 | THE HORSE SWAP. Georgia scenes |  |
THE HORSE SWAP.
During the session of the Superior Court, in the village
of —, about three weeks ago, when a number of
people were collected in the principal street of the village,
I observed a young man riding up and down the
street, as I supposed, in a violent passion. He galloped
this way, then that, and then the other. Spurred his
dashed off at half speed, as if fleeing from danger;
and suddenly checking his horse, returned—first in a
pace, then in a trot, and then in a canter. While he
was performing these various evolutions, he cursed, swore,
whooped, screamed, and tossed himself in every attitude
which man could assume on horse back. In short, he
cavorted most magnanimously, (a term which, in our
tongue, expresses all that I have described, and a little
more) and seemed to be setting all creation at defiance.
As I like to see all that is passing, I determined to take a
position a little nearer to him, and to ascertain if possible,
what it was that affected him so sensibly. Accordingly
I approached a crowd before which he had stopt for a
moment, and examined it with the strictest scrutiny.—
But I could see nothing in it, that seemed to have any
thing to do with the cavorter. Every man appeared to
be in a good humor, and all minding their own business.
Not one so much as noticed the principal figure. Still
he went on. After a semicolon pause, which my appearance
seemed to produce, (for he eyed me closely as
I approached) he fetched a whoop, and swore that “he
could out-swap any live man, woman or child, that ever
walked these hills, or that ever straddled horse flesh since
the days of old daddy Adam.” “Stranger,” said he to
me, “did you ever see the Yallow Blossom from Jasper?”
“No,” said I, “but I have often heard of him.”
“I'm the boy,” continued he; “perhaps a leetle—jist a
leetle of the best man, at a horse swap, that ever trod
shoe-leather.”
I began to feel my situation a little awkward, when I
was relieved by a man somewhat advanced in years,
who stept up and began to survey the “Yallow Blossom's”
horse with much apparent interest. This drew
me to the stranger.
“Well, my old coon,” said he, “do you want to swap
hosses?”
“Why, I don't know,” replied the stranger; I believe
I've got a beast I'd trade with you for that one, if
you like him.”
“Well, fetch up your nag, my old cock; you're jist
the lark I wanted to get hold of. I am perhaps a leetle,
jist a leetle, of the best man at a horse swap, that ever
stole cracklins out of his mammy's fat gourd. Where's
your hoss?”
“I'll bring him presently; but I want to examine your
horse a little.”
“Oh! look at him,” said the Blossom, alighting and
hitting him a cut—“look at him. He's the best piece of
hoss flesh in the thirteen united universal worlds. There's
no sort o' mistake in little Bullet. He can pick up
miles on his feet and fling 'em behind him as fast as the
next man's hoss, I don't care where he comes from.—
And he can keep at it as long as the Sun can shine
without resting.”
During this harangue, little Bullet looked as if he understood
it all, believed it, and was ready at any moment
to verify it. He was a horse of goodly countenance,
rather expressive of vigilance than fire; though an unnatural
appearance of fierceness was thrown into it, by
the loss of his ears, which had been cropt pretty close to
his head. Nature had done but little for Bullet's head
and neck; but he managed, in a great measure, to hide
their defects, by bowing perpetually. He had obviously
suffered severely for corn; but if his ribs and hip bones
had not disclosed the fact, he never would have done it;
for he was in all respects, as cheerful and happy, as if
he commanded all the corn-cribs and fodder stacks in
his shape partook somewhat of that of the Giraffe, his
haunches stood much lower. They were short, strait,
peaked and concave Bullet's tail, however, made
amends for all his defects. All that the artist could do
to beautify it, had been done; and all that horse could
do to compliment the artist, Bullet did. His tail was
nicked in superior style, and exhibited the line of beauty
in so many directions, that it could not fail to hit the most
fastidious taste in some of them. From the root it dropt
into a graceful festoon; then rose in a handsome curve;
then resumed its first direction; and then mounted suddenly
upwards like a cypress knee to a perpendicular
of about two and a half inches. The whole had a careless
and bewitching inclination to the right. Bullet obviously
knew where his beauty lay, and took all occasions
to display it to the best advantage. If a stick
cracked, or if any one moved suddenly about him, or
coughed, or hawked, or spoke a little louder than common,
up went Bullet's tail like lightning; and if the
going up did not please, the coming down must of necessity,
for it was as different from the other movement, as
was its direction. The first, was a bold and rapid flight
upward; usually to an angle of forty-five degrees. In
this position he kept his interesting appendage, until he
satisfied himself that nothing in particular was to be
done; when he commenced dropping it by half inches,
in second beats—then in tripple time—then faster and
shorter, and faster and shorter still; until it finally died
away imperceptibly into its natural position. If I might
compare sights to sounds, I should say, its settling, was
more like the note of a locust than any thing else in
nature.
