The young man then read the following letter, which, being a peculiar as well as an interesting specimen of a love-letter, we give verbatim et literatim:

                                               “Peelers farm near
          
                                        Sanfransko Aprile 11

“For
John bumpuss,
aboord the Schooner fome

“my darlin Jo,

“ever sins you towld me yisterday that youd bin an gaged yerself into the fome, my mind has been Onaisy.  Ye no, darlint, from the our ye cald me yer own Susan, in clare county, More betoken, iv bin onaisy about ye yer so bowld an Rekles. but this is wurst ov all. iv no noshun o them sandle-wood skooners. the Haf ov thems pirits and The other hafs no better, whats wus is that my owld master was drownded in wan, or out o wan, but shure its All the Saim. down he wint and that wos the Endd.

“now Deer jo dont go to say in that skooner i beseech ye, jo.  Ye towld me that ye liked the looks o the cappen and haited the looks o the Krew.  Now deer, take warnin think ov me. think ov the words in the coppie book weev writ so often together at owld makmahons skool, eevil cmunishakens Krupt yer maners, i misrember it, but ye no wot id be sayin’ to ye.

“o jo Dont go, but cum an see me as soon as iver ye can

“yours til deth. 
“SUSAN.”

“p.s. the piggs is quite livly but ther not so hansum heer as in
the owld country, don’t forgit to rite to your susan.”

No one can conceive the indignation that swelled the broad chest of honest John Bumpus when he listened to the laughter with which some parts of this letter were received.

“Now,” said Dan, “could any man want better proof than this that John Bumpus is not a pirate?”

This question was answered by a perfect yell from the crowd.

“Set him free! cut his cords!” cried a voice.

“Stop, friends,” cried a big, coarse-looking man, leaping on the table and jostling Dan out of the way.  “Not quite so fast.  I don’t pretend to be a learned feller, and I can’t make a speech with a buttery tongue like Dan here.  But wot I’ve got to say is—­Justice forever!”

“Hurrah!” from some of the wild spirits of the crowd.  “Go on, Burke,” from others.

“Yes, wot I say is—­Justice forever!  Fair play an’ no favor:  that’s wot I say!”

Another cheer greeted the bold assertion of these noble sentiments.

“Now, here it is,” continued Burke, becoming much excited, “wot’s to hinder that there letter bein’ a forgery?—­aye, that’s the word, a forgery? (Hear! hear!), got up apurpose to bamboozle us chaps that ain’t lawyers.  D’ye see?”

Burke glanced at Dan, and smote his thigh triumphantly as he said this.

“It does not look like a forgery,” said Dan, holding up the letter and pointing to the writing.  “I leave it to yourselves to say if it sounds like a forgery—­”