be Mr. Dale's minor
accomplishments as man and parson, horsemanship was not his forte.
Indeed, I doubt if he had taken the reins in his hand more than twice
since he had been married.

The squire's surly old groom, Mat, was in attendance with the pad; and,
to the parson's gentle inquiry whether Mat was quite sure that the pad
was quite safe, replied laconically, "Oi, oi; give her her head."

"Give her her head!" repeated Mr. Dale, rather amazed, for he had not
the slightest intention of taking away that part of the beast's frame,
so essential to its vital economy,--"give her her head!"

"Oi, oi; and don't jerk her up like that, or she'll fall a doincing on
her hind-legs."

The parson instantly slackened the reins; and Mrs. Dale--who had tarried
behind to control her tears--now running to the door for "more last
words," he waved his hand with courageous amenity, and ambled forth into
the lane.

Our equestrian was absorbed at first in studying the idiosyncrasies of
the pad-mare, and trying thereby to arrive at some notion of her general
character: guessing, for instance, why she raised one ear and laid down
the other; why she kept bearing so close to the left that she brushed
his leg against the hedge; and why, when she arrived at a little
side-gate in the fields, which led towards the home-farm, she came to a
full stop, and fell to rubbing her nose against the rail,--an occupation
from which the parson, finding all civil remonstrances in vain, at
length diverted her by a timorous application of the whip.

This crisis on the road fairly passed, the pad seemed to comprehend that
she had a journey before her, and giving a petulant whisk of her tail,
quickened her amble into a short trot, which soon brought the parson
into the high road, and nearly opposite the Casino.

Here, sitting on the gate which led to his abode, and shaded by his
umbrella, he beheld Dr. Riccabocca.

The Italian lifted his eyes from the book he was reading, and stared
hard at the parson; and he--not venturing to withdraw his whole
attention from the pad (who, indeed, set up both her ears at the
apparition of Riccabocca, and evinced symptoms of that surprise and
superstitious repugnance at unknown objects which goes by the name of
"shying")--looked askance at Riccabocca.

"Don't stir, please," said the parson, "or I fear you'll alarm the
creature; it seems a nervous, timid thing;--soho, gently, gently."

And he fell to patting the mare with