but it sounds like "good bye," you'd better
turn round and make 'em a bow, for they are very polite people, is the
French.'

"So Steve turns and takes off his hat, and makes them a low bow, and
they larfs wus than ever, and calls out again, "La Fossy Your," "La
Fossy Your." He was kinder ryled, was the Elder. His honey had begun
to farment, and smell vinegery. 'May be, next Christmas,' sais he, 'you
won't larf so loud, when you find the mare is dead. Goodish and the old
mare are jist alike, they are all tongue them critters. I rather think
it's me,' sais he, 'has the right to larf, for I've got the best of this
bargain, and no mistake. This is as smart a little hoss as ever I see.
I know where I can put him off to great advantage. I shall make a good
day's work of this. It is about as good a hoss trade as I ever made. The
French don't know nothin' about hosses; they are a simple people, their
priests keep 'em in ignorance on purpose, and they don't know nothin'.'

"He cracked and bragged considerable, and as we progressed we came
to Montagon Bridge. The moment pony sot foot on it, he stopped short,
pricked up the latter eends of his ears, snorted, squeeled and refused
to budge an inch. The Elder got mad. He first coaxed and patted, and
soft sawdered him, and then whipt and spurred, and thrashed him like any
thing. Pony got mad too, for hosses has tempers as well as Elders; so he
turned to, and kicked right straight up on eend, like Old Scratch, and
kept on without stoppin' till he sent the Elder right slap over his
head slantendicularly, on the broad of his back into the river, and he
floated down thro' the bridge and scrambled out at t'other side.

"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