 | Eli Perkins (at large) |  |
THE HORSE MAN.
One morning the Rev. Dr. Corey, my uncle Consider,
and another good old Baptist minister, were
sitting on the balcony in Saratoga, talking theology.
Dr. Corey, who always has an eye for a nice horse,
was watching a couple of spans of trotting horses while
his brother minister was moralizing over the sins of
this gay and fashionable world.
“Alas, these are degenerate days, Dr. Corey! very
fast days!” sighed Dr. Deems as he bowed his head
and looked at a tract which he held in his hand.
“Yes, pretty fast, Dr. Deems—fast for such young
horses and such a heavy road,” replied Dr. Corey,
whose worldly eyes were on the horses.
Just as two spans danced by with light Brewster
buggies, followed by the swellest dog-cart tandem in
Saratoga, Dr. Deems heaved a sigh and remarked
again,
“Yes, brother Corey, alas! we live in a very fast
age.”
“Very fast, brother Deems,” replied Dr. Corey, taking
off his eye-glasses, “very f-a-s-t, but I'll bet ten dollars
that I've got a span of fast mares in New York that
can `dust' anything you see here, except the Commodore's!”
Brother Deems merely dropped his head upon his
hands, and drew a sigh which could come only from
a crushed and broken heart.
| Eli Perkins (at large) | |