“Creation! how he looked. He was so mad, he was ready to bile over; and as it was he smoked in the sun, like a tea-kettle. His clothes stuck close down to him, as a cat’s fur does to her skin, when she’s out in the rain, and every step he took his boots went squish, squash, like an old woman churnin’ butter; and his wet trowsers chafed with a noise like a wet flappin’ sail. He was a shew, and when he got up to his hoss, and held on to his mane, and first lifted up one leg and then the other to let the water run out of his boots. I couldn’t hold in no longer, but laid back and larfed till I thought on my soul I’d fall off into the river too.
“‘Elder,’ says I, ‘I thought when a man jined your sect, ‘he could never “fall off agin,” but I see you ain’t no safer than other folks arter all.’
“‘Come,’ says he, ‘let me be, that’s a good soul, it’s bad enough, without being larfed at, that’s a fact. I can’t account for this caper, no how.’
“‘It’s very strange too, ain’t it! What on airth got into the hoss to make him act so ugly. Can you tell, Mr. Slick?’
“‘Why,’ sais I, ‘he don’t know English yet, that’s all. He waited for them beautiful French oaths that Goodish used. Stop the fust Frenchman you meet and give him a shillin’ to teach you to swear, and he’ll go like a lamb.’
“I see’d what was the matter of the hoss by his action as soon as we started; but I warn’t agoin’ for to let on to him about it. I wanted to see the sport. Well, he took his hoss by the bridle and led him over the bridge, and he follered kindly, then he mounted, and no hoss could go better. Arter a little, we came to another bridge agin, and the same play was acted anew, same coaxin’, same threatenin’, and same thrashin’; at last pony put down his head, and began to shake his tail, a gettin’ ready for another bout of kickin’; when Steve got off and led him, and did the same to every bridge we come to.
“‘It’s no use,’ sais I, ‘you must larn them oaths, he’s used to ‘em and misses them shocking. A sailor, a hoss, and a nigger ain’t no good without you swear at ‘em; it comes kinder nateral to them, and they look for it, fact I assure you. Whips wear out, and so do spurs, but a good sneezer of a cuss hain’t no wear out to it; it’s always the same.’
“‘I’ll larn him sunthin’, sais he, ‘when I get him to home, and out o’ sight that will do him good, and that he won’t forget for one while, I know.’
“Soon arter this we came to Everett’s public-house on the bay, and I galloped up to the door, and went as close as I cleverly could on purpose, and then reined up short and sudden, when whap goes the pony right agin the side of the house, and nearly killed himself. He never stirred for the matter of two or three minutes. I actilly did think he had gone for it, and Steve went right thro’ the winder on to the floor, with a holler noise, like a log o’ wood thrown on to the deck of a vessel. ‘Eugh!’ says he, and he cut himself with the broken glass quite ridikilous.
“‘Why,’ sais Everett, ‘as I am a livin’ sinner this is “the Grave-digger,” he’ll kill you, man, as sure as you are born, he is the wickedest hoss that ever was seen in these clearins here; and he is as blind as a bat too. No man in Nova Scotia can manage that hoss but Goodish Greevoy, and he’d manage the devil that feller, for he is man, horse, shark, and sarpent all in one, that Frenchman. What possessed you to buy such a varmint as that?’