of Henry Grantham. When he observed the attention of that
officer had, in common with that of his companions, been
arrested, he proceeded at the full extent of his lungs.

"I reckon, young man, as how I shall pay you out for
this, and drot my skin, if I once twists my fingers round
your neck again, if any thing on this side hell shall
make me quit it, afore you squeaks your last squeak.
You've druv me from my home, and I'll have your curst
blood for it yet. I'll sarve you, as I sarved your old
father--You got my small bore, I expect, and if its any
good to you to know that one of its nineties to the pound,
sent the old rascal to the devil--why then you have it
from Jeremiah Desborough's own lips, and be d----d to
you."

And, with this horrible admission, the settler again
seated himself in the stem of his canoe, and making good
use of his paddle soon scudded away until his little
vessel appeared but as a speck on the lake.

Henry Grantham was petrified with astonishment and dismay
at a declaration, the full elucidation of which we must,
reserve for a future opportunity. The daring confession
rang in his ears long after the voice had ceased, and it
was not until a light vehicle had been brought for
Middlemore from Sampson's farm, that he could be induced
to quit the shore, where he still lingered, as if in
expectation of the return of the avowed MURDERER OF HIS
FATHER.