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Updated: June 7, 2025
His rider seemed to have been proportioned to fit the horse. Tall, slender of waist, broad of shoulder, straight, he sat loosely in the saddle looking at the scene below him, unconscious of the admiration he excited. Poetic fancies stirred Carson vaguely. "Luk at 'im now, Murph; wid his big hat, his leather pants, his spurs, an' the rist av his conthraptions!
"Is it yourself, Mr. Ben?" "Open the parlor door, Murph. Where's my mother and my sister?" "Miss Somers is taking her exercise, sir, and Mrs. Somers is with the owld gentleman"; opening the door, with the performance of taking father's hat. "Sit down, Cassandra. I'll look up somebody." It was a bewildering matter where to go; the room, vast and dark, was a complete litter of tables and sofas.
Murph', the engineer av the dinky, an' his fireman, ducks for the engine-cab, l'avin' me standin' there to face the music. Trevison yells at the engineer av the rattle-box, an' he disappears like a rat into a hole. Thin Trevison swings his gun on me, an' I c'u'd feel me knees knockin' together.
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