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Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Eben Holden, a tale of the north country"

'
We stood waiting a moment for the horse to recover himself. A
team was nearing us.
'There's Bob Dean,' Uncle Eb whispered. 'The durn scalawag!
Don't ye say a word now.
'Good-mornin'!' said Dean, smiling as he pulled up beside us.
'Nice pleasant mornin'!' said Uncle Eb, as he cast a glance into the
sky.
'What ye standin' here for?' Dean asked.
Uncle Eb expectorated thoughtfullyy.
'Jest a lookin' at the scenery,' said he. 'Purty country, right here!
AIwus liked it.'
'Nice lookin' hoss ye got there,' said Dean.
'Grand hoss!' said Uncle Eb, surveying him proudly. 'Most
reemarkable hoss.'
'Good stepper, too,' said Dean soberly.
'Splendid!' said Uncle Eb. 'Can go a mile without ketchin' his
breath.'
'Thet so?' said Dean.
'Good deal like Lucy Purvis,' Uncle Eb added. 'She can say the hull
mul'plication table an' only breathe once. Ye can learn sumthin'
from a hoss like thet. He's good as a deestric' school - thet hoss is.'
Yes, sir, thet hoss is all right,' said Dean, as he drove away.


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