d he still kept
coughing and crying and rubbing his eyes. Mr. Archer, on his side, laid
the letter down, and, putting his hands in his pocket, listened gravely
to the tale.

"Yes," resumed Sam, "the North Mail was stopped by a single horseman;
dash my wig, but I admire him! There were four insides and two out, and
poor Tom Oglethorpe, the guard. Tom showed himself a man; let fly his
blunderbuss at him; had him covered, too, and could swear to that; but
the Captain never let on, up with a pistol and fetched poor Tom a bullet
through the body. Tom, he squelched upon the seat, all over blood. Up
comes the Captain to the window. 'Oblige me,' says he, 'with what you
have.' Would you believe it? Not a man says cheep!--not them. 'Thy hands
over thy head.' Four watches, rings, snuff-boxes, seven-and-forty
pounds overhead in gold. One Dicksee, a grazier, tries it on: gives him
a guinea. 'Beg your pardon,' says the Captain, 'I think too highly of
you to take it at your hand. I will not take less than ten from such a
gentleman.' This Dicksee had his money in his stocking, but there was
the pistol at his eye. Down he goes, offs with his stocking, and there
was thirty golden guineas. 'Now,' says the Captain, 'you've tried it on
with me, but I scorns the advantage. Ten I said,' he says, 'and ten I
take.' So, dash my buttons, I call that man a man!" cried Sam in cordial
admiration.

"Well, and then?" says Mr. Archer.

"Then," resumed Sam, "that old fat fagot Engleton, him as held the
ribbons and drew up like a lamb when he was told to, picks up his
cattle, and drives off again. Down they came to the 'Dragon,' all
singing like as if they was scalded, and poor Tom saying nothing. You
would 'a' thought they had all lost the King's crown to hear them. Down
gets this Dicksee. 'Postmaster,' he says, taking him by the arm, 'this
is a most abominable thing,' he says. Down gets a Major Clayton, and
gets the old man by the other arm. 'We've been robbed,' he cries,
'robbed!' Down gets the others, and all around the old man telling their
story, and what they had lost, and how they was all as good as ruined;
till at last Old Engleton says, says he, 'How about Oglethorpe?' says
he. 'Ay,' says the others, 'how about the guard?' Well, with that we
bousted him down, as white as a rag and all blooded like a sop. I
thought he was dead. Well, he ain't dead; but he's dying, I fancy."

"Did you say four watches?" said Jonathan.

"Four, I think. I wis