

186 WARWICK WOODLANDS. 



English snipe that I killed down by ray little run'-side ; you'll 

 have them roasted with the guts in, I guess ! and then there's 

 a pork-steak and sassagers and if you don't like that, you can 

 jist go without. Here, Brower, take these to your mother, and 

 tell her to git supper right stret off and you tell Emma Jane 



to make some buckwheat cakes for A ! he can't sup no 



how without buckwheat cakes ; and I sets a great store by 



A ! I does, by G ! and you needn't laugh, boys, for I 



doos a darned sight more than what I doos by you." 



" That's civil, at all events, and candid," replied Frank ; " and 

 it's consolatory, too, for I can fancy no greater reproach to a 

 man, than to be set store on by you. T do not comprehend at 



all, how A bears up under it. But come, do make that 



egg-nog that you're chattering about." 



" How will I make it, Harry with beer, or milk, or cider ?" 



" All three ! now be off, and don't jaw any more !" answered 

 Archer " asking such silly questions, as if you did not know 

 better than any of us.'' 



In a few minutes the delicious compound was prepared, and, 

 with a plate of toasted crackers and some right good Orange 

 County butter, was set on a small round stand before the fire ; 

 while from the neighboring kitchen rich fumes began to load 

 the air, indicative of the approaching supper. In the mean 

 time, the wagon was unloaded ; Timothy bustled to and fro ; 

 the parlor was arranged ; the bed-rooms were selected by that 

 worthy; and everything set out in its own place, so that they 

 could not possibly have been more comfortable in their own 

 houses. The horses had been duly cleaned, and clothed, and 

 fed ; the dogs provided with abundance of dry straw, and a hot 

 mess of milk and meal ; and now, in the far corner of the bar- 

 room, the indefatigable varlet was cleaning the three double 

 guns, as scientifically as though he had served his apprentice- 

 ship to a gunsmith. 



Just at this moment a heavy foot was heard upon the stoop, 

 succeeded by a whining and a great scratching at the door. 

 " Here comes that Indian, Jem,'' cried Tom, and as he spoke the 

 door flew open, and in rushed old Whino, the tall black and tan 

 fox-hound, and Bonnybelle, and Blossom, and another large 

 blue-mottled bitch, of the Southern breed. It was a curious 

 sight to observe by how sudden and intuitive an instinct the 

 hounds rushed up to Archer, and fawned upon him, jumping 

 up with their fore-paws upon his knees, and thrusting their 



