and drawing his hand contemptuously over his face; “why, I beat Symmonds in this very yard in one round three years ago; didn’t I, Symmonds?” said he to the understrapper, who held down his head, muttering, in a surly tone, “I didn’t come here to fight; let every one take his own part.”  “That’s right, Symmonds,” said the other, “especially every one from whom there is nothing to be got.  I would give you half-a-crown for all the trouble you have had, provided I were not afraid that my Lord Plume there would get it from you as soon as you leave the yard together.  Come, take yourselves both off; there’s nothing to be made here.”  Indeed, his lordship seemed to be of the same opinion, for after a further glance at the horse, a contemptuous look at me, and a scowl at the jockey, he turned on his heel, muttering something which sounded like fellows, and stalked out of the yard, followed by Symmonds.

“And now, young man,” said the jockey, or whatever he was, turning to me with an arch leer, “I suppose I may consider myself as the purchaser of this here animal, for the use and behoof of this young gentleman?” making a sign with his head to the tall young man by his side.  “By no means,” said I, “I am utterly unacquainted with either of you, and before parting with the horse I must be satisfied as to the respectability of the purchaser.”  “Oh! as to that matter,” said he, “I have plenty of vouchers for my respectability about me;” and thrusting his hand into his bosom below his waistcoat, he drew out a large bundle of notes.  “These are the kind of things,” said he, “which vouch best for a man’s respectability.”  “Not always,” said I; “indeed, sometimes these kind of things need vouchers for themselves.”  The man looked at me with a peculiar look.  “Do you mean to say that these notes are not sufficient notes?” said he, “because if you do I shall take the liberty of thinking you are not over civil, and when I thinks a person is not over and above civil I sometimes takes off my coat; and when my coat is off—­” “You sometimes knock people down,” I added; “well, whether you knock me down or not, I beg leave to tell you that I am a stranger in this fair, and that I shall part with the horse to nobody who has no better guarantee for his respectability than a roll of bank-notes, which may be good or not for what I know, who am not a judge of such things.”  “Oh! if you are a stranger here,” said the man, “as I believe you are, never having seen you here before except last night, when I think I saw you above stairs by the glimmer of a candle—­I say, if you are a stranger, you are quite right to be cautious; queer things being done in this fair, as nobody knows better than myself,” he added with a leer; “but I suppose if the landlord of the house vouches for me and my notes, you will have no objection to part with the horse to me?” “None whatever,” said I, “and in the meantime the horse can return to the stable.”

Thereupon I delivered the horse to my friend the ostler.