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Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Darrel of the Blessed Isles"

A brakeman of flashy attire, with fine leather
showing to the knees, strolled off and up the platform on high
heels, haughty as a prince. Confusion began to abate.
"Hear it pant," said one, looking at the engine.
"Seems so it had the heaves," another remarked thoughtfully.
"Goes like the wind," said a passenger, who had just alighted.
"Jerked us ten mile in less 'n twenty minutes."
"Folks 'll have to be made o' cast iron to ride on them air cars,"
said another. "I'd ruther set on the tail of a threshin'-machine.
It gave a slew on the turn up yender, an' I thought 'twas goin'
right over Bowman's barn. It flung me up ag'in the side o' the
car, an' I see stars fer a minute. 'What's happened,' says I to
another chap. 'Oh, we're all right,' says he. 'Be we?' says I,
an' then I see I'd lost a tooth an' broke my glasses. 'That ain't
nuthin',' says he, 'I had my foot braced over ag'in that other
seat, an' somebody fell back on my leg, an' I guess the knee is out
o' j'int. But I'm alive, an' I ain't got no fault to find. If I
ever git off this shebang, I'm goin' out in the woods somewhere an'
set down an' see what kind o' shape I'm in. I guess I'm purty nigh
sp'ilt, an' it cost me fifty cents t' do it.


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