“‘That’s to show he was a po-lice,’ said the fellow with a grin; ’and whin ye ride with ladies, ye must turn the decoy side.’

“The auspicious morning at last arrived; and strange to say that the first waking thought was of the unlucky day that ushered in my yachting excursion, four years before.  Why this was so, I cannot pretend to guess; there was but little analogy in the circumstances, at least so far as any thing had then gone.  ‘How is Marius?’ said I to my servant, as he opened my shutters.  Here let me mention that a friend of the Kildare-street club had suggested this name from the remarkably classic character of my steed’s countenance; his nose, he assured me, was perfectly Roman.

“’Marius is doing finely, sir, barring his cough, and the thrifle that ails his hind legs.’

“‘He’ll carry me quietly, Simon, eh?’

“‘Quietly.  I’ll warrant he’ll carry you quietly, if that’s all.’

“Here was comfort.  Certainly Simon had lived forty years as pantry boy with my mother, and knew a great deal about horses.  I dressed myself, therefore, in high spirits; and if my pilot jacket and oil-skin cap in former days had half persuaded me that I was born for marine achievements, certainly my cords and tops, that morning, went far to convince me that I must have once been a very keen sportsman somewhere, without knowing it.  It was a delightful July day that I set out to join my friends, who having recruited a large party, were to rendezvous at the corner of Stephen’s-green; thither I proceeded in a certain ambling trot, which I have often observed is a very favourite pace with timid horsemen, and gentlemen of the medical profession.  I was hailed with a most hearty welcome by a large party as I turned out of Grafton-street, among whom I perceived several friends of Miss Eversham, and some young dragoon officers, not of my acquaintance, but who appeared to know Fanny intimately, and were laughing heartily with her as I rode up.

“I don’t know if other men have experienced what I am about to mention or not; but certainly to me there is no more painful sensation than to find yourself among a number of well-mounted, well-equipped people, while the animal you yourself bestride seems only fit for the kennel.  Every look that is cast at your unlucky steed—­every whispered observation about you are so many thorns in your flesh, till at last you begin to feel that your appearance is for very little else than the amusement and mirth of the assembly; and every time you rise in your stirrups you excite a laugh.

“‘Where for mercy’s sake did you find that creature?’ said Fanny, surveying Marius through her glass.

“’Oh, him, eh?  Why he is a handsome horse, if in condition—­a charger your know—­that’s his style.’

“‘Indeed,’ lisped a young lancer, ’I should be devilish sorry to charge or be charged with him.’  And here they all chuckled at this puppy’s silly joke, and I drew up to repress further liberties.