"Is that so?" answered Mr. Martin. "I am very glad; but tell me,
what is it? Your neighbors will all be glad to hear of your good
luck."

"Read that," said Seth, handing him the letter triumphantly.

The postmaster read the manuscript. One Dewitt of New York City
assured Mr. Savage that a certain ticket sent to him a month before
had drawn a prize of three thousand dollars; that on receipt of
thirty-five dollars in a letter antedated according to directions,
the full amount would be forwarded to him.

"Surely, Seth," expostulated the postmaster, "you are not going to
be fooled in this way. Dewitt is a humbug, a swindler."

"Neow, heow dew yeou know that?" inquired Seth. "Has he ever
fool'd yeou?"

"I don't deal with that sort of people," replied Mr. Martin mildly.
"I dislike to see anyone wronged, especially a neighbor. Here is a
gentleman who knows all about such matters." And Seth was formally
introduced to the special agent, who took pains to explain the
character of the swindle fully.

The officer left the village with the pleasant assurance that his
brief visit had contributed at least toward the rescue of one poor
object from the jaws of the devourer.

After all, however, Seth was not convinced. By selling his only