Either from native sprightliness of disposition, from
uncontrolable activity, or from an unconquerable habit
never stood still; but always kept up a gentle fly-scaring
movement of his limbs, which was peculiarly interesting.
“I tell you, man,” proceeded the Yellow Blossom,
“he's the best live hoss that ever trod the grit of Georgia.
Bob Smart knows the hoss. Come here, Bob,
and mount this hoss and show Bullet's motions.” Here,
Bullet bristled up, and looked as if he had been hunting
for Bob all day long, and had just found him. Bob
sprang on his back. “Boo-oo-oo,!” said Bob, with a
fluttering noise of the lips; and away went Bullet, as
if in a quarter race, with all his beauties spread in handsome
style.
“Now fetch him back,” said Blossom. Bullet turned
and came in pretty much as he went out.
“Now trot him by.” Bullet reduced his tail to “customary”—sidled
to the right and left airily, and exhibited
at least three varieties of trot, in the short space of
fifty yards.
“Make him pace!” Bob commenced twitching the
bridle and kicking at the same time. These inconsistent
movements obviously (and most naturally) disconcerted
Bullet; for it was impossible for him to learn, from them,
whether he was to proceed or stand still. He started to
trot—and was told that wouldn't do. He attempted a
canter—and was checked again. He stopt—and was
urged to go on. Bullet now rushed into the wide field of
experiment, and struck out a gait of his own, that completely
turned the tables upon his rider, and certainly
deserved a patent. It seemed to have derived its elements
from the jig, the minuet and the cotillon. If it
was not a pace, it certainly had pace in it; and no man
would venture to call it any thing else; so it passed off
to the satisfaction of the owner.
“Walk him!” Bullet was now at home again; and
he walked as if money was staked on him.
The stranger, whose name I afterwards learned was
Peter Ketch, having examined Bullet to his heart's content,
ordered his son Neddy to go and bring up Kit.
Neddy soon appeared upon Kit; a well formed sorrel of
the middle size, and in good order. His tout ensemble
threw Bullet entirely in the shade; though a glance was
sufficient to satisfy any one, that Bullet had the decided
advantage of him in point of intellect.
“Why man,” said Blossom, “do you bring such a
hoss as that to trade for Bullet? Oh, I see you're no
notion of trading.”
“Ride him off, Neddy!” said Peter. Kit put off at
a handsome lope.
“Trot him back!” Kit came in at a long, sweeping
trot, and stopt suddenly at the crowd.
“Well,” said Blossom, “let me look at him; may be
he'll do to plough.”
“Examine him!” said Peter, taking hold of the bridle
close to the mouth; “He's nothing but a tacky.
He an't as pretty a horse as Bullet, I know; but he'll do.
Start 'em together for a hundred and fifty mile; and if
Kit an't twenty mile ahead of him at the coming out,
any man may take Kit for nothing. But he's a monstrous
mean horse, gentlemen; any man may see that. He's
the scariest horse, too, you ever saw. He won't do to
hunt on, no how. Stranger, will you let Neddy have
your rifle to shoot off him? Lay the rifle between his
ears, Neddy, and shoot at the blaze in that stump. Tell
me when his head is high enough.”
Ned fired, and hit the blaze; and Kit did not move a
hair's breadth.
“Neddy, take a couple of sticks and beat on that
hogshead at Kit's tail.”
Ned made a tremendous rattling; at which Bullet
took fright, broke his bridle and dashed off in grand
style; and would have stopt all farther negotiations, by
going home in disgust, had not a traveller arrested him
and brought him back; but Kit did not move.
“I tell you, gentlemen,” continued Peter, “he's the
scariest horse you ever saw. He an't as gentle as Bullet;
but he won't do any harm if you watch him. Shall
I put him in a cart, gig, or wagon for you, stranger?
He'll cut the same capers there he does here. He's a
monstrous mean horse.”
During all this time, Blossom was examining him
with the nicest scrutiny. Having examined his frame
and limbs, he now looked at his eyes.
“He's got a curious look out of his eyes,” said Blossom.”
“Oh yes, sir,” said Peter, “just as blind as a bat.
Blind horses always have clear eyes. Make a motion
at his eyes, if you please, sir.”
Blossom did so, and Kit threw up his head rather as
if something pricked him under the chin, than as if fearing
a blow. Blossom repeated the experiment, and Kit
jirked back in considerable astonishment.
“Stone blind, you see, gentlemen,” proceeded Peter;
“but he's just as good to travel of a dark night as if he
had eyes.”
“Blame my buttons,” said Blossom, “if I like them
eyes.”
“No,” said Peter, “nor I neither. I'd rather have
'em made of diamonds; but they'll do, if they don't
show as much white as Bullet's.”
“Well,” said Blossom, make a pass at me.”
“No,” said Peter; “you made the banter; now
make your pass.”
“Well I'm never afraid to price my hosses. You
must give me twenty-five dollars boot.”
