ng a black horse with one white stocking
yesterday, Oaklands?" inquired a young man with a round jovial
countenance, which might have been reckoned handsome but for the extreme
redness of the complexion, and the loss of a front tooth, occasioned by
a fall received in the hunting field, whose name was Richard, or, as he
was more commonly termed, Dick Curtis.

"Yes," replied Oaklands, "I daresay you did; I was trying him."

"Ah! I fancied he was not one of your own." "No; he belongs to Tom
Barret, who wants me to buy him; but I don't think he's strong enough to
carry my weight; there's not substance enough about him; I ride nearly
eleven stone."

"Oh! he'll never do for you," exclaimed Lawless. "I know the horse well;
they call him Blacksmith, because the man who bred him was named Smith;
he lives down in Lincolnshire, and breeds lots of horses; but they are
none of them, at least none that I have seen, what I call the right
sort; don't you buy him,--he's got too much daylight under him to suit
you."

"Too long in the pasterns to carry weight," urged Curtis.

"Rather inclined to be cow-hocked," chimed in Lawless.

"Not ribbed home," remarked Curtis.

"Too narrow across the loins," observed Lawless.

"He'll never carry flesh," continued Curtis.

"It's useless to think of his jumping; he'll never make a hunter," said
Lawless.

"Only hear them," interrupted a tall, fashionable-looking young man,
with a high forehead and a profusion of light, curling hair; "now
those two fellows are once off, it's all up with anything like rational
conversation for the rest of the evening."

"That's right, Archer, put the curb on 'em; we might as well be in
Tattersall's yard at once," observed another of the company, addressing
the last speaker.

"I fear it's beyond my power," replied Archer; "they've got such
an incurable trick of talking equine scandal, and taking away the
characters of their ~165~~neighbours' horses, that nobody can stop them
unless it is Stephen Wilford."

The mention of this name seemed to have the effect of rendering every
one grave, and a pause ensued, during which Oaklands and I exchanged
glances. At length the silence was broken by Curtis, who said:--

"By the way, what's become of Wilford? I expected to meet him here
to-night."

"He was engaged to dine with Wentworth," said Lawless; "but he promised
to look in upon us in the course of the evening; I thought he would have
been here before this."