THE GROOM 149 



would think the fellow was a fool, till you arrived at 

 his little rogueish black eyes, peering from among the 

 lumps of fat composing his unhealthy ginnified cheeks. 

 The fellow is the biggest scamp in the country. He 

 lies like truth. He comes out as much to fish out 

 the secrets of gentlemen's stables as in the hope of 

 selling the horses he rides, though he is always ready 

 to do his best in that way, particularly when he falls 

 in with a flat, who he will persecute, and ride at, 

 and talk at, with the audacious impudence peculiar 

 to travelling prospectus men, railway surveyors, and 

 small horse-dealers' men. He has been makins; a 

 set at Paul Poplin's mare, making her as fidgetty and 

 fretful as possible, in order the better to recommend 

 the antediluvian beggar on which he is riding. The 

 two Grooms in blue frocks and small-striped waist- 

 coats next him are neat, and after them there comes 

 a man made, dressed, and riding to our mind as a 

 hunting Groom should be. He is short, light, and 

 wiry. Forty summers may have passed over his head, 

 leaving traces of the wear, but not the cares of life. 

 On the contrary, his clear bright eye beams radiant 

 on the cheerful scene, produced perhaps by the 

 inward consciousness that his horse will not be eclipsed 

 by any in the field. See how all that man's things 

 are in keeping, from the hat on his head to the spur 

 at his heel. The nap is as close and as flat as his 

 horse's coat. There are no flowing locks protruding 

 at the sides, the pride of housemaids and abhorrence 

 of masters. There are no filthy, bristly, gingery 

 whiskers fringing his cheeks, or extending round his 

 chin. His horse and he are both well trimmed. His 

 clean white neckcloth is well put on ; no shirt collars 

 appear above. His dark grey coat and waistcoat show 

 the wear of work with the care of keeping, while 

 his well-put-on dark drab mother-of-pearl buttoned 

 breeches look as though they neither courted nor 

 dreaded the assaults of the mud. Then the tops — 



