WARWICK WOODLANDS. 145 



that, you cnn 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 re- 

 proach to a man, than to be set store on by you. I 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!" an- 

 swered 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; th§ 

 dogs provided with abundf^nce 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 

 apprenticeship 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 



