shake of the hand which he had been reluctantly reserving for a mile
back, and, leading me up to the 'squire, thus introduced me: "Uncle
Archy, this is Lyman Hall; and for all you see him in these fine
clothes, he's a _swinge_ cat; a darn sight cleverer fellow than he looks
to be. Wait till you see him lift the old Soap-stick, and draw a bead
upon the bull's-eye. You _gwine_ to see fun here to-day. Don't say
nothing about it."

"Well, Mr. Swinge-cat," said the 'squire, "here's to a better
acquaintance with you," offering me his hand.

"How goes it, Uncle Archy?" said I, taking his hand warmly (for I am
always free and easy with those who are so with me; and in this course I
rarely fail to please). "How's the old woman?"

"Egad," said the 'squire, chuckling, "there you're too hard for me; for
she died two-and-twenty years ago, and I haven't heard a word from her
since."

"What! and you never married again?"

"Never, as God's my judge!" (a solemn asseveration, truly, upon so light
a subject.)

"Well, that's not my fault."

"No, nor it's not mine, _ni_ther," said the 'squire.

Here we were interrupted by the cry of another Rancey Sniffle. "Hello,
here! All you as wish to put in for the shoot'n'-match, come on here!