of another?--the children of the stranger making game of the great Squaw
Sachem's grandson!

But the whole race of red men have not vanished with that wild princess
and her posterity. This march of soldiers along the street betokens the
breaking out of King Philip's war; and these young men, the flower of
Essex, are on their way to defend the villages on the Connecticut; where,
at Bloody Brook, a terrible blow shall be smitten, and hardly one of that
gallant band be left alive. And there, at that stately mansion, with its
three peaks in front, and its two little peaked towers, one on either
side of the door, we see brave Captain Gardner issuing forth, clad in his
embroidered buff-coat, and his plumed cap upon his head. His trusty
sword, in its steel scabbard, strikes clanking on the doorstep. See how
the people throng to their doors and windows, as the cavalier rides past,
reining his mettled steed so gallantly, and looking so like the very soul
and emblem of martial achievement,--destined, too, to meet a warrior's
fate, at the desperate assault on the fortress of the Narragansetts!

"The mettled steed looks like a pig," interrupts the critic, "and Captain
Gardner himself like the Devil, though a very tame one, and
on a most diminutive scale."

"Sir, sir!" cries the persecuted showman, losing all patience,--for,
indeed, he had particularly prided himself on these figures of Captain
Gardner and his horse,--"I see that there is no hope of pleasing you.
Pray, sir, do me the favor to take back your money, and withdraw!"

"Not I!" answers the unconscionable critic. "I am just beginning to get
interested in the matter. Come! turn your crank, and grind out a few
more of these fooleries!"