38 RADNOR REMINISCENCES 



first. Nothing is right with him or his world; horse won't 

 walk; there's a button giving him Hades inside his boot; 

 the bad-worded groom has put on the very saddle that he 

 does n't like; it's a rotten part of the country we are going 

 into; not a dog's earthly of a gallop, and, even if we do, the 

 whole place is wired like a mouse-trap; then, cuss these 

 motors that make his nasty, flashy, washy chestnut shy 

 and go up on the bank; dash the wind that won't let him 

 light a cigarette; and if ever he rides that horse again may 

 he be boiled; he'd sell him for half-a-pound of tea (rather 

 a high figure to put on him in these days); and why the 

 devil grooms put on odd leathers and can't take the 

 trouble to burnish one's irons, blessed if he knows . . . and 

 so forth and so on! Poor old thing! He's bound to be in 

 trouble, a man like this, who starts out looking for it. 

 First thing that happens to him is that the chestnut, who 

 will not wait his turn at a g^te, bangs his knee against it, 

 and then, raking at his bridle, nearly puts one of his 

 thumbs out of joint against the breast-plate; next thing, at 

 a small place that a donkey could jump, the chestnut drops 

 his hind legs in, and flounders and sprawls in a manner 

 that nearly causes the owner to leave the plate. Know 

 him? Of course, you know him, so do we all!" 



So different from the other kind of fellow, who, like the 

 "lady" who went to the ball-dance and said she'd had a 

 splendid time — three falls, four Scotches, and a mazurka 

 — is full of beans and benevolence, no matter what 

 happens. When you meet him after the first scene of the 

 first act, — say after those men on the haystack have in- 

 terfered with the plot as originally arranged by the high- 

 class expert who is hunting the hounds, — he has a nasty 

 red-mark bang across his nose, there *s a hole in the top of 

 his new "Hard-hitter," and the nice-looking bay five- 



