they knew me to be.  What could they mean by such conduct—­did they wish to cheat me of the animal?  “Well, well,” said I, “if they did, what matters, they found their match; yes, yes,” said I, “but I am in their power, perhaps”—­but I instantly dismissed the apprehension which came into my mind, with a pooh, nonsense!  In a little time, however, a far more foolish and chimerical idea began to disturb me—­the idea of being flung from my horse; was I not disgraced for ever as a horseman by being flung from my horse?  Assuredly, I thought; and the idea of being disgraced as a horseman, operating on my nervous system, caused me very acute misery.  “After all,” said I to myself, “it was perhaps the contemptible opinion which the surgeon must have formed of my equestrian powers, which induced him to offer to take my horse off my hands; he perhaps thought I was unable to manage a horse, and therefore in pity returned in the dead of night to offer to purchase the animal which had flung me;” and then the thought that the surgeon had conceived a contemptible opinion of my equestrian powers, caused me the acutest misery, and continued tormenting me until some other idea (I have forgot what it was, but doubtless equally foolish) took possession of my mind.  At length, brought on by the agitation of my spirits, there came over me the same feeling of horror that I had experienced of old when I was a boy, and likewise of late within the dingle; it was, however, not so violent as it had been on those occasions, and I struggled manfully against it, until by degrees it passed away, and then I fell asleep; and in my sleep I had an ugly dream.  I dreamt that I had died of the injuries I had received from my fall, and that no sooner had my soul departed from my body than it entered that of a quadruped, even my own horse in the stable—­in a word, I was, to all intents and purposes, my own steed; and as I stood in the stable chewing hay (and I remember that the hay was exceedingly tough), the door opened, and the surgeon who had attended me came in.  “My good animal,” said he, “as your late master has scarcely left enough to pay for the expenses of his funeral, and nothing to remunerate me for my trouble, I shall make bold to take possession of you.  If your paces are good, I shall keep you for my own riding; if not, I shall take you to Horncastle, your original destination.”  He then bridled and saddled me, and, leading me out, mounted, and then trotted me up and down before the house, at the door of which the old man, who now appeared to be dressed in regular jockey fashion, was standing.  “I like his paces well,” said the surgeon; “I think I shall take him for my own use.”  “And what am I to have for all the trouble his master caused me?” said my late entertainer, on whose countenance I now observed, for the first time, a diabolical squint.  “The consciousness of having done your duty to a fellow-creature in succouring him in a time of distress, must be your reward,”