WARWICK WOODLANDS, 35 



DAY THE THIRD. 



So thoroughly was I tired out by the effects of the first day's 

 fagging I bad undergone in many months, and so sound was 

 the slumber into which I sank the moment my head touched 

 the pillow, that it scarcely seemed as if five minutes had elapsed 

 between my falling into sweet forgetfulness, and my starting 

 bolt upright in bed, aroused by the vociferous shout, and pon- 

 derous tramping, equal to nothing less than that of a full-grown 

 rhinoceros, with which Tom Draw rushed, long before the sun 

 was up, into my chamber. 



" What's this, what's this now ?" he exclaimed ; " why the 

 plague arn't J T OU up and ready ? why here's the bitters mixed, 

 and Archer in the stable this half hour past, and Jem's here 

 with the hounds and you, you lazy snorting Injun, wasting 

 the morning here in bed !" 



My only reply to this most -characteristic salutation, was to 

 hurl my pillow slap in his face, and threatening to follow up 

 the missile with the contents of the water pitcher, which stood 

 temptingly within my reach, if he did not get out incontinently 

 to jump up and array myself with all due speed ; for, when 

 I had collected my bewildered thoughts, I well remembered that 

 we had settled on a fox-bunt before breakfast, as a preliminary 

 to a fresh skirmish with the quail. 



In a few minutes I was on foot and in the parlor, where I 

 found a bright crackling fire, a mighty pitcher of milk punch, 

 and a plate of biscuit, a<n apt substitute for breakfast before 

 starting ; while, however, I was discussing these, Archer arrived, 

 dressed just as I have described him on the preceding day, with, 

 the addition of a pair of heavy hunting spurs, buckled on over 

 his half- boots, and a large iron-hammered whip in his right 

 hand. 



" That's right, Frank,"" he exclaimed, after the ordinary salu- 

 tations of the morning. 



" Why that old porpoise told me you would not be ready 

 these two hours ; he's grumbling out yonder by the stable door, 

 like a hog stuck in a farm-yard gate. But come, we may as 

 well be moving, for the hounds are all uncoupled, and the nags 

 saddled p^ut on a pair of straps to your fustian trowsers and 

 take these racing spurs, though Peacock does not want them 

 -and now, hurrah ]" 



