"Guess not, 'cept I car' him down myself."
"Well, will you carry him down yourself?"
"Well, you see, I can't tell about that nohow at present. Guess I will, if I can tho', by an' by."
"But why can't you say whether you will or will not? I'll pay you for your trouble. Have you any objection to taking the horse down?"
"Oh no! not at all, by no means. I've no objection nohow to obleege you, if, you see, I can find some other gentleman to look after my horses whiles I go."
My companions, who had been enjoying this cross-examination of my equivocal friend, now laughed outright, and heartily did I join in the guffaw: they were to "the manner born," and it was my puzzled expression that so tickled them; to me, after the first surprise was over, the whole thing was indescribably droll. I caught instantly "another gentleman," an idler about the public-house door, who, for a shilling, found the cast shoes, and undertook to do for the horses whilst the first gentleman, of the stable, led my nag away to the forge.
This was a very fair specimen, but we were to be favoured with another and a better. Mr. T. P——s, a son of the Colonel's, one of the foremost citizens of this State, was driven out in his English landau, with certain delicacies not to be expected where we dined. As the coachman, who was a servant of the old Colonel's, drew up by the inn-door, he was immediately recognised, and saluted most cordially by the landlord; who, addressing him by his name,—Jenkins, or whatever it was,—hoped he was quite well, and was "uncommon glad to see him." During this ceremony, Mr. P——s had alighted; and, in order to be particularly civil, observed with great good-humour to the landlord,
"Ah, my friend, what you remember Jenkins, do you?"
"Why yes, I guess I ought," replied our host of the game; "I've know'd Muster Jenkins long enough, seein' he's the gentleman as used to drive old Tom P——'s coach."