Excerpt from Dotty Dimple Out West The hack ride did not last long. It was: like the preface to a story-book; and Dotty did not think much about it after she had come to the story, that is to say, to the cars. Her father found a pleasant seat on the shady side, hung the basket in a rack, opened a window; and very soon the iron horse, which fed on fire, rushed, snorting and shrieking, away from the depot. Dotty felt as if she had a pair...
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