of the world.

On the morning of the day when I was to leave home for Dayton, a distance
of eight miles, I looked out of my window while dressing--as early as
halfpast seven--and I saw Mr. Pollingray's groom on horseback, leading up
and down the walk a darling little, round, plump, black cob that made my
heart leap with an immense bound of longing to be on it and away across
the downs. And then the maid came to my door with a letter:

'Mr. Pollingray, in return for her considerate good behaviour and saving
of trouble to him officially, begs his goddaughter to accept the
accompanying little animal: height 14 h., age 31 years; hunts, is sure-
footed, and likely to be the best jumper in the county.'

I flew downstairs. I rushed out of the house and up to my treasure, and
kissed his nose and stroked his mane. I could not get my fingers away
from him. Horses are so like the very best and beautifullest of women
when you caress them. They show their pleasure so at being petted. They
curve their necks, and paw, and look proud. They take your flattery like
sunshine and are lovely in it. I kissed my beauty, peering at his black-
mottled skin, which is like Allingborough Heath in the twilight. The
smell of his new saddle and bridle-leather was sweeter than a garden to
me. The man handed me a large riding-whip mounted with silver. I longed
to jump up and ride till midnight.

Then mama and papa came out and read the note and looked, at my darling
little cob, and my sisters saw him and kissed me, for they are not
envious girls. The most distressing thing was that we had not a riding-
habit in the family. I was ready to wear any sort. I would have ridden
as a guy rather than not ride at all. But mama gave me a promise that in