84 THE ST. REOIS AND SARANACS. 



sport. There was feasting and revelry. There was wine 

 and frolic. There was stag-hunting with hound and horn 

 and caparisoned steed. There was, indeed, in this rude 

 American forest, the luxury, gayety, roystering and wild 

 sport of Ijaronial castle and estate in the old world in the 

 old days. 



The driver told us all this in his homely way, >as he drove 

 on, and said — " and that rough fellow you saw hack there 

 is the last of the Duanes in this neighborhood. " 



The twenty-five miles were dreadfully drawn out, and 

 long before we reached our journey's end the double dark- 

 ness of the dense woods and the night settled down upon 

 us. The conversation waned, and we were most busily 

 employed in watching our way, as well us we^ could, up 

 and down the hills in the forest, wondering what was ten 

 yards ahead of us, and exercising our faith* in the sharp- 

 sightedness, sagacity and true-footedness of our steeds, and 

 in the experience and watchfulness of our driver. At one 

 time, as we were plunging in the darkness down a hill, there 

 was a shake and a shock as of a railroad collision, and 

 everything came instantly to a stand-still. Our driver shot 

 out of the wagon over a front wheel as if propelled by a 

 cannon, while we, wedged in by the seats and the luggage, 

 found ourselves most unceremoniously huddled, in a most 

 miscellaneous way, in the bottom of the wagon. A recon- 

 noissance discovered to us that no serious damage was 

 done, although the driver complained of a bruised shoul- 

 der, upon which he had very suddenly alighted. Nothing 

 but a small, stubborn stump projecting into the road 



