56 OCCASIONAL HAPPY THOUGHTS. 



what he should get. "What does Clumber want for him?" 

 I ask. Ah, that Spoker doesn't know; in fact he doesn't 

 quite know whether Mr. Clumber intends selling him or not. 

 " Here," says Spoker, pointing to a dog-cart, " is the trap 

 he was drove in yesterday — it's just the sort o' thing for 

 him, and did ten miles in half an hour, easy. I'll see if Mr. 

 Clumber's in, if you like, Sir?" 



"Yes. Thank you." Spoker goes round the corner. I 

 follow. Perhaps it will be as well not to let Spoker and 

 Clumber be too long together before I join them. Really, 

 horse-buying does make me very suspicious. 



Clumber, the flyman, is a square-built, trim-whiskered, 

 very respectable, yet unmistakably horsey-looking man, 

 dressed in a greyish suit, presenting a compound of a 

 Quaker, a well-to-do farmer, and a superior Hansom-cab 

 driver, all in one. He has a sharp eye, and so quick a way 

 of constantly turning his head from one side to the other, 

 without moving his body, that it appears as if he were, as a 

 coachman, perpetually hearing the cry of " Whip behind ! " 

 and was an adept in flicking a boy neatly on the spokes. 



Having time, I look Clumber all over. Considering his 

 low-crowned hat, very much turned up at the brim, his 

 stuff gaiters, and the preponderance of the respectable 

 Quaker and farmer elements over that of the Hansom 

 cabman, I begin to think that he might stand for an ideal 

 portrait of a Rural Dean. 



Happy Thought. — Apart from Clumber, what a charming 

 subject for a picture ! One can see it, at once, in the 



