His friends would tell him of his wife and children; and,
indeed, would tell him truly, for his customers would fly from
him. But nobody grudges the farmer his day's sport! No one thinks
that he is cruel to his children and unjust to his wife because
he keeps a nag for his amusement, and can find a couple of days
in the week to go among his friends. And with what advantages he
does this ! A farmer will do as much with one horse, will see as
much hunting, as an outside member of the hunt will do with
four, and, indeed, often more. He is his own head-groom, and has
no scruple about bringing his horse out twice a week. He asks no
livery-stable keeper what his beast can do, but tries the powers
of the animal himself, and keeps in his breast a correct record.
When the man from London, having taken all he can out of his
first horse, has ridden his second to a stand-still, the farmer
trots up on his stout, compact cob, without a sign of distress.
He knows that the condition of a hunter and a greyhound should
not be the same, and that his horse, to be in good working
health, should carry nearly all the hard flesh that he can put
upon him. How such an one must laugh in his sleeve at the five
hunters of the young swell who, after all, is brought to grief in
the middle of the season, because he has got nothing to ride! A
farmer's horse is never lame, never unfit to go, never throws out
curbs, never breaks down before or behind. Like his master, he is
never showy. He does not paw, and prance, and arch his neck, and
bid the world admire his beauties; but, like his master, he is
useful; and when he is wanted, he can always do his work.

O fortunatus nimium agricola, who has one horse, and that a good
one, in the middle of a hunting country !