ooted
walnut table that stood all summer in the porch, and spreading over it a
brown linen cloth, placed in regular order their everyday supper
equipage of pewter plates, earthen porringers, and iron spoons.

The viands consisted of an immense round loaf of bread, nearly as large
as a grindstone, and made of wheat and Indian meal, the half of a huge
cheese, a piece of cold pork, a peach pie, an apple pie, and, as it had
been baking day, there was the customary addition of a rice pudding, in
an earthen pan of stupendous size. The last finish of the decorations
of the table was a large bowl of cool water, placed near the seat
occupied by the father of the family, who never could begin any of his
meals without a copious draught of the pure element.

In a few minutes, the farmer and his son made their appearance as they
turned the angle of the peach-orchard fence, preceded by the geese,
their usual _avant-couriers_, who went out every morning to feed in an
old field beyond the meadows.

As soon as Micajah and Israel had hung up their scythes and washed
themselves at the pump, they sat down to table, the farmer in his own
blue-painted, high-backed, high-armed chair, and Israel taking the seat
always allotted to him--a low chair, the rushes of which having long
since deserted the bottom, had been replaced by cross pieces of cloth
listing, ingeniously interwoven with each other; and this being,
according to the general opinion, the worst seat in the house, always
fell to the share of the young man, who was usually passive on all
occasions, and never seemed to consider himself entitled to the same
accommodation as the rest of the family.

Suddenly, the shrill blast of a tin trumpet resounded through the woods,
that covered the hill in front of the house, to the great disturbance of
the geese, who had settled themselves quietly for the night in their
usual bivouac around the ruins of an old waggon. The Warners ceased
their supper to listen and look; and they saw emerging from the woods,
and rolling down the hill at a brisk trot, the cart of one of those
itinerant tin merchants, who originate in New England, and travel from
one end of the Union to the other, avoiding the cities, and seeking
customers amongst the country people; who, besides buying their ware,
always invite them to a meal and a bed.

The tinman came blowing his horn to the steps of the porch, and there
stopping his cart, addressed the farmer's wife in the t