nning to persuade the drunken part to retire harmlessly
brawling into the seclusion of their own homes.

Such was the place in which Mat had set up his residence, after twenty
years of wandering amid the wilds of the great American Continent.

Never was tenant of any order or degree known to make such conditions
with a landlord as were made by this eccentric stranger. Every household
convenience with which the people at the lodgings could offer to
accommodate him, Mat considered to be a domestic nuisance which it was
particularly desirable to get rid of. He stipulated that nobody should
be allowed to clean his room but himself; that the servant-of-all-work
should never attempt to make his bed, or offer to put sheets on it, or
venture to cook him a morsel of dinner when he stopped at home; and
that he should be free to stay away unexpectedly for days and nights
together, if he chose, without either landlord or landlady presuming to
be anxious or to make inquiries about him, as long as they had his rent
in their pockets. This rent he willingly covenanted to pay beforehand,
week by week, as long as his stay lasted; and he was also ready to fee
the servant occasionally, provided she would engage solemnly "not to
upset his temper by doing anything for him."

The proprietor of the house (and tobacco-shop) was at first extremely
inclined to be distrustful; but as he was likewise extremely familiar
with poverty, he was not proof against the auriferous halo which the
production of a handful of bright sovereigns shed gloriously over the
oddities of the new lodger. The bargain was struck; and Mat went away
directly to fetch his personal baggage.

After an absence of some little time, he returned with a large corn-sack
on his back, and a long rifle in his hand. This was his luggage.

First putting the rifle on his bed, in the back room, he cleared away
all the little second-hand furniture with which the front room was
decorated; packing the three rickety chairs together in one corner, and
turning up the cracked round table in another. Then, untying a piece of
cord which secured the mouth of the corn-sack, he emptied it over his
shoulder into the middle of the room--just (as the landlady afterwards
said) as if it was coals coming in instead of luggage. Among the things
which fell out on the floor in a heap, were--some bearskins and a
splendid buffalo-hide, neatly packed; a pipe, two red flannel shirts, a
tobacco-pouch, and an In