Look at them are great dykes; well, they all go to
feed horses; and look at their grain fields on the
upland; well, they are all sowed with oats to feed
horses, and they buy their bread from us: so
we feed the asses, and they feed the horses.
If I had them critters on that are marsh, on a location
of mine, I’d jist take my rifle and shoot every
one on them; the nasty yo necked, cat hammed, heavy
headed, flat eared, crooked shanked, long legged,
narrow chested, good for nothin brutes; they aint worth
their keep one winter. I vow, I wish one of these
Blue Noses, with his go-to-meetin clothes on, coat
tails pinned up behind like a leather blind of a Shay,
an old spur on one heel, and a pipe stuck through
his hat band, mounted on one of these limber timbered
critters, that moves its hind legs like a hen scratchin
gravel, was sot down in Broadway, in New York, for
a sight. Lord! I think I hear the West Point
cadets a larfin at him. Who brought that are
scare-crow out of standin corn and stuck him here?
I guess that are citizen came from away down east out
of the Notch of the White Mountains. Here comes
the Cholera doctor, from Canada—not from
Canada, I guess, neither, for he don’t look
as if he had ever been
among the Rapids. If they would’nt
poke fun at him its a pity. If they’d keep
less horses, and more sheep, they’d have food
and clothing, too, instead of buying both. I
vow I’ve larfed afore now till I have fairly
wet myself a cryin, to see one of these folks catch
a horse: may be he has to go two or three miles
of an arrand. Well, down he goes on the dyke
with a bridle in one hand, and an old tin pan in another,
full of oats, to catch his beast. First he goes
to one flock of horses, and then to another, to see
if he can find his own critter. At last he gets
sight on him, and goes softly up to him, shakin of
his oats, and a coaxin him, and jist as he goes to
put his hand upon him, away he starts all head and
tail, and the rest with him: that starts another
flock, and they set a third off, and at last every
troop on ’em goes, as if Old Nick was arter
them, till they amount to two or three hundred in
a drove. Well, he chases them clear across the
Tantramer marsh, seven miles good, over ditches, creeks,
mire holes, and flag ponds, and then they turn and
take a fair chase for it back again seven miles more.
By this time, I presume, they are all pretty considerably
well tired, and Blue Nose, he goes and gets up all
the men folks in the neighborhood, and catches his
beast, as they do a moose arter he is fairly run down;
so he runs fourteen miles, to ride two, because he
is in a tarnation hurry. Its e’en a most
equal to eatin soup with a fork, when you are short
of time. It puts me in mind of catching birds
by sprinkling salt on their tails; its only one horse
a man can ride out of half a dozen, arter all.
One has no shoes, tother has a colt, one arnt broke,
another has a sore back, while a fifth is so etarnal
cunnin, all Cumberland could’nt catch him, till
winter drives him up to the barn for food.