The tutor did not like my answer.

I went to the stables; I looked at the horse; I went to my rooms; I went back again after dinner. It was no use: I was fated.

Well I might say so: the old family gigger certainly was not equal to

him.

Cheap horse to any gentleman, sir: cheaper than hiring, for any gent. as hunts regular.

"What do you call a cheap horse ?"

"Well, sir, I don't want to sell him, or else there are plenty after him. I could take £55 for him."

£55! something under a quarter's allowance; but I didn't say No. That's a word I had then great difficulty in saying.

A fortnight afterwards I went to the steeple-chase at Aylesbury, and had ordered a horse to be sent on to meet me there, as the stag-hounds were to uncart a deer afterwards. I couldn't have Brickdust, because he was engaged; but I sent for another. My love for the horse had increased; but he had hardly been ridden since the run from Bicester. Never mind! there could be nothing wrong with such a sweet horse as that.

The day for the Aylesbury meeting came. I was now master of a pink of my own; and I had certainly progressed much in the practice, if not in the science of riding. Down High Street we went-six of usin a barouche and four, through the gate on the other side of Magdalen (Maudlin) Bridge, happy in the consciousness of having something to ride when we got to Aylesbury. Nobody, to have heard or seen the carriage full, would have believed that four out of the six were at the end of their small capital, and in another twelvemonth were to be in the Queen's Bench, in Australia; but so it was-and so it is, and probably will be for years to come.

Aylesbury is a sporting little town; and we drove into the inn yard high in expectation.

"Mr. Scribble's horse!"

No answer.

"What are you going to ride, Scribble?"

"I'm sure I don't know: one of S's, I believe." The devil was assuredly at my eldow.

"Why the deuce don't you buy Brickdust? he'll carry you splendidly; and you've spent half the money in hacking already.'

It was the very shove I wanted to send me up to the mark. Just then Mr. S's man appeared, leading Brickdust. There he stood: his coat a bright bay, with a long tail and black legs, not much the worse for wear; splendid quarters, with a shoulder rather low, but well back, and plenty of length in his neck and head; the latter well put on ; with a full and sensible eye.

"There he is what a nice-looking horse!" said the last speaker.

"Please, sir," said the man," I haven't brought on any horse for you; and Bill says he had no orders about one. Master's in doors:

shall I speak to him?"

"Confound it! What a bore! That stupid ass of a scout has never taken my note, I bet any money!"

Out came Mr. S-, a stout, good-humoured looking man in black coat, drab shorts, and top boots.

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Very sorry, Mr. Scribble; but never heard as you was in want of a horse for to-day. You might have had Brickdust again, sir, if I'd only known in time.

"Well, but I must have something!"

"Im afraid every horse in the county's out, sir: quite impossible to get one here."

"Who's going to ride Brickdust?”

"Why, Mr. Jolliffe Green. He's about buying of him, I expect, sir." Well, what will you take for him?"

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Why, sir, I can't take less than £60 now; for I must get Mr. Green another horse: and how I'm to do that I don't know.'

"Oh! confound that! I'll have him if I can have him now." "Well, then, you must have him I suppose. Jem! bring that horse here, and let Mr. Scribble get on him."

Brickdust was mine: the deed was done and whether I felt most happy or miserable, I really cannot say. I know it was a very mixed feeling. That I had, as I thought, so good a horse, was a subject of pride but I felt that I had been done, and I knew that I had bought what I could not afford to pay for. However, I had him; and I made up my mind to ride him. I need hardly add, that Mr. Jolliffe Green and Mr. S both found their way to the course, without the assistance of Brickdust.

The steeple-chases were good: so was the run: and my horse never went better. All regret or remorse had vanished by the second fence; and when at the take I found myself one of but few, I was more than pleased with my bargain.

Every horse did not get back to Oxford that night, and Brickdust was one of them. But nothing could be wrong, so I went to a supper party; was lauded as the owner of an excellent horse-had risen immensely in the popular opinion; tried to make a match or two of an extravagant character-offered to back my new purchase against the winner of the steeple-chase.; and went to bed with a very indistinct notion of how I got out of my boots and breeches.

It was late the next morning when I rose. A bad headache was the natural consequence of the night before. It was not quite cured by the reflection that I was the "Master of the Horse," for I also recollected that I had to pay for him. However, half the pleasure of having him was to come: the morning's walk to the stables with half a dozen men in a like situation with myself; the watching the progress of dressing him; the privilege of having his clothes off to exhibit him to admiring friends; the feeling his legs two or three times a-day; and the talking of his excellencies in the evening-all this was to be taken into the account in his favour. And as long as my worthy friends in the country knew nothing about the matter, I might still make myself happy with

the assurance that another term or two would bring me round again as regarded the money. After lecture I went to look at him; and on the road I met with some men of my acquaintance, who assured me of his safe arrival from Aylesbury.

"Well, Tom, how's the horse?"

Why, sir, he don't seem altogether right: you give it him pretty strong yesterday, sir."

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Oh! there isn't much the matter, I dare say. Let's look at him.” But there evidently was a good deal the matter; and after feelinghis legs for three days, and seeing him bled and drenched, and every thing done that could be, poor Brickdust died!

I was nearly broken-hearted, and in debt for a twelvemonth. Gentlemen sportsmen, undergraduates of Oxford and Cambridge, take a word of advice “experto crede"-Pay for your horse before you kill him; but above all things, never buy a horse that you can't afford to pay for.

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His hope's in the open!" Of course!
D'ye think he'll keep dodging in here,
When every good man, hound, and horse
Are longing to fight it out fair?

"His hope's in the open ;" and all

He would ask is the ghost of a chance

Only room, just to open the ball,

And lead off a right merry dance.

"His hope's in the open:" and never
The power allow him, to say
That we disapproved his endeavour,
Or the will was in want of a way.

"His hope's in the open;" so pray,
For one little minute be still:
Let him have every rule of fair-play,
To try on his way and his will.

"His hope's in the open"-a hope,

By St. Hubert! that surely is ours:
Like true talent, he needs but more scope
To show us the strength of his powers.