They had scarcely drank the cider set before them by the landlord, when the man in the chair began to exhibit signs of motion.  Then getting up from his seat, his sharp sallow visage assumed a look of revenge; and approaching the counter, he began scenting the tumblers.  “Captain Jack Laythe!” said the major, casting upon the man a look of hate, “you might find a better business than scenting tumblers for temperance folks.  You’re a pretty Christian, surrendering yourself to such meanness!” It was evident that the major’s choler was raised, and that he rather courted a set-to with the spy, who had no great admiration for heroes of any kind.  Indeed, the major declared that if such a thing had happened when he was with his regiment in Mexico, his sword had not long remained in its sheath.

“This man,” rejoined the spy, with a nasal drawl, “is a burning torch to the town, which he keeps in a perpetual uproar.  The devil never thought of half the evil he has inflicted upon certain of the townspeople, for he serves them with his poison, and they go about as if they were dead.  Time and again has he been commanded to surrender his traffic of misery, on penalty of being ridden into the river; but he has neither fear of the devil, nor respect for the laws; and though every pulpit in the land should preach against him, they cannot put him to shame.”  The host, who was itching to have revenge of the spy, hurled a lemon squeezer at his head, which took him between the two eyes, and caused him to retreat into the street, amidst the cheering and jeering of the bystanders.  The major, too, applied his boot in right good earnest to the retreating gentleman’s rear, and asserted his courage by making threats in the door, while the other, having regained his sight, stood challenging him to come out into the street, and take it like a man.  The major called upon the bystanders to bear witness that he had courage enough to tackle a dozen or more of such spies, only he would rather not soil his hands just now.  Nor was there any honor in fighting such people, which was a chief point in such game.

The landlord now reminded the major that the town esteemed him too highly to have him compromise himself by holding a parley with such a fellow, who was no other than an old Pawtucket stage driver, who having tempered his throat with brandy until it had dried up his wits, saw fit to reform, and had become the most implacable enemy of all who enjoyed what he had abused.

The spy seeing the landlord about to set on his big dog, took to his heels, muttering in a low and plaintive tone, and threatening to report his grievances to Parson Bangshanter, and Squire Clapp, two leading members of the temperance league, and who, in respect to good morals, had taken the sale of liquor into their own hands, and were making a good thing of it.  The major now remembered that his wife, Polly Potter, would get the news and be impatient to welcome him, and so bidding the host and his company good night, and assuring me that he would ring the town out to pay me proper respect in the morning, he took his way home, meeting with so serious an accident as had well nigh cost him his life, the particulars of which I must reserve for another chapter.