[Pozarica-joel] Te: THE CAPTIVES] "They asked me wh

[Corf]

O one saw you?" "Well, I suppose you did, you young rascal; I couldn't help it, I was that surprised and delighted. To think of Jonas Parker telling me he didn't know but that you were a better wrestler than
he. And to see you hustle that man about and throw him made
me so proud that I felt ashamed and humbled. And when you thought I
was scolding you, I was really reproving my own sinful vanity and pride."
After supper we went up to the Raymond Tavern. Quite a crowd of men were
in the bar-room. They were seated in front of a great fire of logs and peat. Captain Rogers was in their midst. Edmund came up, and made us acquainted with the captain. He shook hands with me, and turning

to father, said:-- "This is a likely young fellow, Mr. Comee. I wish I could have him with me in my corps." "It is possible,"
said father. "We have had some slight talk about it. We will think it over."
Rogers was a big man, over six feet high, well proportioned,
and apparently very
strong. Later on I learned that his strength was wonderful. His features were prominent, strong, but not agreeable. His eyes were not good eyes. At times, a hard,
cruel look came into his face. He seemed to be a man of great hardihood,
of great presence of mind, keen and unscrupulous,--a man I should not wish for a neighbour. In answer to a remark that he must find his present life quite different from his former life, as a farmer, he said:-- "Not
a bit! I never was a farmer. I was brought up in the woods on the frontier among wild animals and Indians. My father was a hunter and trapper. One day he went out hunting and toward night
started to visit another hunter at his hut in the woods. His friend mistook

him in the twilight and shot him. All my life has been spent in the woods, either hunting or trading with the French and Indians, or else fighting them." [Sidenote: A BOWL OF FLIP] Hepzibah Raymond came in with a bowl of flip--the proper mixture of rum, malt beer, and brown sugar. She set it down on the hearth, and
her son John, a cripple, who was seated
in the

fireplace, drew one

of the iron loggerhea
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