eapon of war which hath grown
dull in the work of destruction, hath been cast into the place of
unprofitable lumber, and hath been utterly consumed. The persecutor of
the righteous and the scoffer of the word hath paid the price of blood,
and hath fallen into the snares wherewith he lay in wait to ensnare the
feet of the unthinking. But stay now, O Lord of Hosts, the hand of the
destroyer, and let the angel of peace again spread his wing over our
racked and wearied land. Take from the wicked heart his sword and
shield, and make the righteous man safe beside his family hearth.
Shelter the head of the wanderer, and guide in safety the hunted
fugitive who flees before the man of wrath; comfort the captive in his
captivity, and make all hearts in this rent and sundered province to
know and bless thy mercies for ever more. In especial, we beseech thee
to give the victory to him that hath right, and to 'stablish the
foundations of the government in justice and truth, giving liberty of
conscience and liberty of law to those who know how to use it." At this
point the worship of the evening was arrested by a slight knocking at
the door.

"Who goes there?" exclaimed the old man, starting from his kneeling
position. "Who raps at my door?"

"A stranger, good man," replied a voice without. "A poor fellow that has
been hot pressed and hard run."

"Friend or foe?" asked Allen Musgrove.

"A very worthless friend to any man at this present speaking," replied
the person on the outside of the door; "and not fit to be counted a foe
until he has had something to eat. If you be Allen Musgrove, open your
door."

"Are you alone, or do you come with followers at your heels? My house is
small and can give scant comfort to many?"

"Faith, it is more than I know," responded the other; "but if I have
followers it is not with my will that they shall cross your door-sill.
If you be Allen Musgrove, or if you be not, open, friend. I am as
harmless as a barndoor fowl."

"I do not fear you, sir," said Musgrove, opening the door; "you are
welcome to all I can give you, whatever colors you serve."

"Then give us your hand," said Horse Shoe Robinson, striding into the
apartment. "You are a stranger to me, but if you are Allen Musgrove, the
miller, that I have hearn men speak of, you are not the person to turn
your back on a fellow creature in distress. Your sarvent, mistress," he
added, bowing to the dame. "Far riding and fast riding gives a sort