Accordingly, Mr. Leather had the horse saddled and accoutred as quietly as possible—­his warm clothing put over the saddle immediately, and everything kept as much in the usual course as possible, so that the noble animal’s temper might not be ruffled by unaccustomed trouble or unusual objects.  Leather having seen that the horse could not eject Mr. Sponge even in trousers, had little fear of his dislodging him in boots and breeches; still it was desirable to avoid all unseemly contention, and maintain the high character of the stud, by which means Leather felt that his own character and consequence would best be maintained.  Accordingly, he refrained from calling in the aid of any of the stable assistants, preferring for once to do a little work himself, especially when the rider was up to the trick, and not ‘a gent’ to be cajoled into ‘trying a horse.’  Mr. Sponge, punctual to his time, appeared at the stable, and after much patting, whistling, so—­so—­ing, my man, and general ingratiation, the redoubtable nag was led out of the stable into a well-littered straw-yard, where, though he might be gored by a bull if he fell, the ‘eyes of England’ at all events would not witness the floorer.  Horses, however, have wonderful memories and discrimination.  Though so differently attired to what he was on the occasion of his trial, the horse seemed to recognize Mr. Sponge, and independently of a few snorts as he was led out, and an indignant stamp or two of his foot as it was let down, after Mr. Sponge was mounted he took things very quietly.

‘Now,’ said Leather, in an undertone, patting the horse’s arched neck, ‘I’ll give you a hint; they’re a goin’ to run a drag to try what he’s made on, so be on the look-out.’

‘How do you know?’ asked Mr. Sponge, in surprise, drawing his reins as he spoke.

‘I know,’ replied Mr. Leather with a wink.

Just then the horse began to plunge, and paw, and give symptoms of uneasiness, and not wishing to fret or exhibit his weak points, Mr. Sponge gave him his head, and passing through the side-gate was presently in the street.  He didn’t exactly understand it, but having full confidence in his horsemanship, and believing the one he was on required nothing but riding, he was not afraid to take his chance.

Not being the man to put his candle under a bushel, Mr. Sponge took the principal streets on his way out of town.  We are not sure that he did not go rather out of his way to get them in, but that is neither here nor there, seeing he was a stranger who didn’t know the way.  What a sensation his appearance created as the gallant brown stepped proudly and freely up Coronation Street, showing his smart, clean, well-put-on head up and down on the unrestrained freedom of the snaffle.

‘Oh, d—­n it, there he is!’ exclaimed Mr. Spareneck, jumping up from the breakfast-table, and nearly sweeping the contents off by catching the cloth with his spur.