Well, He
Hadn't Gone Fifty Yards On The Level Ground, When, What Do You
Think He Did?
Why, went regularly over, tumbled down regularly on
the road, even as I knew he would some time or other, because why?
He was pigeon-toed. Well, I gets out of the gig, and no sooner did
Mr So-and-so come up than I says -
"'I likes your car very well, and I likes your harness, but - me if
I likes your horse, and it will be some time before you persuade me
to drive him again.'"
I am a great lover of horses, and an admirer of good driving, and
should have wished to have some conversation with this worthy
person about horses and their management. I should also have
wished to ask him some questions about Wales and the Welsh, as he
must have picked up a great deal of curious information about both
in his forty years' traffic, notwithstanding he did not know a word
of Welsh, but John Jones prevented my further tarrying by saying,
that it would be as well to get over the mountain before it was
entirely dark. So I got up, paid for my ale, vainly endeavoured to
pay for that of my companion, who insisted upon paying for what he
had ordered, made a general bow and departed from the house,
leaving the horse-dealer and the rest staring at each other and
wondering who we were, or at least who I was.
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