ANOTHER LETTER, MY DEAR sister, and still from Norfolk. It was useless to set out without the expected epistles to identify me, in case of need; and they only arrived this morning. Then came the great and important question of how, and by what manner, I was to proceed to my journey’s end. It was one which I gave no heed to till this morning—an old habit of mine, by the way; for I fear my mind is somewhat discursive, and rambles about important points, to amuse itself on the outskirts of the question. No stage was to be had to the point which I wished to reach—no steam-boat, because it is far inland—no blessed post-horses, for those much enduring animals are unknown in this country; and there were only two resources: what they call here a buggy—that is to say, a rumbling, generally ill conditioned vehicle, with either one or two half-starved nags, for the hire of which one is charged the most extortionate price—or the old-fashioned mode of locomotion on a horse’s back. I determined upon the latter resource; but upon going to a livery stable in the neighbourhood of the inn, I saw a collection of animals so miserable and forlorn, that I doubted much whether any one of them would reach the end of the journey without falling to pieces. Moreover, my good friend, the proprietor, made considerable difficulty as to hiring them out for so long a journey, and gave me clearly to understand that he should consider he was doing me a great favour if he acceded at all. Not wishing to lay myself under an obligation to this very independent gentleman, I walked away, determined to fall back upon the buggy, and to get my new friend Mr. Wheatley, to undertake the negotiation for me; for I somewhat feared that my temper, though I believe a tolerably good one, might break down under similar discussions. On going back to the inn, in order to send him a note, and finding my worthy acquaintance, Zedekiah Jones, standing at the door, I inquired of him, casually, if there were no other place than the one to which I had been directed where I could hire a horse. He grinned, and shook his head; but remarked, that I could buy plenty of very good horses if I wanted one to purchase. He knew of two, he said, which had come into town two days before, fresh and well-conditioned, and a capital match.
“But I only want one, my good friend,” I replied.
“What horse carry your baggage, den, massa?” asked the man, with his usual grin. This was a new view of the case, which I had not thought of.
“But if I buy, or hire, two horses,” I said, “who is to ride the other, Master Zedekiah?”
“Old Zed ride t’other,” answered the negro, chuckling as if he were going into convulsions; “best groom you ever have. All my life with horses till I break my leg, when that damn horse came down with me at Richmond races. My gorry! I’d be glad to get upon a horse’s back again. Old Zed ride t’other, massa, and take care of both—and you too.” And he exploded again right joyfully. To shorten my story, there was something so amusing in the man’s merriment, and so straightforward and good-humoured in his way, that if I had ever had any starch or stiffness in my nature, it would have been all relaxed and melted out. Putting aside all question of oddity, or absurdity, I said to myself—
“I will buy the horses, and I’ll hire old Zed, if the landlady is willing to part with him. Sterne hired La Fleur much after the same fashion, and for the same qualities. We’ll march off together seeking adventures. I’ll be Don Quixote, and he shall be Sancho Panza. Not a windmill have I seen in the country as yet; but, doubtless, we shall find something that will do quite as well.” The whole business was soon settled. The landlady was charitably glad that old Zed had got a good place, for she said she employed the po
