acon
Farrar's on sacrament day.

"I knew, all the time, he was lying, and so I watched him and his old
roan tu; and for three nights regular, old roan came to my stable about
bed-time, and just at day-light Bradly would come, bridle her, and ride
off. I then just took my old mare down to a blacksmith's shop and had
some shoes made with corks about four inches long, and had 'em nailed on
her hind feet. Your heels, mister, ain't nuthin to 'em. I took her
hum--gave her about ten feet halter, tied her right in the centre of the
stable, fed her well with oats at nine o'clock, and after taking a good
smoke, went to bed, knowing that my old mare was a truth-telling animal,
and that she'd give a good report of herself in the morning.

"I hadn't got fairly asleep before the old woman hunched me, and wanted
to know what on airth was the matter out in the stable. So says I, 'Go
to sleep, Peggy, it's nothing but Kate--she's kicking off flies, I
guess.' Putty soon she hunched me again, and says, 'Mr. Hitchcock, du
get up, and see what in the world is the matter with Kate, for she is
kicking most powerfully.'

"'Lay still, Peggy, Kate will take care of herself, I guess.'

"Well the next morning, about daylight, Bradly, with bridle in hand, cum
to the stable, and true as the book of Genesis, when he saw the old
roan's sides, starn, and head, he cursed and swore worse than you did,
mister, when I came down on your toes. After breakfast that morning, Joe
Davis cum down to my house, and says he--

"'Bradly's old roan is nearly dead--she's cut all to pieces, and can
scarcely move.'

"'I want to know,' says I; 'how on airth did it happen?'

"Now Joe was a member of the same church with Bradly, and whilst we were
talking, up cum the everlastin hypocrite, and says he,

"'My old mare is ruined!'

"'Du tell!' says I.

"'She is all cut to pieces,' says he; 'do you know whether she was in
your stable, Mr. Hitchcock, last night?'

"Wall, mister, with this I let out: 'Do I _know_ it?'--(the Yankee here,
in illustration, made way for him, unconsciously, as it were.) 'Do I
know it, you no-souled, shad-bellied, squash-headed old night owl,
you!--you hay-lookin, corn-cribbin, fodder-fudgin, cent-shavin,
whitlin-of-nothin, you? Kate kicks like a dumb beast, but I have reduced
the thing to a science!'"

The Yankee had not ceased to advance, nor the dandy, in his
astonishment, to retreat; and now the motion of the latter being
accelerated