nothin' to do with it. Oh, no, by no manner o' means! Wal, o'
course, ye know, it couldn't be proved on 'em, and so we let it go.

"But I tell you, Cap'n Tucker he felt pretty cheap about his widder. The
worst on't was, they do say Ma'am Tucker got hold of it; and you might
know if a woman got hold of a thing like that she'd use it as handy as a
cat would her claws. The women they can't no more help hittin' a fellow
a clip and a rap when they've fairly got him, than a cat when she's
ketched a mouse; and so I shouldn't wonder if the Commodore heard
something about his widder every time he went home from his v'y-ages the
longest day he had to live. I don't know nothin' 'bout it, ye know: I
only kind o' jedge by what looks, as human natur' goes.

"But, Lordy massy! boys, 't wa'n't nothin' to be 'shamed of in the
cap'n. Folks 'll have to answer for wus things at the last day than
tryin' to do a kindness to a poor widder, now, I tell _you_. It's better
to be took in doin' a good thing, than never try to do good; and it's my
settled opinion," said Sam, taking up his mug of cider and caressing it
tenderly, "it's my humble opinion, that the best sort o' folks is the
easiest took in, 'specially by the women. I reely don't think I should a
done a bit better myself."

[Illustration: Tailpiece, Page 102]

[Illustration: Captain Kidd's Money, Page 108]

CAPTAIN KIDD'S MONEY.

One of our most favorite legendary resorts was the old barn. Sam Lawson
preferred it on many accounts. It was quiet and retired, that is to say,
at such distance from his own house, that he could not hear if Hepsy
called ever so loudly, and farther off than it would be convenient for
that industrious and painstaking woman to follow him. Then there was
the soft fragrant cushion of hay, on which his length of limb could be
easily bestowed. Our barn had an upper loft with a swinging outer door
that commanded a view of the old mill, the waterfall, and the distant
windings of the river, with its grassy green banks, its graceful elm
draperies, and its white flocks of water-lilies; and then on this
Saturday afternoon we had Sam all to ourselves. It was a drowsy, dreamy
October day, when the hens were lazily "craw, crawing," in a soft,
conversational undertone with each other, as they scratched and picked
the hay-seed under the barn windows. Below in the barn black Caesar sat
quietly hatchelling flax, sometimes gurgling and giggling to himself
with an over