I had soon more horses offered to me for trial, every old screw within twenty miles being brought to me for inspection.  The next animal I harnessed belonged to Andrew Jackson, and was brought by Andrew Jackson, junior, who said his father could let me have it for a month on trial.  Jackson, junior, was anxious to go away without the horse, but I told him to wait a bit while I put on the harness.  The animal was of a mouse colour, very tall, something like a giraffe; and by the time I got him between the shafts, I could see that he was possessed by a devil of some kind.  It might be a winged one who would fly away with me; so, in order to have a clear course, I led him through the gateway into the middle of the road, and while Jackson, junior, held his head, I mounted carefully into the trap.  I held the lines ready for a start, and after some hesitation the giraffe did start, but he went tail foremost.  I tried to reverse the engine, but it would only work in one direction.  He backed me into the ditch, and then across it on to the side path, then against the fence, bucking at it, and trying to go through and put me in the Tarra.  I told Andrew, junior, to take the giraffe home to his parent, and relate what he had seen.

My next horse was a black one from Sale, and he also was possessed of a devil, but one of a different species.  He was named Gilpin, and the very name ought to have been a warning to me if I had had sense enough to profit by it.  Just as I sat down, and took the reins, and was going to observe what he would do, he suddenly went away at full gallop.  I tried to pull him in, but he put his chin against his chest, and the harder I pulled the faster he flew.  The road was full of ruts, and I was bumped up and down very badly.  My hat went away, but, for the present, my head kept its place.  I managed to steer safely as far as the bridge across the Tarra but, in going over it, the horse’s hoofs and whirling wheels sounded like thunder, and brought out the whole population of Tarraville to look at me.  It was on a Sunday afternoon; some good people were singing hymns in the local chapel, and as I passed the turn of the road, they left the anxious benches, came outside in a body, and gazed at me, a bare-headed and miserable Sabbath-breaker going swiftly to perdition.  I also was on a very anxious bench.  But now there was a long stretch of good road before me, and I made good use of it.  Instead of pulling the horse in, I let him go, and encouraged him with the whip to go faster, being determined to let him gallop until either he or the sun went down.  Then the despicable wretch slackened his pace, and wanted to come to terms.  So I wheeled him round and whipped him without mercy, making him gallop all the way home again.  I did not buy him.