ed Harry, finishing his cup of coffee, and
flinging the stump of his cheroot into the fire. "Good-night! Timothy
will call you in the morning."

"Goodnight, old fellow."

And the friends parted merrily, in prospect of a pleasant day's sport on
the morrow.

THE MORNING'S SPORT

It was not yet broad daylight when Harry Archer, who had, as was usual
with him on his sporting tour, arisen with the lark, was sitting in the
little parlor I have before described, close to the chimney corner,
where a bright lively fire was already burning, and spreading a warm
cheerful glow through the apartment. The large round table, drawn up
close to the hearth, was covered with a clean though coarse white cloth,
and laid for breakfast, with two cups and saucers, flanked by as many
plates and egg-cups, although as yet no further preparations for the
morning meal, except the presence of a huge home-made loaf and a large
roll of rich golden-hued butter, had been made by the neat-handed
Phillis of the country inn. Two candles were lighted, for though the day
had broken, the sun was not yet high enough to cast his rays into that
deep and rock-walled valley, and by their light Archer was busy with the
game-bag, the front of which he had finished netting on the previous
night.

Frank Forester had not as yet made his appearance; and still, while the
gigantic copper kettle bubbled and steamed away upon the hearth,
discoursing eloquent music, and servant after servant bustled in, one
with a cold quail-pie, another with a quart jug of cream, and fresh eggs
ready to be boiled by the fastidious epicures in person, he steadily
worked on, housewife and saddler's silk, and wax and scissors ready to
his hand; and when at last the door flew open, and the delinquent
comrade entered, he flung his finished job upon the chair, and gathered
up his implements, with:

"Now, Frank, let's lose no time, but get our breakfasts. Halloa! Tim,
bring the rockingham and the tea-chest; do you hear?"

"Well, Harry, so you've done the game-bag," exclaimed the other, as he
lifted it up and eyed it somewhat superciliously--"Well, it is a good
one certainly; but you are the queerest fellow I ever met, to give
yourself unnecessary trouble. Here you have been three days about this
bag, hard all; and when it's done, it is not half as good a one as you
can buy at Cooper's for a dollar, with all this new-fangled machinery of
loops and buttons, and I don't know what."

"And