“It aint that, Marse Major,” and Jim gave to his words a melancholy whine, “but we-all can't stand d'pace yere. For a week Jim was as happy an' chirpy as a drunkard at a barbecue. But since you locks that closet do', Jim's sort o' been obleeged to buy whiskey for himse'f; an' what you think? They charge Jim five cents a drink for whiskey that don't cost two bits a gallon all along d'Cumberland! They's shorely robbers; an' they jes' nacherally takes Jim's money off him so fas' he cotch cold.” “Go on, you rogue!” said I. “Here is a Mexican dollar to bolster your finances. We're not yet bankrupt, Jim.” Noah came to us spattered of travel, and with the high riding-boots he wore on the road. I took a deal of pleasure for a buoyancy I observed in him, since I read it as a sign of whitest promise. Nor was I to be cast down from that hope. “You are to know,” said Noah, turning to the General, “that I was two days before your letter with the Reverend Ely. In the first of our conversations he held his head loftily; in the end, he came something under control. Your letter much dismayed him, and after that his courage ran very thin indeed. Now he quite agrees he knew nothing, and was wrong and false in all he wrote. I dragged him to New York with me. I have Mrs. Eaton's innocence here, in these papers.” Noah laid a sealed package by the General's elbow. They were from the Reverend Ely, as well as from the folk of the hotel wherein that Ely said Peg lodged. “They are oath-made; they prove Mrs. Eaton chaste as snow.” “And how did you make conquest of this Ely?” questioned the General, his eye gratified and spirit a mate for Noah's. “The power of the press, I should call it,” laughed Noah. “The ignoble Ely hath a mighty distaste of unfriendly ink. And I'm an editor. That was it,” went on Noah; “I showed him what might be done. He should stand in the pillory of my types for the reasonless defamer he was. Then the dog trembled and came my way with meekness, asking what he should do. I answered much like the monks with the wild Clovis, 'Bend thy neck, proud Sicambrian; adore what thou hast burned, burn what thou hast adored!' In short, I demanded a letter of retractory amends to the President; and also that he name his fellow reptile, whose infamous word he claimed for the truth of his scurrility.” “And who is he?” demanded the General, as warm as ever I saw him. By some virtue of telepathic sort, I read the answer before Noah uttered it. And why had I not guessed before! The secret one so falsely in the ear of the shallow Ely was none other than the unctious Reverend Campbell. CHAPTER VIII--THE MAD CAPRICIOUS PEG