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One-Hoss Shay, The

<h2>HOW THE OLD HORSE WON THE BET</h2> ’T was on the famous trotting-ground, The betting men were gathered round From far and near; the “cracks” were there Whose deeds the sporting prints declare: The swift g. m., Old Hiram’s nag, The fleet s. h., Dan Pfeiffer’s brag, With these a third—and who is he That stands beside his fast b. g.? Budd Doble, whose catarrhal name So fills the nasal trump of fame. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-032.jpg" width-obs="281" height-obs="159" alt="Drawing of a blanketed horse surrounded by people in paddock" title="“Many a noted steed”" /></div> There too stood many a noted steed Of Messenger and Morgan breed; Green horses also, not a few; Unknown as yet what they could do; And all the hacks that know so well The scourgings of the Sunday swell. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-033.jpg" width-obs="295" height-obs="451" alt="Drawing of a trotting horse pulling a light vehicle" title="The Sunday Swell" /></div> Blue are the skies of opening day; The bordering turf is green with May; The sunshine’s golden gleam is thrown On sorrel, chestnut, bay, and roan; The horses paw and prance and neigh, Fillies and colts like kittens play, And dance and toss their rippled manes Shining and soft as silken skeins; Wagons and gigs are ranged about, And fashion flaunts her gay turn-out; Here stands,—each youthful Jehu’s dream,— The jointed tandem, ticklish team! <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-034.jpg" width-obs="279" height-obs="130" alt="Drawing of a tandem team pulling light vehicle" title="“The jointed tandem”" /></div> And there in ampler breadth expand The splendors of the four-in-hand; On faultless ties and glossy tiles The lovely bonnets beam their smiles; (The style’s the man, so books avow; The style’s the woman, anyhow;) From flounces frothed with creamy lace Peeps out the pug-dog’s smutty face, Or spaniel rolls his liquid eye, Or stares the wiry pet of Skye;— O woman, in your hours of ease So shy with us, so free with these! <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-035.jpg" width-obs="283" height-obs="141" alt="Drawing of a woman walking a small dog on a leash, several other dogs in the bac" title="“So shy with us, so free with these”" /></div> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-036.jpg" width-obs="288" height-obs="452" alt="Drawing of the crowd at the race track" title="On faultless ties and glossy tiles The lovely bonnets beam their smiles" /></div> “Come on! I’ll bet you two to one I’ll make him do it!” “Will you? Done!” What was it who was bound to do? I did not hear and can’t tell you,— Pray listen till my story’s through. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-037.jpg" width-obs="231" height-obs="265" alt="Drawing of two men talking at the race track" title="“I’ll bet you two to one”" /></div> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-038.jpg" width-obs="283" height-obs="217" alt="Drawing of hitched horses, tied to rails at the race track" title="“Harnessed in his one-hoss-shay”" /></div> Scarce noticed, back behind the rest, By cart and wagon rudely prest, The parson’s lean and bony bay Stood harnessed in his one-horse shay— Lent to his sexton for the day; (A funeral—so the sexton said; His mother’s uncle’s wife was dead.) Like Lazarus bid to Dives’ feast, So looked the poor forlorn old beast; His coat was rough, his tail was bare, The gray was sprinkled in his hair; Sportsmen and jockeys knew him not, And yet they say he once could trot Among the fleetest of the town, Till something cracked and broke him down,— The steed’s, the statesman’s, common lot! “And are we then so soon forgot?” Ah me! I doubt if one of you Has ever heard the name “Old Blue,” Whose fame through all this region rung In those old days when I was young! “Bring forth the horse!” Alas! he showed Not like the one Mazeppa rode; Scant-maned, sharp-backed, and shaky-kneed, The wreck of what was once a steed, Lips thin, eyes hollow, stiff in joints; Yet not without his knowing points. The sexton laughing in his sleeve, As if ’t were all a make-believe, Led forth the horse, and as he laughed <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-040.jpg" width-obs="254" height-obs="243" alt="Drawing of a man leading a horse hitched to a light carriage" title="“The sexton ... led forth the horse”" /></div> Unhitched the breeching from a shaft, Unclasped the rusty belt beneath, Drew forth the snaffle from his teeth, Slipped off his head-stall, set him free From strap and rein,—a sight to see! <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-041.jpg" width-obs="281" height-obs="260" alt="Drawing of a crowd with a man laughing at the horse being unharnessed" title="“A sight to see”" /></div> So worn, so lean in every limb, It can’t be they are saddling him! It is! his back the pig-skin strides And flaps his lank, rheumatic sides; With look of mingled scorn and mirth They buckle round the saddle-girth; With horsey wink and saucy toss A youngster throws his leg across, And so, his rider on his back, They lead him, limping, to the track, Far up behind the starting-point, To limber out each stiffened joint. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-042.jpg" width-obs="279" height-obs="107" alt="Drawing of the horse with jockey being led away from the crowd" title="“They lead him, limping, to the track”" /></div> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-043.jpg" width-obs="290" height-obs="413" alt="Drawing of the horse cantering along the race track rail" title="“To limber out each stiffened joint”" /></div> As through the jeering crowd he past, One pitying look old Hiram cast; “Go it, ye cripple, while ye can!” Cried out unsentimental Dan; “A Fast-Day dinner for the crows!” Budd Doble’s scoffing shout arose. Slowly, as when the walking-beam First feels the gathering head of steam, With warning cough and threatening wheeze The stiff old charger crooks his knees; At first with cautious step sedate, As if he dragged a coach of state; He’s not a colt; he knows full well That time is weight and sure to tell; No horse so sturdy but he fears The handicap of twenty years. As through the throng on either hand The old horse nears the judges’ stand, Beneath his jockey’s feather-weight He warms a little to his gait, And now and then a step is tried That hints of something like a stride. