river, and he
floated down thro' the bridge and scrambled out at t'other side.

"Creation! how he looked. He was so mad, he was ready to bile over; and
as it was he smoked in the sun, like a tea-kettle. His clothes stuck
close down to him, as a cat's fur does to her skin, when she's out in
the rain, and every step he took his boots went squish, squash, like an
old woman churnin' butter; and his wet trowsers chafed with a noise like
a wet flappin' sail. He was a shew, and when he got up to his hoss, and
held on to his mane, and first lifted up one leg and then the other to
let the water run out of his boots. I couldn't hold in no longer, but
laid back and larfed till I thought on my soul I'd fall off into the
river too.

"'Elder,' says I, 'I thought when a man jined your sect, 'he could never
"_fall off agin_," but I see you ain't no safer than other folks arter
all.'

"'Come,' says he, 'let me be, that's a good soul, it's bad enough,
without being larfed at, that's a fact. I can't account for this caper,
no how.'

"'It's very strange too, ain't it! What on airth got into the hoss to
make him act so ugly. Can you tell, Mr. Slick?'

"'Why,' sais I, 'he don't know English yet, that's all. He waited for
them beautiful French oaths that Goodish used. Stop the fust Frenchman
you meet and give him a shillin' to teach you to swear, and he'll go
like a lamb.'

"I see'd what was the matter of the hoss by his action as soon as we
started; but I warn't agoin' for to let on to him about it. I wanted to
see the sport. Well, he took his hoss by the bridle and led him over the
bridge, and he follered kindly, then he mounted, and no hoss could go
better. Arter a little, we came to another bridge agin, and the same
play was acted anew, same coaxin', same threatenin', and same thrashin';
at last pony put down his head, and began to shake his tail, a gettin'
ready for another bout of kickin'; when Steve got off and led him, and
did the same to every bridge we come to.

"'It's no use,' sais I, 'you must larn them oaths, he's used to 'em
and misses them shocking. A sailor, a hoss, and a nigger ain't no good
without you swear at 'em; it comes kinder nateral to them, and they look
for it, fact I assure you. Whips wear out, and so do spurs, but a good
sneezer of a cuss hain't no wear out to it; it's always the same.'

"'I'll larn him sunthin', sais he, 'when I get him to home, and out o'
sight that will do him good, and that he won't