Chapter 22
The horse played a part of no small importance in that country. He
was the coin of the realm, a medium of exchange, a standard of
value, an exponent of moral character. The man that travelled
without a horse was on his way to the poorhouse. Uncle Eb or
David Brower could tell a good horse by the sound of his
footsteps, and they brought into St Lawrence County the haughty
Morgans from Vermont. There was more pride in their high heads
than in any of the good people. A Northern Yankee who was not
carried away with a fine horse had excellent self-control. Politics
and the steed were the only things that ever woke him to
enthusiasm, and there a man was known as he traded. Uncle Eb
used to say that one ought always to underestimate his horse 'a
leetle fer the sake of a reputation'.
We needed another horse to help with the haying, and Bob Dean, a
tricky trader, who had heard of it, drove in after supper one
evening, and offered a rangy brown animal at a low figure. We
looked him over, tried him up and down the road, and then David,
with some shrewd suspicion, as I divined later, said I could do as I
pleased.
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