"John, I want to talk to
you about Kate. The girl's wild after horses and hounds and all such
unfeminine pursuits. I wonder you like to see it yourself, my dear.
Now, don't you think it would be far better to encourage her in
domestic tastes and amusements? I give you my word, she hasn't done a
bit of worsted-work for a fortnight."

John's face must have been good at this piece of intelligence; if
there is one thing he hates more than another it is "cross-stitch."
But he replied with exemplary gravity that "Cousin Kate never was
strong, you know, aunt, and she is ordered to be a good deal in the
open air, with plenty of horse exercise; and this is delightful
weather for riding."

"Well, John," says Aunt Deborah, "of course, if you don't mind it, I
needn't; you'll be the sufferer, my dear, not I" (I wonder what she
meant by that?); "and I must let her go if you choose to take her,
John. How like your father you're growing, my handsome boy!" and Aunt
Deborah kissed Cousin John on the forehead, with tears in her eyes;
and they called to me to get ready, and the horses came round, and in
less than ten minutes we were up and away.

It was very gratifying to overhear the complimentary remarks made upon
the general appearance of White Stockings, whom I had ridden down to
save Brilliant, and who, despite his ugliness, is a very
hunting-looking horse.

"Looks a game 'un, don't he, squire?" remarked a jolly-looking Surrey
farmer in top-boots to a dilapidated friend in a white neckcloth.
"Shouldn't wonder if he couldn't kick the dirt in some of their faces,
with that tight lass to keep his head straight." The friend was a
melancholy man, and nodded his silent affirmative with a sigh. I
think, early as it was, they had both been drinking.

"Look at that chestnut horse!" exclaimed a good-looking boy of some
twenty summers, who had coached his own drag down, like a second
Phaethon, only as yet with better luck, and was now smoking a huge
cigar on its roof. "Isn't he the image of old Paleface? Who's the
woman, eh? Does nobody know her? I'll ask her to come and sit up here.
She looks like a lady, too," he added, checking himself. "Never mind,
here goes!" And he was jumping off the coach, to tender me, I presume,
his polite invitation in person, when his arm was caught by the man
next him, who was no other than John's friend, Captain Lovell.

"Charley, stop!" exclaimed Frank, flushing all over his handsome face
and temples. "I k