popped a huge appearance from a window over the door, and a sharp voice sung out,-" Why, hulloh! stranger, what's your matter now?" "I have lost my way in the forest here hard bye, and I want a night's lodging, if you'll give it me." "You're welcome," was the short reply; and, in a moment more, the bolts were drawn, the door opened, and mine host came forth, without having delayed long at his toilet. 66 'Oh, ah! well, let me see-yes; come, turn your horse into the lot, stranger, will yer? Yes; ah! it's a nasty thing, I guess, to lose yer way, 'specially when yer can't find it isn't it? Yes; now then bring in yer saddle, it'll make an allmighty precious piller. Well, I never-why, I think I've seen you somewhere else before-aint I ?— yes; at least I guess so." "Well! ah! it is my old friend, Doctor Small," exclaimed I; "there cannot be two such, I am sure." And we shook hands. "Now, you must take a shake-down in the corner till to-morrow," said the Doctor, " and then I'll see what we can do for yer;" so, giving me a mattress and a couple of blankets, my hospitable entertainer wished me "good repose," and left me to my rest. "Now then, that chance has thrown you in my way," quoth Doctor Small, next morning, after he had heard my adventures of the previous night, "I shall not part with yer until ye've paid the penance of a day or two with me; so, now then, what'll yer do to-day? There's Michael there, is goin' down to the Forks a huntin'-aint yer Michael? No; ah! yes. Then there's Triptolemus is goin' to buy a blackey, up the country; will yer go wi' him, and drive a bit of nigger tradin'?-do as yer like;—or else, there's Sampson and the young un' goin' catfishin'-Eh! Sammy! aint yer; and jest to have a little touch at bee-hunting-eh, boy?" "The cat-fishing and bee-hunting for me," was my reply. "So be it, then," said Doctor Small; and shortly after breakfast we set out, each on our several pursuits: Michael to the Forks; Triptolemus to nigger-buying; and Sampson, "young un," and myself, to the beehunting. Sampson was provided with a huge bag, for which I saw no purpose; 'young un" had got a hatchet and some sundries; I carried the Doctor's rifle. The sun had risen far above the bluff, the leaves were laden with the morning dew, and all the feathered tribe were well in motion, when we left the Doctor's house. Some two hours of good walking brought us to the edge of a large lake, or "pond" (as they are here called), and flocks of wild-fowl rose from the surface of the water as we came in sight. "Now, then," cried Sampson, as he pitched his load upon the ground; "now for my grand experiment;-I guess you'll see sights. Come, young un,' blow up sharp." "What have you got there?" asked I, as the two brothers, putting their mouths on either side of the large bag, blew till they looked as if their cheeks would burst. "This is a boat," was Sampson's answer; "when I was up in town last, I saw such sights of hingy rubber, as I thought 'ud make a jolly boat; so now I'm trying it ;" and as they blew again, I thought it was indeed a wondrous sight to see a man, in the remotest wilds of "the New World," blowing his breath into a caoutchouc boat. "Now, then, the boat's all ready; shove her out 'young un;' here's a jump. Oh! mighty, I'm in! pull me out! I'm stuck in the mud. Guess I shan't try on no more hingy rubber boats." 66 'Well, here's a wooden boat, now; get into that.”—“ Oh! nonsense, she's half full o' water." Well, then, set to and bale her out; we all work for our living here."—" There, I have left the water only ankle deep. Now, 'young un,' get in. Look, where's the hingy rubber? Oh! it's a floatin' all away before the wind ;-no matter, it's a stupid Yankee notion. Now's yer time. "Let's make tracks straight towards yon little island, where the line of fog is resting on that sleepy alligator's back. Stop, he has seen us ;-Plush! and in he goes. I know there's bee-trees somewhere in that bush-make the ship fast; and now then, blink yer goggle eye. Pooh! don't be mooning up into the sky, as if yer were a looking for a weathercock; bees don't build nests upon the boughs, like yellow jackets.-Oh! oh! oh! Help! I've trod in upon a hornet's nest; they're killing me! Slash away at them. Oh! I've got one crawled down my back, and two more up my trouser legs-murder! I didn't know that 'tarnal log was holler; I guess I've put my foot in it." "Look well at yonder full-blown jessamine; aint there a honeyboy about it. Ah! I thought so; now, watch him. How he's a lining. Now, off he goes; but see, how labouring beneath his load. Follow him up; we have him. Down with your saplings, and make up yer honey-troughs. Now, young un,' where's the hatchet? whack away, boys; never mind yer fingers-crash-down comes the tree; a regular good honey-pot." 6 "They're all astir ;-brush away at the ears, boys; no stamping, and no squalling; it's against the rules-here's loads of honey, enough to sweeten all our dispositions for a month to come." "Hush! there's a duck;-wait!