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Updated: June 25, 2025
A similar character was Tilly Troffater, and never more thankful was he than when opportunity encouraged his quarrelsome mood; and never more amazed or provoked at the manner in which the laws were administered, than when his broils were suppressed while rising, and his litigations closed as soon as he began them.
Troffater knew not where to turn his little earthen eyes, for fear of encountering accusers; and he fixed them on the moon, and whistled a snatch or two of his addicted music; then bit his lips, and blowed, and hitched around on his seat, and blushed like a jack-o'-lantern. "Yes, the scamp orto've been punished, I say," repeated Colwell. "Think he was not punished then?" asked Fabens.
He insisted, however, that Troffater should go into the house, and see his folks, and take supper with them. The bolt of a galvanic battery could not have convulsed the little culprit with a more terrible shock than such a word; he looked as though he would slink through the floor, and actually craved a blow to brace up his nerves, and knit his joints, and rally his skulking spirit.
The next time Fabens saw Troffater, he inquired if Tilly knew any evil of George Ludlow, or if he ever warned Fairbanks and Frisbie against him. "They never said so much as boo, about 'im to me, nor I to them; that's honest," said Troffater. "But I tell you, Fabens, I never thought a great 'eal o' them scamps. I itched to give you a jog, when they come so thick around you.
Fabens marshalled his corn 'stouts, like a legion of soldiers in a hollow square, on the green mown meadow in front of his house, a quarter of a mile away; and sent invitations far and near for a very large gathering. He was particular even to invite Tilly Troffater and his family; and a great number came.
The subject engrossed his thoughts and feelings, when, one evening, going to his barn with a lantern to close the door, he found a neighbor in his granary measuring wheat! A second glance assured him it was Tilly Troffater, his enemy; the mysterious, meddlesome, lying little bandy Troffater, and he was stealing wheat!
Now was the time to test the power of kindness, and he gave it a trial. He was glad, he said, that he happened to come with a light, for it was very difficult to measure wheat in the dark; and began himself to fill up the bag. Troffater looked more sullen and evil for a while, but he soon began to wilt, and open his mouth with apologies.
But Fabens was still inexorable. If Troffater would come to-morrow and help him three or four days, he would pay him in wheat; but that bag-full he was welcome to, and he must take it home that night. "I ken not carry it," cried Tilly; "there's three bushels and a haff; and it'll break my back, if I try to tuck it hum." "I did not think of that.
As they gazed in a transport of terror, Fabens escaped unobserved from the company, passed softly around through the woods, and coming up behind the foul fiend, he grasped its dark form in his arms, and found as he suspected, that it was no other devil than little tantalizing Troffater, with a carved squash shell, set out with an ox's ears, on his head, bearing his idea of a devil's image, and lighted within by a brilliant candle!
He cited a few warnings of the Scriptures against the wicked and the sinner. Yet he spoke kindly, and admonished him as a friend and brother. Troffater went into convulsions of agony. Streams of fire seemed surging through all his arteries, burning up his heart, and covering his head and face with blisters. He hung his head, and knocked his knees together. He gasped, and hemmed, and groaned.
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