MY FARM OF EDGEWOOD 



have no further use. You paid for him, six 

 months gone, a hundred and fifty dollars, and 

 you now name a hundred dollars as his price. 

 I never yet met a man who sold a horse for as 

 much as he gave — unless he were a jockey; I 

 never expect to. 



"Mornin', Squire." 



"Good morning." 



"Bin a lookin' at y'r hoss." 



"Ah!" 



"Middlin' lump of a hoss." 



"Yes, a nice horse." 



"D' n' know as you know it, but sich hosses 

 ain't so salable as they was a spell back." 



"Ah!" 



"They 're gittin' a fancy for bigger hosses." 



Silence. 



"Put that pony to a heavy cart, and he 

 would n't do nothin'." 



"You are mistaken; he 's a capital cart- 

 horse." 



"Well, I don't say but what he 'd be handy 

 with a lightish load. Don't call him spavined, 

 do ye?" 



"No, perfectly sound." 



"That looks kind o' like a spavin"— rubbing 

 his off hind leg. 



"An't much of a hoss doctor, be ye?" 



286 



