then.”  “Have you any relations?” said the landlord, looking at me compassionately; “excuse me, but I don’t think you are exactly fit to take care of yourself.”  “There you are mistaken,” said I, “I can take precious good care of myself; ay, and can drive a precious hard bargain when I have occasion, but driving bargains is a widely different thing from receiving gifts.  I am going to take my horse to Horncastle, and when there I shall endeavour to obtain his full value—­ay to the last penny.”

“Horncastle!” said the landlord, “I have heard of that place; you mustn’t be dreaming visions when you get there, or they’ll steal the horse from under you.  Well,” said he, rising, “I shall not press you further on the subject of the cheque.  I intend, however, to put you under an obligation to me.”  He then rang the bell, and having ordered two fresh glasses to be brought, he went out and presently returned with a small pint bottle, which he uncorked with his own hand; then sitting down, he said, “The wine that I bring here, is port of eighteen hundred and eleven, the year of the comet, the best vintage on record; the wine which we have been drinking,” he added, “is good, but not to be compared with this, which I never sell, and which I am chary of.  When you have drunk some of it, I think you will own that I have conferred an obligation upon you;” he then filled the glasses, the wine which he poured out diffusing an aroma through the room; then motioning me to drink, he raised his own glass to his lips, saying, “Come, friend, I drink to your success at Horncastle.”

CHAPTER XXX

Triumphal Departure—­No Season like Youth—­Extreme Old Age—­ Beautiful England—­The Ratcatcher—­A Misadventure.

I departed from the inn much in the same fashion as I had come to it, mounted on a splendid horse indifferently well caparisoned, with the small valise attached to my crupper, in which, besides the few things I had brought with me, was a small book of roads with a map which had been presented to me by the landlord.  I must not forget to state that I did not ride out of the yard, but that my horse was brought to me at the front door by old Bill, who insisted upon doing so, and who refused a five-shilling piece which I offered him; and it will be as well to let the reader know that the landlord shook me by the hand as I mounted, and that the people attached to the inn, male and female—­my friend the postillion at the head—­assembled before the house to see me off, and gave me three cheers as I rode away.  Perhaps no person ever departed from an inn with more eclat or better wishes; nobody looked at me askance, except two stage-coachmen who were loitering about, one of whom said to his companion, “I say, Jim! twig his portmanteau! a regular Newmarket turn-out, by—!”