The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-10-31
Nora knew my ways, and the matter rested there.

feSte0 tnefe.
 The I7th: bright. cold. frosty aay- the roaos iu perfect condition, dry and hard as iron. started of iu high spirits, shared by Dobbin, who actuaIly contrived to execute sort of clumsy curyet as we rode down the avenue, before relapsing into his accustomed jog-trot. Old Charles watched us with sardonic grin on his ancient visage. He wished me good luck in tone well calculated to ex- press his extreme skep;icism as to my powers of discrimin Ating between a good specimen of the equine race and an iu- different one. As l clattered over the hard road, wished inwardly for the hundredth time that could find a de- cent pretext for getting rid of the old tel. low. He was an old retainer of my fathers, and could not deny that he did his work well. His horses and car riages he turned out in frst-raee style, by the aid of innumerable under r-grooms, stable-boys, helpers, etc. My wife thought him paragon, prince among grooms The case was hopeless one. For the rest of his natural life old Charles was a fixture! As recognized the melancholy fact an elaculation-expressive indeed, but tabooed since my marriage-burst unawares from my lips. Nora's anxiety that my bete nolre should accompany me had touched me in tender point-nay, 1t had exasperated me more than should have cared to own.
 The manner in which old Charles treated me was galling in the extreme. To him was still young Masther John,' whose earliest essays in riding and driv. ing had been made under his tuition. He acted as if had no rights of proprie- torship over either my horses or my dogs. He dosed and dectored them without the slightest reference to my opinion, with out my knowledge even. Lord para mount indoors-in my own kennels was an intruder, cipher in my stables. And for this l had old Charles to thank
 Such state of things was unendura- 5iel Captain Purcell, 1 felt sure, more than suspected the truth. It was abso- iutely necessary for me to assert my inde- pendence So this morning beheld me taking the first decisive step toward at. tainiug my proper position, and, more over, giving old Charles clearer insight into his, as set forth in the catechism- grimy, and much bethumbed-from whose pages he daily instructed his grandchil- dren to order themselves lowly and rev. e.ently to all their betters."
 Alter pounding steadily along for about an hour we reached the foot of steep hill about mile from the town (by cour- tesy) of Klllnaballew. There l let the reins fall loose on old Doobin'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 up hill and down hill 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 always willing to avail himself of his riders permission 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 otj cction to the poor old fel- low. l love to restrain fiery steed, not to urge a dull one to make use of the curb rather than the spur.
 "The top O the mornin' to yer honor an that's an iligan. baste ye're ridin'. rhroth, an I'd lay his weight in gould he wor gran un to go half-a-dozen years back r.
 The speaker was a ragged, gypsy-like fellow who had started up from the road side as passed. He now walked beside me, speaking with that irresistible frank. ness, just dashed with impudence, that may amuse but can hardly annoy. The brown, sunburnt face had in spite of the bead like eyes, and upturned nose with gaping nostrils, simple, guileless ex. pression that favorably impressed me, and thought no small beer of my acute per captions as a physioguomist. The look and tone of good-humorsd, plain.spoken candor took half the sting out of his words. Nevertheless, felt slightly piqued that the fellow should have seen with half a glance that poor old Dobbin had passed his meridian.
 Half-a-dozen years backl" ex- claimed with feigned surprise. "Wny, man alive, what age would you make him out to be nowl"
 "Shure yer honor, an he's a bakers dozen O years over his h .ad, av he's dayl" could not repress smile as the ragged scamp hit of old Dobbin's age with such pr recision. With sharp up- ward glance he added:
 "Ay, that's what I'd hould him to be, yer honor-thirteen years, and mebbe now, fourteen2"
 "Come, come, don't overshoot the mark, once you ve hit it Thirteen it is to the best of my knowledge. But he's a right good horse for all that, and has plenty of work in him still, though his paces may not be just what they were once."
 "Ay, shure enoughl" No need to tell me that didn't l see him wid me own eyes comin' rattlin' down the hill wid yez like as if he'd a whin. bush tied uudher the tail of him an nothin' on his back at all, at all Bedad, sir! it's foine quad. ripid intoirely, only not at all the paste for the loike O yer honor to be sthridin' acrass. It's in his iliment he'd be undher farmers kyar, an manys the dacent boy wud give pot O money for him, as