intelligent and strongly marked, with a nose uncommonly high and
hawkbilled for a negro. Perceiving my embarrassment, he drew back
with a very courtly bow, and begged pardon, declaring he was so
glad to see me, he had forgotten himself and made too free. I made
haste to assure him that he had not—gave him a hearty shake by
the hand—called him Uncle Simon, a name he had been always
accustomed to from me, and drawing him aside, overwhelmed him
with questions about every body and every thing at home. Tell me,
said I, how is my uncle? "I thank you sir, quite hearty, and much
after the old sort—full of his projjecks, heh! heh! perpechil motion,
and what not." What, said I, is he at that still? "Oh yes—oh yes—and
carridges to go without hawses; God love you, Mass Ned, I don't
think they ken go without animel nater." And how does my aunt like
all this? "Ah!" said he, putting up his hands with an air of disgust,
"She can't abide it—things go on badly. You 'member my four greys?
So beautiful!—my four in hand!—all gone, all sold. Why, sir, I could
whistle them hawses to the charrut jest as easy as snap my finger.
Our fine London charut too! that's gone—and my poor Missis your
aunt, has nothin to ride in, but a nasty, pitiful push phaton." I am
sorry to hear it, Simon. "Why, Mass Ned, what mek you all let them
Demmy Cats sarve you so? What you call 'em? Publicanes? Yes, I'd
cane 'um as old master used to do." But Simon, how is cousin Mary?
"Miss Mary? Oh, Miss Mary is a beauty; gay as a young filly, and she
walks upon her pasterns ——." Well, well, said I, interrupting him,
Simon let us be off; what have you brought for me to ride? "Old
Reglus, sir, your old favorite." Having taken some refreshment, and
transferred my clothes to the portmanteau, I mounted Regulus, who
still shewed his keeping. He was a bright bay, and his hair was as
glossy as silk under Simon's management; his eye still glanced its
fire, and his wide nostrils gave token of his wind. He knew me, I
shall ever believe it, for my voice made him prick his ears, as if
listening to the music of former days. It seemed to inspire him with
new life; he flew like an arrow, and Simon found it impossible to
keep up with me, mounted as he was on a high trotting, rawboned
devil, that made the old man bound like a trapball, whenever he
missed his up-and-down-position movement. His figure, thus