out hay and oats and fill them up! Ain't any hay and oats? Well get

some--have it charged to me--come, spin around, now! Now, Hawkins, the

procession's ready; mark time, by the left flank, forward-march!"

And the Colonel took the lead, with Laura astride his neck, and the

newly-inspired and very grateful immigrants picked up their tired limbs

with quite a spring in them and dropped into his wake.

Presently they were ranged about an old-time fire-place whose blazing

logs sent out rather an unnecessary amount of heat, but that was no

matter-supper was needed, and to have it, it had to be cooked. This

apartment was the family bedroom, parlor, library and kitchen, all in

one. The matronly little wife of the Colonel moved hither and thither

and in and out with her pots and pans in her hands', happiness in her

heart and a world of admiration of her husband in her eyes. And when at

last she had spread the cloth and loaded it with hot corn bread, fried

chickens, bacon, buttermilk, coffee, and all manner of country luxuries,

Col. Sellers modified his harangue and for a moment throttled it down to

the orthodox pitch for a blessing, and then instantly burst forth again

as from a parenthesis and clattered on with might and main till every

stomach in the party was laden with all it could carry. And when the

new-comers ascended the ladder to their comfortable feather beds on the

second floor--to wit the garret--Mrs. Hawkins was obliged to say:

Hang the fellow, I do believe he has gone wilder than ever, but still a

body can't help liking him if they would--and what is more, they don't

The Gilded Age