CHAPTER XII. TATTERSALL'S OR, THE ELDER AND THE GRAVE DIGGER.
"Squire," said Mr. Slick, "it ain't rainin' to-day; suppose you comealong with me to Tattersall's. I have been studyin' that place aconsiderable sum to see whether it is a safe shop to trade in or no. ButI'm dubersome; I don't like the cut of the sportin' folks here. If I cansee both eends of the rope, and only one man has hold of one eend, andme of the tother, why I know what I am about; but if I can only see myown eend, I don't know who I am a pullin' agin. I intend to take a riseout o' some o' the knowin' ones here, that will make 'em scratch theirheads, and stare, I know. But here we are. Cut round this corner, intothis Lane. Here it is; this is it to the right."
We entered a sort of coach-yard, which was filled with a motley andmixed crowd of people. I was greatly disappointed in Tattersall's.Indeed, few things in London have answered my expectations. They haveeither exceeded or fallen short of the description I had heard of them.I was prepared, both from what I was told by Mr. Slick, and heard, fromothers, to find that there were but very few gentlemen-like looking menthere; and that by far the greater number neither were, nor affected tobe, any thing but "knowing ones." I was led to believe that therewould be a plentiful use of the terms _of art_, a variety of provincialaccent, and that the conversation of the jockeys and grooms would beliberally garnished with appropriate slang.
The gentry portion of the throng, with some few exceptions, it was said,wore a dissipated look, and had that peculiar appearance of incipientdisease, that indicates a life of late hours, of excitement, andbodily exhaustion. Lower down in the scale of life, I was informed,intemperance had left its indelible marks. And that still further down,were to be found the worthless lees of this foul and polluted stream ofsporting gentlemen, spendthrifts, gamblers, bankrupts, sots, sharpersand jockeys.
This was by no means the case. It was just what a man might haveexpected to have found a great sporting exchange and auction mart, ofhorses and carriages, to have been, in a great city like London, had hebeen merely told that such was the object of the place, and then leftto imagine the scene. It was, as I have before said, a mixed and motleycrowd; and must necessarily be so, where agents attend to bid for theirprincipals, where servants are in waiting upon their masters, and aboveall, where the ingress is open to every one.
It is, however, unquestionably the resort of gentlemen. In a great andrich country like this, there must, unavoidably, be a Tattersall's; andthe wonder is, not that it is not better, but that it is not infinitelyworse. Lake all striking pictures, it had strong lights and shades.Those who have suffered, are apt to retaliate; and a man who has beenduped, too often thinks he has a right to make reprisals. Tattersall's,therefore, is not without its privateers. Many persons of rank andcharacter patronize sporting, from a patriotic but mistaken notion,that it is to the turf alone the excellence of the English horse isattributable.
One person of this description, whom I saw there for a short time, I hadthe pleasure of knowing before; and from him I learned many interestinganecdotes of individuals whom he pointed out as having been once wellknown about town, but whose attachment to gambling had effected theirruin. Personal stories of this kind are, however, not within the scopeof this work.
As soon as we entered, Mr. Slick called my attention to the carriageswhich were exhibited for sale, to their elegant shape and "beautifulfixins," as he termed it; but ridiculed, in no measured terms, theirenormous weight. "It is no wonder," said he, "they have to get freshhosses here every ten miles, and travellin' costs so much, when thecarriage alone is enough to kill beasts. What would Old Bull say, ifI was to tell him of one pair of hosses carryin' three or four people,forty or fifty miles a-day, day in and day out, hand runnin' for afortnight? Why, he'd either be too civil to tell me it was a lie, orbein' afeerd I'd jump down his throat if he did, he'd sing dumb, and letme see by his looks, he thought so, though.
"I intend to take the consait out of these chaps, and that's a fact. IfI don't put the leak into 'em afore I've done with them, my name ain'tSam Slick, that's a fact. I'm studyin' the ins and the outs of thisplace, so as to know what I am about, afore I take hold; for I feelkinder skittish about my men. Gentlemen are the lowest, lyinest,bullyinest, blackguards there is, when they choose to be; 'specially ifthey have rank as well as money. A thoroughbred cheat, of good blood,is a clipper, that's a fact. They ain't right up-and-down, like a cow'stail, in their dealin's; and they've got accomplices, fellers thatwill lie for 'em like any thing, for the honour of their company; andbettin', onder such circumstances, ain't safe.
