opinion that it was not fair, but something Irish and
supernatural.

_Myself_. I daresay he's right. I have read of witchcraft in the Bible.

_John_. He wishes much to have one more encounter with the fellow; he
says that on fair ground, and in fine weather, he has no doubt that he
could master him, and hand him over to the quarter sessions. He says
that a hundred pounds would be no bad thing to be disbanded upon; for he
wishes to take an inn at Swanton Morley, keep a cock-pit, and live
respectably.

_Myself_. He is quite right; and now kiss me, my darling brother, for I
must go back through the bog to Templemore.

CHAPTER XIII

Groom and cob--Strength and symmetry--Where's the saddle?--The first
ride--No more fatigue--Love for horses--Pursuit of words--Philologist and
Pegasus--The smith--What more, agrah?--Sassannach tenpence.

And it came to pass that, as I was standing by the door of the barrack
stable, one of the grooms came out to me, saying, 'I say, young
gentleman, I wish you would give the cob a breathing this fine morning.'

'Why do you wish me to mount him?' said I; 'you know he is dangerous. I
saw him fling you off his back only a few days ago.'

'Why, that's the very thing, master. I'd rather see anybody on his back
than myself; he does not like me; but, to them he does, he can be as
gentle as a lamb.'

'But suppose,' said I, 'that he should not like me?'

'We shall soon see that, master,' said the groom; 'and, if so be he shows
temper, I will be the first to tell you to get down. But there's no fear
of that; you have never angered or insulted him, and to such as you, I
say again, he'll be as gentle as a lamb.'

'And how came you to insult him,' said I, 'knowing his temper as you do?'

'Merely through forgetfulness, master: I was riding him about a month
ago, and having a stick in my hand, I struck him, thinking I was on
another horse, or rather thinking of nothing at all. He has never
forgiven me, though before that time he was the only friend I had in the
world; I should like to see you on him, master.'

'I should soon be off him; I can't ride.'

'Then you are all right, master; there's no fear. Trust him for not
hurting a young gentleman, an officer's son, who can't ride. If you were
a blackguard dragoon, indeed, with long spurs, 'twere another thing; as
it is, he'll treat you as if he were the elder brother that loves you.
Ride! He'll soon teach you to ride if you leav