me to try. Th' bloody devil took th' shirt off Teddy's back
this morn. I adwises th' young Buckskin t' order 's coffin." Just
then he perceived me, and touched his cap, something abashed. "With
submission, sir, y'r honour'll take an old man's adwise an' not go near
'im."

Pollux's appearance, indeed, was not calculated to reassure me. He
looked ugly to exaggeration, his ears laid back and his nostrils as big
as crowns, and his teeth bared time and time. Now and anon an impatient
fling of his hoof would make the grooms start away from him. Since
coming to the inn he had been walked a couple of miles each day, with
two men with loaded whips to control him. I was being offered a deal
of counsel, when big Mr. Astley came in from Lambeth, and silenced them
all.

"These grooms, Mr. Carvel," he said to me, as we took a bottle in
private inside, "these grooms are the very devil for superstition. And
once a horse gets a bad name with them, good-by to him. Miller knew
how to ride, of course, but like many another of them, was too damned
over-confident. I warned him more than once for getting young horses
into a fret, and I'm willing to lay a ten-pound note that he angered
Pollux. 'Od's life! He is a vicious beast. So was his father, Culloden,
before him. But here's luck to you, sir!" says Mr. Astley, tipping
his glass; "having seen you ride, egad! I have put all the money I can
afford in your favour."

Before I left him he had given me several valuable hints as to the
manner of managing that kind of a horse: not to auger him with the spurs
unless it became plain that he meant to kill me; to try persuasion
first and force afterwards; and secondly, he taught me a little trick of
twisting the bit which I have since found very useful.

Leaving the White Horse, I was followed into Piccadilly by the crowd,
until I was forced to take refuge in a hackney chaise. The noise of the
affair had got around town, and I was heartily sorry I had not taken the
other and better method of trying conclusions with the duke, and slapped
his face. I found Jack Comyn in Dover Street, and presently Mr. Fox came
for us with his chestnuts in his chaise, Fitzpatrick with him. At Hyde
Park Corner there was quite a jam of coaches, chaises, and cabriolets
and beribboned phaetons, which made way for us, but kept us busy bowing
as we passed among them. It seemed as if everybody of consequence that
I had met in London was gathered there. One face I missed, and