Squire Woodcock, what is the matter with your chimney?" said
Israel.

"Quick, go in."

"Am I to sweep the chimney?" demanded Israel; "I didn't engage for
that."

"Pooh, pooh, this is your hiding-place. Come, move in."

"But where does it go to, Squire Woodcock? I don't like the looks of
it."

"Follow me. I'll show you."

Pushing his florid corpulence into the mysterious aperture, the elderly
Squire led the way up steep stairs of stone, hardly two feet in width,
till they reached a little closet, or rather cell, built into the
massive main wall of the mansion, and ventilated and dimly lit by two
little sloping slits, ingeniously concealed without, by their forming
the sculptured mouths of two griffins cut in a great stone tablet
decorating that external part of the dwelling. A mattress lay rolled up
in one corner, with a jug of water, a flask of wine, and a wooden
trencher containing cold roast beef and bread.

"And I am to be buried alive here?" said Israel, ruefully looking round.

"But your resurrection will soon be at hand," smiled the Squire; "two
days at the furthest."

"Though to be sure I was a sort of prisoner in Paris, just as I seem
about to be made here," said Israel, "yet Doctor Franklin put me in a
better jug than this, Squire Woodcock. It was set out with boquets and a
mirror, and other fine things. Besides, I could step out into the entry
whenever I wanted."

"Ah, but, my hero, that was in France, and this is in England. There you
were in a friendly country: here you are in the enemy's. If you should
be discovered in my house, and your connection with me became known, do
you know that it would go very hard with me; very hard indeed?"

"Then, for your sake, I am willing to stay wherever you think best to
put me," replied Israel.

"Well, then, you say you want boquets and a mirror. If those articles
will at all help to solace your seclusion, I will bring them to you."

"They really would be company; the sight of my own face particularly."

"Stay here, then. I will be back in ten minutes."

In less than that time, the good old Squire returned, puffing and
panting, with a great bunch of flowers, and a small shaving-glass.

"There," said he, putting them down; "now keep perfectly quiet; avoid
making any undue noise, and on no account descend the stairs, till I
come for you again."

"But when will that be?" asked Israel.

"I will try to come twice each day while you are here. But there is