Chapter XXXVI.
TWO WHIGS.
"Goy! Look at the trees, friend Custis," said John M. Clayton, standing before his office as the rising sun innocently struck the tree-tops in the public square of Dover.
Judge Custis, sitting at an upper window, observed that many noble elms and locusts had been riven by lightning, or torn by wind and wind-driven floods of rain.
"What a night!" Custis exclaimed; "the jail burned, the lightning appalling, and I thought I heard firearms, too."
Judge Custis heard Clayton say, as he entered the room:
"So ole Derrick Molleston, Aunt Braner, asked you about my dinner, did he? And it's Bill Greenley that burned the jail? Goy! And the black people licked the kidnappers at Cowgill House?"
"Dat dey did, praise de Lord!" ejaculated Aunt Braner, fervently.
Clayton turned to a young man at the table, now dressed in a good clean suit of clothes, and said, as the old cook left the room:
"Now, friend Dennis, tell your tale. Goy!"