"We shall progress real handsum now; that 'ere horse goes etarnal
fast, he near about set my axle on fire twice. He's a spanker you may
depend. I had him when he was a two-year-old, all legs and tail, like
a devil's darnin' needle, and had him broke on purpose by father's
old nigger, January Snow. He knows English real well, and can do near
about anything but speak it. He helped me once to gin a Bluenose a
proper handsum quiltin'."
"He must have stood a poor chance indeed," said I, "a horse kickin',
and a man striking him at the same time."
"Oh! not arter that pattern at all," said he, "Lord if Old Clay had
kicked him, he'd a smashed him like that 'ere sarcer you broke at
Pugnose's inn, into ten hundred thousand million flinders. Oh! no, if
I didn't fix his flint for him in fair play, it's a pity. I'll tell
you how it was. I was up to Truro, at Ezra Whitter's inn. There was
an arbitration there atween Deacon Text and Deacon Faithful. Well,
there was a 'nation sight of folks there, for they said it was a
biter bit, and they came to witness the sport, and to see which
critter would get the earmark.
"Well, I'd been doin' a little business there among the folks, and
had jist sot off for the river, mounted on Old Clay, arter takin' a
glass of Ezra's most particular handsum Jamaiky, and was trottin' off
pretty slick, when who should I run agin but Tim Bradley. He is a
dreadful ugly, cross-grained critter, as you e'enamost ever seed,
when he is about half-shaved. Well, I stopped short, and says I, "Mr.
Bradley, I hope you bean't hurt; I'm proper sorry I run agin you, you
can't feel uglier than I do about it, I do assure you.' He called me
a Yankee peddler, a cheatin' vagabond, a wooden nutmeg, and threw
a good deal of assorted hardware of that kind at me; and the crowd
of folks cried out, 'Down with the Yankee!' 'Let him have it Tim!'
'Teach him better manners!' and they carried on pretty high, I tell
you. Well, I got my dander up too, I felt all up on eend like;
and, thinks I to myself, My lad if I get a clever chance, I'll give
you such a quiltin' as you never had since you were raised from a
seedlin', I vow. So says I, 'Mr. Bradley, I guess you had better
let me be; you know I can't fight no more than a cow; I never was
brought up to wranglin', and I don't like it.' 'Haul off the cowardly
rascal,' they all bawled out, 'haul him off, and lay it into him!' So
he lays right hold of me by the collar, and gives me a pull, and I
lets on as if I'd lost my balance and falls right down. Then I jumps
up on eend, and says I 'Go ahead Clay,' and the old horse he sets off
a head, so I knew I had him when I wanted him. Then says I, 'I hope
you are satisfied now, Mr. Bradley, with that 'ere ungenteel fall you
gin me.' Well, he makes a blow at me, and I dodged it. 'Now,' says I,
'you'll be sorry for this, I tell you; I won't be treated this way
for nothin', I'll go right off and swear my life agin you, I'm most
afeerd you'll murder me.' Well, he strikes at me agin, thinkin' he
had a genuine soft horn to deal with, and hits me in the shoulder.
'Now,' says I, I won't stand here to be lathered like a dog all day
long this fashion, it ain't pretty at all; I guess I'll give you a
chase for it.' Off I sets arter my horse like mad, and he arter me (I
did that to get clear of the crowd, so that I might have fair play at
him). Well, I soon found I had the heels of him, and could play him
as I liked. Then I slackened up a little, and when he came close up
to me, so as nearly to lay his hand upon me, I squatted right whap
down, all short, and he pitched over me near about a rod or so, I
guess, on his head, and ploughed up the ground with his nose, the
matter of a foot or two. If he didn't polish up the coulter, and both
mould boards of his face, it's a pity. 'Now,' says I, 'you had better
lay where you be and let me go, for I am proper tired; I blow like a
horse that's got the heaves; and besides,' says I, 'I guess you had
better wash your face, for I am most a feared you hurt yourself.'
That riled him properly; I meant that it should; so he ups and at me
awful spiteful like a bull; then I lets him have it, right, left,
right, jist three corkers, beginning with the right hand, shifting to
the left, and then with the right hand agin. This way I did it," said
the Clockmaker (and he showed me the manner in which it was done);
"it's a beautiful way of hitting, and always does the business--a
blow for each eye and one for the mouth. It sounds like ten pounds
ten on a blacksmith's anvil; I bunged up both eyes for him, and put
in the dead lights in two tu's, and drew three of his teeth, quicker
a plaguy sight than the Truro doctor could, to save his soul alive.
'Now,' says I, 'my friend, when you recover your eye-sight I guess
you'll see your mistake--I warn't born in the woods to be scared by
an owl. The next time you feel in a most particular elegant good
humour, come to me and I'll play you the second part of that
identical same tune, that's a fact.
"With that, I whistled for Old Clay, and back he comes, and I mounted
and off, jist as the crowd came up. The folks looked staggered, and
wondered a little grain how it was done so cleverly in short metre.
If I didn't quilt him in no time, you may depend; I went right slap
into him, like a flash of lightning into a gooseberry bush. He found
his suit ready made and fitted afore he thought he was half measured.
Thinks I, friend Bradley, I hope you know yourself now, for I vow
no livin' soul would; your swallowed your soup without singin' out
scaldin's, and your near about a pint and a half nearer cryin' than
larfin'.
"Yes, as I was sayin', this Old Clay is a real knowin' one; he's as
spry as a colt yet, clear grit, ginger to the backbone; I can't help
a-thinkin' sometimes the breed must have come from old Kentuck, half
horse, half alligator, with a cross of the airth-quake.
"I hope I may be teetotally ruinated, if I'd take eight hundred
dollars for him. Go ahead, you old clinker built villain," said he,
"and show the gentleman how wonderful handSUM you can travel. Give
him the real Connecticut quick step. That's it! that's the way to
carry the President's message to Congress, from Washington to New
York, in no time! that's the go to carry a gal from Boston to Rhode
Island, and trice her up to a Justice to be married, afore her
father's out of bed of a summer's mornin'. Ain't he a beauty? a real
doll? none of your Cumberland critters, that the more you quilt them,
the more they won't go; but a proper one, that will go free gratis
for nothin', all out of his own head voluntERRILY. Yes, a horse like
Old Clay, is worth the whole seed, breed and generation, of them
Amherst beasts put together. He's a horse, every inch of him, stock,
lock, and barrel, is Old Clay."