The excitement increased. Cool-headed men--men who rarely or never drank, yet disapproved of binding pledges--gave in their names almost before they knew it. Elder Hobbedowker moved a temporary suspension of the circulation of the pledges until the Lord could be devoutly thanked for this manifestation of his grace; then the good elder assumed that his motion had been put and carried, and he immediately made an earnest prayer. During the progress of the prayer the leader of the band--perhaps irreverently, but acting under the general excitement--brought his men to attention, and the elder’s “Amen” was drowned in the opening crash of a triumphal march. Then the Glee Club sang “Down with Rum,” but were brought to a sudden stop by the chairman, who excused himself by making the important announcement that their fellow-citizen, Mr. Crupp, who had been a large vender of intoxicating beverages, had declared his intention to abandon the business forever. The four pastors shook hands enthusiastically with each other; while, in response to deafening cheers, the heroic Crupp himself was thrust upon the platform, where, with a trembling voice and a pale though determined face, he reaffirmed his decision. Old Parson Fish hobbled to the front of the pulpit, straightened his bent back until his mien had at once some of the lamb and the lion about it, and, raising his right hand authoritatively, started the doxology, “Praise God from whom all blessings flow,” in which he was devoutly and uproariously joined by the whole assemblage. This done, the people, by force of habit, waited a moment as if expecting the benediction; then remembering it was not Sunday, they broke into a general and very enthusiastic chat, which ceased only when the sexton, who was a creature of regular habits, announced from the pulpit that the oil in the lamps would last only a few minutes longer, and that _he_ had promised to be at home by ten o’clock. Squire Tomple took the arm of the penitent Crupp and appropriated him in full. There was a great deal to Squire Tomple besides avoirdupois, and when thoroughly aroused, his enthusiasm was of a magnitude consistent with his size. Besides, Squire Tomple was in the habit of having his own way, as became the richest man in Barton, and he appropriated Mr. Crupp as a matter of course. With Mr. Crupp on his arm and the great cause in his heart, he appeared to himself so fully the master of the situation that the foul fiend of drunkenness seemed conquered forever, and the Squire swung his cane with a triumphal violence which seriously threatened the safety of the villagers in front of and behind him. The Squire held his peace while surrounded by the home-going crowd, as rightly became a great man; but when he had turned into the street in which Mr. Crupp lived, he said, with due condescension, “Crupp, you’ve done the right thing; you _might_ have done it sooner, but you can do a great deal of good yet.” The ex-rumseller quietly replied,