ailors never know when they're well off."

"Waal," said Farmer Joe, "it 'pears to me that this 'ere's abaout a good
time to tell us some more on 't."

"Did I ever tell you about going whaling on shore?"

"Git aout!" exclaimed Farmer Joe.

"You don't believe it, eh? Did you never hear of Amagansett, Long
Island? That's where all good whalemen go when they get to be too old to
go to sea. They have their boats there, and when a whale heaves in sight
off shore they put right out through the surf, and generally there's one
dead whale in those parts when they come back. But it isn't about that
I'm going to tell you, because chasing whales in boats is all the same
whether you start from shore or a ship. But down there's where I met old
Bill Tybee."

"Who were he?" asked Farmer Joe.

"He was a very old sailor, who'd quit the sea, and was running a sort of
express business. That is, he had a horse and wagon, and used to cart
things for people. He was a great old chap, I tell you, and the yarns he
used to tell would have scraped barnacles off the back door of the North
Pole. His horse was so old he couldn't move at any pace except a sort of
dog-trot, and the wagon rumbled and squeaked like a fife-and-drum corps.
One day I said to Bill that I'd like to know why he didn't get a new
horse and wagon, and then he told me a regular hair-twister. I'm going
to tell it to you, and I'm going to tell it just the way Bill told it to
me."

Handsome shifted his seat a foot or two, took a round turn around his
foot and tested the splice which he had been making, and then screwing
his face up in imitation of "old Bill Tybee," he began.

"Git a new hoss an' waggin, hey? I ain't no dude. Nex' thing I 'spect
you'll be wantin' me to run a tally-hoo coach to take beach-combers out
a clam-diggin'. New hoss an' waggin! Say, I had 'em oncet, an' I don't
want 'em no more. I got all the trouble I want now, without havin' a
cantankerous young colt a tryin' to jump fences with me an' the waggin.
Say, I'm goin' to tell you 'bout the new hoss an' waggin I had oncet,
an' then I leave it to you, if you was me an' I was you, would you try
it on some more. 'Bout two year ago come Thanksgivin' I got so sot up in
bizness that I bought Farmer Hiram Smoggs's brown colt, that were jes
seven year old that fall, an' his one-hoss farm waggin wot Fin Dooley
had jes painted redder'n a new can-buoy on the starboard side o' a ship
channel. I gave him this 'ere hoss