“Let me feel of you,” he said, as he took my hand. “Now don't be scairt an' jump out o' the window. Just agree to stay with me for a minute. I'll agree not to kill you. I--I couldn't get even with you in that way.” “What's the matter?” I asked. “First, le' 's have the minutes of the previous meetin',” said Mr. Pearl. It must be remembered that H. M. Pearl, Esq., had lived through years of oratory and public assemblage, and that his thoughts ran more or less in their cant. “The meeting will now come to order, and Mr. Barker will take the floor,” said the Pearl of great price. The dog came and stood on his hind feet, facing his master. “You will recall,” said Mr. Pearl, addressing the animal, “that I once spoke to you on the subject of bad company. Is the same true to-day or not?” The dog gave a loud bark. “It is true,” said Mr. Pearl; “of course it is true! Therefore, Mr. Barker, please bear in mind that there is nothing that makes so much trouble as bad company. It will bring your black hairs in sorrow to the grave.” The dog was excused, and the Pearl turned to me and said: “You went into the barn at Baker's, an' I'll swear ye didn't come out of it.” It was he, then, who had followed me. My heart began to warm with delight, and that singular masquerade of mine came back to me, and I went through it all for them. So great was the amusement of Mr. Pearl that he flirted his feet in the air and laughed, while Mr. McCarthy whacked his wooden leg with the stove poker, and shook his head, and gave an odd cackle. Alas! I cannot tell it now as I did then, for those days I had the heart of youth in me and a voice for joy. “I've chased you for three weeks,” said the Pearl. “You're like a flea on the body o' the United States. I had a talk with a friend o' your mother, an' set out to bring you back. Made a birch-bark canoe, an' run her down to the St. Lawrence an' up to the end o' the lake. Heard from your mother at Sackett's; she said you were at Baker's and would meet Mr. McCarthy here. You jumped from Baker's to somewhere, an' then to the Falls, an' then here, an' I've been a jump behind you all the way.” I rose, dumb with surprise, and Mr. Pearl continued: “I got back to Mill Pond a day or two after you an' Bony lit out. A good deal was bein' said, an' I had to lick a man for sayin' a part of it, which the said language wasn't calculated to improve your reputation. Oh, I tell ye, things have warmed up an' transpired since you went away! I says to 'em that you wasn't any Dan'l Webster, an' that Bony had drawed you into his game. I know you didn't have no more idea o' wrong-doin' than a pickerel has of a vest-pocket. One day I promised to go down to the big river an' see if I could pick ye up. So here I am, an' the next thing in the order of exercises will be new business. We've got to convey ourselves out o' here immediately, if not sooner.” “I am ready,” I said, rising and putting on my hat.