"But, I'll tell you what is, if you have got a hoss that can do it, andno mistake: back him, hoss agin hoss, or what's safer still, hoss agintime, and you can't be tricked. Now, I'll send for Old Clay, to come inCunard's steamer, and cuss 'em they ought to bring over the old hoss andhis fixins, free, for it was me first started that line. The way old Mr.Glenelg stared, when I told him it was thirty-six miles shorter to gofrom Bristol to New York by the way of Halifax, than to go direct warn'tslow. It stopt steam for that hitch, that's a fact, for he thort I wasmad. He sent it down to the Admiralty to get it ciphered right, and ittook them old seagulls, the Admirals a month to find it out.
"And when they did, what did they say? Why, cuss 'em, says they, 'anyfool knows that.' Says I, 'If that's the case you are jist the boys thenthat ought to have found it out right off at oncet.'
"Yes, Old Clay ought to go free, but he won't; and guess I am able topay freight for him, and no thanks to nobody. Now, I'll tell you what,English trottin' is about a mile in two minutes and forty-seven seconds,and that don't happen oftener than oncet in fifty years, if it was everdone at all, for the English brag so there is no telling right. Old Clay_can_ do his mile in two minutes and thirty-eight seconds. He _has_ donethat, and I guess he _could_ do more. I have got a car, that is as lightas whalebone, and I'll bet to do it with wheels and drive myself. I'llgo in up to the handle, on Old Clay. I have a hundred thousand dollarsof hard cash made in the colonies, I'll go half of it on the old hoss,hang me if I don't, and I'll make him as well knowd to England as he isto Nova Scotia.
"I'll allow him to be beat at fust, so as to lead 'em on, and Clay isas cunnin' as a coon too, if he don't get the word g'lang (go along)and the Indgian skelpin' yell with it, he knows I ain't in airnest, andhe'll allow me to beat him and bully him like nothin'. He'll pretend todo his best, and sputter away like a hen scratchin' gravel, but he won'tgo one mossel faster, for he knows I never lick a free hoss.
"Won't it be beautiful? How they'll all larf and crow, when they see mea thrashin' away at the hoss, and then him goin' slower, the faster Ithrash, and me a threatenin' to shoot the brute, and a talkin' at thetip eend of my tongue like a ravin' distracted bed bug, and offerin'to back him agin, if they dare, and planken down the pewter all round,takin' every one up that will go the figur', till I raise the bets tothe tune of fifty thousand dollars. When I get that far, they maystop their larfin' till next time, I guess. That's the turn of thefever--that's the crisis--that's my time to larf then.
"I'll mount the car then, take the bits of list up, put 'em into rightshape, talk a little Connecticut Yankee to the old hoss, to set hisebenezer up, and make him rise inwardly, and then give the yell," (whichhe uttered in his excitement in earnest; and a most diabolical one itwas. It pierced me through and through, and curdled my very blood, itwas the death shout of a savage.) "G'lang you skunk, and turn out yourtoes pretty," said he, and he again repeated this long protracted,shrill, infernal yell, a second time.
Every eye was instantly turned upon us. Even Tattersall suspended his"he is five years old--a good hack--and is to be sold," to give time forthe general exclamation of surprise. "Who the devil is that? Is hemad? Where did _he_ come from? Does any body know him? He is a devilishkeen-lookin' fellow that; what an eye he has! He looks like a Yankee,that fellow."
"He's been here, your honour, several days, examines every thing andsays nothing; looks like a knowing one, your honour. He handles a ho
ssas if he'd seen one afore to-day, Sir."
"Who is that gentleman with him?"
"Don't know, your honour, never saw him before; he looks like afurriner, too."
"Come, Mr. Slick," said I, "we are attracting too much attention here,let us go."
"Cuss 'em," said he, "I'll attract more attention afore I've done yet,when Old Clay comes, and then I'll tell 'em who I am--Sam Slick,from Slickville, Onion County, State of Connecticut, United States ofAmerica. But I do suppose we had as good make tracks, for I don't wantfolks to know me yet. I'm plaguy sorry I let put that countersign of OldClay too, but they won't onderstand it. Critters like the English, thatknow everything have generally weak eyes, from studyin' so hard.
