The little deformed man, of the nervous temperament, and whose well formed head seemed to have been thrown by accident upon his distended chest, paced, or rather oscillated up and down the room, swinging his arms restlessly, now casting a glance of his keen gray eye at me, then pausing at the farther end of the room to read the notice of a lecture on Crabbe, inscribed upon a great red poster.  There was something in the lettering of the poster that displeased him exceedingly, for, having scanned over it, he would turn away with a quickened pace, and mutter some incoherent sentences no one present could comprehend, but which his increasing nervousness betold were expressive of anger.  The thought of Bessie made me impatient, and following the example of the little deformed man, I also commenced pacing the room, but on the opposite side of the table, meeting and exchanging glances with him in the center.  The maps upon the walls furnished me themes for contemplation in my sallies; and I read and reread the exact latitude and longitude of the South Shoal, as it appeared on the charts.  Then I paused at a front window, and peered out into the starlight night, and saw the tree tops in a little square opposite, move gently to the breeze, while my fancies recurred to the association of that home, at the fireside of which I pictured my father and mother, sitting thinking of me.  At the opposite end of the room I read, for it was there printed upon the red colored poster, that the celebrated Giles Sheridan, (who was no less a person than the little deformed man who paced the room so briskly,) would lecture on Crabbe, in the basement of the “Orthodox Meeting House,” at seven o’clock, on the following evening.

It perplexed me not a little to know why this Giles Sheridan, this queer little man, had selected for the subject of his lecture, a person so little known in the rural districts of Massachusetts.  Had he consulted either the political or mechanical tastes of the people, instead of their literary, the cause would not have been involved in so deep a mystery; but this will be explained hereafter.

The clerical looking man had just kissed his young bride, and muttered something about the joys of paradise, as I, for the ninth time, paused to ponder over the curious announcement.  And as I did so, the little man, with that sensitiveness common to true genius, looked up at me with an eye beaming with intelligence, while his lips quivered, his fingers became restless, and he locked his hands before him and behind him, in quick succession, then frisked his straight hair back over his ears with his fingers, and gave out such other signs of timidity as convinced me that he was a stranger in the land, and would engage me in conversation merely to unburden his thoughts.  I have said true genius, in speaking of this queer little man, for indeed, if strange nature had so disfigured his person as to make it unsightly, she had more than compensated him with the gifts of a brilliant mind.