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Updated: May 31, 2025
The shipping was huddled in the piers with fleecy rigging, and only a few brave vessels were breasting the river, bluer still than the sky. And here there was such a splendid turnout it looked like a pageant. They came up East Broadway. The street lamps were just being lighted. They turned up Columbia Street and Avenue D, and stopped when they came to Houston Street.
I never have buckled up a horse myself, but I do not think we do it that way. We had four very handsome horses, and the driver was very proud of his turnout. He would bowl along on a reasonable trot, on the highway, but when he entered a village he did it on a furious run, and accompanied it with a frenzy of ceaseless whip-crackings that sounded like volleys of musketry.
I bade him get back to his seat beside the driver, who was abetting him with an occasional guttural and whom I bade turn round and go another way. I said that I had hired this turnout, and I was master, and I would be obeyed; but it seemed that I was wrong.
But one day Mrs. Lucas saw Lady Cicely Treherne's carriage standing at the door. The style of the whole turnout impressed her. She wondered whose it was. On another occasion she saw it drive up, and the lady get out. She recognized her; and the very next day this parvenue said adroitly, "Now, Dr. Staines, really you can't be allowed to hide your wife in this way. It is my night.
Stop that man!" cried the oldest Rover boy, as he, too, gained the lower corridor. But the man had already gotten out on Broadway. As Dick came out he saw the fellow run across the street to a distant corner and leap into a taxicab that was empty. The driver was on the seat and the turnout started rapidly away.
I've lost two or three customers that way, he says. 'They get right up and go away sudden, he says, 'and they don't never come back no more, not even for their hats and umbrellas. They send for 'em. "'That ain't the worst of it, he says. Yesterday, he says, 'I rented out my whole string of coaches and teams for a burial turnout over here on McDougal Street.
If you do, I shall give up." They had come to a bad piece of road where a Slough of thick mud forced the wagon-way over the stumps of a turnout in the woods. "You had better let me have the reins, Clementina," he said.
McKenna stopped at the door only long enough to shake his fist at the proprietor, who responded with a grin of pure contentment. "Which d'ye think makes th' best fun'ral turnout, th' A-ho-aitches or th' Saint Vincent de Pauls, Jawn?" asked Mr. Dooley. "I don't know," said Mr. McKenna. "Are you thinking of leaving us?" "Faith, I am not," said Mr. Dooley.
Then came a scraping, as the top of the turnout hit the low-hanging branches of some apple trees. "Whoa! stop that wagon!" yelled a man's voice, and Amos Darrison appeared from among the trees. He made a leap for the team, but they swerved to one side. Then came a crash, as one of the wheels caught in a stump. Over went the carryall, with the boys in it.
"No," said she, "he only cared to have a stylish turnout, as they call it; I think he knew very little about horses; he left that to his coachman, who told him I had an irritable temper! that I had not been well broken to the check-rein, but I should soon get used to it; but he was not the man to do it, for when I was in the stable, miserable and angry, instead of being smoothed and quieted by kindness, I got only a surly word or a blow.
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