g
the color of the animal you saw." "Well thin," replied he, "if you must
know, he was a dirthy brown, the varmint, that he was." From what we
could learn from him we were led to suppose that he had met with one of
those harmless little creatures, called the "Woodchuck," which his
nervous terror, aided by the deepening twilight, had magnified into a
formidable wild beast.

A few evenings after, two or three friends of the family chanced to
call; and in course of conversation some one mentioned an encampment of
Indians, who had recently located themselves in our vicinity, for the
purpose of gathering material for the manufacture of baskets, and other
works of Indian handicraft. Terry had never seen an Indian, and
curiosity, not unmixed with fear, was excited in his mind, when he
learned that a number of those dark people were within three miles of
us. He asked many questions regarding their personal appearance, habits,
&c. It was evident that he entertained some very comical ideas upon the
subject. After sitting for a time silent, he suddenly enquired, "Do they
ate pratees like other people?" A lady, present, in order to impose upon
his credulity, replied, "Indeed Terry they not only eat potatoes, but
they sometimes eat people." His countenance expressed much alarm, as he
replied, "Faix thin, but I'll kape out o' their way." After a short time
he began to suspect they were making game of him, and applied to me for
information, saying, "Tell me, sir, if what Mrs. ---- says is true?" "Do
not be alarmed, Terry," I replied, "for if you live till the Indians eat
you, you will look even older than you now do."

This allusion to his ancient appearance was very mischievous on my
part, and I regretted it a moment after; but he was so much pleased to
learn that he had nothing to fear from the Indians that he readily
forgave me for alluding to a subject upon which he was usually very
sensitive. I remember taking a walk one afternoon during the haymaking
season to the field where Terry was at work. Mr. ---- had driven to the
village with the farm horses, leaving Terry to draw in hay with a
rheumatic old animal that was well nigh unfit for use. But as the hay
was in good condition for getting in, and the sky betokened rain, he
told Terry, upon leaving home, to accomplish as much as possible during
his absence, and he would, if the rain kept off, draw in the remainder
upon his return. As I drew nigh I spied Terry perched upon the top