“Indeed she did,” said Peter, “and when she came to read it, it was for five instead of two hundred acres.”
“Good!” said the other. “Come, I like that. Fill me another glass and I will drink his health.”
“Well done, old boy!” said I to myself, “you know how to carry your sentimentality to market anyhow. Doctor, doctor! So you are a doctor,” sais I to myself, “are you? Well, there is something else in you than dough pills, and salts, and senna, at any rate, and that is more than most of your craft have, at all events. I’ll draw you out presently, for I never saw a man with that vein of melancholy in him, that didn’t like fun, providin’ his sadness warn’t the effect of disease. So here’s at you; I’ll make the fun start or break a trace, I know.”
Cutler and I had been talking horse when he came in; a sort of talk I rather like myself, for I consait I know a considerable some about it, and ain’t above getting a wrinkle from others when I can. “Well,” sais I, “Capting, we was a talking about horses when the doctor came in.”
“Captain,” said the doctor, turning round to Cutler, “Captain, excuse me, Sir, how did you reach the shore?”
“In the boat,” said Cutler.
“Ah!” said the other with animation, “was all the crew saved?”
“We were in no danger whatever, Sir; my vessel is at anchor in the harbour.”
“Ah,” replied the doctor, “that’s fortunate, very fortunate;” and turned again to the fire, with an air, as I thought, of disappointment, as if he had expected a tale of horror to excite him.
“‘Well, Mr Slick,” said the captain, “let us hear your story about the horse that had a thousand virtues and only one vice.”