"Did you take notice of that critter I was a handlin' of, Squire? thatone that's all drawed up in the middle like a devil's darnin' needle;her hair a standin' upon eend as if she was amazed at herself, anda look out of her eye, as if she thort the dogs would find the steakkinder tough, when they got her for dinner. Well, that's a great marethat 'are, and there ain't nothin' onder the sun the matter of her,except the groom has stole her oats, forgot to give her water, and lether make a supper sometimes off of her nasty, mouldy, filthy beddin'. Ihante see'd a hoss here equal to her a'most--short back, beautiful raketo the shoulder, great depth of chest, elegant quarter, great stifle,amazin' strong arm, monstrous nice nostrils, eyes like a weasel, alloutside, game ears, first chop bone and fine flat leg, with no gum on nopart of it. She's a sneezer that; but she'll be knocked down for twentyor thirty pound, because she looks as if she was used up.
"I intended to a had that mare, for I'd a made her worth twelve hundreddollars. It was a dreadful pity, I let go, that time, for I actillyforgot where I was. I'll know better next hitch, for boughten wit isthe best in a general way. Yes, I'm peskily sorry about that mare. Well,swappin' I've studied, but I doubt if it's as much the fashion here aswith us; and besides, swappin' where you don't know the county and itstricks, (for every county has its own tricks, different from others), isdangersome too. I've seen swaps where both sides got took in. Did ever Itell you the story of the "Elder and the grave-digger?"
"Never," I replied; "but here we are at our lodgings. Come in, and tellit to me."
"Well," said he, "I must have a glass of mint julip fust, to wash downthat ere disappointment about the mare. It was a dreadful go that. Ijist lost a thousand dollars by it, as slick as grease. But it's anexcitin' thing is a trottin' race, too. When you mount, hear the word'Start!' and shout out 'G'lang!' and give the pass word."
Good heavens! what a yell he perpetrated again. I put both hands to myears, to exclude the reverberations of it from the walls.
"Don't be skeered, Squire; don't be skeered. We are alone now: there isno mare to lose. Ain't it pretty? It makes me feel all dandery and onwires like."
"But the grave-digger?" said I.
"Well," says he, "the year afore I knowed you, I was a-goin' in thefall, down to Clare, about sixty miles below Annapolis, to collect somedebts due to me there from the French. And as I was a-joggin' on alongthe road, who should I overtake but Elder Stephen Grab, of Beechmeadows,a mounted on a considerable of a clever-lookin' black mare. The Elderwas a pious man; at least he looked like one, and spoke like one too.His face was as long as the moral law, and p'rhaps an inch longer, andas smooth as a hone; and his voice was so soft and sweet, and his tonguemoved so ily on its hinges, you'd a thought you might a trusted him withontold gold, if you didn't care whether you ever got it agin or no. Hehad a bran new hat on, with a brim that was none of the smallest, tokeep the sun from makin' his inner man wink, and his go-to-meetin'clothes on, and a pair of silver mounted spurs, and a beautiful whitecravat, tied behind, so as to have no bows to it, and look meek. Ifthere was a good man on airth, you'd a said it was him. And he seemed tofeel it, and know it too, for there was a kind of look o' triumph abouthim, as if he had conquered the Evil One, and was considerable wellsatisfied with himself.
"'H'are you,' sais I, 'Elder, to-day? Which way are you from?"
"'From the General Christian Assembly, sais he, 'to Goose Creek. We hada "_most refreshin' time on't_." There was a great "_outpourin' of thespirit_."'
"'Well, that's awful,' says I, 'too. The magistrates ought to see tothat; it ain't right, when folks assemble that way to worship, to bea-sellin' of rum; and gin, and brandy, and spirits, is it?'
"'I don't mean that,' sais he, 'although, p'rhaps, there was too much ofthat wicked traffic too, I mean the preachin'. It was very peeowerful;there was "_many sinners saved_."
"'I guess there was plenty of room for it,' sais I, 'onless thatneighbourhood has much improved since I knowed it last.'
"'It's a sweet thing,' sais he. 'Have you ever "_made profession_," Mr.Slick?'
"'Come,' sais I to myself, 'this is cuttin' it rather too fat. I mustput a stop to this. This ain't a subject for conversation with such acheatin', cantin', hippocrytical skunk as this is. Yes,' sais I, 'longago. My profession is that of a clockmaker, and I make no pretensionto nothin' else. But come, let's water our hosses here and liquorourselves.'
"And we dismounted, and gave 'em a drop to wet their mouths.
