He then proceeded to enumerate some of Mr. Middleton’s oddities, at all of which his auditors laughed heartily, and expressed their determination to make the old man’s acquaintance as soon as possible.  When the young men reached Cincinnati, they concluded to take the stage route to Lexington and Versailles, and to pay Mr. Middleton a visit before they proceeded to Frankfort.  Accordingly on Thursday afternoon, just as the sun was setting, they entered Mr. Middleton’s yard, where they were received by the dogs, with just such a demonstration of anger as had greeted Mr. Wilmot more than a year before.

The master of the house was this time at home, and soon appearing at the door, he called out to the negroes who were in the yard, “Ho, thar, boys!  Stuff your woolly heads down them tarnal dogs’ throats and make them stop their yellin’!  Glad to see you—­walk in.  Moses and Aaron!  If this ain’t Ashton from Frankfort.  How d’ye do?  How d’ye do?”

Mr. Ashton shook hands with him, and then introduced his companions, saying they were from New York.  The word New York seemed to thrill Mr. Middleton’s nerves like an electric shock.  He seized both hands of the young men and exclaimed, “From New York, hey?  Then thrice welcome to my old cabin and hominy; old Josh’s door is allus wide open to folks from New York.”  Then leading the way to the sitting room, he continued, “Yes, my own noble boy was from New York, but he died (this is my old woman Nancy, gentlemen).  I don’t see why in the old Harry he couldn’t of lived.  But he died and they kivered him up while I was gone, and I never seen him no more.  Ho!  Here, Tilda, fetch some hot water and make a little sling for these chaps.  It’ll do ’em good, as it’s mighty cold and raw like out o’ door.”

The sling was made, and Ashton and Raymond drank readily and freely; but when it was offered to Stanton, he modestly but firmly refused.  “What upon airth!” said Mr. Middleton, “not drink when a friend asks you?  Why, boy, just take a swaller.”

Here Raymond, who was ready to adopt Mr. Middleton’s language and manners, exclaimed, “I’ll tell you what, old boy, Bob’s left a sweetheart in New York, and I fancy she lectured him on intemperance, for you know the women are dead set against it.”

Mr. Middleton looked first at Raymond, then at Stanton and said, “Well, he knows good sense by not touchin’ on’t, I reckon.  Got a sweetheart, hey?  That’s better than to come here and marry some of our spitfires.  Poor boy!  Dick was engaged to one of ’em, and I’ve hearn that she raised a tantareen and broke his heart.  But I’ll fix her!  I’ll dock off fifty thousand to pay for that caper.”

Here Mr. Ashton asked if Mr. Middleton’s daughters were still at Frankfort.  “Yes,” returned Mr. Middleton, “both thar, study in’ all the flat things you can think on, and thummin’ away on the pianner.  You’ll see ’em thar; but mind me one and all, mind I say, don’t fall in love with Sunshine, for she’s engaged, and I’ve gin my consent, and whoever meddles in that match’ll find Josh after ’em!” By way of adding emphasis to his words he brought his fist back against a work-stand, on which stood his wife’s work basket.  The stand was upset, and all the articles of the basket rolled on the floor.  “Great Peter!” said Mr. Middleton, “ho, Tilda, come pick up these ’ere things!”