CHAPTER XIV. 



THE HORSE AT THE FRONT GATE — ON VIEW— MR. JARVIS 

 —HIS LEGS — DIGRESSIONS AND NOTES — INTERVIEW' 

 PROCEEDING. 



RANKLY, I don't wonder at there being a crowd 

 to see this horse. 



To begin with, it isn't a horse — that is, I 

 mean it's a cob. 



Its head appears to me to be too large for its neck, and, as 

 it stands still, it has a way of moving its ears unevenly, on a 

 sort of one-down-t'other-come-up principle, which suggests 

 interior mechanism (it being what you'd expect in a toy, with 

 strings, some wires, and a musical baker's cart behind), and 

 inspires mistrust. 



The animal's neck, too, tracing him thus backwards, seems 

 to my eye to be indented, though, perhaps, on reflection, this 

 effect is simply due to the mane having been cut by an 

 inexperienced hand. As to the hair of this mane, I never 

 saw anything so rusty-looking, dry, and untidy. Reverting 

 to the toy, if the mane had been nailed on carelessly, it 

 couldn't have looked worse. 



Carrying my eye along him downwards — we are all 

 examining him now, as my Aunt has descended from her fly, 

 and I have introduced her to Mr. and Mrs. Pullinger, but 



