enemy had taken up his position. The rifle
still pointed towards the inoffensive stranger,
and was held by a gentleman with a remarkably
long nose and small eyes, and a thin,
lanky figure enveloped in a suit of loose,
flowing nankeen, and surmounted by a
sombrero of enormous breadth. At his belt,
also, he wore a brace of double-barrelled
pistols, and a couple of thick-handled daggers;
for he was a justice of the peace, and had
formerly been employed as a missionary
among the native tribes.

"I'll larn yer to dismolish my household
furniture, you Hivite and Perizzite," he said.
"Do you think Hiramopolis is a captured
city, that you kick about my tables and
chairs in that ere owdacious manner?"

The major knew very little English; in
fact, his knowledge of that language was
limited to the short prayer or adjuration
with which our countrymen, from an excess
of religious enthusiasm, are in the habit of
interlarding even their secular conversation.
He therefore gave utterance to it as a sort of
Shibboleth, which was to show he was no
hostile intruder into the land. But Hiram
Blotts, for such was the name of the worthy
magistrate, was not entirely satisfied by the
address, but continued his objurgation—

"You swearing Canaanite, I've a good
mind to fine yer a dollar for that 'ere oath
launched at an officer of the States in the
execution of his duty. Why did yer sit down
on my 'hogany table, you insolent French
Jebusite with the dirty beard? Get out of
Hiramopolis, or I'll send you to jail for three
months as a rogue and vagabond."

And as he spoke, he pointed in a threatening
manner to a little rise of the ground about
a hundred yards to his left, as if to call the
major's attention to the city prison, which
figured in that position on the plan of the
future town. There was something in the
tone of Hiram's voice which jarred on the
Frenchman's feelings, and he was on the eve
of taking his chance of the marksmanship of
his opponent, and coming to close quarters,
when a person who had hitherto been lying
in the reeds at Hiram's feet, to all appearance
sound asleep, lifted his head and asked, in
a tone of surprise, what the quarrel was
about.

"Drop it, Abinoam," said Mr. Blotts, "and
let me settle the besieger. He's been and
took possession of all my moveables—sofas,
chairs, and tables, as if he had bought 'em
out of a 'polsterer's shop."

Abinoam, in a sort of French unknown
either at Paris or Stratford-le-Bow, explained
the cause of his friend's indignation; and the
major was surprised to learn that in sitting
down on the fallen tree, he was supposed to
have attempted to infeft himself in all the
articles which the proprietor had intended to
manufacture out of it. With an eye of prevision
that saw many weeks into futurity,
Hiram beheld on his lot—which he had
modestly named Hiramopolis—all the glories
yet to be:—the town-hall, the gaol, the
market, and a rich and flourishing population
owning him as their founder and exemplar.
Mahogany tables, rosewood chairs, and oak-posted
beds were all present to Hiram's
inspired glance in the trunk and branches of
the gigantic elm tree on which the major had
taken a short repose.

But the sound of his own language,
even in the perverted pronunciation of
Abinoam, repaid him for all his fatigue and
danger.

"Where did you learn French?" he
inquired. "Is there any one near here who
understands it?"

Abinoam nodded his head; and pointed
down the river.

"I've helped the Pasher of Egypt with his
crop of maize, and larned his lingo by hearing
of him talk."

The major was greatly disappointed. He
thought Abinoam was trying his tricks upon
travellers by referring him to the Pacha of
Egypt, and looked for information to the
justice of the peace, who still played doubtfully
with the cock of his rifle.

"We calls his location Egypt 'cause of the
flesh-pots; and he's such a tarnation grand
old file, we always names him the Pasher."

"But he's a Frenchman for all that, and the
kindest and justest old gentleman as ever I
see," added Abinoam.

"Then at last I have found a friend!"
exclaimed the major. "Lead me to where he
lives."

"He scarcely lives nowhere," said Abinoam,
"for he's a-dying."

"If I had known you had been a friend of
his'n, I wouldn't have given you this here
reception," said the potentate of Hiramopolis,
dropping the cock of his gun; "for there ain't
a braver or truer soul, no part of this world
nor any other, than the good old Pasher, and
no mistake."

"Is it far from this place?" inquired the
major; and after Abinoam had conveyed the
import of the inquiry to his companion,
that individual shaded his eyes and began
to look very attentively into the sky at an
angle of about sixty degrees; and having
at last obtained a view of the imaginary
church-clock which was to form the central
ornament of his future capital, he said, "I
guess you'll get there afore six o'clock on
them 'ere legs as you trust your body on.
I could walk there in two hours, and 'Binoam
shall show you the way."

"A countryman!" thought Major Grasigny,
"in this wilderness, and to find him
dying! At all events, I will cheer his last
hours with the sound of the old familiar
tongue. A French voice, even in a tone of
unkindness, would be music to my ears."
The way was not quite so long as Hiram had
prognosticated, or perhaps the major's legs
were not so inefficient; for, just as the sun