“Ay, he is an old follower, certainly, and he has been punished often enough, if he has not been tried.  I have never suffered my distrust of that fellow to go to sleep—­it is unsafe, with an Indian, unless you have a strong hold on his gratitude.”

“But, Willoughby, he it was who found this manor for us,” rejoined the wife.  “Without him, we should never have been the owners of this lovely place, this beaver-dam, and all else that we so much enjoy.”

“True, my dear; and without good golden guineas, we should not have had Nick.”

“But, sir, I pay as liberally as he can wish,” observed the major.  “If bribes will buy him, mine are as good as another’s.”

“We shall see—­under actual circumstances, I think we shall be, in every respect, safer, by keeping nothing back, than by telling all to the people.”

The captain now put on his hat, and issued through the undefended gateway, followed by every individual of his family.  As the summons had been general, when the Willoughbys and the chaplain appeared on the lawn, every living soul of that isolated settlement, even to infants in the arms, was collected there.  The captain commanded the profound respect of all his dependants, though a few among them did not love him.  The fault was not his, however, but was inherent rather in the untoward characters of the disaffected themselves.  His habits of authority were unsuited to their habits of a presuming equality, perhaps; and it is impossible for the comparatively powerful and affluent to escape the envy and repinings of men, who, unable to draw the real distinctions that separate the gentleman from the low-minded and grovelling, impute their advantages to accidents and money.  But, even the few who permitted this malign and corrupting tendency to influence their feelings, could not deny that their master was just and benevolent, though he did not always exhibit this justice and benevolence precisely in the way best calculated to soothe their own craving self-love, and exaggerated notions of assumed natural claims.  In a word, captain Willoughby, in the eyes of a few unquiet and bloated imaginations among his people, was obnoxious to the imputation of pride; and this because he saw and felt the consequences of education, habits, manners, opinions and sentiments that were hidden from those who not only had no perception of their existence, but who had no knowledge whatever of the qualities that brought them into being.  Pope’s familiar line of “what can we reason but from what we know?” is peculiarly applicable to persons of this class; who are ever for dragging all things down to standards created by their own ignorance; and who, slaves of the basest and meanest passions, reason as if they were possessors of all the knowledge, sensibilities and refinements of their own country and times.  Of this class of men, comes the ordinary demagogue, a wretch equally incapable of setting an example of any of the higher qualities, in his own person or practice, and of appreciating it when exhibited by others.  Such men abound under all systems where human liberty is highly privileged, being the moral fungi of freedom, as the rankest weeds are known to be the troublesome and baneful productions of the richest soils.