"Sam was as smart a man as you'd find anywhere, and many a time I used to feel for Milly when he'd mortify her before company by sayin' foolish things he never would 'a' said if he'd been in his right senses. I ricollect once she had a parlor full o' company and she was showin' an ambrotype of her brother David, and somebody passed it to Sam and he took it and looked at it right hard, and says he, 'Shuh! that don't look half as much like Dave as he looks like himself.' And another time, one county court day, me and Abram happened to be standin' on the corner in front o' the old drug store, and Sam come a staggerin' up and laid his hand on Abram's shoulder and looked him straight in the eye like he had somethin' mighty important to say, and says he, 'Uncle Abram, I want to tell you right here and now, and don't you ever forgit it; if there's anything I do despise it's one thing more'n another.' I don't believe Abram ever got through laughin' at that. And if Sam had only stopped at the first glass that made a fool of him, his drinkin' would 'a' been a small matter. But the man that can stop at one glass don't live in Kentucky, child, and so Sam went from the first glass to the second and from the second to the third and from that to the gutter. And many a time the neighbors had to pick Sam up and bring him home, for betwixt the shame of seein' him in that condition and the danger of bein' with him, Milly had to stop goin' to town.
"I ricollect one county court day me and Abram happened to be passin' along in front o' the old Methodist Church, and Sam come walkin' out o' Jockey Alley leadin' his big bay mare—Jockey Alley, child, is the alley that runs from State Street clean back to the street leadin' over to the old footbridge, and everybody that had a horse or a mule or a colt to swap, why, they'd go to that alley and do their swappin' every county court day.
"Well, as I was sayin', Sam come along leadin' his bay mare. That mare was the pride of Sam's heart. He used to say there was more good blood in that bay mare of his than in any six families in the state o' Kentucky. Sam was a mighty fine judge o' horse flesh, and he got his love for horses from his father and his grandfather, old Harrison Amos. The old man was one o' the biggest horse raisers in the state, and he made his thousands out of it, too. But folks that went to his farm used to say it was like huntin' a hen's nest to find the house where the family lived, the house was so little and there was so many big fine barns and stables. Somebody asked him once why he didn't build a better house for his children to live in, and the old man says, 'I believe in puttin' my money where I am certain of gettin' good returns.' Says he, 'There's no manner of certainty in children. You can put good blood into a boy and do your best to bring him up in the way he should go, and after all you've spent on him he'll lose every race he goes into, and you'll find you've got a scrub on your hands. But,' says he, 'you breed a horse right, and train him in his gaits whilst he's young, and there ain't one chance in a thousand of your losin' money on that horse. Of course,' says he, 'I think more of my boys than I do of my horses, but when it comes to investin' money, a man must be governed by his judgment and his common sense, not by his feelin's.'
"They said the old man went down to New Orleans one winter on some business and left his son Joe in charge o' the stock farm, and when he got back he went out to the stables, the first thing, to look at his horses, and when he got through, there was four of his thoroughbreds missin'. And, says he, 'Joe, where's May Queen?' and Joe says, 'Why, Father, she's dead; died right after you left.' And the old man said, 'Well, where's Dixie Gyirl,' and Joe says, 'Why, Father, I'm mighty sorry to have to tell you, but Dixie Gyirl, she's dead,—died pretty near the same time May Queen died.' And the old man says, 'Well, where's Annie Laurie and Nelly Gray?' And Joe says, 'Father, I'm mighty sorry, but they died just like Dixie Gyirl and May Queen.' And the old man looked at Joe for a minute, and says he, right slow and earnest, 'Well, Joe, why didn't you die, too?'
"So that's where Sam got his love o' fine horses, child, and, as I was sayin', Sam come walkin' up leadin' his bay mare by the bridle. Me and Abram on our way to the drug store and Tige, our yeller house-dog, follerin' close behind us, and Sam called to us to stop, and says he, 'Can't we make a trade to-day? I'll swap you my mare for your dog.' And Abram says, 'Done,' and he took hold o' the mare's bridle, and he pulled a piece o' stout twine out of his pocket and tied it to Tige's collar and put the end o' the string in Sam's hand. I says to him, 'Why, Abram, you wouldn't take advantage of a poor drunken man, and a neighbor at that?' And Abram says, 'Make yourself easy, Jane, I'm only goin' to give Sam a lesson that may shame him out of his drinkin' habits for awhile, at least.' And then he led the mare to the stable and told the man to feed her and water her, and he'd call for her late that evenin'.
"Well, when goin'-home time come round, we set out to look for Sam, and after lookin' all around the Square and up and down Main Street, we found him lyin' helpless in the back o' the grocery store. Abram got two men to help him, and they managed to lift him up and put him in the wagon. Then we drove around to the livery stable and got the bay mare and fastened her to the back o' the wagon and started home. When we got to our gate, Abram put me and the children out and turned Sam's mare into the horse lot, and then he drove over to Sam's farm as quick as he could, for he knew Milly was waitin' and grievin'. And sure enough there she was, standin' under the big sycamore in front o' the gate, lookin' and listenin' for Sam. She told me afterwards she'd stayed out that way many a night till her clothes'd be wet with the dew, and for the rest of her life she hated the sound of crickets and katydids, because they reminded her of that year when Sam give her so much trouble.
"Well, Abram drove up to the gate, and Milly was too skeered to speak. She was always worryin' about Sam fallin' off his horse and breakin' his neck, and when she saw Abram and nobody with him, she thought he was comin' on ahead to break the news to her, and Sam's dead body would be the next thing to come. Abram didn't know this, or he'd a told her right at once that Sam was in the wagon. He said when he stopped, Milly was leanin' forward, her hands together, and hardly enough breath to speak, and she whispered, 'Where's Sam?' And Abram says, 'Right here in the wagon.' And Milly says, 'Thank God! I was afraid he was dead.' Now that shows what kind of a heart Milly had. When a man's brought home dead drunk, child, it ain't every woman that'll thank God he's alive.
"Well, they had some trouble rousin' Sam, but at last they got him to the house and took off his coat and shoes and laid him on the bed, and when Abram started to go Milly says, 'But where's Sam's mare?' And Abram says, 'When Sam comes to himself to-morrow, you send him over to my house and I'll put him on the track of his mare.' So the next mornin' about eleven o'clock here was Sam lookin' about as reckless and miserable as a man ever gits to look, and says he, 'I've come for my mare, Uncle Abram; I see the stable door's open, so you needn't bother yourself; I'll go down there and saddle her and ride her home. I'm much obliged to you,' says he, 'for takin' care of her.'
"And Abram says, 'Sam, you may not know it, but that mare belongs to me.' And Sam laughed and says he, 'I reckon I do owe you somethin' for bringin' me home last night, but you surely won't take my horse for that.' And Abram says, 'But, Sam, you swapped that mare to me yesterday,' and Sam says, 'Swapped her? What did I swap her for?' And jest then old Tige come around the corner o' the house waggin' his tail, and Abram p'inted to him and says he, 'You swapped your mare for that dog, Sam.'
"Well, for a minute Sam couldn't say a word he was so thunderstruck, and says he, 'Do you mean to say, Uncle Abram, that I was such a fool yesterday as to swap my bay mare, the finest piece o' horse flesh in the State, for that old yeller dog, and me the best judge of horses in Warren County?' 'Yes,' says Abram, 'you did that very thing, Sam, and the swap was your own proposin'.'