“Well, boys, all I had to do was to keep a follerin’ on, and keep flies off; and I did, till we came to a slough, and says I, ‘Now, old feller, I got you;’ and I driv him in. Well, arter all, do you know, fellers, the auful critter wouldn’t stick! He went in and in, and bimby came to a deep place, and swum right across. A fact—true as thunder! Well, you see, when I cum to the deep place, I swum too; and, do you know, that the darned beast just nat’rally waited till I got out, and looked at me all over, and I could act’ily see him laffin’; and I _was_ nasty enough to make a hoss laugh, any how! “Well, thinks I, old feller, recon you’v had fun enough with me _now_; so I gits some sticks, and scrapes myself all over, and got tol’ble white again, and then begins to coax the varmint. Well, I ‘whoa’d’ and ‘old boy’d,’ and cum up right civil to him, I tell ye—and he took it mighty condescendin’ too; and jist when I had him sure, cussed if he didn’t go right back into the slough agin, swum the deep place, walked out, and stood on t’other side, waitin’ for me. “Well, by this time, the yaller flies cum at me agin, and I jist nat’rally went in arter the blasted beast, and stood afore him, on t’other side, _just as nasty as before_—did, by thunder, boys! Well, he _laffed_ agin, till he nearly shook the bundle off; and ’way he went, back agin, three miles, to the river; and then he jest stopped dead, and waited till I cum up to him, and jest kind a axed me to cum and take hold of the bridle, and then guv a kick and a ’ruction, and went in agin, laffin’ all the time; and, right in the middle, hang me! if he didn’t shake my clothes off; and ’way they went, down stream, while he swum ashore; and I, jest nat’rally, lay down on the bank, and cussed all creation. “Well, you see, boys, there I lays ’bove a hour, when I sees a feller pullin’ up stream in a skift, a-tryin’ on a coat, and says I: ‘Stranger, see here, when you’re done gittin’ my coat on, I’ll thank you for _my shirt_!’ And the feller sees how it was, and pulls ashore, and helps me. “I tell you what, boys, you may talk of hoss lafs; but when you want a good one, just think of _Hoss Allen_!” III. THE WIDOW RUGBY’S HUSBAND. Some ten or twelve years agone, one Summeval Dennis kept the “Union Hotel,” at the seat of Justice of the county of Tallapoosa. The house took its name from the complexion of the politics of its proprietor, he being a true-hearted Union man, and opposed, as I hope all my readers are, at all points, to the damnable heresy of _nullification_. In consequence of the candid exposition of his political sentiments upon his sign-board, mine host of the “Union” was liberally patronized by those who coincided with him in his views.