fox-hunter in spite of his cloth; even then, stout as he had grown,
when he heard the music of the hounds, it was with difficulty he
restrained the inclination to follow, which now, alas! was made
impossible by his great weight. We who loved hard riding, hard
fighting, and a strong will, admired him, and no man was more popular
throughout the three counties than the fox-hunting parson. He knew the
people and their ways, and was one of them.

"I hear you are fire-eaters here," he said to a vestryman upon being
installed.

"Then we are well matched," came the reply, "for they say you are a
pepperbox."

So no gathering throughout the county was a success without the
parson, and by the unanimous voice of the Line he was called to be
their chaplain.

We sat there in the long dining-room amid the hum of many voices, the
glare of many lights, and the click of the glasses, as the wine was
going around, when a young man who sat across the table from me rose
with his glass poised between his fingers.

He was a handsome man, of twenty-one or twenty-two, of dark and
swarthy features, thick lips and nose, and hair as black as night,
telling of the Indian blood in his veins.

His name was Rodolph, and he was the son of a man more noted for his
wealth than for his principles, but who was then at the city of
Annapolis, a delegate from the county of Cecil.

"I propose a toast," he cried, "that all true patriots should drink. A
toast to the delegates of this county, who at the convention of the
province in the city of Annapolis are standing as the bulwarks of
liberty against the tyranny of the Crown."

We were all on our feet in an instant to drink the toast, with a right
goodwill, all except Charles Gordon, who sat at my right hand. He kept
his seat and watched us with a cool, sarcastic smile upon his lips.

"Is not the toast good enough for you?" cried Rodolph, with an ugly
sneer upon his face.

All eyes now turned to where Charles Gordon sat, and he slowly rose.

"Drink to your delegates?" said he. "Not I. They are the scum of the
county of Cecil, and you know it. I would as soon be governed by my
slaves at the Braes as by such men as they are. I wish you joy of
them." And bowing, he turned and left the room by a door that was near
at hand.

For an instant there was silence, then an uproar broke forth, and
Rodolph sprang around the table to follow him, with several of the
young men at his heels. But I, seeing the dang