about six o'clock p.m.
At the first hunk we bound with uncontrollable mirth ; coming to the second , we run with a slower but stronger tread ; coming to the third , our step is feeble ; coming to the fourth , our breath entirely gives out . We throw down the bat on the black hunk of death , and in the evening catchers and pitchers go home to find the family gathered and the food prepared . So may we all find the candles lighted , and the table set , and the old folks at home . We never had any one drop in about six o'clock p.m. whom we were more glad to see than Fielding , the Orange County farmer . In the first place , he always had a good appetite , and it did not make much difference what we had to eat . He would not nibble about the end of a piece of bread , undecided as to whether he had better take it , nor sit sipping his tea as though the doctor had ordered him to take only ten drops at a time , mixed with a little sugar and hot water . Perpetual contact with fresh air and the fields and the mountains gave him a healthy body , while the religion that he learned in the little church down by the mill-dam kept him in healthy spirits .