for him, and answered without a moment's hesitation, "Nerrun, sir"
(never a one). They were, however, easily detected when trotted out on
the road.

Jim was a capital hand at "getting up" a horse for sale; an extra sack
or two of corn, constant grooming, and rest in the stable, with the
aid of some mysterious powders, which, I think, contained arsenic,
soon brought out the "dapples," which he called "crown-pieces," on
their coats, and in a couple of months' time one scarcely recognized
the somewhat angular beast upon which his labours had wrought a
miracle, and put a ten-pound note at least on the value. We had an
ancient and otherwise doubtful mare, "Bonny," ready for Pershore Fair,
and the previous day Jim wanted to know if I intended to be present. I
told him, "No! I should have to tell too many lies." "Oh!" said he,
"I'll do all that, sir!" He sold the mare to a big dealer for all she
was worth, I think, though not a large figure. Soon afterwards I had
to expostulate with him about some fault. He explained the
circumstances from his point of view, adding, "And that's the truth,
sir, and the truth _is_ the truth, and"--triumphantly--"that's what'll
carry a man through the world!" I could say no more, but could not
help remembering his willingness to testify to Sonny's doubtful merits
at Pershore Fair.

Jim became a widower, but eventually married again; a good woman, who
made a capital wife. Shortly before the wedding, when he came to see
me on some business, my wife happened to be present; she was very
anxious to find out the date in order that we might attend. Jim was
shy, not wishing it to be generally known, and nothing could be got
out of him. On leaving, however, he repented and, looking back over
his shoulder, made the announcement, "Our job comes off next