University of Virginia Library

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44

A MOTHER-IN-LAW'S FAST RIDE.

Joe S. is the fortunate possessor of a mother-in-law, and, what he probably
thought more of, among his horses was one known as Quaker. Now
Quaker was a good roadster, and could and would jerk a wagon with two
in it in 2:51 on the road, and the harder he was pulled in, and the more he
was yelled at, the faster he meant to go. In fact; when a competing horse
ranged alongside, and a strong pull was taken, accompanied by yells, he
thought he must do his level best on trotting, and you bet he did it. Not
many years ago, when the county fair was held where Master Joe
then lived, he had his old Quaker hitched up to a 130-pound three-quarter
seated wagon, and, as he was getting in, mother-in-law wished to go
with him. He informed her that he was going to the Town Clerk's office,
at the lower end of the village (about a mile), and if she was in a hurry to
return, she would have to drive back alone, and then cramped the wagon
for her admittance; and with head drooping and slouching gait, old Quaker
walked along, taking the ill-assorted pair to the Town Clerk's office. Now,
be it known, Joe dearly loves fun, and will have it as often as possible,
while mother-in-law is a rigid, old-fashioned sky-blue Baptist, undoubtedly
very good, but unfortunately possessed with the idea that to laugh is to sin.
It so happened that every team at that time was going to the fair grounds,
or else was walking; so Quaker had no chance to “score up,” but just as
they arrived at the office of the Town Clerk, S. saw Jake Barnes coming
on his way to the fair. Now Jake's mare has the reputation of being four
or five seconds faster than old Quaker. To turn Quaker around, jump out
and advise mother-in-law to drive slow going home, was but a minute's work;
and then holding up his hand to attract, Jake's attention, he told him he
would pay chicken fixings and et ceteras if he would range alongside Quaker
at full speed, yell, and spirit the old horse to the street to the Fair Ground
entrance. A nod, and Jake touches Lady Cutler with his whip, sings out
“get!” and lays for Quaker, who, hearing the stepper coming, grabs at his
bit. Mother-in-law takes hold of reins in front of the buttons, puts her feet
against brace-iron in front, and as the Lady ranges alongside, Jake yelling
lively, mother-in-law takes her strongest pull, screaming “whoa!” to stop her
“animile.” But he didn't stop—not much—he didn't. The pull was just
enough to steady him good; “whoa” he evidently considered to be a sell
to the other horse, and squatted to go his level best, and just did it. Now
you bet! Barnes was actually getting left behind, and warming up to his
work commenced in right good earnest to sing out, “Hi yarr! Go er'lang!
What are you about? Git! won't yer?” And they did git, nice, both on
'em. The people they passed, seeing their speed, and the old lady's hat on
the back of her neck, the shawl streaming out behind, and the courage
with which she hung on to the lines, clapped their hands and encouragingly
sang out—“Good, old girl!—Gay old bird!—`2:10!'—Bully for old Quaker!”
And as they passed the two hotels, the fast boys' on the piazzas gave them
three cheers with a vim—in fact with several extra vims.

Joe's mother-in-law took the first evening train for her Green Mountain
home. His parting words were, “he should not dare allow her to drive
Quaker again, as he had cautioned her to drive slow, and she had gone and
beaten one of the fastest horses in town.”