haughtily rushed through the people, upon the trot, cursing them, and pushing them as they went along.

12. They found about ten persons round the sentry, while about fifty or sixty came down with them. "For God's sake," said a citizen, holding Preston by the coat, "take your men back again; if they fire, your life must answer for the consequences." "I know what I am about," said he hastily, and much agitated.

13. None pressed on them or provoked them till they began loading, when a party about twelve in number, with sticks in their hands, moved from the middle of the street, where they had been standing, gave three cheers, and passed along the front of the soldiers, whose muskets some of them struck as they went by. "You are cowardly rascals," said they, "for bringing arms against naked men. Lay aside your guns, and we are ready for you. Come on, you lobster scoundrels; fire, if you dare; we know you dare not."

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14. Just then one of the soldiers received a blow from a stick thrown, which hit his musket; and the word "Fire! being given, he stepped a little on one side, and shot a mulatto, who at the time was quietly leaning on a long stick.

15. The people immediately began to move off. The rest fired slowly and in succession on the people who were dispersing. One aimed deliberately at a boy who was running for safety. Three persons were killed; eight were wounded, two of them mortally. Of all the eleven, not more than one had any share in the disturbance.

16. So infuriated were the soldiers that, when the men returned to take up the dead, they prepared to fire again, but were checked by Preston, while the 29th Regiment appeared under arms in King Street, as if bent on a further massacre. "This is our time," cried the soldiers; -and dogs were never seen more greedy for their prey.

17. The bells rung in all the churches; the town drums "To arms! to arms!" was the cry. And now was to

beat.

be tested the true character of Boston. All its sons came forth, excited almost to madness; many were absolutely distracted by the sight of the dead bodies and of the blood, which ran plentifully in the streets, and was imprinted in all directions by the foot-tracks on the snow.

18. "Our hearts," says Warren, "beat to arms, almost resolved by one stroke to avenge the death of our slaughtered brethren." But they stood self-possessed and irresistible, demanding justice according to law.

19. The people would not be pacified till the regiment was confined to the guard-room and the barracks; and the governor himself gave assurance that instant inquiries should be made by the county magistrates. A warrant was issued against Preston, who surrendered himself to the sheriff; and the soldiers who composed the party were delivered up and committed to prison.

XVII. RIP VAN WINKLE'S AWAKENING.- IRVING.

PART I.

1. ON waking, Rip found himself on the green knoll overlooking the glen. He rubbed his eyes- it was a bright sunny morning. The birds were hopping and twittering among the bushes, and the eagle was wheeling aloft, and breasting the pure mountain breeze. Surely," thought Rip, "I have

not slept here all night."

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2. He recalled the occurrences before he fell asleepthe mountain ravine the party at nine-pins — the flagon "Oh! that wicked flagon!" thought Rip; "what excuse shall I make to Dame Van Winkle?"

3. He looked round for his gun; but, in place of the clean, well-oiled fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying by him, the barrel incrusted with rust, the lock falling off, the stock worm-eaten. He now suspected that the grave roisters of the mountain had put a trick upon him, and, having dosed him with liquor, robbed him of his gun.

4. Wolf, too, had disappeared; but he might have strayed away after a squirrel or a partridge. He whistled after him, and shouted his name, but all in vain; the echoes repeated his whistle and shout, but no dog was to be seen.

5. He determined to revisit the scene of the last evening's gambol, and, if he met with any of the party, to demand his dog and gun. As he rose to walk, he found himself stiff in the joints, and wanting in his usual activity. "These mountain beds do not agree with me," thought Rip; "and if this frolic should lay me up with a fit of the rheumatism, I shall have a blessed time with Dame Van Winkle."

6. With some difficulty he got down into the glen; he found the gully up which he had ascended the preceding evening; but to his astonishment a mountain stream was now foaming down it, leaping from rock to rock, and filling the glen with babbling murmurs.

7. He, however, made shift to scramble up its sides, working his toilsome way through thickets of birch, sassafras, and witch-hazel; and sometimes tripped up or entangled by the wild grape-vines that twisted their coils and tendrils from tree to tree, and spread a kind of network in his path.

8. Here poor Rip was brought to a stand. He again called and whistled after his dog; he was answered only by the cawing of a flock of idle crows, which were sporting high in air about a withered tree that overhung a sunny precipice, and which, secure in their elevation, seemed to look down and scoff at the poor man's perplexities.

9. What was to be done? The morning was passing away, and Rip felt famished for want of his breakfast. He grieved to give up his dog and gun; he dreaded to meet his wife; but it would not do to starve among the mountains. He shook his head, shouldered the rusty firelock, and, with a heart full of trouble and anxiety, turned his steps homeward.

10. As he approached the village he met a number of people, but none whom he knew; which somewhat surprised him, for he had thought himself acquainted with every one in the country round. Their dress, too, was of a different fashion from that to which he was accustomed.

II. They all stared at him with equal marks of surprise, and, whenever they cast eyes upon him, invariably stroked their chins. The constant recurrence of this gesture induced Rip involuntarily to do the same, when, to his astonishment, he found his beard had grown a foot long!

12. He had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop of strange children ran at his heels, hooting after him, and pointing at his gray beard. The dogs, too, not one of which he recognized for an old acquaintance, barked at him as he passed. The very village was altered: it was larger and more populous.

13. There were rows of houses which he had never seen before, and those which had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange names were over the doors - strange faces at the windows-everything was strange. His mind now misgave him; he began to doubt whether both he and the world around him were not bewitched.

14. Surely this was his native village, which he had left but a day before. There stood the Catskill Mountains; there ran the silver Hudson at a distance; there was every hill and dale precisely as it had always been. Rip was sorely perplexed. "That flagon last night," thought he, "has addled my poor head sadly!"

15. It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own house, which he approached with silent awe, expecting every moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found the house gone to decay—the roof fallen in, the windows shattered, and the doors off the hinges.

16. A half-starved dog, that looked like Wolf, was skulking about it. Rip called him by name, but the cur snarled,

showed his teeth, and passed on. This was an unkind cut indeed. "My very dog," sighed poor Rip, "has forgotten

me!"

17. He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame Van Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was empty, forlorn, and apparently abandoned. This desolateness overcame all his connubial fears. He called loudly for his wife and children. The lonely chambers rang for a moment with his voice, and then all again was silence.

XVIII. RIP VAN WINKLE'S AWAKENING.

PART II.

18. He now hurried forth and hastened to his old resort, the village inn; but it, too, was gone. A large rickety wooden building stood in its place, with great gaping windows, some of them broken, and mended with old hats and petticoats, and over the door was painted, "The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle."

19. Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall naked pole, with something on the top that looked like a red nightcap; and from it was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular assemblage of stars and stripes. All this was strange and incomprehensible.

20. He recognized on the sign, however, the ruby face of King George, under which he had smoked so many a peaceful pipe; but even this was singularly metamorphosed. The red coat was changed for one of blue and buff; a sword was held in the hand instead of a sceptre; the head was decorated with a cocked hat, and underneath was painted in large characters, GENERAL WASHINGTON.

21. There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, but none that Rip recollected. The very character of the people seemed changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it, instead of the accustomed phlegm and