I was about calling his attention to this national trait, when I saw
him draw his reins under his foot (a mode of driving peculiar to
himself, when he wished to economize the time that would otherwise be
lost by an unnecessary delay), and taking off his hat (which, like a
peddler's pack, contained a general assortment), select from a number
of loose cigars one that appeared likely "to go," as he called it.
Having lighted it by a lucifer, and ascertained that it was "true in
draft," he resumed his reins and remarked--
"This must be an everlastin' fine country beyond all doubt, for the
folks have nothin' to do but to ride about and talk politics. In
winter, when the ground is covered with snow, what grand times they
have a-sleighin' over these here marshes with the gals, or playin'
ball on the ice, or goin' to quiltin' frolics of nice long winter
evenings, and then a-drivin' home like mad, by moonlight. Natur'
meant that season on purpose for courtin'. A little tidy scrumptious
lookin' sleigh, a real clipper of a horse, a string of bells as long
as a string of inions round his neck, and a sprig on his back,
lookin' for all the world like a bunch of apples broke off at
gatherin' time, and a sweetheart alongside, all muffled up but
her eyes and lips--the one lookin' right into you, and the other
talkin' right at you--is e'enamost enough to drive one ravin' tarin'
distracted mad with pleasure, ain't it? And then the dear critters
say the bells make such a din there's no hearin' one's self speak; so
they put their pretty little mugs close up to your face, and talk,
talk, talk, till one can't help lookin' right at them instead of
the horse, and then whap you both go capsized into a snowdrift
together, skins, cushions and all.
Pages:
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190