"I asked the Negro factotum about the hire of horses, and presently a man came in from the bar who, he said, could supply my needs. This man, the very type of a Western pioneer, bowed, threw himself into a rocking-chair, drew a spittoon beside him, cut a fresh quid of tobacco, began to chew energetically, and put his feet, cased in miry high boots, into which hiis trousers were tucked, on the top of the stove. He said he had horses which would both "lope" and trot..."
That's from A Lady's Life in the Rocky Mountains by Isabella Lucy Bird. Look her up.
The uninspired correspondent scratches his scalp, but dandruff and lice, not words, fall onto the blotter.
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