Oh! pleasant is the riding, highly-seated on the rail,
And worthy of the wooden horse, the rascal that we ride;
Let us see the mighty shoulders that will never, never fail.
To lift him high, and plant him, on the crooked rail astride.
The seven-sided pine rail, the pleasant bed of briar,
The little touch of hickory law, with a dipping in the mire.
"Did you ever, ever, ever," &c.,
from the troupe in full blast!
The lawyer Pippin suddenly stood beside the despairing pedler, as this
ominous ditty was poured upon the night-winds.
"Do you hear that song, Bunce?" he asked. "How do you like the music?"
The pedler looked in his face with a mixed expression of grief, anger,
and stupidity, but he said nothing.
"Hark ye, Bunce," continued the lawyer. "Do you know what that means?
Does your brain take in its meaning, my friend?"
"Friend, indeed!" was the very natural exclamation of the pedler as he
shrank from the hand of the lawyer, which had been affectionately laid
upon his shoulder.
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