ing to Mr. Lloyd, who could not help laughing at the eagerness of his cowardice; "I am sorry for the disturbance, gentlemen, and I wish you all a good morning, gentlemen!" and so saying, he walked off the ground as fast as his trembling limbs could take him.
Mr. Lloyd now released young Woodhull from his hold; and winding his handkerchief around his arm, which was slightly bleeding, he said, "I perceive, gentlemen, there is no further occasion for my interposition. I think the experience of this morning will not tempt you to repeat this singular disturbance of the peace of this community."
The party were all too thoroughly mortified to attempt a reply, and they separated. Erskine felt a most humiliating consciousness of his disgrace, but he had not sufficient magnanimity to confess it, nor even to express a regret that he had wounded a man, who exposed his life to prevent him from committing a crime. The Woodhulls were deprived of the pitiful pleasure of sneering at Mr. Lloyd's want of courage. The younger brother's arm still ached from his experience of Mr. Lloyd's physical strength; and they all felt the inferiority of their boastful, passionate, and reckless fool-hardiness, to the collected, disinterested courage of a peaceful man, who had risked his life in their quarrel.
To fill up the measure of their mortification, Rivington had not left the village two hours, before several persons arrived there in pursuit of him. They informed his new friends, that he was not a
