"That's good doctrine," said Uncle Elisha, "though the poor fishers about here don't get so very many golden salmon."

"We'll have some scup, anyway, before breakfast," said Ned. "I should be disappointed if the first scup I caught to-morrow morning was a mere chunk of gold.'

"But there used to be a good many fishing vessels leaving the Port, Uncle Elisha," said Mrs. Bodley. "I have heard father tell of them."

66

Yes, indeed, it was busy enough here once: your grandfather, your great-gran'ther Scupper, Nathan, was a famous man for making up voyages. Nobody thought he'd settled matters till Squire Scupper had made up his voyage. He used to spend his time over at the store in that big chair you 've seen; he was a powerful large man, and though he was only justice of the peace, everybody went to him for the law. If the people got into a quarrel, they carried the matter to Squire Scupper, and whatever he said was final. They tell a story of Josiah Gage, you remember him, Sarah?"

"That little dried up man, that died a few years ago?

"Yes, that's the one. He was off in his smack, when the British privateers were about, in the War of 1812, and his smack was overhauled. The British captain was treating him rather roughly, when Josiah bristled up, and says he, 'See here. You let me 'lone. If you don't behave yourself, I'll have you up before Squire Scupper!'"

"And did he?" asked Nathan.

Well," said Uncle Elisha, with a twinkle, " they do say that Josiah frightened him a little. He did n't know any bigger man than Squire Scupper."

66

They did n't seem to mind him much, when they caught you," said Ned.

"Oh, when you were in Dartmoor?" exclaimed Phippy, who had heard her grand-uncle tell his mishaps before.

Yes, you know all about that," said Uncle Elisha.

"Oh, but please, uncle, tell us again," said the little girl.

"Do you want to know how I got in, or how I tried to get out?" "Tell us how you tried to get out."

"You want to know how your poor old uncle failed, do you? Well, I am safely out now, and I have a good bed and table, so I don't so much mind having been kept in a few months longer, but I was a pretty severely disappointed man at the time. I was at Dartmoor prison, a lonely place on the side of some high hills, surrounded by black moors, and about seventeen miles from Plymouth, on the southwestern coast of England. It was a dismal place, and we were shut up with some wretched French prisoners in a damp, unwholesome prison. I believe prisons are a more agreeable sort of place nowadays, but I'd just as lieve not stay in one long, though it's better to be put in for serving your country faithfully than for committing some crime. However, we were in prison, and meant to get out if we could. There were two great walls inclosing the prison. The outer one, which was about sixteen feet in height, was a mile in circumference; the inner wall was about thirty feet from the outer and a guard was placed on top of it, every twenty feet. Between the two walls were also guards and many small buildings. Our plan was to dig passages from under three of the prisons to a depth of about twenty feet, and then horizontally about two hundred and fifty feet, which would bring us out into the road that passed beyond the prison inclosure. There were a good many of us, and we were all sworn to the most solemn secrecy. The three prisons from which we were trying to escape were numbered four, five, and six.