86 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER. 



mustachios, are to be seen reciting to each other inci- 

 dents aqueous, terrestrial, and amphibious, of the run. 

 Here and there, one of the most handsome, as he talks, 

 leans forward for a moment to pat the neck of his 

 thorough bred animal in grateful acknowledgment of 

 the particular feat he is describing. 



In what is considered by all to be hardly a quarter of 

 an hour, (for when men sit conversing about themselves, 

 they little know how fast old father Time gallops), this 

 joyous conversazione ends by the talkers, after giving to 

 each other here and there a farewell nod, radiating in 

 masses along roads, or across a fence or two, to gain the 

 road that leads to their respective homes; but as, by 

 this time, in almost every mouth a newly-lighted cigar 

 happens to be gleaming, they resume their talk as they 

 walk towards an object described at the back of the head 

 of almost every one, in the humane words "gruel for 

 my horse" to be obtained, not exactly at the first farm, 

 but at the first great town, be it even half a dozen or so, 

 miles off. 



On reaching the best hotel, at which there is seldom 

 hot water enough ready for all the cavalcade, the horses 

 are handed over to that lot of idle attendants who, 

 some out of the stable and some from the bar, greedily 

 rush forward to grasp their bridles. " GRUEL " is most 

 kindly ordered for them all; but as it is voted that 



