of which you hint, though I know nothing of the mode
or manner of that world, no more than do you, yet I expect when I shall
arrive there to be treated as well as any other gentleman of my merit.
That is to say, far better than you British know how to treat an
American officer and meek-hearted Christian captured in honorable war,
by ----! Every one tells me, as you yourself just breathed, and as,
crossing the sea, every billow dinned into my ear, that I, Ethan Allen,
am to be hung like a thief. If I am, the great Jehovah and the
Continental Congress shall avenge me; while I, for my part, shall show
you, even on the tree, how a Christian gentleman can die. Meantime, sir,
if you are the clergyman you look, act out your consolatory function, by
getting an unfortunate Christian gentleman about to die, a bowl of
punch."

The good-natured stranger, not to have his religious courtesy appealed
to in vain, immediately dispatched his servant, who stood by, to procure
the beverage.

At this juncture, a faint rustling sound, as of the advance of an army
with banners, was heard. Silks, scarfs, and ribbons fluttered in the
background. Presently, a bright squadron of fair ladies drew nigh,
escorted by certain outriding gallants of Falmouth.

"Ah," sighed a soft voice, "what a strange sash, and furred vest, and
what leopard-like teeth, and what flaxen hair, but all mildewed;--is
that he?"

"Yea, is it, lovely charmer," said Allen, like an Ottoman, bowing over
his broad, bovine forehead, and breathing the words out like a lute; "it
is he--Ethan Allen, the soldier; now, since ladies' eyes visit him, made
trebly a captive."

"Why, he talks like a beau in a parlor, this wild, mossed American from
the woods," sighed another fair lady to her mate; "but can this be he we
came to see? I must have a lock of his hair."

"It is he, adorable Delilah; and fear not, even though incited by the
foe, by clipping my locks, to dwindle my strength. Give me your sword,
man," turning to an officer:--"Ah! I'm fettered. Clip it yourself,
lady."

"No, no--I am--"

"Afraid, would you say? Afraid of the vowed friend and champion of all
ladies all round the world? Nay, nay, come hither."

The lady advanced; and soon, overcoming her timidity, her white hand
shone like whipped foam amid the matted waves of flaxen hair.

"Ah, this is like clipping tangled tags of gold-lace," cried she; "but
see, it is half straw."

"But the wearer is no man-of-straw,