Richard Forrest, Bachelor — page 246: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A LIVING SAINT. 237 satisfaction I get in boxing them. Come, cl’ar out 0’ this now—yo’ and yo’ traps, and be about yo’ business. See that Brown’s put the harness on the ol’ mare and Jim. I an’t a-hankerin’ after havin’ the new team ruined in such weather. ’’ The stable-boy disappeared at the word, and within the next five minutes most of the employees and habitues of the “‘Inn’’ had assembled around the genial blaze, chatting and drinking, all waiting, with varied interest, the im- portant event of the day—the arrival of the coach. ‘This is a sho’ ’nough storm,’’ uttered the last-comer, a lean, lank old farmer, with a sun-dried skin, who never failed, rain or shine, to ride over from his home, two miles distant, for his daily newspaper. ‘‘We’re in for a mighty bad evenin’.’’ And so saying, he proceeded to pull off his boots, and tilting back in his chair to stretch his striped-stockinged feet toward the heat. Suddenly a blast of wind blew open the door, and simul- taneously with this the metallic sound of a horse’s hoofs was heard coming along the road. Every one sprang up, filled with curiosity. ‘‘Some one a-horseback,’’ muttered the landlord, peer- ing out. ‘‘Here yo’, Rebecca, git the spare room ready as quick as a wink. Bob, get down the new whisky—not that fire-water. He’s got the cut of a city chap about him, and _ probably knows decent stuff when it’s set before him. Good-evening, sir,’’ genially, as the rider dismounted and threw the bridle to a stable-man, who had rushed toward him. ‘‘It’s a tol’ble chilly ride yo’ve had, and yo’ best come to the fire. P’raps yo’d like to res’ yo’self a bit?”’ ‘‘Chilly!’’ uttered the stranger. ‘‘It’s enough to freeze Gomilchbooks sco im