Wednesday, November 9, 2016

The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head with terror. What was to be done?
To turn and fly was now too late; and besides, what chance was there of escaping ghost or goblin, if such it was, which could ride upon the wings of the wind? Summoning up, therefore, a show of courage, he demanded in stammering accents- "who are you?" He received no reply. He repeated his demand in a still more agitated voice. Still there was no answer. Once more he cudgeled the sides of the inflexible gunpowder, and, shutting his eyes, broke forth with voluntary fervor into a psalm tune. Just then the shadowy object of alarm put itself in motion, and, with a scramble and a bound, stood at once in the middle of the road. though the night was dark and dismal, yet the form of the unknown might now in some degree be ascertained. He appeared to be a horseman of large dimensions, and mounted on a black horse of powerful frame. He made no offer of molestation or sociability , but kept aloof on the side of the road, jogging along on the blind side of old Gunpowder, who who had now got over his fright and waywardness.

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