The dairy-vendor, rather foolishly taking it for granted that horse and cart were gone concerns, thought he was making the good stroke of business in offering the lot for a twenty-pound note.
"I have done with you!" cried Mr Bhosh sharply, handing over the purchase-money, which he very fortunately chanced to have about him, and galloping off to inspect his bargain, which was like buying a pig after once poking it in the ribs.
In what condition he found it I must leave you to learn, my dear readers, in an ensuing chapter.
CHAPTER IX
THE DARK HORSE
Full many a mare with coat of milkiest sheen,
Is dyed in dark unfathomed coal mines drab;
Full many a flyer's born to blush unseen,
And waste her swiftness on a hansom cab.
Lines to order by a young English friend, who swears they are original. But I regard them as an unconscious plagiarism from Poet Young's "Eulogy of a Country Cemetery." H. B. J.
It is a gain, a precious, let me gain! let me gain!
Oh, Potentate! Oh, Potentate!
The shower of thine secret shoe-dust
Oh, Potentate! Oh, Potentate!
Dr. Ram Kinoo Dutt (of Chittagong).