a big black valise clambered down from the top of the stage. Then Bill shouted to me, as I walked down to the gate, looking rather angry, I suppose—,
"I was a-goin' to git ye a whole stage-load to stay all night, but that one'll do ye, I reckon. Ha, ha!" And off he went, probably fearing that I would throw his passenger up on the top of the stage again.
The new-comer entered the gate. He was a dark man, with black hair and black whiskers and moustache, and black eyes. He wore clothes that had been black, but which were now toned down by a good deal of dust, and, as I have said, he carried a black valise.
"Why did you stop here?" said I, rather inhospitably. "Don't you know that we do not accommodate—"
"Yes, I know," he said, walking up on the piazza and setting down his valise, "that you only take soldiers, sailors, farmers, and mechanics at this house. I have been told all about it, and if I had not thoroughly understood the matter I should not have thought of such a thing as stopping here. If you will sit down for a few moments I will explain." Saying this, he took a seat on a bench by the door, but Euphemia and I continued to stand.
"I am," he continued, "a soldier, a sailor, a farmer, and a mechanic. Do not doubt my word; I will prove it to you in two minutes. When but seventeen years of age circumstances compelled me to take charge of a farm in New Hampshire, and I kept up that farm until I was twenty-five. During this time I built several barns, wagon-houses, and edifices of the sort on my place, and, becoming expert in this branch of mechanical art, I was much sought after by the neighbouring farmers, who employed me
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