KOUR DEALS 3^9 



A friend of mine — alas! owing to hard times, no longer 

 able to indulge in the pastime which delighted him in early 

 youth — gave me an amusing account the other day of his first 

 four deals, and they were not very unprofitable. ist {cetat 19), 

 a wonderful chipped-kneed grey ; hunted him two or three 

 days a week for as many seasons, and sold him at the price 

 he paid. ^Etat 22, going up in price, ^,24 for a beautiful- 

 looking mare, but as wicked as sin ; would lie down in the 

 middle of a field occasionally if the fit was upon her, or would 

 carry him brilliantly at the tail of the hounds. Improving 

 wonderfully in his hands, she was sold to a friend for £^0, 

 who, also being a very fine horseman, gave the fixnishing touch 

 to her education, selling her for ^130 to a master of hounds, 

 who in turn refused ^500 for her. The next deal from a 

 friend turned out badly, a ^10 note being lost ; but it was 

 recovered on the fourth purchase {(Etat 26), and the figure 

 now bounding up to £\o ; but this was the best he ever had 

 in his life, and he grew as fond of her as ever Arab of his 

 mare. 



Full of life, she would always, upon leaving the stable, 

 bound and kick like a deer, and pretend to start at a leaf or 

 twig rustled by the wind ; but knowing her well, he took little 

 heed of these tricks. Once, however, riding home across the 

 Swansea Barrows, upon a heavenly day on which to live was 

 bliss, the mare going like a cow, with the reins on her neck, 

 her rider with a good cigar well under weigh between his lips, 

 his hands thrust home in his breeches pockets (he had just 

 remarked to himself, " Well, this is a day ! How could it be 

 more perfect? ") (N.B. : he was just engaged to be married), 

 when, in a moment, he found himself going up towards the 

 clouds, where his spirit was already lost in happy dreamland 

 (the way of lovers ; look at his age again), and next moment 

 coming down to things terrestrial in a sitting posture on the 

 sands, with the cigar still alight, and the mare galloping away 

 like the wind. Nearly slipping up in the sharp turn she made 

 to pull up, she turned and quietly trotted back and rubbed 

 her muzzle against him as much as to say, " What are you 

 doing here ? You didn't tell me, you know, that the sheep had 

 a bell, or otherwise I should not have given you the slip." 



The mare was more sensible than many human beings — 

 would follow her owner over any bank without the reins (and 

 the Glamorganshire banks are not small), and upon one 

 occasion, surrounded by wire, she hopped over it. where 

 merely a pocket-handkerchief was laid on the strand. Even- 



