"He does pretty well," said an elderly man, with a woollen scarf or
muffler about his neck and a fox-skin cap on his head, "He does it
pretty well; but, Captain, did you ever see Sam Allen?"

"You mean," answered the person addressed, who was a man of about the
same number of years, "Allen who married old Peter's daughter, and
afterwards run away. Yes; it didn't go with him as slick with her as
on the ice."

"Well, she didn't break her heart about it. She got married agin as
soon as the law allowed. I was in court when Judge Trumbull granted
the divorce. 'Twas for three years willful desartion and total neglect
of duty."

"No, I guess she didn't. She was published the very next Lord's Day,
and got married in the evening. She was a mighty pretty cretur. Well,
I never see such a skater as Sam. This fellow is nothing at all to
him. He don't kind o' turn his letters so nice. Now, there's that
v, you might mistake it for a w. I like to see a man parfect in his
business."

"I've hearn tell," said the Captain, "though I never see it myself,
that Sam could write Jarman text as well as Roman."

"I never see it," said the Fox-skin cap, "but guess it's so. There
wasn't nothing Sam couldn't do on skates."

"Do you recollect whether he used smooth irons or hollow?" inquired
the Captain.