12 A Stormy Day

           

           Onedaylateintheautumnmymasterhadalongjourneytogoonbusiness.Iwasputintothedog-cart,andJohnwentwithhismaster.Ialwayslikedtogointhedog-cart,itwassolightandthehighwheelsranalongsopleasantly.Therehadbeenagreatdealofrain,andnowthewindwasveryhighandblewthedryleavesacrosstheroadinashower.Wewentalongmerrilytillwecametothetoll-barandthelowwoodenbridge.Theriverbankswereratherhigh,andthebridge,insteadofrising,wentacrossjustlevel,sothatinthemiddle,iftheriverwasfull,thewaterwouldbenearlyuptothewoodworkandplanks;butasthereweregoodsubstantialrailsoneachside,peopledidnotmindit.

           Themanatthegatesaidtheriverwasrisingfast,andhefeareditwouldbeabadnight.Manyofthemeadowswereunderwater,andinonelowpartoftheroadthewaterwashalfwayuptomyknees;thebottomwasgood,andmasterdrovegently,soitwasnomatter.

           WhenwegottothetownofcourseIhadagoodbait,butasthemaster’sbusinessengagedhimalongtimewedidnotstartforhometillratherlateintheafternoon.Thewindwasthenmuchhigher,andIheardthemastersaytoJohnthathehadneverbeenoutinsuchastorm;andsoIthought,aswewentalongtheskirtsofawood,wherethegreatbrancheswereswayingaboutliketwigs,andtherushingsoundwasterrible.

           “Iwishwewerewelloutofthiswood,”saidmymaster.

           “Yes,sir,”saidJohn,“itwouldberatherawkwardifoneofthesebranchescamedownuponus.

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