rove into the yard, and the
captain came out at the back door.

"Don't be at all afraid of me," I replied.

"How are you, Moses?" exclaimed Captain Fishley, as, by the light of the
lantern he carried in his hand, he saw that his brother had arrived.

"Pretty well, I thank you; but very wet and cold," answered the squire,
shivering.

"Well, I am glad to see you," added the postmaster, as he took the hand
of the guest and helped him out of the wagon.

The squire was so chilled that he could hardly stand. So far as I could
judge, he had entirely recovered from his debauch. The captain led the
way into the house, and I followed them with the trunk and the mail-bag.
Mrs. Fishley bestowed a cordial welcome upon her brother-in-law, and
placed the rocking-chair before the stove, in which there was still a
good fire.

"Why, you are as wet as though you had been in the river!" cried Mrs.
Fishley.

"It has been raining very hard," replied the squire, casting an anxious
glance at me.

"What made you so late?" asked the captain. "I expected you by nine
o'clock."

"I had some friends with me who were on the way to New Orleans, and I
waited to see them off," answered the senator, with a shudder--not at
the thought of his friends, perhaps, but on account of the chill which
pervaded his frame.

"You'll catch your death a cold, Moses," interposed Mrs. Fishley. "I
think you'd better take something, to guard against the chills."

"Yes; I'll give you a glass of corn whiskey, mixed with hot water,"
added the captain, taking up the suggestion.

"No, I think I won't take any," replied the squire, shaking his head.

"Hadn't you better?" persisted Mrs. Fishley. "It'll do you a heap of
good."

"Not to-night, thank you!"

"I don't believe in drinkin' liquor when a body's well; but when they're
wet through, and shiverin' with cold as you are, Moses, it is good for
'em--only as a medicine, you know."

But not even as a medicine could Squire Fishley be induced to partake of
any of the fire-water. He had drank corn whiskey enough for one day; and
I think at that moment he loathed the thought of drinking it. He
compromised the matter, being a politician, by offering to drink a dish
of hot tea, which, I doubt not, was just as good for him as the "ardent"
would have been.

I warmed my fingers a little at the stove, and then went out to take
care of Darky. I stirred my own blood by the exercise of rubbing him
down; and, when I left