“Ef I were ten year younger, I'd go in a minute,” said Israel Goodrich, “but my jints is kinder stiff. Abner, thar, he'd orter go, by rights.” “Why don' ye go, Abner? Ye ain't scairt o' speakin tew Squire, be ye!” said Peleg. “I ain't scairt o' no man, and ye know it's well's ye wanter know. I'd go in a jiffey, only bein a young man, I don' like tew put myself forrard tew speak for them as is older.” “Why don' ye go yerself, Peleg, if ye be so dretful brave!” inquired Israel Goodrich. “That's so, Peleg, why don' ye go?” “I ain't no talker,” said Peleg. “Ther's Ezry, he'd orter go, he's sech a good talker.” But Ezra swallowed the bait without taking the hook. “Tain't talkin ez is wanted, it's assin. Any on ye kin dew that's well's I,” he discriminated. The spirit of mutual deference was so strong that it is doubtful how long the contest of modesty might have continued, had not Laban Jones suddenly said: “Ef none on ye dasn't ass what the convenshin has did, I'll ass myself. I'm more scairt o' my hungry babbies an I be o' the face o' any man.” Raising his stalwart figure to its full height, and squaring his shoulders as if to draw courage from a consciousness of his thews and sinews, Laban strode toward the store. But though he took the first steps strongly and firmly, his pace grew feebler and more hesitating as he neared the group of gentlemen, and his courage might have ebbed entirely, had not the parson, glancing around and catching his eye, given him a friendly nod. Laban thereupon came up to within a rod or two of the group, and taking off his cap, said in a small voice: “Please we'd like ter know what the convenshin has did?” Sedgwick, who had his back to him, turned quickly, and seeing Laban, said in a preëmptory tone: “Ah! Laban, you may tell your friends that the convention very wisely did nothing at all,” and as he said this he turned to finish something that he was saying to Squire Woodbridge. Laban's jaw fell, and he continued to stand stock still for several moments, his dull features working as he tried to take in the idea. Finally, his consternation absorbing his timidity he said feebly: “Nothin? Did you say, Squire?” Sedgwick wheeled about with a frown, which however, changed into an expression of contemptuous pity as he saw the genuineness of the poor fellow's discomfiture. “Nothing, Laban,” he said, “except to resolve to support the courts, enforce the laws, and punish all disorderly persons. Don't forget that last, Laban, to punish all disorderly persons. Be sure to tell your friends that. And tell them, too, Laban, that it would be well for them to leave matters of government to their betters and attend to their farms,” and as Laban turned mechanically and walked back Sedgwick added, speaking to the gentlemen about him: