measures against the accused. To such councils, Sir William, bred in
the forest and on the ocean, and tinctured with the superstition of
both, is well inclined to listen.

As the dignitaries of Church and State make their way beneath the
overhanging houses, the lattices are thrust ajar, and you may discern,
just in the boundaries of light and shade, the prim faces of the little
Puritan damsels, eying the magnificent governor, and envious of the
bolder curiosity of the men. Another object of almost equal interest
now appears in the middle of the way. It is a man clad in a hunting-
shirt and Indian stockings, and armed with a long gun. His feet have
been wet with the waters of many an inland lake and stream; and the
leaves and twigs of the tangled wilderness are intertwined with his
garments: on his head he wears a trophy which we would not venture to
record without good evidence of the fact,--a wig made of the long and
straight black hair of his slain savage enemies. This grim old heathen
stands bewildered in the midst of King Street. The governor regards him
attentively, and, recognizing a playmate of his youth, accosts him with
a gracious smile, inquires as to the prosperity of their birthplace, and
the life or death of their ancient neighbors, and makes appropriate
remarks on the different stations allotted by fortune to two individuals
born and bred beside the same wild river. Finally he puts into his
hand, at parting, a shilling of the Massachusetts coinage, stamped with
the figure of a stubbed pine-tree, mistaken by King Charles for the
oak which saved his royal life. Then all the people praise the humility
and bountifulness of the good governor, who struts onward flourishing
his gold-headed cane; while the gentleman in the straight black wig is
left with a pretty accurate idea of the distance between himself and his
old companion. Meantime, Sir William steers his course towards the town
dock. A gallant figure is seen approaching on the opposite side of the