one more question to ask respecting the man Crabbe, continued in the
following manner, while Giles Sheridan remained doggedly silent.
"Now, look a here! if your Mr. Crabbe had a bin a farmer who had
grown a nice field of wheat, which his neighbor's horse, being
breachy, had got into, wanting to get the best of that neighbor,
would he have killed the horse, or would he have gone to that
neighbor and said, 'Neighbor, thy horse is in my wheat, pray come
and take him out, that I may not bear thee malice?'" This question,
and the quaint manner in which it was put, so conciliated the little
deformed man that he could not resist a smile. "I have you there!"
exclaimed the nonresistant with a toss of his head.

"It occurs to me that Crabbe never had a farm, hence it would not
become me to speak for him. For myself, I had driven the horse out
with my dog," replied the other.

"There you are wrong," retorted the nonresistant, "for the dog would
have destroyed the wheat, and so carried the devil to the heart of
the farmer, that he had gone to law, if, indeed, he had not killed
the horse, and by so doing lost all power over his adversary.
Whereas, if he had spoken gently of the conduct of the horse, the
owner would have been sorely grieved, and set about making good the
damage, according to the promptings of his own heart."

The landlord hearing the nonresistant's voice, entered the room and
ordered him to begone about his business, and seek some better
employment than that of hectoring every traveler who chanced to put
up at his inn. But the nonresistant replied that he was not to be
insulted by a landlord who professed to keep a temperance house, and
sold liquid death daily on the sly; nor would he leave the inn, in