, though I remember that these were
sometimes far less adventurous in the field than those who had no
experience of the perilous deep, the issue of the contest was not for a
moment doubtful. The forces of our adversaries melted away, like the snow
with which they fought, at the very presence of a champion supposed to be
of such redoubted prowess. The dependence of those adverse combatants was
rather upon some of the younger hangers-on at the ship-yards, in their
territory, for such a casual auxiliary. Sometimes, the elements of
military skill would be displayed. While the two forces were closely
engaged, a flanking party would make a sudden rush up some short
by-street, and then the complete demoralization and panic-flight of the
warriors thus newly assailed was something truly disastrous to behold.

Of course, we enjoyed the ordinary boyish sports of boating, swimming,
and skating in the season for it; or, of a pleasant afternoon, would roam
away "over the hills," as the phrase ran, huckleberrying, perhaps, or
gathering penny-royal and other wild herbs for the old folks at home; to
be dried and reserved for future occasions. For, in those days, a garret
would hardly be considered complete, without bunches of these simples
hanging from the beams by strings, or stored away in paper-bags. In the
fall of the year, we had another resource, long since interdicted by the
owners of farms in the neighborhood of populous towns. This was the
pleasure of nutting; for the urchins of those days regarded these kinds
of fruit, growing on trees in the fields, as a sort of _ferae natura_ and
free to every passer-by; though the more surly proprietors, even then,
took much pains to circumvent and capture the lads, as they returned with
their poles for beating the branches and with their loaded bags, borne by
two or three of them, hanging by the middle across those implements.
Sometimes, predatory bands proceeded in force and defied the farmer on
his own ground. The story was told of one luckless individual who went
nutting alone and was caught and imprisoned, for a time, in the cellar of
the farm-house, but mischievously contrived to set all the taps of the
cider-barrels running, before he was released. These excursions led us
often to the Devil's Den, an excavation in an abandoned ledge of
limestone, in a solitary situation at some distance from the town, and
guarded, now as then, by three rather spectral-looking Lombardy poplars,
which t