“You work for pay, then, as we fight for’t?” cried another of the party.
“Even so—is not the laborer worthy of his hire?”
“Come, suppose you give us a little preaching; we have a leisure moment just now, and there’s no telling how much good you might do a set of reprobates like us, in a few words. Here, mount this horseblock, and take your text where you please.”
The men now gathered in eager delight around the peddler, who, glancing his eye expressively towards the captain, who had been suffered to mount, replied,—
“Doubtless, for such is my duty. But, Caesar, you can ride up the road and deliver the note—the unhappy prisoner will be wanting the book, for his hours are numbered.”
“Aye, aye, go along, Caesar, and get the book,” shouted half a dozen voices, all crowding eagerly around the ideal priest, in anticipation of a frolic.
The peddler inwardly dreaded, that, in their unceremonious handling of himself and garments, his hat and wig might be displaced, when detection would be certain; he was therefore fain to comply with their request. Ascending the horseblock, after hemming once or twice, and casting several glances at the captain, who continued immovable, he commenced as follows:—
“I shall call your attention, my brethren, to that portion of Scripture which you will find in the second book of Samuel, and which is written in the following words:—‘And the king lamented over Abner, and said. Died Abner as a fool dieth? Thy hands were not bound, nor thy feet put into fetters: as a man falleth before wicked men, so fellest thou. And all the people wept again over him.’ Caesar, ride forward, I say, and obtain the book as directed; thy master is groaning in spirit even now for the want of it.”
“An excellent text!” cried the dragoons. “Go on—go on—let the snowball stay; he wants to be edified as well as another.”
“What are you at there, scoundrels?” cried Lieutenant Mason, as he came in sight from a walk he had taken to sneer at the evening parade of the regiment of militia. “Away with every man of you to your quarters, and let me find that each horse is cleaned and littered, when I come round.” The sound of the officer’s voice operated like a charm, and no priest could desire a more silent congregation, although he might possibly have wished for one that was more numerous. Mason had not done speaking, when it was reduced to the image of Caesar only. The peddler took that opportunity to mount, but he had to preserve the gravity of his movements, for the remark of the troopers upon the condition of their beasts was but too just, and a dozen dragoon horses stood saddled and bridled at hand, ready to receive their riders at a moment’s warning.