. As a specimen of his ingenuity in horse-dealing,
I'll give you an anecdote.--It is not long since that the parson invited
a party of bucks to dinner, at his snug little villa on the banks of the
Thames, near Richmond, in Surrey. Previous to the repast, the reverend
~207~~ led his visitors forth to admire the gardens and surrounding
scenery, when just at the moment they had reached the outer gate, a fine
noble-looking horse was driven past in a tilbury by a servant in a
smart livery.--'What a magnificent animal!' said the parson; 'the finest
action I ever beheld in my life: there's a horse to make a man's fortune
in the park, and excite the envy and notice of all the town.' 'Who does
he belong to?' said a young baronet of the party, who had just come out.
'I'll inquire,' said the parson: 'the very thing for you, Sir John.'
Away posts the reverend, bawling after the servant, 'Will your master
sell that horse, my man?' 'I can't say, sir,' said the fellow, 'but I
can inquire, and let you know.' 'Do, my lad, and tell him a gentleman
here will give a handsome price for him.' Away trots the servant, and
the party proceed to dinner. As soon as the dessert is brought in, and
the third glass circulated, the conversation is renewed relative to the
horse--the whole party agree in extolling his qualities; when, just in
the nick of time, the servant arrives to say his master being aged
and infirm, the animal is somewhat too spirited for him, and if the
gentleman likes, he may have him for one hundred guineas. 'A mere
trifle,' vociferates the company. 'Cheap as Rivington's second-hand
sermons,' said the parson. The baronet writes a check for the money, and
generously gives the groom a guinea for his trouble--drives home in high
glee--and sends his servant down next morning to the parson's for his
new purchase--orders the horse to be put into his splendid new tilbury,
built under the direction of Sir John Lade--just reaches Grosvenor-gate
from Hamilton-place in safety, when the horse shows symptoms of being a
miller. Baronet, nothing daunted, touches him smartly under the flank,
when up he goes on his fore-quarters, smashes the tilbury into ten
thousand pieces, bolts away with the traces and shafts, and leaves
the baronet with a broken head ~208~~ on one side of the road, and his
servant with a broken arm on the other. 'Where the devil did you get
that quiet one from, Sir John!' said the Honourable Fitzroy St-----e,
whom the accident h