And while this colloquy was proceeding between the major and his wife, I had taken a seat in the reading-room of the “Independent Temperance,” where Giles Sheridan, the little deformed man, was nervously pacing the floor, and pausing every few minutes either to give me a few random sketches of his career in the world, or to mutter his misgiving at the result of his lecture on Crabbe.  In truth, he had been waited upon several times during the morning by persons regarded by the town as famous for their great learning, all of whom said, if he had chosen a subject less remote, they would have guaranteed a large house; as it was, they were not quite so sure of the result.  Soon the dapper figure of Bessie appeared in the room.  “Please, sir,” she said, as her cheeks crimsoned with blushes, “they say you came into town with that queer man they call Major Potter?”

“And what of that, my child?” I replied, as another sentence trembled upon her lips, which were as tempting as ripe cherries.

“Why, sir,” she lisped, “you must know that although he now and then talks like a sensible man, he is set down for a great fool.  He affords a deal of amusement for the boys, and never comes home but what he keeps the whole town in an uproar.  Being a great fool is what got him elected Major of the Invincibles.  And then he fancies himself a great politician, and goes about the country delivering lectures, as he calls them, and leaves his family to starve.  Proceed no farther with him; for I heard our minister say (and he never profanes his calling) that the devil had run away with his brains.  He is always talking about his valor, and his military dignity; but his poor distressed wife can tell you all about that.”  She was proceeding to say much more, but was interrupted by the appearance of the major, who, as he said, came to say, that as his wife was sick of a fever, and the house in a somewhat disordered condition, I must excuse his not giving me an invitation to dine with him.  He hoped, however, that sufficient proof had been given to convince me of the high estimation in which he was held by Barnstable in general.  “Pardon what I may have said extravagant of myself, sir.  The rabble, you know, are always ready to get down a man of genius, and to misconstrue his acts; but the thinking never fail, as they have done with me, to give merit its due.”  Having said this with refreshing self complacency, the major turned to Giles Sheridan, (Bessie had left the room,) and as if to add to his discomfiture, told him he had little to expect from his lecture on Crabbe, of whom it was said that he could not be much of a poet, since the people of Barnstable knew so little of him.  Indeed he offered to wager two dozen tin pints, a Shanghai chicken, and his military honor with the little deformed man, that he would give an exhibition with his pig, whose wonderful qualifications had already got noised over town, and attract a greater audience.  Indeed, as I have resolved never to swerve from the truth in this history, it must be here acknowledged that the pig had become quite as famous as his master.