"What gentleman's horse?"
"Why, the big-looking fellow with the white face, now in the parlour."
"What, did he come on a horse, Sam? What sort of a looking creature is it? you may judge of a man from the sort of horse-company he keeps."
"Well, then, sir, I hardly know. It's coal black, and looks as knowing as possible; it's tried twice to get a kick at me, but I was down upon him, and put the bucket in his way. Howsomdever, I don't think it's a bad animal, as a animal, mind you, sir, though a little bit wicious or so."
"Well," said the publican, as he drew the ostler half a pint instead of a quart, "you're always drinking; take that."
"Blow me," said the ostler, "half a pint, master!"
"Plague take you, I can't stand parleying with you, there's the parlour bell; perhaps, after all, he will have some breakfast."
While the landlord was away the ostler helped himself to a quart of the strongest ale, which, by a singular faculty that he had acquired, he poured down his throat without any effort at swallowing, holding his head back, and the jug at a little distance from his mouth.
Having accomplished this feat, he reversed the jug, giving it a knowing tap with his knuckles as though he would have signified to all the world that it was empty, and that he had accomplished what he desired.
In the meantime, the landlord had made his way to his strange guest, who said to him, when he came into the room,