thirty-five guineas, will be perfectly destroyed by the moths, unless it is taken out and worn; so, you see, the cost of the horse will be more than saved, after all.”
I did not see the cogency of the argument, it is true; but who ever thought of arguing with Beaty when she looked you through with her large and fathomless violet eyes? At least, not her papa; and possibly another, one of these days, will feel inclined to forget his logic also.
Beaty was as good as her word. One morning, at breakfast, she came running up with the Times, and, throwing herself down on her knees, in the old cuddling, irresistible fashion, exclaimed,—
“I’ve found him! I believe my ‘good fairy’ has put this advertisement in on purpose to please me;” and she began to read,—
TO BE SOLD, a HORSE OF GREAT BEAUTY, late the property of a deceased Gentleman. He is a beautiful Bay, with Black Legs, by Emelius, perfectly quiet to ride and drive, and has carried a Lady. Apply, before 10 a.m., at Mews.
“There, papa, if you are a good boy, you shall have a ride sometimes; and he will do for pic-nics, and to drive you over to Grimsby, where that tiresome old vicar always wants you to do duty for him. Did you ever hear of such a perfect animal?”
“Softly, Miss Beatrice,” I said; “I am afraid all this is too good to be true. I shall be quite satisfied if he carries you.”
“Now then, dear papa, see that you go early, as such an animal is sure to be snapped up directly in London, where a good horse is always worth his money.”
I took the morning-train the very next day, after many injunctions that I must on no account let the “horse of great beauty” slip through my fingers. I arrived at the mews in question at the appointed time. It was situated in a very quiet and respectable neighbourhood, and was in itself a very orderly-looking place. Why do grooms take such pride in the windows of their sleeping-rooms? Every other window that I looked at was fenced in with a mimic five-barred gate, the palings painted white, and the five-barred gate green. No doubt, these are but expressions of the country taste of the country-bred lads who come up to town to seek their fortunes, and sink down into the cunning grooms one meets with at the comers of streets in May Fair, plotting treason against their masters with the corn-chandler. I asked in vain, for a long time, for the handsome horse, but no one seemed to know anything about him. At last I was told to apply at a particularly quiet and orderly-looking stable, where my informant told me he had “heerd of such a hoss” as I was looking for. Accordingly I knocked, but there was no answer. Tired of repeatedly knocking, I at last took the liberty of opening the door and walking in. The only person visible was a venerable-looking groom, who was engaged in cleaning a horse. “Wis’ss, wis’ss, wis’ss,” went the rheumatic old man, either not hearing me enter or not deigning to take any notice of me, whilst intently engaged upon his duties. He was dressed in an old purple plush waistcoat, with old silver buttons with a crest upon them, and his neck was incased in a neatly-pinned white cravat. Evidently he belonged to some old household, where a certain traditional dress was maintained, even reaching to the stable-man. There was something in the old man that spoke of better days, and I was at once prepossessed in his favour. At last, as he took no notice of me, I went up closer to him, and asked if that was the horse advertised in the Times for sale; but the only response that he made was the same “wis’ss, wis’ss, wis’ss,” his body bent quite double. At last, thinking he might be deaf, I slapped him gently on the back, on which he slowly rose up to his full height, adjusted his footing in a rickety manner, and exclaimed,—
“Yes, sir, they be, worse luck, and I wish I was going to be sold wi’ ’em,” and immediately renewed his eternal “wis’ss, wis’ss, wis’ss,” as though he considered it an intrusion on my part to interrupt him in his duties.
“Come,” I said to myself, “I must mollify this crusty, sterling old retainer, or I shall get nothing out of him. He evidently takes me for a Cockney. I tried what effect a shilling would have upon him, and immediately found that his country bluntness was no proof against the charm; in fact, he became quite communicative.
“Yes, gemman,” he said, resuming for good his upright position, as well as his rheumatics would let him, “all these ’ere hosses in this stable is to be sold, and, as I said before, I wish I was going to be sold wi’ ’em. They have all been under my hands ever since they was foaled. They are, or was, the property of Squire , of Hall, in Northamptonshire, God bless him. He has now been dead three months, and his hosses was as much to him as his own childer. They tells me as how he left it in his will that they was all to be sold without reserve, by his dear old friend, Squire , but they was only to go into good hands. If a good home was offered to ’em, the price was to be no consideration. He was a merciful man to his beasts, was t’ ould squire.”
The old man, like an old horse, began to