It was quite dark when we entered the town of Barnstable, making as much noise as if the devil had broken loose and come to carry off the inhabitants, who were a timid people, but sharp enough to cut the best side of a trade.  The bright blue waters skirting the town seemed reflecting ten thousand curious shadows, while several tall steeples of churches, (showing that the people had theology without stint, and to their liking,) loomed out through a gray mist that tipped the clouds with a pale fringe.  And the clean green shutters of the bright white houses, and the neatly arranged gardens, with their picket fences, ranging along both sides of the street, and the flowers that were giving out their perfumes to the night breeze, were all blending in a panorama of exquisite softness.

The major plumed himself not a little on his popularity with the town’s people, who made his departures and arrivals no common events.  Nor was his admiration of himself one whit less than that so common with some others I have in view at this moment, and who follow the profession of arms.

And now, news of his approach having got spread abroad, he had scarcely entered the outskirts of the town when little Barnstable, hatless and shoeless, came running to meet him, cheering, clambering upon his wagon, and making such other demonstrations of welcome as satisfied the major that the town had waited his return with no little anxiety, though it annoyed old Battle exceedingly, for he had great difficulty in drawing the load over the sand.  Seeing the distress the animal was in, two mischievous urchins fell upon him, seized him by the halter, and, after throwing it over their shoulders, were joined by some two dozen more, who ran ahead dragging him by the mouth, while three others plied his belly with switches.  The major, in the meantime, continued to contemplate the fortune there was in a pig so learned, and who was now mingling his loudest squeals with the cheers and bravos of the urchins, until the very welkin rang with their echoes.  We proceeded according to old Battle’s slow pace to what I shall for convenience sake call the Independent Temperance Hotel, the guests of which were so alarmed at the strange noises in the streets that they came running out to ascertain the cause.

“Well, I’m back again, you see! and as for the rest, you may find that out!” exclaimed the major, cracking his whip, and declaring he would give the urchins three stripes apiece unless they ceased teasing old Battle, whom he now reined up in front of a large portico that opened into a spacious hall of the hotel.  The bystanders, among whom there was a lawyer or two, as well as another species of hanger-on about a country tavern, sent up three loud and long cheers, which brought the major’s friends in a crowd about the door.  The major raised his hat, acknowledged the compliment with his usual grace, and dismounted over the wheel, displaying as he did so, the pins that had served to protect his dignity.  But of this he was unconscious, and bidding me follow, he waddled into the house, an expression of gladness lighting up his broad red face, and saluting his friends, not one of whom said a word touching the condition of his garments.