Each “with neck like a rainbow, erecting his crest, Paniper'd, prancing and pleas'd, his head touching his breast.” “Saddle White Surrey for the field to-morrow,”
was the order of Richard,” said the Baronet; “but had he been in possession of such a horse as either of these, 'White Surrey' might have gone to the devil.”
“I'll warrant them both, sound, wind and limb, and gentle to boot,” said the Squire,—“Come then, if you wish to be well-mounted, and would really look like a “baron bold,” seat yourself fearlessly on either, and bear yourself through the streets of London with the dignity befitting a true, magnanimous and puissant knight of Munster!”—This address had the desired effect,—it implied a doubt of the Baronet's courage, and he seated himself on the “gallant steed” immediately.—Tom and Bob at same time betook themselves, the former to the other “high mettled racer,” and the latter to the unassuming rejected Rosinante of Sir Felix. A trifling delay, however, occurred; the stirrups of the Baronet's charger were too short, and he alighted while the groom repaired the defect.
Now see him mounted once again Upon his nimble steed; Full slowly pacing o'er the stones, With caution and good heed.
Whether, like the Calenderer's horse under the its guidance of the celebrated John Gilpin, the disdainful steed now in the management of Sir Felix, “wondered what thing he'd got upon his back,” we are not competent to decide; but he certainly in his progress “o'er the stones” manifested frequent impatience of restraint. These symptoms of contumaciousness were nevertheless borne by the Baronet without complaint,—
Till finding soon a smoother road Beneath its well-shod feet, The snorting beast began to trot, Which galled him in his seat.
And, as if intuitively knowing the incapacity of his rider to restrain him, and despising curb and rein, the indignant animal set off at full speed, to the great dismay of Dashall and the Squire, who putting their horses to the pith of their mettle, hurried after their friend with the utmost solicitude. Luckily, however, the career of the spirited animal was impeded, and finally stopped, by the frequent interposition of the passengers on the road, and the Baronet was safely set down, ready to exclaim with Hawser Trunnion, “If ever I get astride the back of such another harum scarum son of a bitch again, my name is not Felix O'Grady.”
The pursuers speedily rejoined the pursued, and felt happy in the knowledge of his welfare. The abashment of the baronet, occasioned by this untoward adventure, soon gave way to his characteristic good-humour; and having resigned all further government of the Squire's unruly quadruped, and resumed possession of his own, the triumvirate proceeded towards the place of destination.