last. They are all good, but we linger
over Aristophanes as he walks back, only all the
better for his breathing, and we close at once
with the invitation to see him in his box.

That bevy of bays and greys yonder are the
lambkins we first met with; and the handsome
aged horse, even with so much substance about
him, is still good enough to win Royal Plates,
though the laird does talk of riding him in
the Park.

But Mr. Shepherd thinks we had better stroll
on to the house, that Thistley Grove which
looked so comfortable in the distance, and where
a biscuit and a glass of the Barnoldby sherry
await us. The rooks in the long elm avenues
are busy in their preparations for a welcome to
the little strangers. The famous dowagers of high
descent, and worth at least a thousand pounds
each, are looking to maternal cares of their
own, as they group themselves under the grand
old trunks, or walk off, in some disdain that
their dishevelled beauties should be made a
mark for the sight-seeing stranger. There are
yearlings, already of fabulous prices; an
interesting invalid, Sweet Blossom, with a refined
melancholy about her that is quite catching;
and the prettiest horse in England, who has had
the terrible misfortune to " hit his leg," and is in
physic as a consequence. That massive door-
Belle is a daughter of the rare old Grantley
hound, and this short-horn heifer has a
pedigree as long as that of Aristophanes himself,
whose toilet by this time must surely be
completed. He has been brushed and whisped
until his brownish hard-coloured coat shines
again; his large flat legs are duly washed and
bandaged; his nostrils spunged out; his long
thin mane neatly combed and arranged. He is
just set fair, with the hood finally thrown
over his quarter-piece, when (to his manifest
disgust) we are ushered into his box.

No one likes to be interfered with at dinner-
time, and " Harry" strikes out rather angrily
with his near fore-leg when his valet proceeds
once more to strip him. That eye is full of
character as he turns it upon you, but the long
)ean head is not so handsome as it is expressive;
how finely it is set on to his thin somewhat
straight neck, and how beautifully that again, fits
into his magnificent sloping shoulders! There is
breadth and freedom of play, supported by long
powerful arms, and short wiry legs, heavier in
the bone than any hairy-heeled John Jolly that
ever drew a drayman. Come a little more
forward, and glance over that strong muscular
back, those drooping quarters, and big clean
hocks; and then say if the thorough-bred horse,
in high condition, be not a very hero of strength
and swiftness! He would gallop the far-
famed Arabian of the desert, to death, and you
would be but as an infant with him. He would
rush off with you in his first canter, docile and
sluggish as he was at exercise; with one lash
out of that handsome haunch, he would send you
far over his head, or "order" you out of his box
in an instant. Somewhat grim is the humour
of Aristophanes, and, as we hear as plainly as
he does, the rattle of his dinner-service,
suppose we wish him good morning, and assure Mr.
Shepherd confidentially when once more in the
open air, that he is the very finest Derby horse
we ever saw, and that we shall seriously think
about backing him for " a stoater," " a monkey,"
"a hyaena," or—a two-shilling piece.

There are nearly forty others to strip and talk
over, many of established repute, more of
coming promise, and all, save the handsome Park
horse that is to be, of the highest and purest
lineage. And now that we have seen them, and
when we begin to tire of studying so perfect a
picture, let us pause for a minute to reflect over
its peculiar tone and treatment, and to ask, were
you ever over any manufactory, did you ever
inspect any gigantic " establishment," where the
good genius of rule and order had a better home
than at Thistley? Have you found a stirrup-
leather out of place? Have you noticed the
tiniest of those little lads ever flurried or
awkward over his work? Have you heard an oath, or
so much as an angry word, since we have been
here? " Don't speak so sharply to your mare,
boy!" was Mr. Shepherd's mild reproof to the
boy who cried out at the white-legged filly when
she twisted round suddenly on her way home.
And again: " I say, young gentleman, wouldn't
you look all the better if you had your hair
cut?" to the other boy, much rejoicing in his
golden locks. But we will have a word ourselves
with a third—this natty youth coming across the
yard, with his horse's muzzle packed, as some
travellers packed their sponge-bags, with all
kinds of toilet traps. Jack Horner is his name;
he was born in London, but came down to Mr.
Shepherd as apprentice, some three years since.
He looks about twelve years of age, but rather
indignantly says he is past fifteen, and that he does
not weigh four stone. There is a combination of
fortune's and nature's favours, rarely to be met
with in this world! Can any one by any
possibility imagine any thing more acutely wide-awake
than a boy born in London, and educated in a
racing stable! Who is unnaturally small for his
years, who can sit close, hold his tongue, and
hold the hardest puller in the stable. Go on and
prosper, little Jack Horner! And when the days
of thy serving time are over, you shall jump into
a living, worth double that of the parson of the
parish, and end by having a heavier income-tax
than the most famous Q.C., who ever worried a
witness or bullied a judge. The nobles of the
land shall send in their special retainers, humbly
asking that you will appear for them when you
can. The anxious telegram shall seek you out.
The best of champagne, and the oldest of
Havannahs shall court your taste; and when you
go a courting yourself, you shall woo the dark-
eyed daughter of The Blue Dragon, with armlets
of emeralds, and pearls of price! " All
very fine, sir," says little Jack Horner—though
not without a notion that it may be all very
true, with time and luck to help him. At
present, Jack gets ten pounds a year and a suit
of clothes, with three good meals a day, and,
despite his weight, a fair share of beef and beer.