feats on the back of a wild horse; and he could not help saying to
the ostler, "He looks rather -vicious, I'm afraid!"

"Wicious, sir," replied the groom; "bless you, sir! she's as
sweet-tempered as any young ooman you ever paid your intentions to.
The mare's as quiet a mare as was ever crossed; this 'ere's ony her
play at comin' fresh out of the stable!"

Verdant, however, had a presentiment that the play would soon become
earnest; but he seated himself in the saddle (after a short delirious
dance on one toe), and in a state of extreme agitation, not to say
perspiration, proceeded at a walk, by Mr. Larkyns' side, up Holywell
Street. Here the mare, who doubtless soon understood what sort of
rider she had got on her back, began to be more demonstrative of the
"fresh"ness of her animal spirits. Broad Street was scarcely broad
enough to contain the series of ~tableaux vivants~ and heraldic
attitudes that she assumed. "Don't pull the curb-rein so!" shouted
Charles Larkyns; but Verdant was in far too dreadful a state of mind
to understand what he said, or even to know which ~was~ the
curb-rein; and after convulsively clutching at the mane and the
pommel, in his endeavours to keep his seat, he first "lost his head,"
and then his seat, and ignominiously gliding over the mare's tail,
found that his lodging was on the cold ground. Relieved of her
burden, the mare quietly trotted back to her stables; while Verdant,
finding himself unhurt, got up, replaced his hat and spectacles,


[98 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

and registered a mental vow never to mount an Oxford hack again.