-Crack goes the rifle; skip goes the bullet; and away goes the duck. Oh! you etarnal blunderer; give me the weepon. The air's quite chock full of 'em. Down he comes, tumbling, twirling, splash into the pond." Crack! "Hurrah! a roaster;-now for a little light wood, a good fire, and a split stick; I wish we had a little salt; but here's a quart of mountain dew instead." "And here's a 'yellow-belly ;'-- what a gallous snake! Oh! mighty! young un's chopped his head off with the hatchet;-does his mother know he's out?" "Now, the duck's done, right to a turn; and here's a lot of honey. I'll bet half a gallon of the best rum to a coonskin, the folk at home don't have so good a dinner, nor so raw an appetite, as we." "There's a mud turtle-crack-rattled his shell; he's scared; he drops;—the jig's up; let's be off." * The jig was up; on my return, under the guidance of my friend, the Doctor, to the point whence I had come the previous evening; I found letters which called for my immediate return to England, and thus, at once and suddenly, came the conclusion to my scenes with Uncle Sam. Farewell, then, Nunky! Go ahead, and prosper!-May all your works be wonders, as they have ever been, and all your wonders worked as they have never been before! May your soil prove so rich as to grow horse-shoes where old nails are sown; your rivers rush so as to shove the sea away, out of its place, and give you territories new! May your trees grow so quickly as to pull all their roots up out of the earth, and thenceforth flourish in the air! And may you never want a trumpeter of fame, whilst you can testify the full perfection of "blow your own," to FLORENCE RACES. FIRST DAY, APRIL 4TH. Match for 50 louis each; once round. Prince Charles Poniatowski's gr. m. Elisa, five-years old, 189 lb. Won in a canter, 2 to 1 on the winner. The Ombrone Purse of 100 francesconi, given by the Jockey Club, for Tuscan-bred horses, three-year-olds, 120 lbs. ; four, 149 ibs.; mares and geldings allowed 5 lb. ; once round. Signor Barrotti's b. c. Lavinio, three-years old 120 The Arno Purse of 200 francesconi, given by the Jockey Club for thorough-bred horses, of all ages, three-year-olds, 142 lb. ; four, 168 lb.; five, 180 lb.; six, and aged, 186 lb.; m. and g. allowed 5 lb.; once round. Mr. Gamgee's ch. h. Reviver, five-years old Mr. Gasperini's br. c. Don't-you-wish-you-may-get-it, three-years old, by 1 2 5 Even on Hill Coolie; 3 to 1 agst. Reviver, 5 to 1 agst. Wimple, 6 to 1 agst. Gas, and any odds agst. the winner. CLASS II. Marquess Salsa's b. m. Rivulet Baron Lowenberg's b. g. Tom Prince Charles Poniatowski's b. f. La Diplomate, three-years old, by Ple- Mr. Gasperini's ch. c. L'Enfant Trouvé, four-years old, by Buzzard, out of Prince Charles Poniatowski's gr. m. Elisa, five-years old dist. 2 to 1 agst. Rivulet, 3 to 1 agst. Diplomate, and 100 to 1 (no takers) agst. Elisa, who was declared to start only to save her deposit; and she was actually ridden by a nigger officiating in the capacity of helper in the Prince's stable. The black man verified the adage of "clap a beggar on horseback and he will ride to the d-l", by going away at such a bat, that not one of them could ever catch him, and he won easily by three lengths; but a decided cross having been proved, judgment was given against his satanic majesty, and the race to Rivulet. The Cascina Purse of 100 francesconi, given by the Jockey Club, for horses bred in Tuscany; once round; three-year-olds, 120 lb.; four, 149 lb.; five, 157 lb.; six and aged, 164 lb.; mares and geldings allowed 5 lb. Prince Poniatowski's gr. m. Sinclope Signor Vincentelli's gr. g. Sargentino Countess Camerato's gr. m. La Baccante Signor Trassinesi's b. g. Capriolo 1 12300 La Baccante and Sargentino at any odds against the field, and the winner nor thought of, nor mentioned in the betting. The Winners of the two Classes of the Arno Stakes. Prince Joseph Poniatowski's b. g. Antrim SECOND DAY, APRIL 6TH. 14 The Cup Stakes of 5 louis each, for three-year-olds, 157 lb.; four, 170 lb.; five, 184 lb. ; six and aged, 197 lb.; mares and geldings allowed 4 lb.; Arabians allowed 13 lb.; the winner of this year's Arno to carry 9 lb. extra; once round (twenty-eight subscribers). CLASS I. Prince Charles Poniatowski's gr. m. Elisa Mr. Gasperini's br. c. Don't-you-wish-you-may-get-it Mr. Gasperini's ch. c. L'Enfant Trouvé 1 2 3 Public running, although the safest criterion by which a bettingman's judgment can be influenced, is often baffled by contingencies, against which the nicest calculations are of no avail. Last autumn Reviver very nearly distanced Elisa at even weights, and Chateau Lafitte proved himself to be a stone better than Reviver; on this calculation I made my game, and backed Chateau against Elisa for the section, considering it a safe thing, and equivalent to coining money; and never was I more painfully astounded than at the unexpected vision of a grey mare, steered by a black man, skimming away from all her competitors with as much facility as doth the swift hare from the shepherd's cur. CLASS II. Mr. Gamgee's ch. h. Reviver Baron Lowenberg's b. m. Wimple Prince Joseph Poniatowski's b. g. Antrim Mr. St. John's b.'g. Mameluke Marquess Salsa's b. c. Wisdom, four-years old, by Wiseacre, out of Prince Charles Poniatowski's b. f. La Diplomate .. Even on Antrim: 3 to 1 agst. Wimple, 5 to 1 agst. Reviver. Laid 10 to 7 on the gelding, and, of course, lost it. Gas had so contemptible an opinion of his filly that he refused to back her for a shilling; and, before starting, offered to transfer his stake to any one who might fancy holding it. Match for 25 louis each; once round. Prince Poniatowski's gr. m. Elisa received forfeit from Mr. St. John's The Winners of the two Classes of the Cup Stakes. |