--'What a magnificent animal!' said the parson; 'the finest
action I ever beheld in my life: there's a horse to make a man's fortune
in the park, and excite the envy and notice of all the town.' 'Who does
he belong to?' said a young baronet of the party, who had just come out.
'I'll inquire,' said the parson: 'the very thing for you, Sir John.'
Away posts the reverend, bawling after the servant, 'Will your master
sell that horse, my man?' 'I can't say, sir,' said the fellow, 'but I
can inquire, and let you know.' 'Do, my lad, and tell him a gentleman
here will give a handsome price for him.' Away trots the servant, and
the party proceed to dinner. As soon as the dessert is brought in, and
the third glass circulated, the conversation is renewed relative to the
horse--the whole party agree in extolling his qualities; when, just in
the nick of time, the servant arrives to say his master being aged
and infirm, the animal is somewhat too spirited for him, and if the
gentleman likes, he may have him for one hundred guineas. 'A mere
trifle,' vociferates the company. 'Cheap as Rivington's second-hand
sermons,' said the parson. The baronet writes a check for the money, and
generously gives the groom a guinea for his trouble--drives home in high
glee--and sends his servant down next morning to the parson's for his
new purchase--orders the horse to be put into his splendid new tilbury,
built under the direction of Sir John Lade--just reaches Grosvenor-gate
from Hamilton-place in safety, when the horse shows symptoms of being a
miller.
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