But he told Sedgwick where he was stopping in London, and it was agreed that on the return of the party to the great city they should see more of each other.  So Jordan returned to London, and the young people took the train for a little town on the coast, not far from Brighton, in Sussex.

They found the uncle and aunt of Rose.  A great welcome was given them, and four or five days were delightfully whiled away.

A regiment of English regulars was stationed there.  Our party made the acquaintance of the officers and their families, and one day a horseback ride into the country was proposed for the next morning.

It taxed the capacity of the place to supply the necessary animals, and one of the horses brought up, though a magnificent and powerful fellow, was but half broken at best, and he snorted and blowed, and reared and pawed, and took on a great deal.

The company were looking at him, and each selecting the horse that suited him best, when Miss Rose said:  “What a pity that Mr. Jordan did not come along!  He would have selected that wild horse.”

The colonel of the regiment, a portly man, and a little inclined to be pompous, in a peculiarly English tone said:  “Possibly, you know, our young American friend would like to mount him.”

Sedgwick affected not to notice the tone or the accent, and answered simply:  “I have ridden worse-looking horses.  If I had a Mexican saddle, or one of your military saddles, I believe I should like to ride him; but I am a little afraid of these things you call saddles.”

Strangely enough, the officer thought the objection to the saddle was meant merely as an excuse to avoid riding the horse, and so he spoke up quickly, saying:  “The gentleman shall be accommodated.  I always have an extra saddle with me; he shall have that,” and gave his servant directions to go and bring the saddle and bridle.  When they were brought, Sedgwick looked at them, said they would answer admirably, and throwing the trappings over his left arm, went up to the snorting horse, petted and soothed him, rubbed his nose, and talked low to him a moment; then slipped the bridle on, then gently pushed the saddle and trappings over his back; made all secure, and then, without assistance, mounted him talking softly to him all the time.

The horse made a few bounds, but quickly subsided.  They were enough, however, to show the onlookers that the man on the horse was sufficient for the task he had undertaken.  Riding back, Sedgwick dismounted, still talking low to the horse and patting his neck, for, as he explained, “The colt has a lovely, honest face and head; he is only timid, and does not yet quite understand what is wanted of him, or whether it will do for him to give us his entire confidence.”

The officer who had sent for the saddle had watched everything; so when Sedgwick dismounted he held out his hand and said, heartily:  “I beg your pardon, Mr. Sedgwick, I was mistaken in you.  You do more than ride.  When mounted, you and the horse together make a centaur.”