ot that Linden's impatient and spirited steed could overtake
him. Hitherto Clarence had not honoured his new companion with more than
a rapid and slight glance; but rivalry, even in trifles, begets respect,
and our defeated hero now examined him with a more curious eye.

The stranger was between forty and fifty,--an age in which, generally,
very little of the boy has survived the advance of manhood; yet was
there a hearty and frank exhilaration in the manner and look of the
person we describe which is rarely found beyond the first stage of
youth. His features were comely and clearly cut, and his air and
appearance indicative of a man who might equally have belonged to the
middle or the upper orders. But Clarence's memory, as well as attention,
was employed in his survey of the stranger; and he recognized, in a
countenance on which time had passed very lightly, an old and ofttimes
recalled acquaintance. However, he did not immediately make himself
known. "I will first see," thought he, "whether he can remember his
young guest in the bronzed stranger after eight years' absence."

"Well," said Clarence, as he approached the owner of the palfrey, who
was laughing with childish glee at his conquest, "well, you have won,
sir; but the tortoise might beat the hare in walking, and I content
myself with thinking that at a trot or a gallop the result of a race
would have been very different."

"I am not so sure of that, sir," said the sturdy stranger, patting the
arched neck of his little favourite: "if you would like to try either, I
should have no objection to venture a trifling wager on the event."

"You are very good," said Clarence, with a smile in which urbanity was
a little mingled with contemptuous incredulity; "but I am not now at
leisure to win your money: I have a long day's journey before me, and
must not tire a faithful servant; yet I do candidly confess that I
think" (and Clarence's recollection of the person he addressed made him
introduce the quotation) "that my horse

'Excels a common one
In shape, in courage, colour, pace, and bone.'"

"Eh, sir," cried our stranger, as his eyes sparkled at the verses: "I
would own that your horse were worth all the horses in the kingdom,
if you brought Will Shakspeare to prove it. And I am also willing to
confess that your steed does fairly merit the splendid praise which
follows the lines you have quoted,--

'Round hoofed, short jointed, fetlocks shag and lon