ferent race of people, and I fell asleep to
dream that a whole army of intricate sums were charging upon me with
fixed bayonets.

* * * * *

Morning came, and I was under the painful necessity of getting up--which
is always an unnatural wrench under the most favorable auspices. The
first bell had rung at an unearthly hour, and I paid no attention to it,
but the second bell was not much more civilized; and as I failed to
appear, Mrs. Bull came to the door to see if I had made way with myself.

I told her not to wait--I would be down as soon as I could get dressed;
and I plunged desperately into a basin of cold water. Thankful for the
institution of nets, I hastily packed my hair into what Artemus Ward
calls 'a mosquito bar,' and with a final shake-out of my
hurriedly-thrown-on drapery, I descended, with the expectation of
finding the family in the full enjoyment of their morning meal.

But Mrs. Bull stood at the head of the table, Mr. Bull at the foot, and
Miss Friggs at the side, all with their hands on their respective
chairs. If they had stood in that position ever since Mrs. Bull's visit
to my door, they had enjoyed it for at least half an hour.

This was very embarrassing; but the only answer that I received to my
remonstrances was that 'they knew what manners was.' After that, I
always managed to be down in time.

I found Miss Friggs just as she had been represented, with the addition
of being very kindly disposed toward me; but between her and Mr. Bull
there existed a sort of chronic squabble that led to frequent passages
of wit. Mr. Bull opened the ball, that morning, by observing, with a
half wink at me, that 'he see she hadn't been kerried off yet,' which
referred to a previously expressed objection on the part of Miss Friggs
to sleep without some secure fastening on the door of her room; and
people in the country can never understand why you should want anything
different from the existing state of things. Then Mr. Bull remarked that
Miss Friggs had better sleep in a bandbox or an old stocking, as folks
packed away valuables in such things, because they were seldom looked
into by housebreakers.

Suddenly, Miss Friggs asked her tormentor if he had seen any robbers
lately--when he turned around and handed me the butter. This referred to
a tradition that Mr. Bull had come running home one evening, entirely
out of breath, under the firm belief that he was pursued by a robber,