"Bad luck to the likes of it, indade!" and she caught at a small
dining-table just in time to set it upon its legs again.
"I don't wonder Biddy complains, mother; it's enough to weary the
patience of Job, riding so slowly over these dismal prairies; it would
really do my eyes good to get sight of a hill, or any thing to break
this continual sameness. What can father be thinking of, to take us to
such a lonely, out of the way place? Never mind, Biddy, we shall have
the pleasure of seeing where the sun goes to."
Thus spake the occupants of a long, covered wagon, moving westward,
drawn by four stout oxen, with as many horses and cows following in
the rear.
"Drive on there, Patrick," called out Mr. Santon, who was riding his own
horse by their side; "drive on, we must get to the settlement by
another night."
"Yes, sir, I am afther urging on the bastes for the last piece or two;
but the crathurs have come so far, they don't know, sure, if they be
jist laying home, or afther a raching there."
Mr. Santon had formerly been a merchant in the city of Boston; he had
been doing a heavy business, and had accumulated a handsome fortune, but
being one of those easy sort of persons, who think everybody as honest
as themselves, he had, in an evil hour, endorsed largely for those who
were worse than swindlers, who had not even as much as thanked him for
his name; and he had lost nearly all in that one act.
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