up she started, and, though her hair was unbound, gave me the only drubbing I ever had in my life.  Lor! how, with her right hand, she fibbed me whilst she held me round the neck with her left arm; I was soon glad to beg her pardon on my knees, which she gave me in a moment, when she saw me in that condition, being the most placable creature in the world, and not only her pardon, but one of the hairs which I longed for, which I put through a shilling, with which I have on evenings after fairs, like this, frequently worked what seemed to those who looked on downright witchcraft, but which is nothing more than pleasant deception.  And now, Mr. Romany Rye, to testify my regard for you, I give you the shilling and the hair.  I think you have a kind of respect for Miss Berners; but whether you have or not, keep them as long as you can, and whenever you look at them think of the finest woman in England, and of John Dale, the jockey of Horncastle.  I believe I have told you my history,” said he—­“no, not quite; there is one circumstance I had passed over.  I told you that I have thriven very well in business, and so I have, upon the whole; at any rate, I find myself comfortably off now.  I have horses, money, and owe nobody a groat; at any rate, nothing but what I could pay to-morrow.  Yet I have had my dreary day, ay, after I had obtained what I call a station in the world.  All of a sudden, about five years ago, everything seemed to go wrong with me—­horses became sick or died, people who owed me money broke or ran away, my house caught fire, in fact, everything went against me; and not from any mismanagement of my own.  I looked round for help, but—­what do you think?—­nobody would help me.  Somehow or other it had got abroad that I was in difficulties, and everybody seemed disposed to avoid me, as if I had got the plague.  Those who were always offering me help when I wanted none, now, when they thought me in trouble, talked of arresting me.  Yes; two particular friends of mine, who had always been offering me their purses when my own was stuffed full, now talked of arresting me, though I only owed the scoundrels a hundred pounds each; and they would have done so, provided I had not paid them what I owed them; and how did I do that?  Why, I was able to do it because I found a friend—­and who was that friend?  Why, a man who has since been hung, of whom everybody has heard, and of whom everybody for the next hundred years will occasionally talk.

“One day, whilst in trouble, I was visited by a person I had occasionally met at sporting-dinners.  He came to look after a Suffolk Punch, the best horse, by the bye, that anybody can purchase to drive, it being the only animal of the horse kind in England that will pull twice at a dead weight.  I told him that I had none at that time that I could recommend; in fact, that every horse in my stable was sick.  He then invited me to dine with him at an inn close by, and I was glad to go with him, in the hope of