_Mrs. B.-K._ (_anxiously to her Son, as he passes_). BOB, are you
quite sure you're safe? (_To Friend._) His horse is snorting so
dreadfully!

_R.M._ 'Alt! Every Gentleman take his feet out of the stirrups,
and cross them on the saddle in front of him. Not your _feet_, Mr.
SNIGGERS, we ain't Turks 'ere!

_Mr. S._ (_sotto voce_). "There's _one_ bloomin' Turk 'ere, anyway!"

_R.M._ Now then,--Walk!... Trot! Set back, Gentlemen, set back
all--'old on by your knees, not the pommels. _I_ see you, Mr. JELLY,
kitchin' 'old o' the mane--I shall 'ave to give you a 'ogged 'orse
next time you come. Quicken up a bit--this is a ride, not a funeral.
Why, I could _roll_ faster than you're trotting! Lor, you're like a
row o' Guy Foxes on 'orseback, you are! Ah, I thought I'd see one
o' you orf! Goa-ron, all o' you, you don't come 'ere to _play_ at
ridin'--I'll make you ride afore I've done with you! 'Ullo, Mr.
JOGGLES, nearly gone that time, Sir! There, that'll do--or we'll 'ave
all your saddles to let unfurnished. Wa-alk! Mr. BILBOW-KAY, when your
'orse changes his pace sudden, it don't look well for you to be found
settin' 'arf way up his neck, and it gives him a bad opinion of yer,
Sir. Uncross sterrups! Trot on! It ain't no mortal use your clucking
to that mare, Mr. TONGS, Sir, because she don't understand the
langwidge--touch her with your 'eel in the ribs. Mr. SNIGGERS, that
'orse is doin' jest what he likes with you. 'It 'im, Sir; he's no
friends and few relations!

_Mr. S._ (_with spirit_). _I_ ain't going to 'it 'im. If you want him
'it, get up and do it yourself!