"'Now,' sais I, a-takin' out of a pocket-pistol that I generallytravelled with, 'I think I'll take a drop of grog;' and arter helpin'myself, I gives the silver cover of the flask a dip in the brook, (fora clean rinse is better than a dirty wipe, any time), and sais I, 'Willyou have a little of the "_outpourin' of the spirit?_" What do you say,Elder?'
"'Thank you,' sais he, 'friend Slick. I never touch liquor, it's aginour rules.'
"And he stooped down and filled it with water, and took a mouthful, andthen makin' a face like a frog afore he goes to sing, and swellin' hischeeks out like a Scotch bagpiper, he spit it all out. Sais he, 'Thatis so warm, it makes me sick; and as I ain't otherwise well, from thecelestial exhaustion of a protracted meetin', I believe I will take alittle drop, as medicine.'
"Confound him! if he'd a said he'd only leave a little drop, it would abeen more like the thing; for he e'en a'most emptied the whole into thecup, and drank it off clean, without winkin'.
"'It's a "_very refreshin' time_,"' sais I, 'ain't' it?' But he didn'tmake no answer. Sais I, 'that's a likely beast of yourn, Elder,' and Iopened her mouth, and took a look at her, and no easy matter nother, Itell you, for she held on like a bear trap, with her jaws. "'She won'tsuit you,' sais he, "with a smile, 'Mr. Slick.'
"'I guess not,' sais I.
"'But she'll jist suit the French,' sais he.
"'It's lucky she don't speak French then,' sais I, 'or they'd soonfind her tongue was too big for her mouth. That critter will never seefive-and-twenty, and I'm a thinkin', she's thirty year old, if she is aday.'
"'I was a thinkin', said he, with a sly look out o' the corner of hiseye, as if her age warn't no secret to him. 'I was a thinkin' it's timeto put her off, and she'll jist suit the French. They hante much forhosses to do, in a giniral way, but to ride about; and you won't saynothin' about her age, will you? it might endamnify a sale.'
"'Not I,' sais I, 'I skin my own foxes, and let other folks skintheir'n. I have enough to do to mind my own business, withoutinterferin' with other people's.'
"'She'll jist suit the French,' sais he; 'they don't know nothin' abouthosses, or any thing else. They are a simple people, and always will be,for their priests keep 'em in ignorance. It's an awful thing to see themkept in the outer porch of darkness that way, ain't it?'
"'I guess you'll put a new pane o' glass in their porch,' sais I, 'andhelp some o' them to see better; for whoever gets that mare, will havehis eyes opened, sooner nor he bargains for, I know.'
"Sais he, 'she ain't a bad mare; and if she could eat bay, might do agood deal of work yet,' and he gave a kinder chuckle laugh at his ownjoke, that sounded like the rattles in his throat, it was so dismal anddeep, for he was one o' them kind of fellers that's too good to larf,was Steve.
"Well, the horn o' grog he took, began to onloosen his tongue; and
I gotout of him, that she come near dyin' the winter afore, her teeth wasso bad, and that he had kept her all summer in a dyke pasture up to herfetlocks in white clover, and ginn' her ground oats, and Indgian meal,and nothin' to do all summer; and in the fore part of the fall, biledpotatoes, and he'd got her as fat as a seal, and her skin as slick as anotter's. She fairly shined agin, in the sun.
"'She'll jist suit the French', said he, 'they are a simple people anddon't know nothin', and if they don't like the mare, they must blametheir priests for not teachin' 'em better. I shall keep within thestrict line of truth, as becomes a Christian man. I scorn to take a manin.'
"Well, we chatted away arter this fashion, he a openin' of himself andme a walk in' into him; and we jogged along till we came to CharlesTarrio's to Montagon, and there was the matter of a thousand Frenchpeople gathered there, a chatterin', and laughin', and jawin', andquarrellin', and racin', and wrastlin', and all a givin' tongue, like apack of village dogs, when an Indgian comes to town. It was town meetin'day.
"Well, there was a critter there, called by nickname, 'Goodish Greevoy,'a mounted on a white pony, one o' the scariest little screamers, youever see since you was born. He was a tryin' to get up a race, wasGoodish, and banterin' every one that had a hoss to run with him.
