66 (©Itl SSot. 



in Piccadilly, near the green park — that which faces 

 Half Moon Street, I mean — and was resting my 

 gammy leg, as I often do now (that is, as often as 

 I can), when he strolled up. 



" Cab," he holloa'd, and it was the same voice 

 that had encouraged me to exert my utmost powers 

 through many a trying gallop in the past. Off was 

 jerked my nose-bag in a jiffy, and for the first time 

 in my hfe I did not spring quite willingly into my 

 collar to pick up a fare for good old Tom, my driver. 



''Whoa, old man," said he, soothingly, as I lashed 

 contemptuously back at the dashboard, when my 

 former owner — for it w^as no other — placed his 13 

 stone 7 on the step of my tidy hansom, and directed 

 Tom to drive him to a certain West End Club. Now 

 I never do make it a rule to kick back in the vulgar 

 way some cab horses do, and I knew from Tom's 

 voice and manner that he was shocked ; but I was 

 a little upset just then, and did not altogether like 

 my " fare," who, I think, you will allow, when you 

 have heard all, had not treated me quite straight- 

 forwardly. He did not recognise me. O, no ! for 

 I daresay I have changed -a good deal since we last 

 met, or he might not have felt altogether surprised 

 at my lack of common civility, for I must confess 

 that I did just peep round as he alighted, and, by a 

 well-timed jerk, cause as unsightly a dent in a well- 



