hearing of moans and lamentations, which grew louder and louder, as of one in great distress.  “Oh! unworthy sinner that I am, let every man exert himself to remedy this misfortune!” a stifled voice was heard to cry out, as a crowd, having gathered round a pit, where some workmen had been digging for a well, discovered no less a person at the bottom, half buried in sand and water, than Major Roger Potter.  “Peace, good man, and thy misfortune shall be remedied soon,” said the Orthodox clergyman, who was among the alarmists, and, notwithstanding his accustomed frigidity, could scarce suppress a smile at seeing the major cut so sorry a figure.  The clergyman now ordered the bystanders, who were much more inclined to enjoy the joke, to bring ropes, and assist in relieving the distressed man, who, if not a friend of the church, was at least a Christian.  “Aye, aye,” responded the major, “and be not long about it, for the sand is caving in, and I feel the devil fingering my toes.”  Seeing the people come to his relief, the major regained his courage, (for when discovered he was nearly frightened out of his wits,) and began heaping curses upon the head of the miscreant who had laid so diabolical a plot against his life.  Indeed, he stubbornly refused to be convinced that it was anything else than a trick of his enemies to rob him of his military title.  In fine, he declared to the parson, who several times rebuked him for his free use of profane adjectives, that nothing but his good will for mankind in general prevented him from taking summary vengeance of his enemies with his sword, which, fortunately for those who were making light of his distress, he had left at home.  It was not that he set so high a value upon his life, for he had shown while in the Mexican War that he was not wanting in valor, and was ready at any moment to sacrifice it to his honor; but it sorely grieved him to think of what a loss the nation and Barnstable would suffer in his death by falling into a pit.

The rabble, as he called those who had come to his relief, now began to jeer him, and to demand of him a speech, merely to occupy the time while ropes necessary to his deliverance were being brought.  This so enraged the major, that in addition to swearing he would not be drawn up by such a set of inhuman rascals, he commenced to curse his hard fate.  A few moments more and he became calm, and looking up beseechingly in the clergyman’s face, which was reflected by the light of a lantern, he enjoined him to hasten to his wife, Polly Potter, and tell her of the plight he was in.  She had never forsaken him in his misfortunes.  But the clergyman was scrupulous of his dignity, and not fancying the strong quality of the expletives he was using, took his leave, saying he could not waste sympathy upon one who so far forgot his afflictions as to take the name of the Lord in vain.