By this time the gentleman in the front seat, who had been addressed
as Monsieur Le Quoi, had arisen with some difficulty, owing to the
impediment of his overcoats, and steadying himself by placing one hand
on the stool of the charioteer, with the other he removed his cap, and
bowing politely to the Judge and profoundly to Elizabeth, he paid his
compliments.

“Cover thy poll, Gaul, cover thy poll,” cried the driver, who was Mr.
Richard Jones; “cover thy poll, or the frost will pluck out the
remnant of thy locks. Had the hairs on the head of Absalom been as
scarce as thine, he might have been living to this day.” The jokes of
Richard never failed of exciting risibility, for he uniformly did
honor to his own wit; and he enjoyed a hearty laugh on the present
occasion, while Mr. Le Quoi resumed his seat with a polite
reciprocation in his mirth. The clergyman, for such was the office of
Mr. Grant, modestly, though quite affectionately, exchanged his
greetings with the travellers also, when Richard prepared to turn the
heads of his horses homeward.

It was in the quarry alone that he could effect this object, without
ascending to the summit of the mountain. A very considerable
excavation had been made in the side of the hill, at the point where
Richard had succeeded in stopping the sleighs, from which the stones
used for building in the village were ordinarily quarried, and in
which he now attempted to turn his team. Passing itself was a task of
difficulty, and frequently of danger, in that narrow road; but Richard
had to meet the additional risk of turning his four-in-hand. The
black civilly volunteered his services to take off the leaders, and
the Judge very earnestly seconded the measure with his advice.