"His face was a fortin' to a painter. His forehead was high and narrer,shewin' only a long strip o' tawny skin, in a line with his nose, therest bein' covered with hair, as black as ink, and as iley as a seal'smane. His brows was thick, bushy and overhangin', like young brush-woodon a cliff, and onderneath, was two black peerin' little eyes, that kepta-movin' about, keen, good-natured, and roguish, but sot far into hisskull, and looked like the eyes of a fox peepin' out of his den, whenhe warn't to home to company hisself. His nose was high, sharp, andcrooked, like the back of a reapin' hook, and gave a plaguy sightof character to his face, while his thinnish lips, that closed on astraight line, curlin' up at one eend, and down at the other, shewed, ifhis dander was raised, he could be a jumpin', tarin', rampagenous devilif he chose. The pint of his chin projected and turned up gently, as ifit expected, when Goodish lost his teeth, to rise in the world in ranknext to the nose. When good natur' sat on the box, and drove, it warn'ta bad face; when Old Nick was coachman, I guess it would be as well togive Master Frenchman the road.
"He had a red cap on his head, his beard hadn't been cut since lastsheep shearin', and he looked as hairy as a tarrier; his shirt collar,'which was of yaller flannel, fell on his shoulders loose, and a blackhankercher was tied round his neck, slack like a sailor's. He wore around jacket and loose trowsers of homespun with no waistcoat, and histrowsers was held up by a gallus of leather on one side, and of old cordon the other. Either Goodish had growed since his clothes was made, orhis jacket and trowsers warn't on speakin' tarms, for they didn't meetby three or four inches, and the shirt shewed atween them like a yallermilitia sash round him. His feet was covered with moccasins of ontannedmoose hide, and one heel was sot off with an old spur and looked slyand wicked. He was a sneezer that, and when he flourished his great longwithe of a whip stick, that looked like a fishin' rod, over his head,and yelled like all possessed, he was a caution, that's a fact.
"A knowin' lookin' little hoss, it was too, that he was mounted on. Itstail was cut close off to the stump, which squared up his rump, and madehim look awful strong in the hind quarters. His mane was "hogged" whichfulled out the swell and crest of the neck, and his ears beingcropped, the critter had a game look about him. There was a proper goodonderstandin' between him and his rider: they looked as if they hadgrowed together, and made one critter--half hoss, half man with a touchof the devil.
"Goodish was all up on eend by what he drank, and dashed in and out ofthe crowd arter a fashion, that was quite cautionary, callin' out, 'Herecomes "the grave-digger." Don't be skeered, if any of you get killed,here is the hoss that will dig his grave for nothin'. Who'll run a lickof a quarter of a mile, for a pint of rum. Will you run?' said he, aspunkin' up to the Elder, 'come, let's run, and whoever wins, shall gothe treat.'
"The Elder smiled as sweet as sugar candy, but backed out; he was tooold, he said, now to run.
"'Will you swap hosses, old broad cloth then?' said the other, 'becauseif you will, here's at you.'
"Steve took a squint at pony, to see whether that cat would jump or no,but the cropt ears, the stump of a tail, the rakish look of the horse,didn't jist altogether convene to the taste or the sanctified habits ofthe preacher. The word no, hung on his lips, like a wormy apple, jistready to drop the fust shake; but before it let go, the great strength,the spryness, and the oncommon obedience of pony to the bit, seemed tokinder balance the objections; while the sartan and ontimely eend thathung over his own mare, during the comin' winter, death by starvation,turned the scale.
"'Well,' said he, slowly, 'if we like each other's beasts, friend, andcan agree as to the boot, I don't know as I wouldn't trade; for I don'tcare to raise colts, havin' plenty of hoss stock on hand, and perhapsyou do.'
"'How old is your hoss?' said the Frenchman.
"'I didn't raise it,' sais Steve, 'Ned Wheelock, I believe, brought herto our parts.'
"'How old do you take her to be?'
"'Poor critter, she'd tell you herself, if she could,' said he, 'forshe knows best, but she can't speak; and I didn't see her, when she wasfoalded.'
"'How old do you think?'
"'Age,' sais Steve, 'depens on use, not on years. A hoss at five, if illused, is old; a hoss at eight, if well used is young.'
"'Sacry footry!' sais Goodish, 'why don't you speak out like a man? Lieor no lie, how old is she?'
"'Well, I don't like to say,' sais Steve, 'I know she is eight forsartain, and it may be she's nine. If I was to say eight, and it turnedout nine, you might be thinkin' hard of me. I didn't raise it. You cansee what condition she is in; old hosses ain't commonly so fat as that,at least I never, see one that was.'
