old Captain, the recent events in the history of the _Star_, with
incredible clearness. Everything before had been hazy, unreal,
dreamlike.

Fergus was by turns depressed and exultant, extremely silent or
extremely loquacious (for him). Anthy felt certain that he had some
knowledge concerning Nort that he was concealing, but she shrank
curiously from asking him.

It was in this moment of strain and depression that Hempfield passed
through one of its most notable experiences, and the old Captain
established himself still more firmly upon the pinnacle of his faith in
what he loved to call "immutable laws."

Imagine what it must have meant to a tranquil old village, settled in
its habits, with a due sense of its own dignity and of the proprieties
of life, unaccustomed to surprises of any kind, to behold, upon looking
up into the sky on a pleasant spring afternoon, a sight which not even
the oldest inhabitant, not even the oldest hills, had ever beheld, to
wit, a flying-machine soaring through the air. With the sunlight
flashing upon its wings it was as beautiful and light as some great
bird, and it purred as it flew like a live thing.

All Hempfield ran into the streets and opened its mouth to the heavens.
Even old Mrs. Dana, who could not leave her chair, threw open the window
and craned her head outward to catch a glimpse of the miracle. Marvel of
marvels, the flyer circled gracefully in two great spirals above the
town, and then disappeared across the hills toward Hewlett. We held our
breath until we could not even see the black speck in the sky, and then
we all began to talk at once. We told one another in detail about our
impressions and emotions. We described our feeling when we first saw the
wonder, we told exactly what we were doing and thinking about, we
explained what we said to George Andrews, and how comical Ned Boston
looked.

It was Joe Crane, the liveryman, who rushed into the office of the
_Star_ with the great news. In the simplicity and credulity of our faith
we all turned out instantly to see the wonder in the sky, all except the
old Captain. The old Captain was deep in the preparation of an editorial
demolishing the Democratic party, and expressing his undying allegiance
to the high protective tariff. When Joe Crane stuck his head in at the
door, he merely glanced around with an aspect of large compassion.

Had he not, again and again in the columns of the _Star_, proved the
utter absurdity of at