I once
had a sick hoss, who couldn't do much more than stand up, but I had to
drive him one day, 'cause my other one was hired out. 'Now' says I, as I
drew out the stable, 'if I can get around town this mornin' without
meetin' Miss Panney, I think old Bob can do my work, and to-morrow I'll
turn him out to grass.' And as I went around the first corner, there was
Miss Panney a drivin' her roan mare. She pulled up when she seed me, and
she calls out, 'Andy, what's the matter with that hoss?' I told her he
was a little under the weather, but I had to use him that day, 'cause my
other hoss was out. Then she got straight out of that phaeton she drives
in, and come up to my hoss, and says she, 'Andy, you ought to be ashamed
of yourself to make a hoss work when he is in a condition like that. Take
him right back to your stable, or I'll have you up before a justice.'
'Now look here, Miss Panney,' says I, 'which is the best, for a hoss to
jog a little round town when he ain't feeling quite well, or for a man to
sit idle on his front doorstep and see his family starve?' 'Now, Andy,'
says she, 'is that the case with you?' and havin' brought up the pint
myself, I was obliged to say that it was.
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