When we had travelled about ten miles, the horses suddenly threw their
ears on their necks, as flat as a hare's. Said the driver, "Have you a
surtout with you?" "No," said I; "why do you ask?" "You will want one
soon," said he; "do you observe the ears of all the horses?" "Yes, and
was just about to ask the reason." "They see the storm-breeder, and we
shall see him soon." At this moment there was not a cloud visible in
the firmament. Soon after a small speck appeared in the road. "There,"
said my companion, "comes the storm-breeder; he always leaves a Scotch
mist behind him. By many a wet jacket do I remember him. I suppose the
poor fellow suffers much himself, much more than is known to the
world." Presently a man with a child beside him, with a large black
horse, and a weather-beaten chair, once built for a chaise body,
passed in great haste, apparently at the rate of twelve miles an hour.
He seemed to grasp the reins of his horse with firmness, and appeared
to anticipate his speed. He seemed dejected, and looked anxiously at
the passengers, particularly at the stage-driver and myself. In a
moment after he passed us, the horses' ears were up and bent
themselves forward so that they nearly met. "Who is that man?" said I;
"he seems in great trouble." "Nobody knows who is he, but his person
and the child are familiar to me. I have met them more than a hundred
times, and have been so often asked the way to Boston by that man,
even when he was travelling directly from that town, that of late I
have refused any communication with him, and that is the reason he
gave me such a fixed look.
Pages:
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335