n read who host is in a gineral way with half an
eye. If he is an ante-corn-lawer, then he is a manufacturer that wants
to grind the poor instead of grain. He is a _new man_ and reformer. If
he goes up to the bob for corn-law, then he wants to live and let live,
is _of an old family_, and a tory. Talk of test oaths bein' done away
with. Why Lord love you, they are in full force here yet. See what a
feller swears by--that's his test, and no mistake.

"Well, you wouldn't guess now there was so much to talk of, would you?
But hear 'em over and over every day, the same everlastin' round, and
you would think the topics not so many arter all, I can tell you. It
soon runs out, and when it does, you must wait till the next rain, for
another freshet to float these heavy logs on.

"Coffee comes, and then it's up and jine the ladies. Well, then talk
is tried agin, but it's no go; they can't come it, and one of the
good-natured fat old lady-birds goes to the piany, and sits on the music
stool. Oh, Hedges! how it creaks, but it's good stuff, I guess, it
will carry double this hitch; and she sings 'I wish I was a butterfly.'
Heavens and airth! the fust time I heard one of these hugeaceous
critters come out with that queer idee, I thought I should a dropt right
off of the otter man on the floor, and rolled over and over a-laughin',
it tickled me so, it makes me larf now only to think of it. Well, the
wings don't come, such big butterflies have to grub it in spite of Old
Nick, and after wishin' and wishin' ever so long in vain, one of the
young galls sits down and sings in rael right down airnest, 'I _won't_
be a nun.' Poor critter! there is some sense in that, but I guess she
will be bleeged to be, for all that.

"Now eatin' is done, talkin' is done, and singin' is done; so here is
chamber candles, and off to bed, that is if you are a-stayin' there.
If you ain't, 'Mr. Weather Mutton's carriage is ready, Sir,' and Mr.
Weather Mutton and Mrs. Weather Mutton and the entire stranger get in,
and when you do, you are in for it, I can tell you. You are in for a
seven mile heat at least of cross country roads, axletree deep, rain
pour-in' straight up and down like Niagara, high hedges, deep ditches
full of water, dark as Egypt; ain't room to pass nothin' if you meet
it, and don't feel jist altogether easy about them cussed alligators and
navigators, critters that work on rail-roads all day, and on houses and
travellers by night.

"If you