Although famous for his disregard of truth, the major affected never to have his word disputed, and was at all times ready to draw his sword in its defence. "Heaven, as you know, knows all things, sir," said he, addressing himself to me; "and it knows me incapable of doing a dishonorable act. And therefore I say to you, for I hold it an honor and no disgrace to be a politician, that if you will hear patiently the cause of my dispute with this parson, I will accept your decision in the matter as final. But, heaven save the mark! use your judgment a little, sir, and be not like some of our judges, who seek to please those who promise most, and having little virtue, ask you to accept their good advice in excuse for their evil example." The major having said this with an air of conciliation, gave his head a significant toss, and his trowsers, which had got loose about his hips, a few twitches into place.
It now came to the parson's turn to speak. He shook his head at first, and was not a little reluctant about acceding to such terms; but on being assured of my position as a politician, who had done so much for Cape Cod, and the hard cider campaign, he resolved to accept my decision as final. Meanwhile, the major had screwed up his courage, and was making a circle round the parson, and loudly calling upon the landlord to bear witness that it had been his motto through life to wrong no man.
Numerous idlers had by this time gathered round the disputants, each giving his opinion on the merits of the question, and offering to back it up with dollars or drinks. Indeed, some of the opinions delivered by them were quite as profound as any delivered by our City Justices, and indeed discovered a superior sense of prudence. But it soon became evident that popular opinion was on the side of the major and his pig. And popular opinion was right, the major said, and ought to be respected all over the world. At this juncture of affairs, the lean figure of the nonresistant, (who was sure not to be far off when there was any chance of a disturbance,) stood in the doorway, and immediately engaged in the dispute. "I have not come (heaven knows I have not!) to give an opinion; but as I am here, it may be as well so to do, for heaven knows I am a man of peace, which it is my mission to preserve." The nonresistant was here interrupted by the major, who squared up to him with clenched fists, and bid him begone, or he would make splinters of him in a trice. The man, however, was not daunted by such threats, and getting his choler up, told the major he verily believed him to be a mixture of Jew and Celt, and as such, always more ready to talk than fight. He then told the parson, that although he held him in no very high favor, he would hint for his own sake, that he could in no way get the better of his enemy so well as by releasing the pig from custody, and delivering him into the hands of his owner, saying: "'Neighbor, prudence being the twin brother of peace, and both being acceptable to heaven, I have thought it well to restore thee thy pig, that thou mayest comfort him. He has eaten up my chickens, it is true, and he has otherwise done me grievous harm; but I freely forgive him, seeing that heaven made him a brute. Thou mayest take care of him; do for him what seemeth good; and know that as a christian I bear thee no malice. Let the good offset the evil, and I will trust in heaven to repair the loss I have suffered.'"
The nonresistant held that kindness was of itself so great a weapon, that it would incite generosity in the major-in a word, that he would give all his tin ware, with old Battle thrown in, rather than let such goodness suffer. But the major was not so easily seduced, and, calling the nonresistant a miscreant, he again bid him begone, or he would hasten his exit with the toe of his boot. On assenting to sit in judgment on the case in dispute, I took the precaution to stipulate that peace be preserved, and that the one should keep his lips sealed while the other was making his statement. But the parson commenced his statement by declaring the pig to be possessed of the devil; indeed it could not be otherwise, he said, since the strange antics it performed, and which he minutely described, betrayed a desire in him only to do evil. This the major immediately rose to dispute; and thrusting his hands into the ample pockets of his breeches, he declared with great emphasis, that he would not hear a word said against the pig's morals and sagacity, seeing that he had been reared and educated in the care of the clergy. In truth, he had given out so many proofs of rare sagacity, that the major stated it as his intention to speedily proceed with him to New York, there to have his "Life and Times" written by the erudite Easley, who was said to be strangely profound as a critic, in which capacity he wrote for three newspapers, and read for three or more publishers, all of whom where celebrated for not selling less than one hundred thousand copies of every work to which they affixed their imprint, though it was said of them that they had thrown to the public no end of literary carrion, which Easley had praised.
