CAPTAIN SHABBYHOUNDE 259 



as that between a rider and his horse, and as Shabby- 

 hounde had no taste for disclosing the secrets of his 

 stable, it will be abundantly clear that the only way 

 of selling a horse like Lambkin — at least the only 

 way of getting anything like a price for him — was 

 selling him in the field, a process that the Captain 

 was particularly partial to, especially after having 

 "gone a good un" before the expected buyer. 



Our readers will now have the kindness to consider 

 it a fine morning in February, and the "Squire's" 

 hounds meeting at Kelmarsh, a few miles below 

 Market Harborough, on the Northampton - road. 

 They will further oblige us by supposing that Captain 

 Shabbyhounde having mounted Lambkin in the inn 

 yard without more trouble than usual, has walked him 

 quietly to the meet. 



We took occasion lately, when sketching the por- 

 trait of old Mr. Bullwaist, to introduce the adventures 

 of another horse — Claudius Hunter — and to comment 

 on the admirable dispensations of Providence in 

 turning even the infirmities of his creatures to good 

 account, and in relating the adventures of Lambkin, 

 we may observe how a never-failing supply of flats is 

 kept up in the world — a fact most perfectly under- 

 stood by advertising tailors, persevering wine 

 merchants, and peripatetic map men. 



It so happened that on this particular morning, the 

 Honourable Julius Milksop, a newly emancipated, but 

 beardless Cantab, made his appearance with the 

 Pytchley in all the luxuriance of flowing locks, 

 cheroots, and a perfumed pocket - handkerchief. 

 Shabbyhounde's eyes, which had had " no specula- 

 tion in them for some time, glared withal," for 

 Milksop looked like a man for his money, added to 

 which he did not seem to have any acquaintance in 

 the field, so the Captain ascertaining from his groom 

 who he was — a piece of information that the groom 

 of course accompanied with the title of Honourable 



