"Read whom, ma'am?—I do not even remember the author's name."
"O lud! on what a strand are you wrecked!" replied the young lady. "A poor forlorn and ignorant stranger, unacquainted with the very Alcoran of the savage tribe whom you are come to reside among—Never to have heard of Markham, the most celebrated author on farriery! then I fear you are equally a stranger to the more modern names of Gibson and Bartlett?"
"I am, indeed, Miss Vernon."
"And do you not blush to own it?" said Miss Vernon. "Why, we must forswear your alliance. Then, I suppose, you can neither give a ball, nor a mash, nor a horn!"
"I confess I trust all these matters to an ostler, or to my groom."
"Incredible carelessness!—And you cannot shoe a horse, or cut his mane and tail; or worm a dog, or crop his ears, or cut his dew-claws; or reclaim a hawk, or give him his casting-stones, or direct his diet when he is sealed; or"—
"To sum up my insignificance in one word," replied I, "I am profoundly ignorant in all these rural accomplishments."
"Then, in the name of Heaven, Mr. Francis Osbaldistone, what can you do?"
"Very little to the purpose, Miss Vernon; something, however, I can pretend to—When my groom has dressed my horse I can ride him, and when my hawk is in the field, I can fly him."
"Can you do this?" said the young lady, putting her horse to a canter.