hey plague your life out else. Have you the
pistol-case in, Tim, for I don't see it?"

"All raight, sur," answered he, not over well pleased, as it seemed,
that it should even be suspected that he could have forgotten any thing
--"All raight!"

"Go along, then," cried Harry, and at the word the high bred nags went
off; and though my friend was too good and too old a hand to worry his
cattle at the beginning of a long day's journey--many minutes had not
passed before we found ourselves on board the ferry-boat, steaming it
merrily towards the Jersey shore.

"A quarter past six to the minute," said Harry, as we landed at Hoboken.

"Let Shot and Chase run, Tim, but keep the spaniels in till we pass
Hackensack."

"Awa wi ye, ye rascals," exclaimed Tim, and out went the high blooded
dogs upon the instant, yelling and jumping in delight about the horses--
and off we went, through the long sandy street of Hoboken, leaving the
private race-course of that stanch sportsman, Mr. Stevens, on the left,
with several powerful horses taking their walking exercise in their neat
body clothes.

"That puts me in mind, Frank," said Harry, as he called my attention to
the thorough-breds, "we must be back next Tuesday for the Beacon Races--
the new course up there on the hill; you can see the steps that lead to
it--and now is not this lovely?" he continued, as we mounted the first
ridge of Weehawken, and looked back over the beautiful broad Hudson,
gemmed with a thousand snowy sails of craft or shipping--"Is not this
lovely, Frank? and, by the by, you will say, when we get to our
journey's end, you never drove through prettier scenery in your life.
Get away, Bob, you villain--nibbling, nibbling at your curb! get away,
lads!"

And away we went at a right rattling pace over the hills, and through
the cedar swamp; and, passing through a toll-gate, stopped with a sudden
jerk at a long low tavern on the left-hand side.

"We must stop here, Frank. My old friend, Ingliss, a brother trigger,
too, would think the world was coming to an end if I drove by--
twenty-nine minutes these six miles," he added, looking at his watch, "that
will do! Now, Tim, look sharp--just a sup of water! Good day--good day
to you, Mr. Ingliss; now for a glass of your milk punch"--and mine host
disappeared, and in a moment came forth with two rummers of the
delicious compound, a big bright lump of ice bobbing about in each among
the nutmeg.

"What, off again for Or