He came at last, and a sorry looking fellow he was.  He was covered from head to foot with yeast!  The cook had placed her bottle of emptyings, tightly corked, in the village of cider bottles; and the truth flashed upon us at once, that George had made a mistake, and captured the wrong bottle; and the most of its contents, being a little angry at the time, were discharged into his face.  But this was not all.  George thought he had encountered a cider bottle, after all, for he could see nothing in the cellar, and he had poured what little remained of his yeast into the pitcher, and brought it up with him.  When he made his appearance, there was such a noisy trio of laughter as that old kitchen had seldom heard before.  This brought in the cook, and she laughed as loudly as the rest of us.  Then, to crown all, the lady of the house, hearing the noise, came to see what we were all about; and she laughed the loudest of any body.  I shall never forget the image of George Reese, as he entered that room.  It gives me a pain in the side now, only to think of it.

MORAL 1.—­Before undertaking any enterprise similar to this cider-plot, it is desirable to count the cost.

MORAL 2.—­In your pursuit after glory, take care that you do not come in contact with something else that is not so pleasant.

* * * * *

STORY FIFTH.  MY FIRST HUNTING-EXCURSION.

I shall never forget the first time I sallied out into the woods to try my hand at hunting.  Carlo, the old family dog, went with me, and he was about as green in the matter of securing game as myself.  We were pretty well matched, I think.  I played the part of Hudibras, as nearly as I can recollect, and Carlo was a second Ralph.  I had a most excellent fowling-piece—­so they said.  It began its career in the French war, and was a very veteran in service.  Besides this ancient and honorable weapon, I was provided with all the means and appliances necessary for successful hunting.  I was “armed and equipped as the law directs,” to employ the words of those semi-annual documents that used to summon me to training.

Well, it was sometime before we—­Carlo and I—­started any game.  Wind-mills were scarce.  For one, I began to fear we should have to return without any adventure to call forth our skill and courage.  But the brightest time is often just before day, and so it was in this instance.  Carlo began presently to bark, and I heard a slight rustling among the leaves in the woods.  Sure enough, there was visible a large animal of some kind, though I could not determine precisely what it was, on account of the underbrush.  However, I satisfied myself that it was rare game, at any rate; and that point being settled, I took aim and fired.

Carlo immediately ran to the poor victim.  He was a courageous fellow, that Carlo, especially after the danger was over.  Many a time I have known him make demonstrations as fierce as a tiger when people rode by our house, though he generally took care not to insult them until they were at a convenient distance.  Carlo had no notion of being killed, knowing very well that if he were dead, he could be of no service whatever to the world.  Hudibras said well when he said,