The circumstances of a first meeting so color long years of
acquaintanceship, that, should these circumstances be comic in their
nature, the intercourse which follows partakes much of the grotesque.
Thus, perhaps, it is, that the misfortunes of Edward Martin, apart from
the whimsical demeanor of the man himself, provoke in my memory a smile
rather than a sigh.

Some years ago, journeying on foot through Northern Connecticut, it
became necessary for me to stop overnight at the quiet inn of Deacon
S----.

Sharon I had visited, fair as Berkshire, but less an old story; I had
lingered about the twin lakes of Salisbury; I had carried away many
sweet memories of Warramaug and its mountain; and I now found myself in
the neighborhood of Gramley Bridge, eager for fresh water, clean towels,
and the plenty of a country tea-table,--not averse to strawberry
short-cake, or the snowy delights of cottage-cheese.

It was rapidly growing dark, when, as I hurried on toward my cheerful
welcome, a bend in the road brought me in sight of a figure that filled
me with curiosity and amazement.

"Was it a man?
A devil infernal?
An angel supernal?"

Was it were-wolf spectral, or bear aboriginal? It lived and moved, and,
as I cautiously neared the spot, I seemed to recognize a human being in
the singular form,--stooping, squatting, and groping before me.