You know the Connecticut Blue Laws made it death for a priest, meaning a clergyman of the Church of England, to be found within that State. Thank heaven, those days are past. “God, liberty, and toleration,” whether a man prefers a prayer-book to the missal, or the Koran to a prayer-book, or a single rap at a door to the noise of a dozen.
Adieu.
N.B.—You must keep this letter a profound secret, as we have certain gentlemen on our side of the Atlantic who would, in imitation of the noblemen here, disturb their neighbours.
William Austin.
A CAPTIVE MAIDEN.
“WHILE PITMAN SEIZED THE SUFFERER BY ONE ARM, I GRASPED THE OTHER.”
IT is extremely probable that we shall lose our servant-girl. She was the victim of a very singular catastrophe a night or two since, in consequence of which she has acquired a prejudice against the house of Adeler. We were troubled with dampness in our cellar, and in order to remove the difficulty we got a couple of men to come and dig the earth out to the depth of twelve or fifteen inches, and fill it in with a cement and mortar floor. The material was, of course, very soft, and the workmen laid boards upon the surface, so that access to the furnace and the coal-bin was possible. That night, just after retiring, we heard a woman screaming for help; but after listening at the open window, we concluded that Cooley and his wife were engaged in an altercation, and so we paid no more attention to the noise. Half-an-hour afterwards there was a violent ring at the front door bell, and upon going to the window again I found Pitman standing upon the door-step below. When I spoke to him he said—
“Max,”—the judge is inclined sometimes, especially during periods of excitement, to be unnecessarily familiar,—“there’s somethin’ wrong in your cellar. There’s a woman down there screechin’ and carryin’ on like mad. Sounds ’s if somebody’s a-murderin’ her.”