of all.  ’I suppose, gentlemen,’ said the stranger, ’you were remarking upon my slippers.’—­’Eh—­yes! we were just saying that they were red,’ replied the schoolmaster.  ‘And pray,’ demanded the other, as he raised the pipe to his mouth, ‘did you never before see a pair of red slippers?’ This question staggered the respondent; he said nothing, but looked to the parson for assistance.  ‘But you are all red,’ observed the latter, taking a full draught from a foaming tankard which he held in his hand.  ‘And you are all black,’ said the other, as he withdrew the pipe from his mouth, and emitted a copious puff of tobacco smoke.  ’The hat that covers your numskull is black, your beard is black, your coat is black, your vest is black, your small-clothes, your stockings, your shoes, all are black.  In a word, Doctor Poundtext, you are——­’ ‘What am I, sir?’ said the parson, bursting with rage.  ‘Ay, what is he, sir?’ rejoined the schoolmaster.  ‘He is a black coat,’ said the stranger, with a contemptuous sneer, ‘and you are a pedagogue.’  This sentence was followed by a profound calm.”

The stranger goes to the stable, and returns.

“The appearance of the Red Man again acted like a spell on the voices of the company.  The parson was silent, and by a natural consequence his echo, the schoolmaster, was silent also; none of the others felt disposed to say any thing.  The meeting was like an assemblage of quakers. ...

“‘Who can this man be?’ ‘What does he want here?’ ’Where is he from, and whither is he bound?’ Such were the inquiries which occupied every mind.  Had the object of their curiosity been a brown man, a black man, or even a green man, there would have been nothing extraordinary; and he might have entered the inn and departed from it as unquestioned as before he came.  But to be a Red Man!  There was in this something so startling that the lookers-on were beside themselves with amazement.  The first to break this strange silence was the parson.  ‘Sir,’ said he, ’we have been thinking that you are——­’ ’That I am a conjurer, a French spy, a travelling packman, or something of the sort,’ observed the stranger.  Doctor Poundtext started back on his chair, and well he might; for these words, which the Man in Red had spoken, were the very ones he himself was about to utter.  ‘Who are you, sir?’ resumed he, in manifest perturbation; ‘what is your name?’ ‘My name,’ replied the other, ’is Reid.’  ‘And where, in heaven’s name, were you born?’ demanded the astonished parson.  ‘I was born on the borders of the Red Sea.’

“Doctor Poundtext had not another word to say.  The schoolmaster was equally astounded, and withdrew the pipe from his mouth; that of the exciseman dropped to the ground:  the landlord groaned aloud, and his spouse held up her hands in mingled astonishment and awe.  After giving them this last piece of information, the strange man arose from his seat, broke his pipe in pieces, and pitched the fragments into the fire; then, throwing his long cloak carelessly over his shoulders, putting his hat upon his head, and loading himself with his boots, his whip, and his portmanteau, he desired the landlord to show him to his bed, and left the kitchen, after smiling sarcastically to its inmates, and giving them a familiar and unceremonious nod.