57 
MISCELLANEA. 
To the Editor of “ The Veterinarian .” 
Sir, — If you deem the following anecdote worthy a place among 
your “Miscellanea,” it is quite at your service. 
Eques. 
Falling into company some time ago with Mr. T., of metro- 
politan celebrity as a dealer in horses, and some other horse-people 
of note, among other stories related on the occasion concerning 
horses, I heard the following : — 
My wife and myself (said Mr. T.) were taking a sort of tour de 
plaisir together in a gig, when, one day at an inn at which we 
had accidentally put up to dine, we fell in with a gentleman who 
recognized me, though I had lost all knowledge of him, and who 
turned out to be a Mr. , of Oxford Terrace, Hyde Park. 
This recognition of me commenced in the inn, after I had been 
looking at his horse, standing in the same stable with my own, 
and whom I had discovered, on looking round him, to be, unfor- 
tunately, blind of both eyes. “Well, Mr. T.” said he, after some 
conversation, “ have you seen the horse I have driven here 1” — 
following his question up, without giving me time to answer it, 
with the most extravagant encomiums of his faithful servant, 
such as a man having a very favourite horse is too apt to be- 
stow upon him. Waiting for the finish of his hyperbolic account 
of his wonderful Rozinante, Mr. T. admitted he was certainly a 
good-shaped horse, and shewed a good deal of breeding ; adding, 
how truly unfortunate it was that so fine an animal should have 
gone “ blind.” “ Blind ! ” exclaimed with affright the gentleman 
of Oxford Terrace; “why, sir, I have had the horse for years, and 
no better or perfecter creature ever existed.” “Well, sir,” re- 
torted Mr. T., “ for all that, your horse, in my opinion, has lost his 
eyesight; and, in order to prove that I am correct in my judgment, 
if you will step into the yard with me, I will take upon my- 
self to demonstrate his blindness to you.” Whereupon both went 
into the yard, and, with some faggots that chanced to be lying 
there, Mr. T. constructed a sort of hedge for leaping. He then 
led his own horse — an old hunter — out of the stable, and several 
times leaped him over the same. Now came the gentleman’s 
horse’s turn ; but he, instead of leaping it, ran against the faggot- 
pile, and knocked it all down. “ Oh !” cries out the gentleman, 
“ that is no test at all : your horse is a practised leaper ; mine is 
not.” “ Well !” coolly, replied Mr. T., “ if you are not satisfied with 
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