CHAPTER XV.
On the morning of that same day, our Amy at her fatherʼs side, in the pretty porch of the Rectory, uttered the following wisdom: “Darling Papples, Papelikidion—is there any other diminutivicle half good enough for you, or stupid enough for me?—my own father (thatʼs best of all), you must not ride Coræbus to–day”.
“Amy amata, peramata a me, aim of my life, amicula, in the name of sweet sense, why not”?
“Because, pa, he has had ten great long carrots, and my best hat full of new oats; and I know he will throw you off”.
“Scrupulum injecisti. I shouldnʼt like to come off to–day. And it rained the night before last”. So said the rector, proudly contemplating a pair of new kerseymeres, which Channing the clerk had made upon trial. “Nevertheless, I think that I have read enough on the subject to hold on by his mane, if he does not kick unreasonably. And if he gives me time to soothe him—that horse is fond of Greek—and, after all, the ground is soft”.
“No, dad, I donʼt think it is prudent. And you wonʼt have me there, you know”.
“My own pet, that is too true. And with all your knowledge of riding! Why, my own seems quite theoretical by the side of yours. And yet I have kept my seat under very trying circumstances. You remember the time when Coræbus met the trahea”?
“Yes, pa; but he hadnʼt had any oats; and I was there to advise you”.
“True, my child, quite true. But I threw my equilibrium just as a hunter does. And I think I could do it again. I bore in mind what Xenophon says—— ”