The Trotter, 127 



comfortably suppered up in a loose box, and the relish with which, 

 she turned to her corn, after indulging herself in one hearty roll, 

 proved that Enghsh air had by no means destroyed her Welsh 

 appetite. I did not sleep much that night ; I was tormented with 

 all sorts of fears concerning my new purchase. However, she was 

 all right when I went up to the stable next morning, and greeted 

 me with a kind of whinny which asked for breakfast as plainly as her 

 language could speak. We gave her a double measure of corn to 

 make up past shortcomings. I think I never did see so greedy a 

 feeder 3 she "went into her corn," as the groom observed, "'just 

 like a terrier into a rat." The Welshman had told me that nothing- 

 in this world would hurt her but scarcity. After breakfast we had 

 her and the Drum out 3 I rode the mare and put the groom up on 

 the cob. We took them to our favourite " try sting-place," a mile 

 on the turnpike-road which ran by the top of our village, as straight 

 as a two-foot rule and as level as a bowling-green. The mare did 

 just as she liked with the cob, and I sold him that afternoon to a 

 sporting butcher who had long been nibbling at him, under the plea 

 that I rather fancied I should have nothing more to do with 



trotters. 



We soon changed Patty Morgan's looks. Her long rough coat 

 was just coming off in patches 3 and when I bought her, her colour 

 rather resembled that of a very old rusty black bombazine gown, 

 such as you will occasionally see on decayed old ladies, or, more 

 often still, on London lodging-house keepers en deshabille. In a 

 short time, however, she " moulted out " into a beautiful black, 

 glossy and soft as velvet 5 and good keep and gentle exercise wrought 

 such a change in her, that at the end of two months her old 

 owner would never have known her again. She soon became a 

 general favourite with all. I think I never saw so quiet a horse 3 

 you could do anything you pleased with her, except ill-treat her 3 

 but if you did that, then ''look out for squalls." One of the lads 

 cleaning out the loose box once struck her rather sharply with the 

 handle of his fork, to make her turn round. My lady's Welsh 

 blood was then up. She rushed at him like a bull-dog, seized him 



