t themselves.' 'I wish you would let me speak a word to
you,' said he. 'Just come aside. It's a nice horse,' said he in a half-
whisper, after I had ridden a few paces aside with him. 'It's a nice
horse,' said he, placing his hand upon the pommel of the saddle, and
looking up in my face, 'and I think I can find you a customer. If you
would take a hundred, I think my lord would purchase it, for he has sent
me about the fair to look him up a horse, by which he could hope to make
an honest penny.' 'Well,' said I, 'and could he not make an honest
penny, and yet give me the price I ask?' 'Why,' said the go-between, 'a
hundred and fifty pounds is as much as the animal is worth, or nearly so;
and my lord, do you see--' 'I see no reason at all,' said I, 'why I
should sell the animal for less than he is worth, in order that his
lordship may be benefited by him; so that if his lordship wants to make
an honest penny, he must find some person who would consider the
disadvantage of selling him a horse for less than it is worth as
counterbalanced by the honour of dealing with a lord, which I should
never do; but I can't be wasting my time here. I am going back to the ---
, where, if you, or any person, are desirous of purchasing the horse, you
must come within the next half-hour, or I shall probably not feel
disposed to sell him at all.' 'Another word, young man,' said the
jockey, but without staying to hear what he had to say, I put the horse
to his best trot, and re-entering the town, and threading my way as well
as I could through the press, I returned to the yard of the inn, where,
dismounting, I stood still, holding the horse by the bridle.

* * * * *

I did not like reviewing at all--it was not to my taste; it was not in my
way; I liked it far less than translating the publisher's philosophy, for
that was something in the line of one whom a competent judge had surnamed
'Lavengro.' I never could understand why reviews were instituted; works
of merit do not require to be reviewed, they can speak for themselves,
and require no praising; works of no merit at all will die of themselves,
they require no killing.

* * * * *

A lad, who twenty tongues can talk,
And sixty miles a day can walk;
Drink at a draught a pint of rum,
And then be neither sick nor dumb;
Can tune a song, and make a verse,
And deeds of northern kings rehearse;
Who never will forsake his friend,
While he his bony fist can bend;
And, though averse