ached the open, and coming to
another gate, he extended his arms on it, after the manner of a
squire, and said,--

"There, there's _Naples_. Isn't she lovely?"

"Where?" I asked.

"There; and a prettier mare you never saw. Look at her!"

"She's a beauty--a real beauty!" I exclaimed.

He breathed rather short, and I felt easy. His manner, especially the
distending of his cheeks, showed me that he was about to bring forth
something--a pun of some sort.

"Do you know," he asked, with another turn of his eyes, "_why_ I call
her _Naples_?"

"No, I haven't the faintest idea. Naples? no."

"Well," he said, "I've puzzled a good many. I may say nobody has ever
guessed it. I call that mare _Naples_ because she's such a beautiful
_bay_."

I was glad I was not sitting on the gate, for I might have fallen
and broken my neck. As I felt his eyes staring at me I preserved a
dignified composure, and had the satisfaction of hearing him mutter
again, "Damn!"

"This is our way," said he.

I have no doubt he thought me the dullest fool he ever came near.

Our adventures were not ended. We went on over meadow and stile until
we came to "The Park," a tract of land of great beauty and with trees
of superb growth. He was sullen and moody, like one whose nerves had
failed him when a covey rose.

I saw it coming--his last expiring effort. In the distance was a
beautiful black mare, such as might have carried Dick Turpin from
London to York. He was watching to see if I observed her, but I did
not.

"Look," he said, in his most coaxing manner, "don't you see that mare
yonder--down there by the spinny?"

"What," I said, "on the left?"

"Down there! There--no, a little to the right. Look! There she is."

"Oh, to be sure, a pretty animal."

"Pretty! Why, there's no better bred animal in the kingdom. She's by
---- out of ----."

"She ought to win the Oaks."

"Come, now, _isn't_ she superb?"

"A glory. A novelist would call her a _dream_."

"Ah, I thought you would say so. You know what a horse is."

"When I _see_ one," I said. "I thought you said this was a mare."

This is what the Squire thought,--

"Well, of all the dull devils I ever met, you are the most utterly
unappreciative!"

He was at his wits' end, although you must be clever if you can
perceive the wits' end of a punster.

"That's _Morning Star_," said he. "Now do you know _why_ I call her
_Morning Star_?"

I answered truthfully I did not.

"Why," he