an, was
overtaken by a slumber, and, as he dozed, suffered the sinker of his
drop-line to lie upon the bottom of the river. On waking, he found he
had caught something of importance, from the weight; on drawing it to
the surface, we were much surprised to find a long pistol of very
curious and outlandish fashion, which, from its rusted condition, and
its stock being worm-eaten and covered with barnacles, appeared to have
been a long time under water. The unexpected appearance of this
document of warfare occasioned much speculation among my pacific
companions. One supposed it to have fallen there during the
revolutionary war. Another, from the peculiarity of its fashion,
attributed it to the voyagers in the earliest days of the settlement;
perchance to the renowned Adrian Block, who explored the Sound and
discovered Block Island, since so noted for its cheese. But a third,
after regarding it for some time, pronounced it to be of veritable
Spanish workmanship.

"I'll warrant," said he, "if this pistol could talk it would tell
strange stories of hard fights among the Spanish Dons. I've not a doubt
but it's a relique of the buccaneers of old times."

"Like enough," said another of the party. "There was Bradish the
pirate, who at the time Lord Bellamont made such a stir after the
buccaneers, buried money and jewels somewhere in these parts or on
Long-Island; and then there was Captain Kidd--"

"Ah, that Kidd was a daring dog," said an iron-faced Cape Cod whaler.
"There's a fine old song about him, all to the tune of:

'My name is Robert Kidd,
As I sailed, as I sailed.'

And it tells how he gained the devil's good graces by burying the
Bible:

'I had the Bible in my hand,
As I sailed, as I sailed,
And I buried it in the sand,
As I sailed.'

Egad, if this pistol had belonged to him I should set some store by it
out of sheer curiosity. Ah, well, there's an odd story I have heard
about one Tom Walker, who, they say, dug up some of Kidd's buried
money; and as the fish don't seem to bite at present, I'll tell it to
you to pass away time."

THE DEVIL AND TOM WALKER.

A few miles from Boston, in Massachusetts, there is a deep inlet
winding several miles into the interior of the country from Charles
Bay, and terminating in a thickly-wooded swamp, or morass. On one side
of this inlet is a beautiful dark grove; on the opposite side the land
rises abruptly from the water's edge, into a high ridge on wh