“‘It belongs to the society,’ says the Deacon.

“‘But the s’ciety’s pulled up stakes and gone off.’

“‘It belongs to individooals of the society—to individooals.’

“‘Wal, I’m an individooal,’ says Jedwort.

“‘You! you never went to meetin’ here a dozen times in your life!’

“‘I never did have my share of the old meetin’-house, that’s a fact,’ says Jedwort; ‘but I’ll make it up now.’

“‘But what are ye fencin’ up the common for?’ says the Deacon.

“‘It’ll make a good calf-pastur’. I’ve never had my share o’ the vally o’ that either. I’ve let my neighbours’ pigs and critters run on’t long enough; and now I’m jest goin’ to take possession o’ my own.’

“‘Your own!’ says the Deacon in perfect consternation.

’You’ve no deed on’t.’

“‘Wal, have you?’

“‘No—but—the society—’

“‘The s’ciety, I tell ye,’ says Jedwort, holding his head up longer than I ever knew him to hold it up at a time, and grinning all the while in Talcott’s face—’ the s’ciety is split to pieces. There

a’n’t no s’ciety now, any more’n a pig’s a pig arter you’ve butchered and e’t it. You’ve e’t the pig amongst ye, and left me the pen. The s’ciety never had a deed o’ this ’ere prop’ty, and no man never had a deed o’ this ’ere prop’ty. My wife’s gran’daddy, when he took up the land here, was a good-natered sort of man, and he allowed a corner on’t for his neighbours to put up a temp’rary meetin’-house. That was finally used up—the kind o’ preachin’ they had them days was enough to use up in a little time any house that wa’n’t fireproof; and when that was preached to pieces they put up another shelter in its place. This is it. And now’t the land a’n’t used no more for the purpose ’twas lent for it goes back nat’rally to the estate ’twas took from, and the buildin’s along with it.’

“‘That’s all a sheer fabrication,’ says the Deacon. ‘This land was never a part of what’s now your farm any more than it was a part of mine.’

“‘Wal,’ says Jedwort, ‘I look at it in my way, and you’ve a perfect right to look at it in your way. But I’m goin’ to make sure o’ my way by puttin’ a fence round the hull concern.’

“‘And you’re usin’ some of my rails for to do it with!’ says the Deacon.

“‘Can you swear ’t they’re your rails?’

“‘Yes, I can; they’re rails the freshet carried off from my farm last spring and landed on to yourn.’

“‘So I’ve heard ye say. But can you swear to the partic’lar rails? Can you swear, for instance, ’t this ’ere is your rail? or this ’ere one?’

“‘No; I can’t swear to precisely them two—but—’

“‘Can you swear to these two? or to any one or two?’ says Jedwort. ‘No, ye can’t. Ye can swear to the lot in general, but you can’t swear to any partic’lar rail, and that kind o’ swearin’ won’t stand law, Deacon Talcott. I don’t boast of bein’ an edicated man, but I know suthin’ o’ what law is, and when I