"I wish it was here. We need men like you. What part of the East do you
hail from?"

"Vermont," Samson answered. "I've just bought land and built a cabin a
little west of the village. Came here for a load of furniture."

"I'm a Maine man and a Whig and opposed to slavery and my name is Erastus
Wright," said the constable.

"I am a Whig and against slavery," Samson volunteered.

"I could tell that by the look of you," said the constable. "Some day we
must sit down together and talk things over."

Samson wrote in his diary:

* * * * *

"On the way home my heart was sore. I prayed in silence that God would
forgive me for my bad example to the boy. I promised that I would not
again misuse the strength He has given me. In my old home I would have
been disgraced by it. The minister would have preached of the destruction
that follows the violent man to put him down; the people would have
looked askance at me. Deacon Somers would have called me aside to look
into my soul, and Judge Grandy and his wife would not have invited me to
their parties. Here it's different. A chap who can take the law in his
hands and bring the evil man to his senses, even if he has to hit him
over the head, is looked up to. That day a number of men and boys
increased my shame by following us to the wagon and wanting to shake
hands and feel of my muscles and paining my soul with praise. It's a