blankets, an' a fly-net an' the best o' stablin'."

The yellow horse shut his yellow teeth with a triumphant snap; and
Tuck said, with a sigh: 'Seems's if somethin' ought to be done.
Don't seem right, somehow, - oppressin' us an all, - to my way o'
thinkin'."

Said Muldoon, in a far-away and sleepy voice:

"Who in Vermont's goin' to haul de inalienable oats? Dey weigh
like Sam Hill, an' sixty bushel at dat allowance ain't goin' to
last t'ree weeks here. An' dere's de winter hay for five mont's!"

"We can settle those minor details when the great cause is won,"
said the yellow horse. "Let us return simply but grandly to our
inalienable rights - the right o' freedom on these yere verdant
hills, an' no invijjus distinctions o' track an' pedigree:"

"What in stables 'jer call an invijjus distinction?" said the
Deacon, stiffly.

"Fer one thing, bein' a bloated, pampered trotter jest because you
happen to be raised that way, an' couldn't no more help trottin'
than eatin'."

"Do ye know anythin' about trotters?" said the Deacon.

"I've seen 'em trot. That was enough for me. I don't want to know
any more. Trottin''s immoral."