Frank and he behave more than usually cool to each other: I know not
why, unless it has been occasioned by an incident which happened
yesterday. Clifton has bought an English hunter, from one of his
countrymen at Paris, which he was exhibiting to his French friends,
whose horsemanship is very different from ours, and who were surprised
to see him ride so fearlessly over gates and other impediments. They
continued their airing in the park of Villebrun, and turned round to a
kind of haha, which was both deep and wide, and about half full of
water, by the side of which they saw a party of ladies standing, and me
among the rest. Frank was with us.

One of the gentlemen asked whether the horse could leap over the haha:
to which Clifton made no answer, but immediately clapped spurs to his
hunter, and over he flew. The whole company, gentlemen and ladies,
broke out into exclamations of surprise; and Clifton turned his horse's
head round, and regained his former place.

While they were wondering, Frank Henley happened to make if a matter of
doubt whether a man or a horse could leap the farthest; and Clifton,
continually in the habit of contending with Frank, said it was
ridiculous to start such an argument, unless he would first shew that
he himself could make the same leap. Frank, piqued in his turn, retired
a few yards; and, without pulling off his coat or deigning to leap, he
made a short run and a hop and sprung over.

You may imagine that the kind and good folks, who love to be
astonished, and still more to tell the greatness of their astonishment,
were manifold in their interjections. Frank, in order to rejoin the
company, was obliged a second time to cross the haha; which he did with