ing
logs. At my salutation, she partly turned, looked hard at me, nodded,
and muttered some inaudible words. Then, having levelled the
coals properly, she put down the coffee-pot, and, facing about,
exclaimed,--"Jimmy, git off that cheer!"

Though this phrase, short and snappish enough, was not worded as an
invitation for me to sit down, I accepted it as such, and took the chair
which a lean boy of some nine or ten years old had hurriedly vacated.
In such cases, I had learned by experience, it is not best to be too
forward: wait quietly, and allow the unwilling hosts time to get
accustomed to your presence. I inspected the family for a while, in
silence. The spare, bony form of the woman, her deep-set gray eyes,
and the long, thin nose, which seemed to be merely a scabbard for her
sharp-edged voice, gave me her character at the first glance. As for the
man, he was worn by some constant fret or worry, rather than naturally
spare. His complexion was sallow, his face honest, every line of it,
though the expression was dejected, and there was a helpless patience
in his voice and movements, which I have often seen in women, but never
before in a man. "Henpecked in the first degree," was the verdict I
gave, without leaving my seat. The silence, shyness, and puny appearance
of the boy might be accounted for by the loneliness of his life, and
the usual "shakes"; but there was a wild, frightened look in his eye, a
nervous restlessness about his limbs, which excited my curiosity. I
am no believer in those freaks of fancy called "presentiments," but I
certainly felt that there was something unpleasant, perhaps painful, in
the private relations of the family.

Meanwhile, the supper gradually took shape. The coffee was boiled, (far
too much, for my taste,) bacon fried, potatoes roasted, and certain
lumps of dough transformed into farinaceous grape-shot, called
"biscuits." Dishes of blue queensware, knives and forks, cups and
saucers of various patterns, and a bowl of molasses were placed upon the
table; and finally the woman said, speaking to, though not looking at,
me,--

"I s'pose you ha'n't had your supper."

I accepted the invitation with a simple "No," and ate enough of the rude
fare (for I was really hungry) to satisfy my hosts that I was not proud.
I attempted no conversation, knowing that such people never talk when
they eat, until the meal was over, and the man, who gladly took one of
my cigars, was seated comfortably