Wherein the philosophic Paddle doth marvellously enlighten our elder in regard to the devil and other sacred subjects. He also taketh unseemly liberties with what divers godly persons have set forth on the same heads, whereupon it would appear-if the thing were credible-that even godly men may sometimes be mistaken. Moreover, Paddle ex- poundeth certain opinions which are current in the infernal Paddle's last visit, wherein he assumeth, with a sort of Dutch-uncle freedom, to be wiser in regard to the means and chances of salvation, than are even pious ministers whose trade it is to be so. He also indulgeth an impious license of remark on many mysterious matters connected with the popular form of Christianity, for the which he will not be likely to obtain credit with the godly reader. Nevertheless, it was deemed fitting that the same should be recorded, since it illustrateth the sophistries with which Satan is wont to assail pious ears, in order to the shaking of their faith in the mysteries of their holy religion. The elder confesseth a leaning to heresy, in the private ears of his spouse Dorothy, and this leadeth to a satisfactory clear- Wherein is satisfactorily cleared up all that hath puzzled the reader in the foregoing part of the narrative. Moreover, all the personages brought to view in this authentic history are ADVENTURES OF ELDER TRIPTOLEMUS TUB. CHAPTER 1. In which the reader hath the honor of an introduction to Mr. Tub, and is made acquainted with the scene of his very marvellous adventures. Ir it shall ever be the reader's hap to fall in with a personage exactly five feet high. in his shoes; whose weight shall be exactly two hundred and forty, avoirdupois; and whose shadow on a wall shall reach to exactly half the altitude when he lies on his back as when he stands on his feet: if, as to variety of hue, the nose of that same individual shall resemble a conglomerate specimen of mineralogy; if his upper and nether person shall be encased in garments of snuff-brown dye; and if, in the peculiar twinkle of his eye, in his posture-inclining out of plumb by a direction backward-in the self-complacent air with which he shall tap his polished boots with his walkingcane-in his whole bearing, in short, shall be exhibited a most comfortable persuasion of his own importance: why then, reader, I would wager great odds that you shall have had the honor of falling in with my most respectable friend, Triptolemus Tub. None other, reader, depend upon it, for nature never made two Triptolemus Tubs, of precisely the same length, breadth, and thickness she never inflated another mass of corporiety with precisely the same quantum of the gas of self-esteem, nor encased she ever another conscience in so invulnerable a pericardium of obtusity. No, I am a believer in nature's omnipotence in everything but the making of two Triptolemus Tubs, and therefore, reader, shouldst thou chance to meet with the personage described, "put off the shoes from off thy feet," for he will be bound to be the veritable Triptolemus himself and none other. Mr. Tub lives on the Virginian shore of or the Ohio river, a dozen miles or so below Wheeling; his dwelling is a massive one, of stone, two stories in height, and dingy from the smoke of bituminous coal, which is the chief fuel of that region; after the fashion which prevails thereabout, it has a passage through the centre from front to rear, and is destitute of the embellishment of frieze, cornice, or even a porch, except we concede that respectable appellation to a platform projected before the front entrance, and flanked with a bench on each side. Good faith, it bears that appellation whether we concede it or not, and architecture among rustics must submit to just such names as they please to give it. I will not assert that there is anything particularly pretty or romantic in the situation of the elder's domicile-for Mr. Tub, be it reverently kept in mind, is an elder— nothing less-except there be prettiness or romance in a straight reach of river with naked banks, a straight line of post-andrail fence, and a straight unshaded road between. Little, however, cares our respectable acquaintance, Mr. Tub, about the What chiefly mere poetry of such matters. engages his concern is a broad belt of rich alluvial formation between the river and the upland slopes, which to his matter-of-fact mind suggests ideas of tall corn and fat swine, something more substantial, I trow, than architectural gewgaws, or scene-struck sentimentalities. There is, nevertheless, an object near at hand which well deserves a passing notice. Near the large and naked trunk of an old elm that leans over the water, and whose roots, on the side next the river, are washed bare by the attrition of the current, an oblong stone set into the ground, and projecting some three feet above it, is found to bear the following rudely chiselled inscription: SACRED to the memory of twenty-six gallant men, Here, if the old elm were still in the pride of its foliage, the traveller might be well |