r arm." "The motion of
my nonsense," said the jockey, and, making a dreadful grimace, the
shilling hopped upon his knee, and began to run up his thigh and to climb
his breast. "How is that done?" said he again. "By witchcraft, I
suppose," said I. "There you are right," said the jockey; "by the
witchcraft of one of Miss Berners' hairs; the end of one of her long
hairs is tied to that shilling by means of a hole in it, and the other
end goes round my neck by means of a loop; so that, when I draw back my
head, the shilling follows it. I suppose you wish to know how I got the
hair," said he, grinning at me. "I will tell you. I once, in the course
of my ridings, saw Miss Berners beneath a hedge, combing out her long
hair, and, being rather a modest kind of person, what must I do but get
off my horse, tie him to a gate, go up to her, and endeavour to enter
into conversation with her. After giving her the sele of the day, and
complimenting her on her hair, I asked her to give me one of the threads;
whereupon she gave me such a look, and, calling me fellow, told me to
take myself off. 'I must have a hair first,' said I, making a snatch at
one. I believe I hurt her; but, whether I did or not, 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 r