I wish I could get you one of these mornings to look at a horse for me."
"I shall be very glad. The one you're on, seems rather weak in the fore legs: I should blister him, if he belonged to me. But as to getting you a horse, why, it's the wrong time of year; and I'm so remarkable pushed on that point, that I hardly know what to say, but still I always like to do a good turn for a friend, that's my maxim, so I can't say but what I'll see about it. There's Harry Mounteney now, he wants me to ride over to Woodbury, to look at a brown mare; Stapylton Toad too, he says he's never satisfied without my opinion, though he generally takes his own in the long run. Ah! those Londoners know nothing about horseflesh. Well, any day you'll call, I'm your man."
"Well, thank you, thank you, I shall keep you to your promise."
"Well, Sir! good morning, pleasant ride to
