two hills covered with chestnut trees, beneath which several lean
sheep were grazing, when the major's story was interrupted by the
shrill sound of a fishmonger's horn.






CHAPTER VIII.

WHAT TOOK PLACE BETWEEN THE MAJOR AND THE FISHMONGER.





A SOFT glow enhanced the beauty of the foliage on the hill side,
tottering stone walls lined each side of the road, and the crowing
of cocks, and the lowing of cattle, together with a pastoral view
obtained through the scraggy trees, betokened our near approach to a
farm house. "Let us forget politics and go in for a bit of trade
with this fishmonger!" said the major, as he jerked the reins, that
old Battle might take heed, and quicken his pace. Another blast from
the fishmonger's horn, and his wagon appeared in the road,
approaching at a rapid pace. The fishmonger, doubtless, thought
there was no trade to be had of a tin peddler, whose wares had
nothing in common with his own, and was about to drive by at a brisk
pace, when the major reined up old Battle, and half hidden in a
cloud of dust, cried out, in a thin, squeaking voice, "Ho! stranger,