[Sidenote: LUXURIOUS LIVING] "I thought it would be a good idea to make you remember how much you liked it yourself." The clock struck nine, and we got up and put our things away. Father read a chapter from the Bible. Then I raked up a great mass of red coals, and covered them carefully with ashes to keep them alive till the morning. John and I went up to the attic, where we slept; and as I undressed and lay down in my straw bed, I could hear the wind hum and whistle as it caught on the roof, and cold draughts swept through the attic. I pulled the blankets and comforter closely about me, and was soon asleep, dreaming of foxes. When I awoke, I jumped out of bed and stepped into some snow that had sifted in through the cracks and formed a little drift over my leather breeches, which were frozen hard as a board. I shook the snow off them, and, grabbing up my clothes, ran downstairs, pulled the ashes off the coals, and fanned them till they were bright, and built a good fire in the fireplace. I warmed my leather breeches over the fire till they were softened so that I could get into them. It was a little after five o'clock. The snowstorm was over, and the moon was shining bright. Mother came in and said, "Well, Benny, you've built me a nice fire, and I hope you'll have a good time." She hung a pot with some hasty pudding in it over the fire, warmed it up, and fried some pork in the skillet. I brought up a jug of cider from the cellar, and as I was eating breakfast, father came in and took down the gun from over the fireplace. "I think I'll put a new flint in the gun, Ben. You don't want to miss fire when you get a chance to shoot at a fox. Be careful of the gun. You know it belonged to your Uncle John, and he had it with him when he was killed in the Indian fight up to York, the same time that Ben Muzzy was captivated and carried off. I never take it down without thinking of John. He was dreadful fond of hunting, just as you be, Benny. You put me in mind of him." [Sidenote: BEN STARTS FOR THE FOX HUNT] I pulled some long stockings that belonged to my brother John over my own shoes and stockings, put on my woollen frock, and buckled my belt round my waist. Father handed me the gun, and said, "Give my respects to Dr. Fiske, Benny, and good luck to ye." When I got outdoors, I slipped my toes under the thongs of the rackets, and shuffled along over the fields till I got to the road. The moon was bright, and everything was distinct and clear. I skimmed along over the snow, and William Munroe, the blacksmith, came out of his house near the foot of the common, just as I was passing. "Hello, Benny, you're up early to-day. Where are you bound for?" "Fox-hunting with Davy Fiske." "Well, he's a good one at it, and it will be a fine day."