Herbert, Henry William, 1807-1858 / 2008-07-08 00:00:00
EBOOK WARWICK WOODLANDS ***
Produced by Jerry Kuntz
THE WARWICK WOODLANDS; or Things as They Were Twenty Years Ago
By Frank Forester
MY FIRST VISIT, DAY THE FIRST
It was a fine October evening when I was sitting on the back stoop of
his cheerful little bachelor's establishment in Mercer street, with my
old friend and comrade, Henry Archer. Many a frown of fortune had we two
weathered out together; in many of her brightest smiles had we two
reveled--never was there a stauncher friend, a merrier companion, a
keener sportsman, or a better fellow, than this said Harry; and here had
we two met, three thousand miles from home, after almost ten years of
separation, just the same careless, happy, dare-all do-no-goods that we
were when we parted in St. James's street,--he for the West, I for the
Eastern World--he to fell trees, and build log huts in the backwoods of
Canada,--I to shoot tigers and drink arrack punch in the Carnatic. The
world had wagged with us as with most others: now up, now down, and laid
us to, at last, far enough from the goal for which we started--so that,
as I have said already, on landing in New York, having heard nothing of
him for ten years, whom the deuce should I tumble on but that same
worthy, snugly housed, with a neat bachelor's menage, and every thing
ship-shape about him?--So, in the natural course of things, we were at
once inseparables.
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