gall of a rainy day, and see if I don't think she is the
sweetest flower in it. Yes, I am glad it is the dinner-bell,
for I ain't ready to marry yet, and when I am, I guess
I must get a gall where I got my hoss, in Old Connecticut,
and that state takes the shine off of all creation for
geese, galls and onions, that's a fact.

"Well dinner won't wait, so I ups agin once more near
the rooks, to brush up a bit; but there it is agin the
same old tune, the whole blessed day, rain, rain, rain.
It's rained all day and don't talk of stoppin' nother.
How I hate the sound, and how streaked I feel. I don't
mind its huskin' my voice, for there is no one to talk
to, but cuss it, it has softened my bones.

"Dinner is ready; the rain has damped every body's spirits,
and squenched 'em out; even champaign won't raise 'em
agin; feedin' is heavy, talk is heavy, time is heavy,
tea is heavy, and there ain't musick; the only thing
that's light is a bed room candle--heavens and airth how
glad I am this '_juicy day_' is over!"




CHAPTER III.

TYING A NIGHT-CAP.

In the preceding sketch I have given Mr. Slick's account