a; two quarts of this, strained clear, were added to the
brandy, and then two flasks of curacoa!

Into this mixture a dozen lumps of clear ice were thrown, and the whole
stirred up 'till the sugar was entirely suspended; then pop! pop! went
the long necks, and their creaming nectar was discharged into the bowl;
and by the body of Bacchus--as the Italians swear--and by his soul, too,
which he never steeped in such delicious nectar, what a drink that was,
when it was completed.

Even Tom Draw, who ever was much disposed to look upon strange potables
as trash, and who had eyed the whole proceedings with ill-concealed
suspicion and disdain, when he had quaffed off a pint-beaker full, which
he did without once moving the vessel from his head, smacked his lips
with a report which might have been heard half a mile off, and which
resembled very nearly the crack of a first-rate huntsman's whip.

"That's not slow, now!" he said, half dubiously, "to tell the truth now,
that's first rate; I reckon, though, it would be better if there wasn't
that tea into it--it makes it weak and trashy-like!"

"You be hanged!" answered Harry, "that's mere affectation--that smack of
your lips told the story; did you ever hear such an infernal sound? I
never did, by George!"

"Begging your pardon, Measter Archer," interposed Timothy, pulling his
forelock, with an expression of profound respect, mingled with a
ludicrous air of regret, at being forced to differ in the least degree
from his master; "begging your pardon, Measter Archer, that was a
roommer noise, and by a vary gre-at de-al too, when Measter McTavish
sneezed me clean oot o' t' wagon!"

"What's that?--what the devil's that?" cried I; "this McTavish must be a
queer genius; one day I hear of his frightening a bull out of a meadow,
and the next of his sneezing a man out of a phaeton."

"It's simply true! both are simply true! We were driving very slowly on
an immensely hot day in the middle of August, between Lebanon Springs
and Claverack; McTavish and I on the front seat, and Tim behind. Well!
we were creeping at a foot's pace, upon a long, steep hill, just at the
very hottest time of day; not a word had been spoken for above an hour,
for we were all tired and languid--except once, when McTavish asked for
his third tumbler, since breakfast, of Starke's Ferintosh, of which we
had three two-quart bottles in the liquor case--when suddenly, without
any sign or warning, McTavish gave a snee