Order being restored, the major gave way to the parson, who closed his case by asserting that his poverty entitled him to compensation. The major now rose, and with considerable clearness, set forth the fact, that no evidence had been produced to show either that the pig was disposed to evil, or that he had devoured a single chicken. Feathers were scattered round, but feathers might have been laid there as a blind by some rascal who had divers evil designs against the hen roosts of his neighbors. Christians ought always, the major contended, to take a generous view of things before they couched the fatal spear. Again, there was neighbor Kimball's pet fox, an arrant rascal, who was known to have a strange penchant for young chickens, and had committed depredations enough to consign him to the gallows.
The above view of the case somewhat modified the parson's temper, and as he would not have those present think him less than a Christian gentleman, who would rather go supperless to bed than wrong his fellow, he, in the blandest manner, begged them not to think for a moment that he intended wrong. So, with great sanctity of countenance, he laid his hand upon his heart, called Omnipotence to witness that he bore the major no ill will, and was ready to atone for aught he had said damaging to his feelings. And this display of repentance well nigh dissolved the major into tears. The disputants now shook hands, and swore eternal friendship. The major bowed, and placed his hand to his heart; and the parson bowed, and placed his hand to his heart; and thus was I relieved from rendering a verdict, which most likely would have pleased neither. It was likewise intimated to the parson, that the sewing circle would make good his loss, with fourfold interest, which consoled him much. Together then the two friends, without further ceremony, set out to release the animal from bondage, congratulating one another that they had been wise enough to keep out of the hands of lawyers. On arriving at the parson's yard, to which they were followed by a crowd of idlers, they were not a little surprised to find that the pig had taken his departure, having first beaten the dog in a fair fight, and twice driven the kitchen maid frightened into the house. Great anxiety was now manifested to see an animal of such rare qualities; and on further search being made, he was discovered in neighbor Kimball's yard, fraternizing with his pet fox, and otherwise conducting himself so unbecomingly, as to make it evident that the friends of free love had inducted him into the mysteries of their system. In truth, he bore no small resemblance to a few of the disciples of that very accommodating system, for he was lean of figure, had a long, narrow head, and a vacant look out of the eyes.
"Duncan! my own Duncan!" ejaculated the major, his broad face flushed with joy. The animal raised his snout, gave a significant grunt, and ceasing his caressings, ran to his master, a double curl in his tail. Having got possession of his property, the major returned thanks within himself, invoked a blessing on the head of the parson, whom he cursed in his heart, and set out for home, followed by his pig and a score of mischievous boys, making the very air resound with their hootings.
CHAPTER XVII.
WHICH TREATS OF WHAT WAS DONE WITH THE PIG; AND ALSO OF THE LECTURE ON CRABBE, BY GILES SHERIDAN, AND VARIOUS THINGS.
WHEN Major Roger Potter reached his home, he found his wife Polly waiting with eager desire to see the animal he had so vividly described. "Pray to God, dear Polly," said he, embracing and kissing his wife, as the mischievous boys set up a loud yell, "for our pig is safe, and in him there is a fortune, which you shall share, and he comforted." And having consigned the animal to the care of his wife, who, although a strong minded woman in her way, looked at first with no little distrust on the animal, but became favorably impressed on seeing him cut certain curious capers round the room. Indeed she soon began to congratulate herself on the possession of so rare a creature, and to invoke certain ills on the head of the parson for holding him so tight in his fingers. "Peace, dear Polly," enjoined the major, "for goodness belongs to our kind. The nonresistant was right, (and right should have its right,) when he advised me to use goodness as the most effectual weapon to demolish an adversary. It becomes me, as it does all good christians, to reverence and adore the Church; but I own it is not in me to reverence those priests and deacons who affect to regale your palate with truth, while splitting God's goodness into fragments, merely to please those who have a terrible thirst to get to heaven over a road no one else travels."