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Over such a road as this our senator went stumbling along,
making moral reflections as continuously as under the circumstances
could be expected,--the carriage proceeding along much as
follows,--bump! bump! bump! slush! down in the mud!--the senator,
woman and child, reversing their positions so suddenly as to come,
without any very accurate adjustment, against the windows of the
down-hill side. Carriage sticks fast, while Cudjoe on the outside
is heard making a great muster among the horses. After various
ineffectual pullings and twitchings, just as the senator is losing
all patience, the carriage suddenly rights itself with a bounce,--two
front wheels go down into another abyss, and senator, woman, and
child, all tumble promiscuously on to the front seat,--senator's
hat is jammed over his eyes and nose quite unceremoniously, and he
considers himself fairly extinguished;--child cries, and Cudjoe on
the outside delivers animated addresses to the horses, who are
kicking, and floundering, and straining under repeated cracks of
the whip. Carriage springs up, with another bounce,--down go the
hind wheels,--senator, woman, and child, fly over on to the back
seat, his elbows encountering her bonnet, and both her feet being
jammed into his hat, which flies off in the concussion. After a
few moments the "slough" is passed, and the horses stop, panting;--the
senator finds his hat, the woman straightens her bonnet and hushes
her child, and they brace themselves for what is yet to come.
For a while only the continuous bump! bump! intermingled,
just by way of variety, with divers side plunges and compound
shakes; and they begin to flatter themselves that they are not so
badly off, after all. At last, with a square plunge, which puts
all on to their feet and then down into their seats with
incredible quickness, the carriage stops,--and, after much
outside commotion, Cudjoe appears at the door.
"Please, sir, it's powerful bad spot, this' yer. I don't
know how we's to get clar out. I'm a thinkin' we'll have to be a
gettin' rails."
The senator despairingly steps out, picking gingerly for some
firm foothold; down goes one foot an immeasurable depth,--he
tries to pull it up, loses his balance, and tumbles over into the
mud, and is fished out, in a very despairing condition, by Cudjoe.
But we forbear, out of sympathy to our readers' bones.
Western travellers, who have beguiled the midnight hour in the
interesting process of pulling down rail fences, to pry their
carriages out of mud holes, will have a respectful and mournful
sympathy with our unfortunate hero. We beg them to drop a silent
tear, and pass on.
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