A FESTIVE EVENING. 49 



not actually mixed in the glasses, it amounted 

 to very much the same thing. I could fill these 

 pages with the stories that were told in the in- 

 tervals of the game of " high low Jack," which 

 we played with a pack of well-worn cards, 

 that had done duty, perhaps, ever since the 

 old stage times. But owing to the circum- 

 stances, the recollection of these stories is some- 

 what confusing. It was not exactly one of the 

 nodes ambrosiance of Christopher North, but 

 the enjoyment on an inferior plane was like 

 unto theirs. 



The clock, which had been set by my watch — 

 for, unknown to all our friends, to whom it did 

 not matter, it had been nearly an hour out of 

 the way — at length admonished us that the 

 festivities should come to an end. The neigh- 

 bors bade me a cordial good-by and filed out 

 into the cold air on their homeward tramp, 

 and the landlord, with a tallow dip in hand, 

 conducted me to my room. Again we 

 walked through the dreary dining-hall, and 

 then through a long entry-way, , whence oppo- 

 site the front door a wide staircase with 

 carved balustrades ascended. 



Arriving at the top, he opened the door of a 

 large corner room of four small-paned windows 

 4 



