“Well, Sir, he came on gallantly, I must say that, and kept his eye fixed steadily on me, when just as I was going to make a cut at his reins, he suddenly seized his eavy-mounted elmet, and threw it slap at my face, and I’ll be anged if it didn’t stun me, and knock me right off the orse flat on the ground, and then he galloped off as ard as he could go. When I got up, I took his elmet under my harm, and proceeded on my route. I was ashamed to tell the story straight, and I made the best tale I could of the scrimmage, and showed the elmet in token that it was a pretty rough fight. But the doctor, when he dressed the wound, swore it never was made with a sword, nor a bullet, nor any instrument he knew hon, and that he didn’t think it was occasioned by a fall, for it was neither insised, outsised, nor contused—but a confusion of all three. He questioned me as close as a witness.
“‘But,’ sais I, ‘doctor, there is no telling what himplements Frenchmen ave. They don’t fight like us, they don’t. It was a runnin’ scrimmage, or handicap fight.’ Yes, Sir, if it was hanywhere helse, where it wouldn’t show, it wouldn’t be so bad, but there it is on the face, and there is no denyin’ of it.”
Here the little woman made her appearance again, with the hat in her hand, and said imploringly:
“Tom, doee put your hat on, that’s a good soul. He don’t take no care of himself, Sir,” she said, addressing herself to me. “He has seen a deal of service in his day, and has three bullets in him now, and he is as careless of hisself as if he didn’t mind whether I was left alone in the oulin’ wilderness or not. Oh, Sir, if you heard the wild beastesis here at night, it’s dreadful. It’s worse than the wolves in the Pyreen, in Spain. And then, Sir, all I can do, I can’t get him to wear is at, when he knows in is eart he had a stroke of the sun near Badajoz, which knocked him off his orse, and see how it cut his face. He was so andsome before, Sir.”
“Betty,” said the sergeant, “the doctor is calling you. Do go into the ouse, and don’t bother the gentleman. Oh, Sir,” said he, “I have had to tell a cap of lies about that are scar on my face, and that’s ard, Sir, for a man who has a medal with five clasps; ain’t it?”
Here the doctor came to tell me breakfast was ready.
“I was admiring, Doctor,” said I, “this simple contrivance of yours for raising water from the well. It is very ingenious.”
“Very,” he said, “but I assure you it is no invention of mine. I have no turn that way. It is very common in the country.”
I must describe this extraordinary looking affair, for though not unusual in America, I have never seen it in England, although the happy thought doubtless owes its origin to the inventive genius of its farmers.
The well had a curb, as it is called, a square wooden box open at the top, to prevent accident to the person drawing the water. A few paces from this was an upright post about twelve feet high, having a crotch at the top. A long beam lies across this, one end of which rests on the ground at a distance from the post, and the other projects into the air with its point over the well. This beam is secured in the middle of the crotch of the upright post by an iron bolt, on which it moves, as on an axle. To the aerial end is attached a few links of a chain, that hold a long pole to which the bucket is fastened, and hangs over the well. The beam and its pendent apparatus resembles a fishing-rod and its line protruding over a stream. When a person wishes to draw water, he takes hold of the pole, and as he pulls it down, the bucket descends into the well, and the heavy end of the beam rises into the air, and when the pail is filled the weight of the butt end of the beam in its descent raises the bucket.