Chapter 7 - Page 2

'No,' he answered in a low tone that seemed to respect my
confidence. 'Bime by, when you're older, I'll buy ye a rifle - a real
rip snorter, too, with a shiny barrel 'n a silver lock. When ye get
down t, the village ye'll see lots o' things y'd rather hev, prob'ly. If I
was you, children,' he added, in a louder tone, 'I wouldn't buy a
thing but nuts 'n' raisins.'

'Nuts 'n' raisins!' Hope exclaimed, scornfully.

'Nuts 'n' raisins,' he repeated. 'They're cheap 'n' satisfyin'. If ye eat
enough uv 'em you'll never want anything else in this world.'

I failed to see the irony in Uncle Eb's remark and the suggestion
seemed to have a good deal of merit, the more I thought it over.

"T any rate,' said Uncle Eb, 'I'd git somethin' fer my own selves.'

'Well,' said Hope, 'You tell us a lot o' things we could buy.'

'Less see!' said Uncle Eb, looking very serious. 'There's bootjacks
an' there's warmin' pans 'n' mustard plasters 'n' liver pads 'n' all
them kind o' things.'

We both shook our heads very doubtfully.

'Then,' he added, 'there are jimmyjacks 'n' silver no nuthin's.'

There were many other suggestions but none of them were
decisive.

The snow lay deep on either side of the way and there was a
glimmer on every white hillside where Jack Frost had sown his
diamonds. Here and there a fox track crossed the smooth level of
the valley and dwindled on the distant hills like a seam in a great
white robe. It grew warmer as the sun rose, and we were a jolly
company behind the merry jingle of the sleigh bells. We had had a
long spell of quiet weather and the road lay in two furrows worn as
smooth as ice at the bottom.

'Consarn it!' said Uncle Eb looking up at the sky, after we had been
on the road an hour or so. 'There's a sun dog. Wouldn't wonder if
we got a snowstorm' fore night.

I was running behind the sledge and standing on the brake hooks
going downhill. He made me get in when he saw the sun dog, and
let our horse - a rat-tailed bay known as Old Doctor - go at a merry
pace.

We were awed to silence when we came in sight of Hillsborough,
with spires looming far into the sky, as it seemed to me then, and
buildings that bullied me with their big bulk, so that I had no heart
for the spending of the two shillings Uncle Eb had given me. Such
sublimity of proportion I have never seen since; and yet it was all
very small indeed. The stores had a smell about them that was like
chloroform in its effect upon me; for, once in them, I fell into a
kind of trance and had scarce sense enough to know my own mind.
The smart clerks, who generally came and asked, 'Well, young
man, what can I do for you?' I regarded with fear and suspicion. I
clung the