better than mere word-culling; and if I have accomplished anything in after life worthy of mentioning, I believe it may partly be attributed to the ideas which that ride, by setting my blood in a glow, infused into my brain.  I might, otherwise, have become a mere philologist; one of those beings who toil night and day in culling useless words for some opus magnum which Murray will never publish, and nobody ever read; beings without enthusiasm, who, having never mounted a generous steed, cannot detect a good point in Pegasus himself; like a certain philologist, who, though acquainted with the exact value of every word in the Greek and Latin languages, could observe no particular beauty in one of the most glorious of Homer’s rhapsodies.  What knew he of Pegasus? he had never mounted a generous steed; the merest jockey, had the strain been interpreted to him, would have called it a brave song!—­I return to the brave cob.

On a certain day I had been out on an excursion.  In a cross-road, at some distance from the Satanic hill, the animal which I rode cast a shoe.  By good luck a small village was at hand, at the entrance of which was a large shed, from which proceeded a most furious noise of hammering.  Leading the cob by the bridle, I entered boldly.  ’Shoe this horse, and do it quickly, a gough,’ said I to a wild grimy figure of a man, whom I found alone, fashioning a piece of iron.

‘Arrigod yuit?’ said the fellow, desisting from his work, and staring at me.

‘Oh yes, I have money,’ said I, ‘and of the best’; and I pulled out an English shilling.

‘Tabhair chugam?’ said the smith, stretching out his grimy hand.

‘No, I shan’t,’ said I; ’some people are glad to get their money when their work is done.’

The fellow hammered a little longer, and then proceeded to shoe the cob, after having first surveyed it with attention.  He performed his job rather roughly, and more than once appeared to give the animal unnecessary pain, frequently making use of loud and boisterous words.  By the time the work was done, the creature was in a state of high excitement, and plunged and tore.  The smith stood at a short distance, seeming to enjoy the irritation of the animal, and showing, in a remarkable manner, a huge fang, which projected from the under jaw of a very wry mouth.

‘You deserve better handling,’ said I, as I went up to the cob and fondled it; whereupon it whinnied, and attempted to touch my face with its nose.

{picture:’Arrigod yuit?’ said the fellow, desisting from his work, and staring at me:  page94.jpg}

‘Are ye not afraid of that beast?’ said the smith, showing his fang.  ‘Arrah, it’s vicious that he looks!’

‘It’s at you, then!—­I don’t fear him’; and thereupon I passed under the horse, between its hind legs.

‘And is that all you can do, agrah?’ said the smith.

‘No,’ said I, ‘I can ride him.’