nd without which the cleverest man alive can never be
altogether a great man.

When about to sign the orders, John suddenly stopped. "No; I had
better not."

"Why so?"

"I have no right; your father might think it presumption."

"Presumption? after to-night!"

"Oh, that's nothing! Take the pen. It is your part to sign them,
Phineas."

I obeyed.

"Isn't this better than hanging?" said John to the men, when he had
distributed the little bits of paper--precious as pound-notes--and made
them all fully understand the same. "Why, there isn't another
gentleman in Norton Bury, who, if you had come to burn HIS house down,
would not have had the constables or the soldiers, have shot down
one-half of you like mad dogs, and sent the other half to the county
gaol. Now, for all your misdoings, we let you go quietly home, well
fed, and with food for children, too. WHY, think you?"

"I don't know," said Jacob Baines, humbly.

"I'll tell you. Because Abel Fletcher is a Quaker and a Christian."

"Hurrah for Abel Fletcher! hurrah for the Quakers!" shouted they,
waking up the echoes down Norton Bury streets; which, of a surety, had
never echoed to THAT shout before. And so the riot was over.

John Halifax closed the hall-door and came in--unsteadily--staggering.
Jael placed a chair for him--worthy soul! she was wiping her old eyes.
He sat down, shivering, speechless. I put my hand on his shoulder; he
took it and pressed it hard.

"Oh! Phineas, lad, I'm glad; glad it's safe over."

"Yes, thank God!"

"Ay, indeed; thank God!"

He covered his eyes for a minute or two, then rose up pale, but quite
himself again.

"Now let us go and fetch your father home."

We found him on John's bed, still asleep. But as we entered he woke.
The daylight shone on his face--it looked ten years older since
yesterday--he stared, bewildered and angry, at John Halifax.

"Eh, young man--oh! I remember. Where is my son--where's my Phineas?"

I fell on his neck as if I had been a child. And almost as if it had
been a child's feeble head, mechanically he smoothed and patted mine.

"Thee art not hurt? Nor any one?"

"No," John answered; "nor is either the house or the tan-yard injured."

He looked amazed. "How has that been?"

"Phineas will tell you. Or, stay--better wait till you are at home."

But my father insisted on hearing. I told the whole, without any
comments on John's behaviour; he would not have liked it; and, be