[1]. Very Old Pale—a tempting label attached to certain black bottles containing the best French brandy; an excellent liquor, doubtless, and wholesome, provided you don’t drink too much of it. Opinions vary, however, as to what is too much. The modest quencher of 9 P.M. growing to a superfluous stimulant at the same hour the following morning.
When he had made up his mind, the Honourable Crasher was a man of few words. Refreshed by a mouthful of sherry, not unacceptable after a rattling fall, and comfortably perched on the back of Confidence, a delightful animal that a child could ride, and perhaps the best and safest hunter in his stable, he ranged alongside of our friend, and plunged at once in medias res.
“So you want to sell the bay horse you have just sent home?” said he, with none of the hesitation and beating about the bush to which Mr. Sawyer had hitherto been accustomed in his horse-dealing operations. “If you do, and will name the price you ask for him, I should like to buy him.”
The owner could not resist the impulse of enhancing the value of his horse, by affecting unwillingness to sell him and, in so doing, nearly lost the chance of disposing of him, altogether.
“I don’t think I ought to part with him,” said he reflectively; “it strikes me he’s about the best in my stable.”
Crasher fell back apparently satisfied. It was evident he did not attach so much importance to the act of “exchange or barter” as did our friend. Mr. Sawyer picked himself up without loss of time. “I shouldn’t like to sell him to everybody,” said he affectionately, “but if you fancy him very much, I wouldn’t mind letting you have him,” he added, after a pause, and in the tone of a man who makes a painful sacrifice in the cause of friendship.
“I’ll give you two hundred and fifty for him,” drawled out the Honourable, with apparently about as much interest as he would have felt in paying three-and-sixpence for a pair of gloves.
“Guineas!” stipulated Mr. Sawyer; “Guineas,” was the answer; and in this simple manner the deal was concluded.
My readers will agree with Isaac and his master, in thinking that Marathon was not the only one of the party who was pretty well sold. The old groom laughed in his sleeve a week afterwards, when he heard that on giving him “a spin” with Chance, just to keep his pipes clear, the mare went away from him as if he was standing still.
Mr. Tiptop couldn’t make it out at all.