The Continental Monthly, Vol 2, No 6, December 1862: Devoted to Literature and National PolicyVarious
History
The Continental Monthly, Vol 2, No 6, December 1862: Devoted to Literature and National Policy
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
'Wall, ye see,' said the story teller, 'Dick come the possum over him;
made b'lieve he was drunk, though he warn't, no more'n I ar; but he tuk
darned good keer ter see the ole man get well slewed, he did. Wall, wen
the ole feller wus pooty well primed, Dick stuck his arm inter his'n,
toted him off ter the stable, and fotched out a ole spavin'd,
wind-galled, used-up, broken-down critter, thet couldn't gwo a rod,
'cept ye got another hoss to haul him; and says he: 'See thar; thar's a
perfect paragone o' hossflesh; a raal Arab; nimble's a cricket; sunder'n
a nut; gentler'n a cooin' dove, and faster'n a tornado! I doan't sell
'im fur nary fault, and ye couldn't buy 'im fur no price, ef I warn't
hard put. Come, now, what d'ye say? I'll put 'im ter ye fur one fifty,
an' it's less'n he cost, it ar!' Wall, the ole man tuk--swallowed the
critter whole--tuk him down without greasing, he did! ha! ha!'
'Ha! ha!' repeated the listening crowd, and 'Yah! yah!' echoed three or
four well-dressed darkies, who were standing near the doorway: 'Sarved
'im right; he'm a mean ole cuss, he am;' chimed in one of the latter
gentry, as he added another guffaw, and, swaying his body back and
forth, brought his hands down on his thighs with a concussion which sent
a thick cloud of tobacco smoke, of his own manufacture, circling to the
other side of the room.
When the merriment had somewhat subsided, I stepped toward the
assemblage, and inquired if the landlord were present. There was no
reply for a few moments; then one of the embryo planters, speaking to a
showily-dressed young man near him, remarked:
'Get up, and tend ter the stranger; ye arn't fit to tote vituals to a
nigger.'
The young man rose very deliberately, and said:
'Want ter see the keeper, do ye?'
'Yes, sir, I want, a room, and supper for two, at once.'
'Room and supper fur two?'
'Yes, a room with a fire and two beds.'
'Whar d'ye come from?'
'From Goldsboro'; just in by the stage.'
'Oh! stage's in, is it?'
'Yes, sir, the stage is in. You'll oblige me by attending to us at once;
we are hungry and tired.'
He looked at me for a moment without speaking, then leisurely walked out
of the front door. Two or three of the loungers followed, but the young
gentleman who had first spoken rose and politely tendered me a seat.
Thanking him, I took the chair vacated by the bartender, and proceeded
to warm my hands and limbs, which were thoroughly chilled by the long
ride in the cold air.
'Cold, riding after nightfall, sir,' said the young man, who I now
observed was the Mr. Gaston whom the trader had so unceremoniously
ejected from the shooting ground.
'Yes, sir, it _is_ cold riding on the box.'
'And our rattle-down coaches are so mighty slow; you don't have such
fixin's at the North.'
'No, sir; but why do you suppose I'm from the North? I've passed for a
Southerner to-day.'
'Oh, I know you Yankees all to pieces; I've lived among you.'
'At college, I suppose?'
'Yes, at Harvard.'
'You graduated early.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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