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-045.jpg" width-obs="276" height-obs="267" alt="Drawing of the horse trotting past the grandstands" title="“Something like a stride”" /></div> “Go!”—Through his ear the summons stung As if a battle-trump had rung; The slumbering instincts long unstirred Start at the old familiar word; It thrills like flame through every limb— What mean his twenty years to him? The savage blow his rider dealt Fell on his hollow flanks unfelt; The spur that pricked his staring hide Unheeded tore his bleeding side; Alike to him are spur and rein,— He steps a five-year-old again! Before the quarter pole was past, Old Hiram said, “He’s going fast.” Long ere the quarter was a half, The chuckling crowd had ceased to laugh; Tighter his frightened jockey clung As in a mighty stride he swung, The gravel flying in his track, His neck stretched out, his ears laid back, His tail extended all the while Behind him like a rat-tail file! <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-047.jpg" width-obs="270" height-obs="229" alt="Drawing from the rear of the horse heading down the race track, with people scattering in front" title="“A mighty stride he swung”" /></div> Off went a shoe,—away it spun, Shot like a bullet from a gun; The quaking jockey shapes a prayer From scraps of oaths he used to swear; He drops his whip, he drops his rein, He clutches fiercely for a mane; <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-048.jpg" width-obs="288" height-obs="241" alt="Drawing of the horse running down the track with the jockey holding on to the saddle, with the reins flying" title="“Off went a shoe”" /></div> He’ll lose his hold—he sways and reels— He’ll slide beneath those trampling heels! The knees of many a horseman quake, The flowers on many a bonnet shake, And shouts arise from left and right, “Stick on! Stick on!” “Hould tight! Hould tight!” “Cling round his neck and don’t let go—” “That pace can’t hold,—there! steady! whoa!” But like the sable steed that bore The spectral lover of Lenore, His nostrils snorting foam and fire, No stretch his bony limbs can tire; And now the stand he rushes by, And “Stop him!—stop him!” is the cry. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-050.jpg" width-obs="298" height-obs="471" alt="Head-on drawing of the horse running past the grandstands, the jockey has his arms wrapped around the horse's neck" title="“And now the stand he rushes by”" /></div> Stand back! he’s only just begun,— He’s having out three heats in one! “Don’t rush in front! he’ll smash your brains; But follow up and grab the reins!” Old Hiram spoke. Dan Pfeiffer heard, And sprang impatient at the word; Budd Doble started on his bay, Old Hiram followed on his gray, And off they spring, and round they go, The fast ones doing “all they know.” <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-051.jpg" width-obs="275" height-obs="114" alt="Drawing of horses running down the track" title="“And off they spring”" /></div> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-052-1.jpg" width-obs="277" height-obs="101" alt="Drawing of the pack of horses chasing after the leader" title="“They follow at his heels”" /></div> Look! twice they follow at his heels, As round the circling course he wheels, And whirls with him that clinging boy Like Hector round the walls of Troy; Still on, and on, the third time round! They’re tailing off! they’re losing ground! <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-052-2.jpg" width-obs="233" height-obs="116" alt="Drawing of the lead horse pulling away from the pack" title="“They’re losing ground”" /></div> Budd Doble’s nag begins to fail! Dan Pfeiffer’s sorrel whisks his tail! And see! in spite of whip and shout, Old Hiram’s mare is giving out! Now for the finish! at the turn, The old horse—all the rest astern,— Comes swinging in, with easy trot; By Jove! he’s distanced all the lot! <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-053.jpg" width-obs="282" height-obs="228" alt="Drawing of the horse coming to the grandstands with the pack far behind" title="“He’s distanced all the lot”" /></div> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-054.jpg" width-obs="279" height-obs="219" alt="Drawing of a group of men comparing watches" title="“Some took his time”" /></div> That trot no mortal could explain; Some said, “Old Dutchman come again!” Some took his time,—at least they tried, But what it was could none decide; One said he couldn’t understand What happened to his second hand; One said 2.10; that couldn’t be— More like two twenty two or three; Old Hiram settled it at last; “The time was two—too dee-vel-ish fast!” The parson’s horse had won the bet; It cost him something of a sweat; Back in the one-hoss shay he went; The parson wondered what it meant, And murmured, with a mild surprise And pleasant twinkle of the eyes, “That funeral must have been a trick, Or corpses drive at double-quick; I shouldn’t wonder, I declare, If brother—Jehu—made the prayer!” And this is all I have to say About that tough old trotting bay. Huddup! Huddup! G’lang!—Good-day! <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-056.jpg" width-obs="292" height-obs="457" alt="Drawing of the horse being hitched to the chaise, surrounded by the race track crowd" title="“Back in the one-horse-shay he went”" /></div> Moral for which this tale is told: A horse can trot, for all he’s old. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-057.jpg" width-obs="118" height-obs="181" alt="Drawing of the man standing by his horse" title="“A horse can trot, for all he’s old”" /></div> <hr class="chapbreak" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-058.jpg" width-obs="262" height-obs="328" alt="Decorative" title="The BROOMSTICK TRAIN or The Return of the WITCHES" /></div> <hr class="chapbreak" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-059.jpg" width-obs="293" height-obs="163" alt="Drawing of a streetcar with witches on broomsticks flying in the sky above it" title="“Clear the track”" /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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