nine o'clock
Then it enters upon a three-mile stretch bordered with scrubby pines and bayberry thickets , climbing at last a final hill to emerge upon the bluff with the ocean at its foot . And , fringing that bluff and clustering thickest in the lowlands just beyond , is the village of East Wellmouth , which must on no account be confused with South Wellmouth , or North Wellmouth , or West Wellmouth , or even Wellmouth Port . On a bright sunny summer day the East Wellmouth road is a hard one to travel . At nine o'clock of an evening in March , with a howling gale blowing and rain pouring in torrents , traveling it is an experience . Winnie S. , who drives the East Wellmouth depot-wagon , had undergone the experience several times in the course of his professional career , but each time he vowed vehemently that he would not repeat it ; he would `` heave up '' his job first . He was vowing it now . Perched on the edge of the depot wagon 's front seat , the reins leading from his clenched fists through the slit in the `` boot '' to the rings on the collar of General Jackson , the aged horse , he expressed his opinion of the road , the night , and the job .