would have wanted to serve me in the same manner had they considered me a down pin; so I rescued him from their hands, told him not to be afraid, for that nobody should touch him, and offered to treat him to some cold gin and water with a lump of sugar in it; and on his refusing, told him that he had better make himself scarce, which he did, and I hope I shall never see him again.  So I suppose you are come for the horse; mercy upon us! who would have thought you would have become the purchaser?  The horse, however, seemed to know it by his neighing.  How did you ever come by the money? however, that’s no matter of mine.  I suppose you are strongly backed by certain friends you have.”

I informed the landlord that he was right in supposing that I came for the horse, but that, before I paid for him, I should wish to prove his capabilities.  “With all my heart,” said the landlord.  “You shall mount him this moment.”  Then going into the stable, he saddled and bridled the horse, and presently brought him out before the door.  I mounted him, Mr. Petulengro putting a heavy whip into my hand, and saying a few words to me in his own mysterious language.  “The horse wants no whip,” said the landlord.  “Hold your tongue, daddy,” said Mr. Petulengro.  “My pal knows quite well what to do with the whip, he’s not going to beat the horse with it.”  About four hundred yards from the house there was a hill, to the foot of which the road ran almost on a perfect level; towards the foot of this hill I trotted the horse, who set off at a long, swift pace, seemingly at the rate of about sixteen miles an hour.  On reaching the foot of the hill, I wheeled the animal round, and trotted him towards the house—­the horse sped faster than before.  Ere he had advanced a hundred yards, I took off my hat, in obedience to the advice which Mr. Petulengro had given me, in his own language, and holding it over the horse’s head commenced drumming on the crown with the knob of the whip; the horse gave a slight start, but instantly recovering himself, continued his trot till he arrived at the door of the public-house, amidst the acclamations of the company, who had all rushed out of the house to be spectators of what was going on.  “I see now what you wanted the whip for,” said the landlord, “and sure enough, that drumming on your hat was no bad way of learning whether the horse was quiet or not.  Well, did you ever see a more quiet horse, or a better trotter?” “My cob shall trot against him,” said a fellow, dressed in velveteen, mounted on a low powerful-looking animal.  “My cob shall trot against him to the hill and back again—­come on!” We both started; the cob kept up gallantly against the horse for about half way to the hill, when he began to lose ground; at the foot of the hill he was about fifteen yards behind.  Whereupon I turned slowly and waited for him.  We then set off towards the house, but now the cob had no chance, being at least twenty yards behind when I reached the door.  This running of the horse, the wild uncouth forms around me, and the ale and beer which were being guzzled from pots and flagons, put me wonderfully in mind of the ancient horse-races of the heathen north.  I almost imagined myself Gunnar of Hlitharend at the race of —