THE HOSSES.
Waz a gra mare, about the usual stature, not verry fat, and laboring under a spring halt, which tha ced she had caught ov anuther hoss, about 10 days ago.
Tha ced she had trotted tu a kamp-meeting last fall inside ov a verry short time, and that her back bone waz awl game.
I asked a yung man with long yeller hair and bedtick pantyloons on, who waz currying oph the mare, what her pedigree was, and he with a wink tew anuther feller who stood clus bi, ced, “she waz got bi the Landlord out ov a Methdiss minister,” and then tha both laffed.
I found out bi inquirin, that her name waz “Fryin-Pan.”
The uther hoss waz a red hoss, rather hastily konstructed, with a spare tale on him, which tha ced waz kaused by his trotting so fast, in a windy day; i shud think he waz about 5 feet and a haf in hite, and ov a kickin natur.
Tha ced he waz a stranger in theze parts, and that his rite name waz “Juise Harp.”