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Jinks, drawing back; "I have business, sir important business, sir!" "Have you?" said Ralph, restraining his desire to lay the lash of his whip over Fodder's back, and so inaugurate a new Iliad of woes for Mr. Jinks. "Then go on in your course, my dear fellow. I am going to see a young lady, who really is beginning to annoy me."

"She ought to be here, it's time. Winnie usually brings her for her afternoon visit to her proud parents. And here she comes! Here's mudder's own Poggly-woggly Pom-pom head!" "What delightful names you invent! Let me have a try at it! Here's Fodder's own Piggly-winktum! There, how's that?" "Perfectly horrid! Sounds like a pig!" "All right, let's try again. Who's the airiest, fairiest, tiny mite?

Jinks received these propositions and assurances, at first, with a shake of the head: he really could not deprive, etc.; then he looked dubious; then he regarded Fodder with admiration and affection; then he assented to Ralph's arrangement, and put his arm affectionately around Fodder's neck. "I love that animal already!" cried the enthusiastic Mr. Jinks. Ralph turned aside to laugh.

You will have noticed that virtue in me by the time the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock, to quote the Hoosier Theocritus." And so, to the merry accompaniment of old tunes and mellow rhymes, they crossed the Connecticut. With all his outward candor the Governor had, Archie found, reserves that were quite unaccountable.

"Then your apples all is getherd, and the ones a feller keeps Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps; And your cider-makin' 's over, and your wimmern-folks is through With theyr mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! . . . I don't know how to tell it but ef sich a thing could be As the Angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on ME I'd want to 'commodate 'em-all the whole-indurin' flock When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!"

O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock, When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!

"They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees, And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees; But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

O'Brallaghan grasps Jinks' robe the robe is torn from his back, and O'Brallaghan falls backwards: then rises, still overwhelmed with rage. Jinks suddenly sees a chance of escape he has intrusted Fodder to a boy, who rides now in the middle of the press. He tears the urchin from the saddle, seizes a club, and leaping upon Fodder's back, brandishes his weapon, and cheers on his men to victory.

"When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock, And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock, And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens, And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best, With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest, As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock, When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.