A new Dish.
Dr. James Wood was an oddity. He was a bachelor, between thirty and forty, large and attractive. He was remarkably neat in dress and person, but delighted in “an old rip of a horse.”
Once he was on a tour through New Brunswick, and, in company with a friend, drove up to a tavern at evening, and called for the landlord.
“He ain’t t’ home, but I’m the horse-slayer,” replied a voice, followed by the person of a tall, lean Yankee, who issued from the smoke of the bar-room, and approached our friends, still sitting in the open buggy.
“Here, put up my horse; take good care of him, and feed him well.”
“Hoss?” said the impudent fellow. “O, yes, I see him now; he’s inside that ere frame, I s’pose. Climb down, gentlemen, and go inter the house. Landlord and the Santipede (Xantippe?) has gone to St. Johns; but I guess Dolly in the kitchin, and me in the bar-room, can eat and drink yer, though you’re two putty big fellows, well’s myself.” So saying, the gentlemen having alighted, he drove the animal to the stable.
A “HORSE-SLAYER” INDULGING HIS OPINION.