"A long banter then growed out of the 'boot money.' The Elder, asked7 pounds 10s. Goodish swore he wouldn't give that for him and his hosstogether; that if they were both put up to auction that blessed minute,they wouldn't bring it. The Elder hung on to it, as long as there wasany chance of the boot, and then fort the ground like a man, only givin'an inch or so at a time, till he drawed up and made a dead stand, on onepound.
"Goodish seemed willing to come to tarms too; but like a prudent man,resolved to take a look at the old mare's mouth, and make some kind ofa guess at her age; but the critter knowed how to keep her own secrets,and it was ever so long, afore he forced her jaws open, and when he did,he came plaguy near losin' of a finger, for his curiosity; and as hehopped and danced about with pain, he let fly such a string of oaths,and sacry-cussed the Elder and his mare, in such an all-fired passion,that Steve put both his hands up to his ears, and said, 'Oh, my dearfriend, don't swear, don't swear; it's very wicked. I'll take your pony,I'll ask no boot, if you will only promise not to swear. You shall havethe mare as she stands. I'll give up and swap even; and there shall beno after claps, nor ruin bargains, nor recantin', nor nother, only don'tswear.'
"Well, the trade was made, the saddles and bridles was shifted, andboth parties mounted their new hosses. 'Mr. Slick,' sais Steve,' who wasafraid he would lose the pony, if he staid any longer, 'Mr. Slick,'sais he, 'the least said, is the soonest mended, let's be a movin', thisscene of noise and riot is shockin' to a religious man, ain't it?' andhe let go a groan, as long as the embargo a'most.
"Well, we had no sooner turned to go, than the French people sot up acheer that made all ring again; and they sung out, "La Fossy Your," "LaFossy Your," and shouted it agin and agin ever so loud.
"'What's that?' sais Steve.
"Well, I didn't know, for I never heerd the word afore; but it don't doto say you don't know, it lowers you in the eyes of other folks. If youdon't know What another man knows he is shocked at your ignorance. Butif he don't know what you do, he can find an excuse in a minute. Neversay you don't know.
"'So,' sa
is I, 'they jabber so everlastin' fast, it ain't no easy matterto say what they mean; but it sounds like "good bye," you'd betterturn round and make 'em a bow, for they are very polite people, is theFrench.'
"So Steve turns and takes off his hat, and makes them a low bow, andthey larfs wus than ever, and calls out again, "La Fossy Your," "LaFossy Your." He was kinder ryled, was the Elder. His honey had begunto farment, and smell vinegery. 'May be, next Christmas,' sais he, 'youwon't larf so loud, when you find the mare is dead. Goodish and the oldmare are jist alike, they are all tongue them critters. I rather thinkit's me,' sais he, 'has the right to larf, for I've got the best of thisbargain, and no mistake. This is as smart a little hoss as ever I see.I know where I can put him off to great advantage. I shall make a goodday's work of this. It is about as good a hoss trade as I ever made. TheFrench don't know nothin' about hosses; they are a simple people, theirpriests keep 'em in ignorance on purpose, and they don't know nothin'.'
"He cracked and bragged considerable, and as we progressed we cameto Montagon Bridge. The moment pony sot foot on it, he stopped short,pricked up the latter eends of his ears, snorted, squeeled and refusedto budge an inch. The Elder got mad. He first coaxed and patted, andsoft sawdered him, and then whipt and spurred, and thrashed him like anything. Pony got mad too, for hosses has tempers as well as Elders; so heturned to, and kicked right straight up on eend, like Old Scratch, andkept on without stoppin' till he sent the Elder right slap over hishead slantendicularly, on the broad of his back into the river, and hefloated down thro' the bridge and scrambled out at t'other side.
"Creation! how he looked. He was so mad, he was ready to bile over; andas it was he smoked in the sun, like a tea-kettle. His clothes stuckclose down to him, as a cat's fur does to her skin, when she's out inthe rain, and every step he took his boots went squish, squash, like anold woman churnin' butter; and his wet trowsers chafed with a noise likea wet flappin' sail. He was a shew, and when he got up to his hoss, andheld on to his mane, and first lifted up one leg and then the other tolet the water run out of his boots. I couldn't hold in no longer, butlaid back and larfed till I thought on my soul I'd fall off into theriver too.
"'Elder,' says I, 'I thought when a man jined your sect, 'he could never"_fall off agin_," but I see you ain't no safer than other folks arterall.'
