ile a man, I'd give you a
kick on your pillion, that would send you a divin' arter your hoss; but
you ain't worth it. Don't call me names tho', or I'll settle your coffee
for you, without a fish skin, afore you are ready to swaller it I can
_tell_ you. So keep your mouth shut, my old coon, or your teeth might
get sun-burnt. You think you are angry with me; but you aint; you are
angry with yourself. You know you have showd yourself a proper fool for
to come, for to go, for to talk to a man that has seed so much of the
world as I have, bout "_refreshin' time_," and "_outpourin' of spirit_,"
and "_makin' profession_" and what not; and you know you showd yourself
an everlastin' rogue, a meditatin' of cheatin' that Frenchman all
summer. It's biter bit, and I don't pity you one mossel; it sarves
you right. But look at the grave-digger; he looks to me as if he was a
diggin' of his own grave in rael right down airnest.'

"The captain havin' his boat histed, and thinkin' the hoss would swim
ashore of hisself, kept right straight on; and the hoss swam this way,
and that way, and every way but the right road, jist as the eddies took
him. At last, he got into the ripps off of Johnston's pint, and they
wheeled him right round and round like a whip-top. Poor pony! he got
his match at last. He struggled, and jumpt, and plunged and fort, like
a man, for dear life. Fust went up his knowin' little head, that had no
ears; and he tried to jump up and rear out of it, as he used to did
out of a mire hole or honey pot ashore; but there was no bottom there;
nothin' for his hind foot to spring from; so down he went agin ever so
deep: and then he tried t'other eend, and up went his broad rump, that
had no tail; but there was nothin' for the fore feet to rest on nother;
so he made a summerset, and as he went over, he gave out a great long
end wise kick to the full stretch of his hind legs.

"Poor feller! it was the last kick he ever gave in this world; he sent
his heels straight up on eend, like a pair of kitchen tongs, and the
last I see of him was a bright dazzle, as the sun shined on his iron
shoes, afore the water closed over him for ever.

"I railly felt sorry for the poor old 'grave-digger,' I did upon my
soul, for hosses and ladies are two things, that a body can't help
likin'. Indeed, a feller that hante no taste that way ain't a man at
all, in my opinion. Yes, I felt ugly for poor 'grave-digger,' though I
didn't feel one single bit so