The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1885-12-03

me had touched me in tender point
nay, it had exasperated me more
than [ cared to own.
The manner in which old Charles
treated me was CALLING in the extreme.
TO him [ was still ''young Masther
john" whose earliest essays in riding
and driving had been made under his
tuition He acted as if | had no rights
Of proprietorship over either my hors-
es or my dogs. He dosed and doctored
them without the slightest reference
to my opinion without my knowl-
edge even. Lord paramount indoors
in my own kennels l was an intru-
der, a cypher in my stables. And for
this | had old Charles to thank!
Such state of things was nnendu-
rable. Captain Purcell, felt sure,
more than suspected the truth. 1t
was absolutely necessary for me to as
sert my independence So this morn
ing beheld me taking the first decisive
step towards attaining my proper po-
sition. And, moreover, giving old
Charles clearer insight into his, as
set forth in the Catechism-grimy
and much bethumbed-from whose
pages he daily instructed his grand
children ''to order themselves lowly
and reverently to all their betters."
After pounding steadily along for
about an hour, we reached the foot OF
steep hill about mile from the
town (by courtesy of Killnaballew.
There | let the reins fall loosely on
on old Dobbin's neck, and allowed
him to choose his own pace. He hung
his head Imply, and subsided into the
very slowest Of walks. Although, to
give the old nag his due, he would trot
uphill and downhill if required, and
cover his ten or eleven miles within
the hour, with many gasps and grunts
'tis true, but without much need OF
whip or spur, yet he was also willing
to avail himself of his riders permis-
sion to walk, and would crawl along
even level road like any old barge
horse, till reminded of his duty by
voice Or rein. And herein. lay my
chief objection to the poor old fellow.
| love to restrain a fiery steed, not to
urge dull one-to make use of the
curb rather than the spur.
"The top O. the mornin' to yer hon
or! an that's an illigant baste ye're
ridin' Throth, an I'd lay his weight
in gould he wor gran un to go half
a-dozen years back"
The speaker was a ragged, gypsy
like fellow who had started up from
the roadside as | passed. He now
walked beside me, speaking with that
irresistible frankness, just dashed with
impudence that may amuse but can
hardly annoy. The brown, sunburnt
face had, in spite Of the beadlike eyes,
and upturned nose with gaping nos
trils, a simple, guileless expression
that favorably impressed me, and [
thought no small beer of my acute
perceptions as a physiognomist The
look and tone Of good-humored, plain
spoken candor took half the sting out
Of his words. Nevertheless, | felt
slightly piqued that the fellow should
have seen with half glance that poor
old Dobbin had passed his meridian.
''Half-a-dozen years back" [ ex-
cleaimed with feigned surprised.
"Why, man alive. what age would you
make him out to be now?"
"Shure, yer honor, an he's a baker s
dozen O years over his head, av he's a
day. | could not repress a smile as
the ragged scamp hit off old Dobbin' s
age with such precision. With a
sharp, upward glance he added
"Ay, that's what I'd hould him to
be, yer honor thirteen years, or
mebbe fourteen?"
TO BE CONTINUED.