he main-sail of a North River
sloop; a waistcoat and single-breasted jacket of the same material, with
a fur cap, completed his attire; but in his hand he bore a large
decanter filled with a pale yellowish liquor, embalming a dense mass of
fine and worm-like threads, not very different in appearance from the
best vermicelli.

"Come, boys, come--here's your bitters," he exclaimed; and, as if to set
the example, filled a big tumbler to the brim, gulped it down as if it
had been water, smacked his lips, and incontinently tendered it to
Archer, who, to my great amazement, filled himself likewise a more
moderate draught, and quaffed it without hesitation.

"That's good, Tom," he said, pausing after the first sip; "that's the
best I ever tasted here; how old's that?"

"Five years!" Tom replied: "five years last fall! Daddy Tom made it out
my own best apples--take a horn, Mr. Forester," he added, turning to me
--"it's first best cider sperrits--better a darned sight than that Scotch
stuff you make such an etarnal fuss about, toting it up here every time,
as if we'd nothing fit to drink in the country!"

And to my sorrow I did taste it--old apple whiskey, with Lord knows how
much snake-root soaked in it for five years! They may talk about gall
being bitter; but, by all that's wonderful, there was enough of the
amari aliquid in this fonte, to me by no means of leporum, to have given
an extra touch of bitterness to all the gall beneath the canopy; and
with my mouth puckered up, till it was like anything on earth but a
mouth, I set the glass down on the table; and for the next five minutes
could do nothing but shake my head to and fro like a Chinese mandarin,
amidst the loud and prolonged roars of laughter that burst like thunder
claps from the huge jaws of Thomas Draw, and the subdued and half
respectful cachinnations of Tim Matlock.

By the time I had got a little better, the black tea was ready, and with
thick cream, hot buckwheat cakes, beautiful honey, and--as a stand by--
the still venerable round, we made out a very tolerable meal.

This done, with due deliberation Archer supplied his several pockets
with their accustomed load--the clean-punched wads in this--in that the
Westley Richards' caps--here a pound horn of powder--there a shot-pouch
on Syke's lever principle, with double mouth-piece--in another,
screw-driver, nipple-wrench, and the spare cones; and, to make up the tale,
dog-whip, dram-bottle, and silk handker