observations, and I mentally hoped that the frisky Bucephalus
would frisk his mistress out of the cart and break her ne--
arm, or at least put her shoulder out of joint. If he did,
I had fully determined in my own mind to hasten to her
assistance, and shame her to death with delicate and assiduous
kindness. But fate lingered like all the rest of us. She
reached Rowley in safety, and there our roads separated.
Whether she stopped there, or drove into Ethiopian wastes
beyond, I cannot say; but have no doubt that the milk which she
carried into Newburyport to market was blue, the butter frowy,
and the potatoes exceedingly small.

Now do you mean to tell me that any man would have been guilty
of such a thing? I don't mean, would have committed such
discourtesy to a woman? Of course not; but would a man ever
do it to a man? Never. He might try it once or twice, just
for fun, just to show off his horse, but he never would have
persisted in it till a joke became an insult, not to say a
possible injury.

Still, as I was about to say, when that Rowley jade interrupted
me, though I have small faith in Di-Vernonism generally, and
no large faith in my own personal prowess, I did feel myself
equal to the task of holding the reins while our Rosinante
walked along an open road to a pump. I therefore resented
Halicarnassus's contemptuous tones, mounted the wagon with as
much dignity as wagons allow, sat straight as an arrow on the
driver's seat, took the reins in both hands,--as they used to
tell me I must not, when I was a little girl, because that was
women's way, but I find now that men have adopted it, so I