going to take my Guards up to call on the Governor.”
Perry dashed off, followed by a score of Dunderbunk boys; organized by him as the Purtett Guards, and taught to salute him as Generalissimo with military honors.
So many hundreds of turkeys, done to a turn, now began to have an effect upon the atmosphere. Few odors are more subtile and pervading than this, and few more appetizing. Indeed, there is said to be an odd fellow, a strictly American gourmand, in New York, who sits from noon to dusk on Christmas-Day up in a tall steeple, merely to catch the aroma of roast-turkey floating over the city, — and much good, it is said, it does him.
Hard skating is nearly as effective to whet hunger as this gentleman’s expedient. When the spicy breezes began to blow soft as those of Ceylon’s isle over the river and every whiff talked Turkey, the population of Dunderbunk listened to the wooing and began to follow its several noses — snubs, beaks, blunts, sharps, piquants, dominants, fines, bulgies, and bifids — on the way to the several households which those noses adorned or defaced. Prosperous Dunderbunk had a Dinner, yes, a Dinner, that day, and Richard Wade was gratefully remembered by many over-fed foundry-men and their over-fed families.
Wade had not had half skating enough.
“I’ll time myself down to Skerrett’s Point,” he
