“‘Grave digger!’ said doleful Steve, ‘what is that?’
“‘Why,’ sais he, ‘they went one day to bury a man, down to Clare did the French, and when they got to the grave, who should be in it but the pony. He couldn’t see, and as he was a feedin’ about, he tumbled in head over heels and they called him always arterwards ‘the Grave-digger.’”
“‘Very simple people them French,’ sais I, ‘Elder; they don’t know nothin’ about hosses, do they? Their priests keep them in ignorance on purpose.’
“Steve winced and squinched his face properly; and said the glass in his hands hurt him. Well, arter we sot all to rights, we began to jog on towards Digby. The Elder didn’t say much, he was as chop fallen as a wounded moose; at last, says he, ‘I’ll ship him to St. John, and sell him. I’ll put him on board of Captain Ned Leonard’s vessel, as soon as I get to Digby.’ Well, as I turned my head to answer him, and sot eyes on him agin, it most sot me a haw, hawin’ a second time, he did look so like Old Scratch. Oh Hedges! how haggardised he was! His new hat was smashed down like a cap on the crown of his head, his white cravat was bloody, his face all scratched, as if he had been clapper-clawed by a woman, and his hands was bound up with rags, where the glass cut ‘em. The white sand of the floor of Everett’s parlour had stuck to his damp clothes, and he looked like an old half corned miller, that was a returnin’ to his wife, arter a spree. A leetle crest fallen for what he had got, a leetle mean for the way he looked, and a leetle skeered for what he’d catch, when he got to home. The way he sloped warn’t no matter. He was a pictur, and a pictur I must say, I liked to look at.
“And now Squire, do you take him off too, ingrave him, and bind him up in your book, and let others look at it, and put onder it ‘the Elder and the Grave-digger.’”
“Well, when we got to town, the tide was high, and the vessel jist ready to cast off, and Steve, knowin’ how skeer’d pony was of the water, got off to lead him, but the critter guessed it warn’t a bridge, for he smelt salt water on both sides of him, and ahead too, and budge he wouldn’t. Well, they beat him most to death, but he beat back agin with his heels, and it was a drawd fight. Then they goes to the fence and gets a great strong pole, and puts it across his hams, two men at each eend of the pole, and shoved away, and shoved away, till they progressed a yard or so; when pony squatted right down on the pole, throwd over the men, and most broke their legs, with his weight.
“At last, the captain fetched a rope, and fixes it round his neck, with a slip knot, fastens it to the windlass, and dragged him in as they do an anchor, and tied him by his bridle to the boom; and then shoved off, and got under weigh.
“Steve and I sot down on the wharf, for it was a beautiful day, and looked at them driftin’ out in the stream, and hystin’ sail, while the folks was gettin’ somethin’ ready for us to the inn.
“When they had got out into the middle of the channel, took the breeze, and was all under way, and we was about turnin’ to go back, I saw the pony loose, he had slipped his bridle, and not likin’ the motion of the vessel, he jist walked overboard, head fust, with a most a beautiful splunge.
“‘A most refreshin’ time,’ said I, ‘Elder, that critter has of it. I hope that sinner will be saved.’