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"Oh, she's one of us; she's an old body, in a neat lettle room all alone by herself, and I thinks she's as good a body as there is amongst us -- but, zounds, here it is past nine o'clock, and two miles of snow to waller through yet."

"You had better stay here," said all at once.

"No, no; I've got to help Cap'n Bunce in the morning, and he'd be jist mad enough to liide me if I wam't there arly."

At this moment another loud knock at the door arrested every one's attention. Mr. Rodman took a light into the hall and cried out, "Come in!" The storm, which had not in the least abated, seemed to come into the hall as fast as the outsiders themselves, who were an old, tipsy, clumsily moving man, shabbily dressed, and a woman in a coarse close hood, through which a face was seen glowing with the fires of a life of intemperance and brutal exposure.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Rodman knew them at once. They were old residents of the town, vagrants, paupers, thieves, wasters, who led a gipsey sort of life, though in general bringing themselves round to their own crazy, storm-exposed cabin, situated on a lonely bye-path of the town, near a swamp and a high rocky range of hills. Occasionally, they were "on the town," in consequence of great inebriacy, sickness, actual want, or for minor offences that in them the town could adjudicate. They were now under the care of the town. What had driven them forth on such a night as this?

Jims started up on their appearance, stared at them, and they at him. At length he abruptly vociferated --

"Well, old Jock Tucker, what y're arter up here this time o'night, hay? and you, too, old Pol?"

"None yer bisness, Jims."

"'Tis tother -- "

"No, it ain't, you young varmint 1" said the hag, shak- ing her long arm towards him.

"Well, well, good people," said Mr. Rodman, "don't get into a quarrel here now. Just be orderly. Come up and warm yourselves."

"Why, Polly Tucker I" said Mrs. Rodman -- "is it possible you can be wandering about in such a storm as this, and seeming to have no care for yourself! How it looks in you, a woman I And besides that, it will be very likely to make you really sick. How is it possible you can do so?"

"Oh, la sus! Mrs. Rodman, we can't live at the poor-house any way. It's a mighty worse way than living in the street, or in a decent prison. We won't live in the poor-house any longer than we are made to -- that's flat!" said she, with terrible firmness.

"I'll tell yer what it is," said Jims. "You've just run away -- that's it."

"None your bisness," said Tucker again.

"'Tis!" said Jims. "You got scart, did ye! ha! ha! Because old aunt Dorothy's dead, you made off. Ha! ha! I'm mighty tickled that old Jock and Polly's got out the house, for they're as ugly as bulls, and as scary as owls."

Luckily Jims, as he said this, darted warily to the door and out into the storm, for thus he avoided a heavy blow aimed at his head by Tucker with his large cane; Polly, at the same time, snatching her hood from her head and hurling it at him with the utmost violence of manner.

"Little c -- s!" said Tucker, biting his teeth.

"Tut, tut! Mr. Tucker, remember I don't accustom myself or family to the hearing of profane words."

"Well, right is right. You're the best man, Parson Rodman, that I ever did see, and I ax your pardon ten thousand times. I never swears lest I git riled, and that's not of 'en, is it, Pol?"

"Yes," said she, "every day."

"It's a darned lie, any how!"

So the brutal pair went on. They finally pushed off into the storm, to go to their own cold, desolate hut, only asking for some cold victuals to put in their bag, which Tucker slung over his shoulder. They would not stay over night: evidently they were afraid "Captain Bunce" might be after them to return them to the POOR-HOUSE.

"I wish I knew more about that boy," said Mrs. Rodman. "His countenance interests me, and his condition awakens my solicitude,"

"He is the boy who was thought to have burnt Captain Bunce's barn," said her husband.

"Is he!"

"To be sure. A very bright boy naturally, but so educated there as almost to destroy him, both for this world and the next."

"Have our ladies done any thing yet for the paupers?"

"I don't know," said he. "I suppose they have; but really I don't know."

""Well, do you find out to-morrow and let me know," said she, and the conversation dropped.

CHAPTER XVII.
The Tuckers. (2) Very remarkable character like that of a Johnson, a Pitt, a More, a Bonaparte, or a Washington, but occasionally gleams on the path of human life. It becomes our duty, consequently, to ponder well every such appearance, and endeavor to estimate the chances in favor of any one age or country reaping the honor of it; for great, indeed, is that honor.