region, for the wild man to revenge his own wrong, and the strong
man to commit a greater with impunity. The repose of social order
was not yet secured to the great mass, covering with its wing,
as with a sky that never knew a cloud, the sweet homes and secure
possessions of the unwarlike. The fierce robber sometimes smote
the peaceful traveler upon the highway, and the wily assassin of
reputation, within the limits of the city barrier, not unfrequently
plucked the sweetest rose that ever adorned the virgin bosom
of innocence, and triumphed, without censure, in the unhallowed
spoliation.

But sometimes there came an avenger;--and the highway robber fell
before the unexpected patriot; and the virgin was avenged by the
yet beardless hero, for the wrong of her cruel seducer. The story
which we have to tell, is of times and of actions such as these.
It is a melancholy narrative--the more melancholy as it is most
certainly true. It will not be told in vain, if the crime which
it describes in proper colors, and the vengeance by which it was
followed, and which it equally records, shall secure the innocent
from harm, and discourage the incipient wrongdoer from his base
designs.






CHAPTER II.

THE TRAVELLERS.