The Choir Invisible

"Stop," interrupted Peter who had sniffed a strange, delicious odour of

personal praise in the second sentence. "You might say something more about

me, before you bring in the axes."

"As you please."

"'Mr. Peter Springle executes his work with satisfaction and despatch; his

work is second to none in Kentucky; no one surpasses him; he is a noted

horseshoer; he does nothing but shoe horses.'" He looked at Peter

inquiringly.

"That sounds more like it," admitted Peter.

"Is that enough?"

"Oh, if that's all you can say!""'Mr. Springle devotes himself entirely to

the shoeing of fine horses; fine horses are often injured by neglect in

shoeing; Mr. Springle does not injure fine horses, but shoes them all around

with new shoes at one dollar for each horse.'"

"Better," said Peter." Only, don't say so much about the horses! Say more

about--"

"'Mr. Springle is the greatest blacksmith that ever left New Jersey--'""Or

that ever lived I'll New Jersey."

O'Bannon rose and pinched the cotton wick, seized the bottle, and poured out

more liquor.

"Peter," he said, squaring himself, "I'm going to let you into a secret. If

you were not drunk, I wouldn't tell you. You'll forget it by morning."

"If I were half as drunk as you are, I couldn't listen," retorted Peter. "I

don't want to know any secrets. I tell everything I know."

"You don't know any secrets? You don't know that last week Horatio Turpin

sold a ten dollar horse in front of your shop for a hundred because he

had--"

"Oh, I know some secrets about horses," admitted Peter, carelessly.

"It's a secret about a horse I'm going to tell you," said O'Bannon.

"Here is an advertisement that has been left to be inserted in the next

paper: 'Lost, on Tuesday evening, on the road between Frankfort and

Lexington, a bundle of clothes tied up in a blue-and-white checked cotton

neckerchief, and containing one white muslin dress, a pale-blue silk coat,

two thin white muslin handkerchiefs, one pair long kid gloves--straw

colour--one pair white kid shoes, two cambric handkerchiefs, and some other

things. Whoever will deliver said clothes to the printer, or give

information so that they can be got, will be liberally rewarded on

application to him.' "And here, Peter, is another advertisement. Found, on Tuesday evening, on

the road between Lexington and Frankfort, a bundle of clothes tied in a

blue-and-white neckerchief. The owner can recover property by calling on the

printer.'"