the broad disc of his pantaloons, and so rent them that he swore
none but his wife, Polly Potter, had ever seen him in such a plight.
Nevertheless, he placed the pig safely upon his wagon, and having
mended the breach in his dignity with a few pins, proceeded on his
journey, in what he considered a good condition. "To be torn to
pieces by a blasted dog! He didn't know me, though, poor brute,"
muttered the major, rubbing the injured parts with his left hand,
and tossing his head in caution of what might be expected another
time.






CHAPTER XII.

WHICH TREATS OF HOW MAJOR POTTER ARRIVED IN BARNSTABLE, AND SUNDRY
OTHER QUEER THINGS, WITHOUT WHICH THIS HISTORY WOULD NOT BE PERFECT.





IT was quite dark when we entered the town of Barnstable, making as
much noise as if the devil had broken loose and come to carry off
the inhabitants, who were a timid people, but sharp enough to cut
the best side of a trade. The bright blue waters skirting the town
seemed reflecting ten thousand curious shadows, while several tall
steeples of churches, (showing that the people had theology without