uproarious bursts of singing as made one think of Anacreon's
grasshopper


"Drunk with morning's dewy wine."


All these we passed, and at length drew up before Mrs. Peters's
house. I had been here before, on a strawberrying stroll with
Melindy,--(across lots it was not far,)--and having been asked in
then, and entertained the lady with a recital of some foreign exploit,
garnished for the occasion, of course she recognized me with clamorous
hospitality.

"Why how do yew do, Mister Greene? I declare I ha'n't done a-thinkin'
of that 'ere story you told us the day you was here, 'long o'
Melindy." (Kate gave an ominous little cough.) "I was a-tellin'
husband yesterday 't I never see sech a master hand for stories as you
be. Well, yis, we hev _got_ turkeys, young 'uns; but my stars! I
don't know no more where they be than nothin'; they've strayed away
into the woods, I guess, and I do'no' as the boys can skeer 'em up;
besides, the boys is to school; h'm--yis! Where did you and Melindy
go that day arter berries?"

"Up in the pine-lot, ma'am. You think you can't let us have the
turkeys?"

"Dew tell ef you went up there! It's near about the sightliest place I
ever see. Well, no,--I don't see how's to ketch them turkeys. Miss
Bemont, she't lives over on Woodchuck Hill, she's got a lot o' little