“You value it for the quaintness and singularity of its form,” said I; “it appears to be less adapted for real use than our own pottery.”

“I care little about its form,” said the old man; “I care for it simply on account of—­however, why talk to you on the subject which can have no possible interest to you?  I expect the surgeon here presently.”

“I do not like that surgeon at all,” said I; “how strangely he behaved last night, coming back, when I was just falling asleep, to ask me if I would sell my horse.”

The old man smiled.  “He has but one failing,” said he, “an itch for horse-dealing; but for that he might be a much richer man than he is; he is continually buying and exchanging horses, and generally finds himself a loser by his bargains:  but he is a worthy creature, and skilful in his profession—­it is well for you that you are under his care.”

The old man then left me, and in about an hour returned with the surgeon, who examined me and reported favourably as to my case.  He spoke to me with kindness and feeling, and did not introduce the subject of the horse.  I asked him whether he thought I should be in time for the fair.  “I saw some people making their way thither to-day,” said he; “the fair lasts three weeks, and it has just commenced.  Yes, I think I may promise you that you will be in time for the very heat of it.  In a few days you will be able to mount your saddle with your arm in a sling, but you must by no means appear with your arm in a sling at Horncastle, as people would think that your horse had flung you, and that you wanted to dispose of him because he was a vicious brute.  You must, by all means, drop the sling before you get to Horncastle.”

For three days I kept my apartment by the advice of the surgeon.  I passed my time as I best could.  Stretched on my bed, I either abandoned myself to reflection, or listened to the voices of the birds in the neighbouring garden.  Sometimes, as I lay awake at night, I would endeavour to catch the tick of a clock, which methought sounded from some distant part of the house.

The old man visited me twice or thrice every day to inquire into my state.  His words were few on these occasions, and he did not stay long.  Yet his voice and his words were kind.  What surprised me most in connection with this individual was, the delicacy of conduct which he exhibited in not letting a word proceed from his lips which could testify curiosity respecting who I was, or whence I came.  All he knew of me was, that I had been flung from my horse on my way to a fair for the purpose of disposing of the animal; and that I was now his guest.  I might be a common horse-dealer for what he knew, yet I was treated by him with all the attention which I could have expected, had I been an alderman of Boston’s heir, and known to him as such.  The county in which I am now, thought I at last, must be either extraordinarily devoted to hospitality, or this old