever anticipated. Coldness he was prepared for, disapprobation he might endure, but he was not ready to be treated as a cheat and impostor because he had not satisfied the expectancies of an audience. “I half regret,” said he, “that I should not have learned something more of your public before making my appearance to them. It may not be, perhaps, too late.” “Well, I suspect it _is_ too late,” said the other, dryly. “They won't stand folks a-postin' up bills, and then sayin' 'There ain't no performance.' You 're not in the Haymarket, sir, where you can come out with a flam about sudden indisposition, and a lie signed by a 'pottecary.” “But if I leave the town?” “I wouldn't say you mightn't, if you had a balloon,” said the other, laughing; “but as to any other way, I defy you!”