two thousand in all--on the street of a winter's day.

This sappy and sapid contribution to its comfort and luxury the town
often repays with a jug of whisky as an addendum to the cash receipts;
although it must not be inferred from this that the hillmen are noted
for a weakness in that direction. Generally, they are as sober as they
are hard-working, independent and honest. The few who do take kindly
to strong waters are so hardened by a life of toil and exposure
that the enemy is a lifetime in bringing them down.. One little old
hook-nosed fellow was an every-day feature of the road for fifteen or
twenty years. In that entire period he was rarely, if once, seen to go
out sober. He drove but two horses, which were apparently coeval with
himself. Long practice had taught them perfectly how to accommodate
themselves to their master's failing. The saddle-horse adapted his
movements with vigilant dexterity to the rolling and pitching aloft.
On more than one occasion the woodman was found lying in the road by
the side or under the feet of his faithful and motionless team. Poor
old Jack! thou hast "gone under," deeper than that, at last, leaving
behind thee the savor of an honest name, slightly modified by that of
corn whisky.

The Hayfield Inn, a little hostelrie on the Northern "pike," is the
scene of many a turkey-shoot. Between the hill and the road, at the
foot of a ravine that runs down at right angles, room enough has
been scooped out, partly by the rains and partly by the pick, for
the house, offices and microscopic yard decorated with hollyhocks and
larkspurs. Across the highway stands a capacious barn, with open space
for wagons, and between it and the brook beyond stretches a narrow
meadow, whence a vivid imagination has extracted the name of the
caravanserai. The open space flanking the house and road is the