“Oh certainly; say fifty, and my saddle and bridle
in. Here, Neddy, my son, take away daddy's horse.”
“Well, said Blossom, “I've made my pass; now
you make yours.”
“I'm for short talk in a horse swap; and therefore
always tell a gentleman, at once, what I mean to do.
You must give me ten dollars.”
Blossom swore absolutely, roundly and profanely, that
he never would give boot.
“Well,” said Peter, “I didn't care about trading;
but you cut such high shines, that I thought I'd like to
back you out; and I've done it. Gentlemen, you see
I've brought him to a hack.”
“Come, old man,” said Blossom, “I've been joking
with you. I begin to think you do want to trade; therefore,
give me five dollars and take Bullet. I'd rather
lose ten dollars, any time, than not make a trade; though
I hate to fling away a good hoss.”
“Well,” said Peter, “I'll be as clever as you are.
Just put the five dollars on Bullet's back and hand him
over, it's a trade.
Blossom swore again, as roundly as before, that he
would not give boot; and, said he, “Bullet wouldn't
hold five dollars on his back, no how. But as I bantered
you, if you say an even swap, here's at you.”
“I told you,” said Peter, “I'd be as clever as you;
therefore, here goes two dollars more, just for trade sake.
Give me three dollars, and it's a bargain.”
Blossom repeated his former assertion; and here the
parties stood for a long time, and the by-standers (for
many were now collected,) began to taunt both parties.
decided that the old man had backed Blossom out.
At length Blossom swore he “never would be backed
out, for three dollars, after bantering a man;” and
accordingly they closed the trade.
“Now,” said Blossom, as he handed Peter the three
dollars, “I'm a man, that when he makes a bad trade,
makes the most of it until he can make a better. I'm
for no rues and after-claps.”
“That's just my way,” said Peter; “I never goes to
law to mend my bargains.”
“Ah, you're the kind of boy I love to trade with.
Here's your hoss, old man. Take the saddle and bridle
off him, and I'll strip yours; but lift up the blanket easy
from Bullet's back, for he's a mighty tenderbacked hoss.”
The old man removed the saddle, but the blanket
stuck fast. He attempted to raise it, and Bullet bowed
himself, switched his tail, danced a little, and gave signs
of biting.
“Don't hurt him, old man,” said Blossom archly;
“take it off easy. I am, perhaps, a leetle of the best
man at a horse-swap that ever catched a coon.”
Peter continued to pull at the blanket more and more
roughly; and Bullet became more and more cavortish:
in so much, that when the blanket came off, he had reached
the kicking point in good earnest.
The removal of the blanket, disclosed a sore on Bullet's
back-bone, that seemed to have defied all medical
skill. It measured six full inches in length, and four in
breadth; and had as many features as Bullet had motions.
My heart sickened at the sight; and I felt that the brute
who had been riding him in that situation, deserved the
halter.
The prevailing feeling, however, was that of mirth.
The laugh became loud and general, at the old man's
upon him and his late purchase. These, Blossom continued
to provoke by various remarks. He asked the
old man, “if he thought Bullet would let five dollars lie
on his back.” He declared most seriously, that he had
owned that horse three months, and had never discovered
before, that he had a sore back, “or he never should
have thought of trading him,” &c. &c.
The old man bore it all with the most philosophic composure.
He evinced no astonishment at his late discovery,
and made no replies. But his son, Neddy, had not
disciplined his feelings quite so well. His eyes opened,
wider and wider, from the first to the last pull of the
blanket; and when the whole sore burst upon his view,
astonishment and fright seemed to contend for the mastery
of his countenance. As the blanket disappeared,
he stuck his hands in his breeches pockets, heaved a
deep sigh, and lapsed into a profound reverie; from
which he was only roused by the cuts at his father. He
bore them as long as he could; and when he could contain
himself no longer, he began, with a certain wildness
of expression, which gave a peculiar interest to what he
uttered: “His back's mighty bad off; but dod drot my
soul, if he's put it to daddy as bad as he thinks hehas, for
old Kit's both blind and deef, I'll be dod drot if he eint.”
“The devil he is,” said Blossom. “Yes, dod drot my
soul if he eint. You walk him and see if he eint. His
eyes don't look like it; but he jist as live go agin the
house with you, or in a ditch, as any how. Now you
go try him.” The laugh was now turned on Blossom;
and many rushed to test the fidelity of the little boy's
report. A few experiments established its truth, beyond
controversy.
“Neddy” said the old man, you oughtn't to try and
make people discontented with their things.” “Stranger,
get Kit rid of them little failings, you'll find him all sorts
of a horse. You are a leetle the best man, at a horse
swap, that ever I got hold of; but don't fool away Kit.
Come, Neddy, my son, let's be moving; the stranger
seems to be getting snappish.”
HALL.
| THE HORSE SWAP. Georgia scenes | |