BROTHER JONATHAN
CHAPTER I
TWO QUEER MEN MEET
Dennis O’Hay, a young Irishman, and a shipwrecked mariner, had been landed at Norwich, Conn., by a schooner which had come into the Thames from Long Island Sound. A lusty, hearty, clear-souled sailor was Dennis; the sun seemed to shine through him, so open to all people was his free and transparent nature.
“The top of the morning to everybody,” he used to say, which feeling of universal brotherhood was quite in harmony with the new country he had unexpectedly found, but of which he had heard much at sea.
Dennis looked around him for some person to whom he might go for advice in the strange country to which he had been brought. He did not have to look far, for the town was not large, but presently a man whose very gait bespoke importance, came walking, or rather marching, down the street. Dennis went up to him.
“An’ it is somebody in particular you must be,” said Dennis. “You seem to me like some high officer that has lost his regiment, cornet, horse, drum-major, and all; no, I beg your pardon. I mean—well, I mean that you seem to me like one who might be more than you are; I beg your pardon again; you look like a magistrate in these new parts.”
“And who are you with your blundering honesty, my friend? You are evidently new to these parts?”