, I believe you, my boy: his look's enough for some of em."

"I spoase he be dear?" (Another wink at Mrs. Bumpkin.)

"They're all dear," said Horatio; "some of em are dear because their fees
are high; and some of em would be dear at a gift, but I'm too young to
know much about it."

"Now hark at that," said Joe; "like that air old horse o' Morris'."

"Hold thee tongue, Joe, I tell ee, putten thy spoke in; does thee think
the Queen 'as old 'orses in her stable? It's merit, I tell ee--ain't it,
Mr. Jigger?"

"Merit, sir; I believe it's merit." And thus in pleasant conversation
the evening passed merrily away, until the clock striking nine warned the
company that it was time to retire.

A bright, brisk frosty morning succeeded, and a substantial breakfast of
bacon, eggs, fresh butter, and home-made bread, at seven o'clock,
somewhat astonished and delighted the youthful Horatio; and then the old
horse, with plenty of hair about his heels, was brought round with the
gig. And Mr. Bumpkin and his guest got up and took their seats. The old
Market Town was about seven miles off, and the road lay through the most
picturesque scenery of the county. To ride on such a pleasant morning
through such a country almost made one think that swearing affidavits was
the most pleasing occupation of life. It was the first time Horatio had
ever ridden in a gig: the horse went a good old market pace, and the
beautiful sunshine, lovely scenery, and crisp air produced in his
youthful bosom a peculiarly charming and delightful sense of
exhilaration. He praised the country and the weather and the horse, and
asked if it was what they called a thoroughbred.

"Chit!" said Bumpkin, "thoroughbred! So be I thoroughbred--did thee ever
see thoroughbred wi' 'air on his 'eels?'

"Well, he goes well," said Horatio.

"Gooes well enough for I," said Bumpkin.

This answer somewhat abashed Horatio, who was unlearned in horses; for
some time he remained silent. Then it became Mr. Bumpkin's turn to renew
the conversation:

"I spoase," said he, "thee be gwine to be a loryer?"

"Not if I know it," answered Horatio.

"Why not, then?"

"Don't care for it; I like the country."

"What wouldst thee like to be then, a farmer?"

"I should--that's the life for me!"

"Thee likes plenty o' fresh air?" said the farmer.

"Yes," answered Horatio, "and fresh butter and fresh eggs."

"I'll go to ---, if thee doen't know what's good for thee, anyhow.