you are quite a D'Artagnan!" said
Edith, who had just read the _Trois Mousquetaires_.

"Don't they pay you?" said Roper. "'Pon my honour that's too bad. If I
were you I'd memorialise the Horse Guards. By the way, M'Whirter, what
sort of a charger have you got?"

"Why, to say the truth," replied I, hesitatingly, "I am not furnished
with a horse as yet. I am just going to look out for one at some of the
livery stables."

"My dear friend," said Roper, with augmented interest, "I strongly
recommend you to do nothing of the kind. These fellows will, to a dead
certainty, sell you some sort of a brute that is either touched in the
wind or dead lame; and I can tell you it is no joke to be spilt in a
charge of cavalry."

I felt a sort of sickening sensation as I recalled the lines of
Schiller--

"Young Piccolomini, known by his plume
And his long hair, gave signal for the trenches;
Himself leapt first, the regiment all plunged after.
His charger, by a halbert gored, reared up,
Flung him with violence off, and over him
The horses, now no longer to be curbed"----

The fate of Max might be mine, and Edith might be left, a mournful
Thekla, to perform a moonlight pilgrimage to my grave in the solitary
churchyard of Portobello!

"Do you really think so, Roper?" said I.

"Think so! I know it," replied the dragoon. "Never while you live trust
yourself to the tender mercies of a livery stable. It's a wegular maxim
in the army. Pray, are you a good rider?"

"Pretty--fairish--tolerable. That is, I _can_ ride."

"Ah! I see--want of practice merely--eh?"

"Just so."

"Well, then, it's a lucky thing that I've seen you. I have just the sort
of animal you want--a wegular-bred horse, sound as a roach, quiet as a
lamb, and quite up to the cavalry movements. Masaniello will suit your
weight to an ounce, and you shall have him for seventy guineas."

"That's a very long price, Roper!"

"For Masaniello? I assure you he's as cheap as dirt. I would not sell
him for twice the sum: only, you see, we are limited in our number, and
my father insists upon my keeping other two which he bred himself. If
you like to enter Masaniello for the races, I'll insure your winning the
cup."

"Oh do, Mr M'Whirter, take Mr Roper's advice!" said Edith. "Masaniello
is such a pretty creature, and so quiet! And then, after the week is
over, you know you can come and ride with us."

"Won't you take sixty, Roper?"

"Not a