whin ye ride with ladies, ye must turn the decoy side.'

"The auspicious morning at last arrived; and strange to say that the
first waking thought was of the unlucky day that ushered in my yachting
excursion, four years before. Why this was so, I cannot pretend to
guess; there was but little analogy in the circumstances, at least so far
as any thing had then gone. 'How is Marius?' said I to my servant, as he
opened my shutters. Here let me mention that a friend of the
Kildare-street club had suggested this name from the remarkably classic
character of my steed's countenance; his nose, he assured me, was
perfectly Roman.

"'Marius is doing finely, sir, barring his cough, and the thrifle that
ails his hind legs.'

"'He'll carry me quietly, Simon, eh?'

"'Quietly. I'll warrant he'll carry you quietly, if that's all.'

"Here was comfort. Certainly Simon had lived forty years as pantry boy
with my mother, and knew a great deal about horses. I dressed myself,
therefore, in high spirits; and if my pilot jacket and oil-skin cap in
former days had half persuaded me that I was born for marine
achievements, certainly my cords and tops, that morning, went far to
convince me that I must have once been a very keen sportsman somewhere,
without knowing it. It was a delightful July day that I set out to join
my friends, who having recruited a large party, were to rendezvous at the
corner of Stephen's-green; thither I proceeded in a certain ambling trot,
which I have often observed is a very favourite pace with timid horsemen,
and gentlemen of the medical profession. I was hailed with a most hearty