Dust and mud covered everything with striated coatings, mask eloquent of wanderings over many soils. A cadaverous horse, knee-sprung and wheezy, dragged the van at the gait of a caterpillar.
Under the chaise top was hunched an old man, gaunt but huge of frame, his knees almost to his chin.
Long, white hair fluffed over his bent shoulders, and little puffs of white whiskers stood out from his tanned cheeks. A fuzzy beaver hat barely covered the bald spot on his head. The reins were looped around his neck.
Between his hands, huge as hams, moaned and sucked and suffled and droned a much-patched accordion. The instrument lamented like a tortured animal as he pulled it out and squatted it together. To its accompaniment, the old man sang over and over some words that he had fitted to the tune of "Old Dog Tray,"
"Plug" Ivory Buck sat outside the door of his "emporium" in Smyrna Corner, his chair tipped back comfortably, ankle roosting across his knee, his fuzzy stovepipe hat on the back of his head.
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I wish to go
To think that I
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But as the boy
French please go on
It was my wedding
Will you tell Mr
Where is your hat
In the promise of
In ten minutes she
He put up his
The Hammond girl had
George Cornwallis West and
That trick It s
Because it s easily
It appeared that Ponsonby
Ball s look as
The main thing was
With his head well
She fluttered through Paris
A troubled look came
What shoutings then and
Oh Deena she whispered
When the seeds of
The proprietor agreed Now
The querulousness with which
Buck General Store to
They were headed for
He took off his
If I were an
It was in fact
Joe was in the
PLUG IVORY AND PLUG
It is always a
Have I become a
No urging is necessary
She was now taking
I looked away from
Deena was not often
She had got to
But Honk honk Oh
Bentnor was short stout
There is a story
Them cussed lawyers have
I understand men will
May I come in
The delightful little doctor
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