276 The Leather Plater, 



he ever did ride, our horse was the worst. As for galloping, he'd 

 be d — d if he could not kick his hat as fast ; and as for leaping,, 

 he'd bring a thirteen-hand pony which would pound him any day^" 

 adding, that " if we had any more like him at home, the sooner we 

 cut their throats the better." He ironically thanked me for a very 

 pleasant ride, and went off to the jockeys' tent to dress for the 

 hurdle race, for which they were just then clearing the course. 



Now it is true the horse had been beaten, but he did not cut up 

 quite so badly as Tom made it out, for he had finished fourth with 

 three of the best horses in England before him 3 but then Tom was 

 known to be as energetic in his language as in his riding, and 

 when excited his discourse (to use the phrase of a late great dignitary 

 in our church) was wont to be " more pagan than parliamentary.'' 

 A better little fellow than Tom never lived, but he had evidently 

 never studied old Talleyrand's maxim, that " speech was given us. 

 to conceal our thoughts." 



However, there was no help for it now. I had suffered the 

 mortification of seeing the horse beaten, but 1 was not obliged to- 

 stay and hear him abused 3 so, giving orders to our head lad to bring 

 the horse on to the Chequers that night, where I would wait for him 

 I left the course, and did not even stay to see my energetic little 

 friend win the hurdle race on a screw of his own, which he always 

 kept bottled up for such occasions, and which he had appropriately 

 christened *' Flatcatcher." 



I know nothing in this world more cheering than, when tired, 

 disappointed, and hungry, on a dark rainy evening, to see the bright 

 ray of light which suddenly blazes across the road from the un- 

 shuttered window of a road-side inn — especially if it is one which 

 we are in the habit of "using." All our troubles and disasters are 

 forgotten, and vanish before that blaze of light like the mist before 

 the morning sun. We are sure of a hearty welcome (for, say what 

 they may of hospitality, there is no welcome so sincere as one which 

 is paid for) and a snug haven for the night, and we put nobody out 

 of their way by our arrival. Our horse seems to know all this as 

 well as ourselves, for, pricking up his ears, he breaks out into a 



