THE SPOTTED HORSe's STORY. 165 



up, did a season in town — a cab — an omnibus — 

 tPien my joints began by degrees to stiffen, until 

 it was not a very great transformation when I 

 awoke one morning after a long, strange dream 



to find that But let me draw a veil over these 



reflections. This is Christmas time, and you 

 don't want to be bored with the depressing 

 recollections of an old worn-out horse that has 

 seen better days, and is obliged to come to town 

 to be carpentered. There's lots to tell ; but the 

 fact is, I'm not, as Dr. Darwin is, very good at 

 the ' development of speeches ; ' but — yes ! I 

 have it ! There's an old manuscript somewhere 

 in the box, containing an account of an incident 

 in which I played rather a prominent part. Yes, 

 there it is ! The story is better told than I could 

 tell, so here goes : — 



December has recurred so often since the 

 period at which December was first invented, 

 that I do not propose to enter into a detailed 

 account of its usual characteristics. Let me 

 rather crave permission to introduce the family 

 circle assembled in the breakfast-room of Yerning- 

 ton Lodge. My father sits at the head of the 

 table reading his letters, and making comments 

 upon them, according to his habit, in a series of 

 very expressive grunts. j\Iy dear mother faces 



