us has improved; it is
not long since you seemed to hold us in rather a suspicious light."

"And no wonder," said the man, "seeing the place you were taking me to. I
was not a little, but very much afraid of ye both; and so I continued for
some time, though, not to show a craven heart, I pretended to be quite
satisfied; but I see I was altogether mistaken about ye. I thought you
vagrant Gypsy folks and trampers; but now--"

"Vagrant Gypsy folks and trampers," said I; "and what are we but people
of that stamp?"

"Oh," said the postillion, "if you wish to be thought such, I am far too
civil a person to contradict you, especially after your kindness to me,
but--"

"But!" said I; "what do you mean by but? I would have you to know that I
am proud of being a travelling blacksmith: look at these donkey-shoes, I
finished them this day."

The postillion took the shoes and examined them. "So you made these
shoes?" he cried at last.

"To be sure I did; do you doubt it?"

"Not in the least," said the man.

"Ah! ah!" said I, "I thought I should bring you back to your original
opinion. I am, then, a vagrant Gypsy body, a tramper, a wandering
blacksmith."

"Not a blacksmith, whatever else you may be," said the postillion
laughing.

"Then how do you account for my making those shoes?"

"By your not being a blacksmith," said the postillion; "no blacksmith
would have made shoes in that manner. Besides, what did you mean just
now by saying you had finished these shoes to-day? a real blacksmith
would have flung off three or four sets of donkey shoes in one morning,
but you, I will be sworn, have been hammering at these for days, and they
do you credit, but why? because you are no blacksmith; no, friend, your
shoes may do for this young gentlewoman's animal, but I shouldn't like to
have my horses shod by you, unless at a great pinch indeed."

"Then," said I, "for what do you take me?"

"Why, for some runaway young gentleman," said the postillion. "No
offence, I hope?"

"None at all; no one is offended at being taken or mistaken for a young
gentleman, whether runaway or not; but from whence do you suppose I have
run away?"

"Why, from college," said the man: "no offence?"

"None whatever; and what induced me to run away from college?"

"A love affair, I'll be sworn," said the postillion. "You had become
acquainted with this young gentlewoman, so she and you--"

"Mind how you get on, friend," said Belle, in a d