arose out of his old
prepossessions in favour of the young lady, whose history had surrounded
her in his mind, almost from his cradle, with circumstances of unusual
interest; or from his attachment towards the young gentleman, into
whose confidence he had, through his shrewdness and alacrity, and the
rendering of sundry important services as a spy and messenger, almost
imperceptibly glided; whether they had their origin in either of these
sources, or in the habit natural to youth, or in the constant badgering
and worrying of his venerable parent, or in any hidden little love
affair of his own which gave him something of a fellow-feeling in the
matter, it is needless to inquire--especially as Joe was out of the way,
and had no opportunity on that particular occasion of testifying to his
sentiments either on one side or the other.

It was, in fact, the twenty-fifth of March, which, as most people
know to their cost, is, and has been time out of mind, one of those
unpleasant epochs termed quarter-days. On this twenty-fifth of March,
it was John Willet's pride annually to settle, in hard cash, his account
with a certain vintner and distiller in the city of London; to give into
whose hands a canvas bag containing its exact amount, and not a penny
more or less, was the end and object of a journey for Joe, so surely as
the year and day came round.

This journey was performed upon an old grey mare, concerning whom John
had an indistinct set of ideas hovering about him, to the effect that
she could win a plate or cup if she tried. She never had tried, and
probably never would now, being some fourteen or fifteen years of age,
short in wind, long in body, and rather the worse for wear in respect of
her mane and tail. Notwithstanding these slight defects, John perfectly
gloried in the animal; and when she was brought round to the door by
Hugh, actually retired into the bar, and there, in a secret grove of
lemons, laughed with pride.

'There's a bit of horseflesh, Hugh!' said John, when he had recovered
enough self-command to appear at the door again. 'There's a comely
creature! There's high mettle! There's bone!'

There was bone enough beyond all doubt; and so Hugh seemed to think, as
he sat sideways in the saddle, lazily doubled up with his chin nearly
touching his knees; and heedless of the dangling stirrups and loose
bridle-rein, sauntered up and down on the little green before the door.

'Mind you take good care of her, s