a blow on the head, as not only demolished him, but the treasure-seeker also, and caused the whole scene to vanish like magic. Moreover, his axe broke quite through the plaster and laths, and discovered a cavity.
'Mercy on us, Mr. Peter, are you quarrelling with the Old Scratch?' said Tabitha, who was seeking some fuel to put under the dinner-pot.
Without answering the old woman, Peter broke down a further space of the wall, and laid open a small closet or cupboard, on one side of the fireplace, about breast-high from the ground. It contained nothing but a brass lamp, covered with verdigris, and a dusty piece of parchment. While Peter inspected the latter, Tabitha seized the lamp, and began to rub it with her apron.
'There is no use in rubbing it, Tabitha,' said Peter. 'It is not Aladdin's lamp, though I take it to be a token of as much luck. Look here, Tabby!'
Tabitha took the parchment, and held it close to her nose, which was saddled with a pair of iron-bound spectacles. But no sooner had she begun to puzzle over it, than she burst into a chuckling laugh, holding both her hands against her sides.
'You can't make a fool of the old woman!' cried she. 'This is your own handwriting, Mr. Peter! the same as in the letter you sent me from Mexico.'
'There is certainly a considerable resemblance,' said Peter, again examining the parchment. 'But you know yourself, Tabby, that this closet must have been plastered up before you came to the house, or I came into the world. No, this is old Peter Goldthwaite's writing; these columns of pounds, shillings, and pence
