e settlement,
she became a subject of not deep but general interest--a being on whom
the otherwise superfluous sympathies of all might be bestowed. Every
one spoke of her with that degree of pity which it is pleasant to
experience; every one was ready to do her the little kindnesses which
are not costly, yet manifest good-will; and when at last she died, a
long train of her once bitter persecutors followed her with decent
sadness and tears that were not painful to her place by Ilbrahim's
green and sunken grave.

MR. HIGGINBOTHAM'S CATASTROPHE.

A young fellow, a tobacco-pedler by trade, was on his way from
Morristown, where he had dealt largely with the deacon of the Shaker
settlement, to the village of Parker's Falls, on Salmon River. He had
a neat little cart painted green, with a box of cigars depicted on
each side-panel, and an Indian chief holding a pipe and a golden
tobacco-stalk on the rear. The pedler drove a smart little mare and
was a young man of excellent character, keen at a bargain, but none
the worse liked by the Yankees, who, as I have heard them say, would
rather be shaved with a sharp razor than a dull one. Especially was he
beloved by the pretty girls along the Connecticut, whose favor he used
to court by presents of the best smoking-tobacco in his stock, knowing
well that the country-lasses of New England are generally great
performers on pipes. Moreover, as will be seen in the course of my
story, the pedler was inquisitive and something of a tattler, always
itching to hear the news and anxious to tell it again.

After an early breakfast at Morristown the tobacco-pedler--whose name
was Dominicus Pike--had travelled seven miles through a solitary piece
of woods without speaking a word to anybody but himself and his little
gray mare. It being nearly seven o'clock, he was as eager to hold a
morning gossip as a city shopkeeper to read the morning paper. An
opportunity seemed at hand when, after lighting a cigar with a
sun-glass, he looked up and perceived a man coming over the brow of
the hill at the foot of which the pedler had stopped his green cart.
Dominicus watched him as he descended, and noticed that he carried a
bundle over his shoulder on the end of a stick and travelled with a
weary yet determined pace. He did not look as if he had started in the
freshness of the morning, but had footed it all night, and meant to do
the same all day.

"Good-morning, mister," said Dominicus, when wi