A Boy for yourself, a boy for your dog, then a man for your horse;
that is the usual order of trouble. Of course the horse itself
precedes the horse-keeper, but then I do not reckon the buying of a
horse among life's troubles, rather among its luxuries. It combines
all the subtle pleasures of shopping with a turbid excitement which
is its own. From the moment when you first start from the breakfast-
table at the sound of hoofs, and find the noble animal at the door,
arching his neck and champing his bit, as if he felt proud to bear
that other animal, bandy-legged, mendacious, and altogether ignoble
who sits jauntily on his back, down to the moment when you walk round
to the stable for a little quiet enjoyment of the sense of ownership,
there is a high tide of mental elation running through the days.
Then the Ghorawalla supervenes.

The first symptom of him is an indent for certain articles which he
asserts to be absolutely necessary before he can enter on his
professional duties. These are a jhule, baldee, tobra, mora,
booroos, bagdoor, agadee, peechadee, curraree, hathalee, &c. It is
not very rational to be angry, for most of the articles, if not all,
are really required. Several of them, indeed, are only ropes, for
the Ghorawalla, or syce, as they call him on the other side of India,
gives every bit of cordage about his beast a separate name, as a
sailor describes the rigging of a ship. But the fact remains that
there is something peculiarly irritating in this first indent.
Perhaps one feels, after buying and paying for a whole horse, that he
might in decency have been allowed to breathe before being asked to
pay again. If this is it, the sooner the delusion is dissipated the
better. You will never have respite from payments while an active-
minded syce remains on your staff. You think you have fitted him out