Mrs. C. Was Busy The
Whole Of Tuesday In Preparing What She Called "Grub," Which,
Together With "Plenty Of Bedding,
" Was to be carried on a pack
mule; but when we started I was disgusted to find that Chalmers
was
On what should have been the pack animal, and that two
thickly-quilted cotton "spreads" had been disposed of under my
saddle, making it broad, high, and uncomfortable. Any human
being must have laughed to see an expedition start so grotesquely
"ill found." I had a very old iron-grey horse, whose lower lip
hung down feebly, showing his few teeth, while his fore-legs
stuck out forwards, and matter ran from both his nearly-blind
eyes. It is kindness to bring him up to abundant pasture. My
saddle is an old McLellan cavalry saddle, with a battered brass
peak, and the bridle is a rotten leather strap on one side and a
strand of rope on the other. The cotton quilts covered the
Rosinante from mane to tail. Mrs. C. wore an old print skirt, an
old short-gown, a print apron, and a sun-bonnet, with a flap
coming down to her waist, and looked as careworn and clean as she
always does. The inside horn of her saddle was broken; to the
outside one hung a saucepan and a bundle of clothes. The one
girth was nearly at the breaking point when we started.
My pack, with my well-worn umbrella upon it, was behind my
saddle.
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