The company at length being all mounted, Isaac took it upon himself to lead the way; for the reason, as he alleged, that having traveled the ground oftener than either of the others, he of course knew the best and nearest path to the abode of Peggy Wilson.  Algernon as groomsman rode next with Ella; followed in turn by the father and mother of the groom; and then in double file by the whole company—­talking, laughing and full of glee—­to the number of some fifteen couples.  Turning the corner of the house, they forded the streamlet previously mentioned, crossed the valley, and ascended by a narrow horse-path the opposite hill, leaving the canebrake some distance away to the left.

In those days a road—­or at least such a highway as we of the present so denominate—­was a something unknown; a few horse-paths, so termed, traversing the country in various directions—­narrow, oftentimes obstructed, and sometimes dangerous.  Over one of this latter class, as before said, our wedding party now wended their way, in high spirits; sometimes riding at a brisk trot or gallop, where their course lay open and clear, sometimes walking their horses very slow, in single file, where the path, winding across craggy bluffs, among rocks and trees, became very narrow and unsafe.  Twice, on this latter account, did the gentlemen of the company dismount and lead the horses of their partners for some considerable distance past the stony and dangerous defile, by which means all accidents were avoided.  When they had reached within a mile of their destination, Isaac drew rein and all came to a halt.  Turning upon his saddle, with the air of a commander of some important expedition, he sang out in a loud, shrill voice;

“Well, boys and gals, here we ar—­this here’s the spot—­who’s agoing to run for the bottle?”

“Whoop! yaho! give way thar!” was the answer from a couple of voices in the rear; and at the same instant, two young men, separating from their partners, came bounding forward, on two blood horses, at break-neck speed.

“Stop!” thundered Isaac, as they came tearing up to where he was sitting astride his beast; and obedient to his command, the two individuals in question reined in their impatient steeds, hard abreast, close by his side.  “Well, ef you arn’t a couple o’ beauties, then jest put it down that I don’t know,” continued Isaac, eying them coolly from head to heel, with a quizzical, comical look.  “You’d both on ye average two decent looking fellars—­for whar Seth Stokes is too long, Sam Switcher arn’t long enough; and whar Sam Switcher’s got too much, Seth Stokes han’t got nothing.”

A roar of laughter, in which both Seth and Sam joined, followed Isaac’s closing remarks; for besides partaking of the ludicrous, none could deny that his description was correct.  The two worthies in question were certainly two very singular looking beings to be brought together for a race, and presented a most laughable appearance.  The one bearing the poetical appellation of Seth Stokes, was long, thin and bony, with sharp features, and legs that reminded one of a carpenter’s compass; while his companion, Sam Switcher, was round-favored, short in limbs and stature, and fat almost to corpulency—­thus forming a contrast to the other of the most striking kind.