Ten Years Among the Mail Bags: Or, Notes from the Diary of a Special Agent of the Post-Office Department — John Shaqi
Ten Years Among the Mail Bags: Or, Notes from the Diary of a Special Agent of the Post-Office DepartmentHolbrook, James
History
Ten Years Among the Mail Bags: Or, Notes from the Diary of a Special Agent of the Post-Office Department
Holbrook, James
Postal service -- United States
The landlord was prompt in answering my demand, and forthwith ordered
his hostler to put the saddle upon "Bob." While Bob was being "got
up," I found myself the object of many inquisitive looks from the
assemblage of tavern loungers, to whom my arrival was a rather unusual
windfall; for it was not every day that the intervals between drams
were enlivened by such a comet-like approach. The team wagons and
other vehicles which frequented the road, and whose motions were as
methodical as those of the planets--the tavern being the sun of their
system--produced no emotions in the minds of these idlers, like the
unexpected appearance of an unknown body like myself, coming no one
knew whence, and going no one could tell where. One of two
alternatives seemed forced on them by the "hot haste" of my movements.
The stranger was either a pursuer or the pursued. If he was the
latter, what had he been doing? And if the former, of what had
somebody else been guilty? These perplexing questions were settled in
a manner apparently satisfactory to them, by the inquiry which I made
of the landlord, whether he had seen a man pass that way on horseback,
leading another horse, which I described minutely. The anxious
audience at once jumped at the conclusion, as I had intended they
should, that I was in pursuit of a horse-thief, which impression I
took care to strengthen by sundry incidental remarks. It seemed
necessary by some such device to prevent all suspicion of my real
character and object, in order that if I failed in executing my design
this day, the case might stand as well as before.
By this time "Bob" had been saddled and bridled, and issued forth from
the stable, equipped for action, under the auspices of the hostler. He
(to wit, Bob,) was a stout Canadian pony, rejoicing in a peculiarly
shaggy mane, and a tail which was well calculated to add completeness
to my comet-like character. He was strong of limb, and evidently quite
as competent as any quadruped that could ordinarily be found, to carry
me to my destination within the required time.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account