good reason
why "shiveree," which lives in entire unconsciousness of its French
parentage and its Latin grand-parentage, should not find its place in an
"American Dictionary."

But while I am writing a disquisition on the etymology of the word, the
"shiveree" is mustering at Mandluff's store. Bill Day has concluded that
he is in no immediate danger of perdition, and that a man is a "blamed
fool to git skeered about his soul." Bob Short is sure the Almighty will
not be too hard on a feller, and so thinks he will go on having "a
little fun" now and then. And among the manly recreations which they
have proposed to themselves is that of shivereeing "that Dutchman, Gus
Wehle." It is the solemn opinion of the whole crowd that "no Dutchman
hadn't orter be so lucky as to git sech a beauty of a gal and a hundred
acres of bottom lands to boot."

The members of the party were all disguised, some in one way and some in
another, though most of them had their coats inside out. They thought it
necessary to be disguised, "bekase, you know," as Bill Day expressed it,
"ole Grizzly is apt to prosecute ef he gits evidence agin you." And many
were the conjectures as to whether he would shoot or not.

The instruments provided by this orchestra were as various as their
musical tastes. It is likely that even Mr. Jubilee Gilmore never saw
such an outfit. Bob Short had a dumb-bull, a keg with a strip of
raw-hide stretched across one end like a drum-head, while the other
remained open. A waxed cord inserted in the middle of the drum-head, and
reaching down through the keg, completed the instrument. The pulling of
the hand over this cord made a hideous bellowing, hence its name. Bill
Day had a gigantic watchman's rattle, a hickory spring on a cog-wheel.
It is called in the West, a horse-fiddle, because it is so unlike either
a horse or a fiddle. Then there were melodious tin pans and conch-shells
and tin horns. But the most deadly noise was made by Jim West, who had
two iron skillet-lids ("leds" he called them) which, when placed face to
face, and rubbed, as you have seen children rub tumblers, made a sound
discordant and deafening enough to have suggested Milton's expression
about the hinges which "grated harsh thunder."

One of this party was a tallish man, so dressed as to look like a
hunchback, and a hunchback so tall was a most singular figure. He had
joined them in the dark, and the rest were unable to guess who it could
be, and he, for