"'Come,' says he, 'let me be, that's a good soul, it's bad enough,without being larfed at, that's a fact. I can't account for this caper,no how.'
"'It's very strange too, ain't it! What on airth got into the hoss tomake him act so ugly. Can you tell, Mr. Slick?'
"'Why,' sais I, 'he don't know English yet, that's all. He waited forthem beautiful French oaths that Goodish used. Stop the fust Frenchmanyou meet and give him a shillin' to teach you to swear, and he'll golike a lamb.'
"I see'd what was the matter of the hoss by his action as soon as westarted; but I warn't agoin' for to let on to him about it. I wanted tosee the sport. Well, he took his hoss by the bridle and led him over thebridge, and he follered kindly, then he mounted, and no hoss could gobetter. Arter a little, we came to another bridge agin, and the sameplay was acted anew, same coaxin', same threatenin', and same thrashin';at last pony put down his head, and began to shake his tail, a gettin'ready for another bout of kickin'; when Steve got off and led him, anddid the same to every bridge we come to.
"'It's no use,' sais I, 'you must larn them oaths, he's used to 'emand misses them shocking. A sailor, a hoss, and a nigger ain't no goodwithout you swear at 'em; it comes kinder nateral to them, and they lookfor it, fact I assure you. Whips wear out, and so do spurs, but a goodsneezer of a cuss hain't no wear out to it; it's always the same.'
"'I'll larn him sunthin', sais he, 'when I get him to home, and out o'sight that will do him good, and that he won't forget for one while, Iknow.'
"Soon arter this we came to Everett's public-house on the bay, andI galloped up to the door, and went as close as I cleverly could onpurpose, and then reined up short and sudden, when whap goes the ponyright agin the side of the house, and nearly killed himself. He neverstirred for the matter of two or three minutes. I actilly did think hehad gone for it, and Steve went right thro' the winder on to the floor,with a holler noise, like a log o' wood thrown on to the deck of avessel. 'Eugh!' says he, and he cut himself with the broken glass quiteridikilous.
"'Why,' sais Everett, 'as I am a livin' sinner this is "theGrave-digger," he'll kill you, man, as sure as you are born, he is thewickedest hoss that ever was seen in these clearins here; and he isas blind as a bat too. No man in Nova Scotia can manage that hoss butGoodish Greevoy, and he'd manage the devil that feller, for he is man,horse, shark, and sarpent all in one, that Frenchman. What possessed youto buy such a varmint as that?'
"'Grave digger!' said doleful Steve, 'what is that?'
"'Why,' sais he, 'they went one day to bury a man, down to Clare didthe French, and when they got to the grave, who should be in it but thepony. He couldn't see, and as he was a feedin' about, he tumbled in headover heels and they called him always arterwards 'the Grave-digger.'"
"'Very simple people them French,' sais I, 'Elder; they don't knownothin' about hosses, do they? Their priests keep them in ignorance onpurpose.'
"Steve winced and squinched his face properly; and said the glass inhis hands hurt him. Well, arter we sot all to rights, we began to jogon towards Digby. The Elder didn't say much, he was as chop fallen asa wounded moose; at last, says he, 'I'll ship him to St. John, and sellhim. I'll put him on board of Captain Ned Leonard's vessel, as soon as Iget to Digby.' Well, as I turned my head to answer him, and sot eyes onhim agin, it most sot me a haw, hawin' a second time, he _did_ look solike Old Scratch. Oh Hedges! how haggardised he was! His new hat wassmashed down like a cap on the crown of his head, his white cravat wasbloody, his face all scratched, as if he had been clapper-clawed by awoman, and his hands was bound up with rags, where the glass cut 'em.The white sand of the floor of Everett's parlour had stuck to hisdamp clothes, and he looked like an old half corned miller, that was areturnin' to his wife, arter a spree. A leetle crest fallen for what hehad got, a leetle mean for the way he looked, and a leetle skeeredfor what he'd catch, when he got to home. The way he sloped warn't nomatter. He was a pictur, and a pictur I must say, I liked to look at.
"And now Squire, do you take him off too, ingrave him, and bind him upin your book, and let others look at it, and put onder it '_the Elderand the Grave-digger_.'"
