“ One would think that the devil had broke loose to—day. What is it, John ? Have you seen him, and has Susan seen him ? ”

“ Aw—yaw.”

“ He’s stopped you jaw, then, at all events, and I thought the devil himself wouldn’t have done that—we shall get nothing of you. Is that wench coming to her senses ? ”

“ Yes, yes, she’s better now.—Susan, what’s the matter ? ”

“ Oh, oh, ma’am ! the well, the well—”

“ The well ! Something wrong there, I suppose : well, I will go and see.”

The farmer trotted off to the well ; he perceived the bucket was at the bottom and all the rope out ; he looked about him, and then he looked into the well. Jack, who had become very impatient, had been looking up some time for the assistance which he expected would have come sooner ; the round face of the farmer occasioned a partial eclipse of the round disk which bounded his view, just as one of the satellites of Jupiter sometimes obscures the face of the planet round which he revolves.

“ Here I am,” cried Jack, “ get me up quick, or I shall be dead; ” and what Jack said was true, for he was quite done up by having been so long down, although his courage had not failed him.

“Dang it, but there be somebody fallen into the well,” cried the farmer; “no end to mishaps this day. Well, we must get a Christian out of a well afore we get a bull out of a saw—pit, so I’ll go call the men.”

In a very short time the men who were assembled round the saw—pit were brought to the well.

“Down below there, hold on now.”

“Never fear,” cried Jack.

Away went the winch, and once more Jack had an extended horizon to survey. As soon as he was at the top, the men hauled him over the bricks and laid him down upon the ground, for Jack’s strength had failed him.

“Dang it, if it bean’t that chap who was on my apple—tree,” cried the farmer—“howsomever, he must not die for stealing a few apples; lift him up, lads, and take him in—he is dead with cold—no wonder.”

The farmer led the way, and the men carried Jack into the house, when the farmer gave him a glass of brandy; this restored Jack’s circulation, and in a short time he was all right again.

After some previous conversation, in which Jack narrated all that had happened, “What may be your name?” inquired the farmer.

“My name is Easy,” replied Jack.

“What, be you the son of Mr. Easy, of Forest Hill?

“Yes.”

“Dang it, he be my landlord, and a right good landlord too—why didn’t you say so when you were up in the apple—tree? You might have picked the whole orchard and welcome.”

“My dear sir,” replied Jack, who had taken a second glass of brandy, and was quite talkative again, “let this be a warning to you, and when a man proposes to argue the point, always, in future, listen. Had you waited, I would have proved to you most incontestably that you had no more right to the apples than