f the
loveliest rivers in the world, and famous only for the possession, in
the person of its Catholic priest, of the finest scholar and best fellow
in America, whom we unluckily found not at home, and therefore tasted
not, according to friend Harry's promise, the splendid Innishowen which
graces at all times his hospitable board.

Eight o'clock brought us to Hoboken, where, by good luck, the ferry boat
lay ready--and nine o'clock had not struck when we three sat down once
again about a neat small supper-table, before a bright coal fire, in
Archer's snuggery--Tom glorying in the prospect of the races on the
morrow, and I regretting that I had brought to its conclusion--MY FIRST
WEEK IN THE WOODLANDS

THE WARWICK WOODLANDS: ON A SECOND VISIT

THE WAYSIDE INN

On a still evening in October, Frank Forester and Harry Archer were
sitting at the open window of a neat country tavern, in a sequestered
nook of Rockland County, looking out upon as beautiful a view as ever
gladdened the eyes of wandering amateur or artist.

The house was a large old-fashioned stone mansion, certainly not of
later date than the commencement of the revolution; and probably had
been, in its better days, the manor-house of some considerable
proprietor--the windows were of a form very unusual in the States,
opening like doors, with heavy wooden mullions and small lattices, while
the walls were so thick as to form a deep embrasure, provided with a
cushioned windowseat; the parlor, in which the friends had taken up
their temporary domicile, contained two of these pleasant lounges, the
larger looking out due south upon the little garden, with the road
before it, and, beyond the road, a prospect, of which more anon--the
other commanding a space of smooth green turf in front of the stables,
whereon our old acquaintance, Timothy, was leading to and fro a pair of
smoking horses. The dark green drag, with all its winter furniture of
gaily decorated bearskins, stood half-seen beneath the low-arched
wagon-shed.

The walls of the room--the best room of the tavern--were paneled with
the dark glossy wood of the black cherry, and a huge mantel-piece of the
same material, took up at least one-half of the side opposite the larger
window, while on the hearth below reposed a glowing bed of red-hot
hickory ashes, a foot at least in depth, a huge log of that glorious
fuel blazing upon the massive andirons. Two large, deep gun-cases, a
leathern magazine of shot,