told Tray that we must part; and that as he was now well down in
years, perhaps we should never more meet again. He seemed to
understand all I said to him, and, as I patted him gently upon the
head, repaid my friendship by caressing my hand, and turning upon me
several sympathetic looks. On telling him that he must go home, he
hung his head, and drooped his tail, and moved slowly into the road,
several times halting and casting reluctant looks back. Then he
stretched himself down in the sand, and placing his head between his
great paws, watched me out of sight.

Having journeyed about two miles, I reached a cross-road, and saw
approaching one of those great wagons familiarly known in that part
of the country as "tin wagons." It was drawn by an exceedingly lean,
gray horse; and a short, fat man, with a broad, florid face, beaming
with good nature, was mounted upon a high seat, made of a bundle of
sheepskins. He was squint eyed, spacious mouthed, and had a nose
that was flat to the end, which turned up in a short pug. His hair
was of a sandy color, and parted carelessly down the center; and his
dress was of well-worn gray satinet, which sat loosely upon his
rotund figure. His hat, of soft black felt, was drawn well down over
his low forehead, and but for his beard, which was thick and matty,
one might easily have mistaken him for a cross between a Dutch
washerwoman and a pumpkin-bellied quaker.

His team moved along at a measured pace, as if keeping time to the
song he was singing, with great flow of spirits, for his own
entertainment. I waited until he came up, much amused at the manner
in which he every few minutes cracked his big whip. "Stranger!" said
he, in a shrill, squeaking voice, "which way are you
journeying?-what can I do to serve you this morning?" He reined up