But then he didn't know nothin' about pulses.
"Jessie," said I, "imitate that for me, dear. It is the last exercise
of that extraordinary power I shall ever hear."
"Play it again," she said, "that I may catch the air."
"Is it possible," said I to myself, "you didn't hear it after all? It
is the first time your little heart was ever pressed before, perhaps
it beat so loud you couldn't distinguish the bugle notes. Was it the
new emotion or the new music that absorbed you so? Oh, Jessie, don't
ask me again what natur is."
Well, I played it again for her, and instantly she gave the repetition
with a clearness, sweetness, and accuracy, that was perfectly amazing.
Cutler and I then took leave for the present, and proceeded on our way
to the shore.
"Ah, Sir!" said Jackson, who accompanied us to the bars, "it's a long
while ago since I eard that hair. Warn't them mail-coaches pretty
things, Sir? Hon the hold King's birthday, Sir, when they all turned
out with new arness and coaches fresh painted, and coachman and guard
in new toggery, and four as beautiful bits of blood to each on 'em as
was to be found in England, warn't it a sight to behold, Sir? The
world could show nothin' like it, Sir. And to think they are past and
gone, it makes one's eart hache. They tells me the coachman now, Sir,
has a dirty black face, and rides on a fender before a large grate,
and flourishes a red ot poker instead of a whip.
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