"Massa, dis hoss will be no manner of remaginable use
under de blessed light ob de sun."
"Why, Sorrow?"
"Cause, Massa, he don't understand one word of English, and de French
he knows no libbin' soul can understand but a Cheesencooker, yah, yah,
yah! Dey called him a 'shovel,' and his tail a 'queue.' "
"What a goose you are, Sorrow," sais I.
"Fac, Massa," he said, "fac I do ressure you, and dey called de little
piggy doctor fell over, 'a coach.' Dod drat my hide if they didn't
yah, yah, yah!"
"The English ought to import, Doctor," sais I, "some of these into
their country, for as to ridin' and drivin' there is nothin' like
them. But catch Britishers admitting there is anything good in Canada,
but the office of Governor-General, the military commands, and other
pieces of patronage, which they keep to themselves, and then say they
have nothing left. Ah me! times is altered, as Elgin knows. The
pillory and the peerage have changed places. Once, a man who did wrong
was first elevated, and then pelted. A peer is now assailed with eggs,
and then exalted."
"Palmam qui meruit ferat," said the doctor.
"Is that the Latin for how many hands high the horse is?" sais I.
"Well, on an average, say fifteen, perhaps oftener less than more.
It's the old Norman horse of two centuries ago, a compound of the
Flemish stock and the Barb, introduced into the Low Countries by the
Spaniards.
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