394 TOM. 



I reached a town called Elyria on a Saturday 

 morning. It was well along in September, and, as I 

 drove by the square in the center of the place, I saw 

 fifteen or twenty teams hitched to posts and rails 

 running round it. One horse in particular attracted 

 my attention, it being a harum scarum looking chest- 

 nut mare with a white splash on her face and three 

 or four white legs. Her owner had just driven up 

 with her and, from the trouble he was having in hitch- 

 ing her and making her stand, I made up my mind 

 that he was not very anxious to continue as her 

 owner- She also looked to me like one that would 

 stand training on the road, so I drove over near him 

 and asked him how he would like to trade for the 

 nigh horse of my team. The nigh horse was a very 

 good one, but rather dull and what would be called 

 in the trade so-so. The farmer jumped at the chance 

 as I supposed he would, and, after looking my horse, 

 as I thought, inside and out and asking all kinds of 

 questions about his steadiness, and if he had ever 

 run away, said he would trade even. I did not think 

 he would, but at all events when I drove out of town 

 that afternoon I had the chestnut mare and twenty- 

 five dollars of the Lorain County farmer's money in 

 my inside pocket. 



I reckon that few people in Elyria ever saw such 

 a pair of horses step out of town to a medicine wagon, 

 and some of the old people there may remember them 

 to this day. There had been a light shower during 

 the morning. It laid the dust, cleared the air, and 

 made a horse feel like going. Being of the opinion 

 that the white-faced mare would require a little more 

 attention than Tom, I changed him over to the nigh 



