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HE question concluding the preceding chapter of this history took more than a moment or so to answer, as the reader may suppose. Open-mouthed, as well as open-eared, with their packages, one by one, dropped heedlessly in the grassy path that led up from the little dock, "Obed Probasco and Loreta his wife" halted before Philip, still ejaculating, questioning, and with their astonishment of one kind giving place to that of another as Philip proceeded with his story. He leaned against the fence and, talking now with one, now the other, related his strange experience. The amazed New England couple turned and looked into each other's eyes at every few sentences, with many a "My gracious me!" "Did ever any body hear the like?" "You don't mean that you"—did so and so; and by Obed's frequent "Well, this beats all creation, fur as I know it!" Even Touchtone's anxiety and their