"Well, when we got to town, the tide was high, and the vessel jist readyto cast off, and Steve, knowin' how skeer'd pony was of the water, gotoff to lead him, but the critter guessed it warn't a bridge, for hesmelt salt water on both sides of him, and ahead too, and budge hewouldn't. Well, they beat him most to death, but he beat back agin withhis heels, and it was a drawd fight. Then they goes to the fence andgets a great strong pole, and puts it across his hams, two men at eacheend of the pole, and shoved away, and shoved away, till they progresseda yard or so; when pony squatted right down on the pole, throwd over themen, and most broke their legs, with his weight.
"At last, the captain fetched a rope, and fixes it round his neck, witha slip knot, fastens it to the windlass, and dragged him in as they doan anchor, and tied him by his bridle to the boom; and then shoved off,and got under weigh.
"Steve and I sot down on the wharf, for it was a beautiful day, andlooked at them driftin' out in the stream, and hystin' sail, while thefolks was gettin' somethin' ready for us to the inn.
"When they had got out into the middle of the channel, took the breeze,and was all under way, and we was about turnin' to go back, I saw thepony loose, he had slipped his bridle, and not likin' the motion of thevessel, he jist walked overboard, head fust, with a most a beautifulsplunge.
"'_A most refreshin' time_,' said I, 'Elder, that critter has of it. Ihope _that sinner will be saved_.'
"He sprung right up on eend, as if he had been stung by a galley nipper,did Steve, 'Let me alone,' said he. 'What have I done to be jobed, thatw
ay? Didn't I keep within the strict line o' truth? Did I tell thatFrenchman one mossel of a lie? Answer me, that, will you? I've beencheated awful; but I scorn to take the advantage of any man. Youhad better look to your own dealin's, and let me alone, you pedlin',cheatin' Yankee clockmaker you.'
"'Elder,' sais I, 'if you warn't too mean to rile a man, I'd give you akick on your pillion, that would send you a divin' arter your hoss; butyou ain't worth it. Don't call me names tho', or I'll settle your coffeefor you, without a fish skin, afore you are ready to swaller it I can_tell_ you. So keep your mouth shut, my old coon, or your teeth mightget sun-burnt. You think you are angry with me; but you aint; you areangry with yourself. You know you have showd yourself a proper fool forto come, for to go, for to talk to a man that has seed so much of theworld as I have, bout "_refreshin' time_," and "_outpourin' of spirit_,"and "_makin' profession_" and what not; and you know you showd yourselfan everlastin' rogue, a meditatin' of cheatin' that Frenchman allsummer. It's biter bit, and I don't pity you one mossel; it sarvesyou right. But look at the grave-digger; he looks to me as if he was adiggin' of his own grave in rael right down airnest.'
"The captain havin' his boat histed, and thinkin' the hoss would swimashore of hisself, kept right straight on; and the hoss swam this way,and that way, and every way but the right road, jist as the eddies tookhim. At last, he got into the ripps off of Johnston's pint, and theywheeled him right round and round like a whip-top. Poor pony! he gothis match at last. He struggled, and jumpt, and plunged and fort, likea man, for dear life. Fust went up his knowin' little head, that had noears; and he tried to jump up and rear out of it, as he used to didout of a mire hole or honey pot ashore; but there was no bottom there;nothin' for his hind foot to spring from; so down he went agin ever sodeep: and then he tried t'other eend, and up went his broad rump, thathad no tail; but there was nothin' for the fore feet to rest on nother;so he made a summerset, and as he went over, he gave out a great longend wise kick to the full stretch of his hind legs.
"Poor feller! it was the last kick he ever gave in this world; he senthis heels straight up on eend, like a pair of kitchen tongs, and thelast I see of him was a bright dazzle, as the sun shined on his ironshoes, afore the water closed over him for ever.
"I railly felt sorry for the poor old 'grave-digger,' I did upon mysoul, for hosses and ladies are two things, that a body can't helplikin'. Indeed, a feller that hante no taste that way ain't a man atall, in my opinion. Yes, I felt ugly for poor 'grave-digger,' though Ididn't feel one single bit so for that cantin' cheatin', old Elder. Sowhen I turns to go, sais I, 'Elder,' sais I, and I jist repeated his ownwords--'I guess it's your turn to laugh now, for you have got the bestof the bargain, and no mistake. Goodish and the old mare are jist alike,all tongue, ain't they? But these French is a simple people, so theybe; they don't know nothin', that's a fact. Their priests keep 'em inignorance a puppus.
"The next time you tell your experience to the great Christian meetin'to Goose Creek, jist up and tell 'em, from beginnin' to eend, the storyof the--'_Elder and the Grave-digger_.'"