s to see if the collar and bridle fitted
comfortably as if he had been John Manly over again. When the crupper
was let out a hole or two it all fitted well. There was no check-rein,
no curb, nothing but a plain ring snaffle. What a blessing that was!

After driving through the side street we came to the large cab stand
where Jerry had said "Good-night". On one side of this wide street were
high houses with wonderful shop fronts, and on the other was an old
church and churchyard, surrounded by iron palisades. Alongside these
iron rails a number of cabs were drawn up, waiting for passengers; bits
of hay were lying about on the ground; some of the men were standing
together talking; some were sitting on their boxes reading the
newspaper; and one or two were feeding their horses with bits of hay,
and giving them a drink of water. We pulled up in the rank at the back
of the last cab. Two or three men came round and began to look at me and
pass their remarks.

"Very good for a funeral," said one.

"Too smart-looking," said another, shaking his head in a very wise way;
"you'll find out something wrong one of these fine mornings, or my name
isn't Jones."

"Well," said Jerry pleasantly, "I suppose I need not find it out till it
finds me out, eh? And if so, I'll keep up my spirits a little longer."

Then there came up a broad-faced man, dressed in a great gray coat
with great gray cape and great white buttons, a gray hat, and a blue
comforter loosely tied round his neck; his hair was gray, too; but
he was a jolly-looking fellow, and the other men made way for him.
He looked me all over, as if he had been going to buy me; and then
straightening himself up with a grunt, he said, "He's the right sort for
you, Jerry; I don't care what you gave for him, he'll be worth it." Thus
my character was established on the stand.

This man's name was Grant, but he was called "Gray Grant", or "Governor
Grant". He had been the longest on that stand of any of the men, and
he took it upon himself to settle matters and stop disputes. He was
generally a good-humored, sensible man; but if his temper was a little
out, as it was sometimes when he had drunk too much, nobody liked to
come too near his fist, for he could deal a very heavy blow.

The first week of my life as a cab horse was very trying. I had never
been used to London, and the noise, the hurry, the crowds of horses,
carts, and carriages that I had to make my way through made me feel