Oh, dear
me, no! Then go and finish your breakfast, and when you have
finished your breakfast and called for the newspaper, go and water
your horse, letting him have one pailful, then give him another
feed of corn, and enter into discourse with the ostler about bull-
baiting, the prime minister, and the like; and when your horse has
once more taken the shine out of his corn, go back to your room and
your newspaper--and I hope for your sake it may be the Globe, for
that's the best paper going--then pull the bell-rope and order in
your bill, which you will pay without counting it up--supposing you
to be a gentleman. Give the waiter sixpence, and order out your
horse, and when your horse is out, pay for the corn, and give the
ostler a shilling, then mount your horse and walk him gently for
five miles; and whilst you are walking him in this manner, it may
be as well to tell you to take care that you do not let him down
and smash his knees, more especially if the road be a particularly
good one, for it is not at a desperate hiverman pace, and over very
bad roads, that a horse tumbles and smashes his knees, but on your
particularly nice road, when the horse is going gently and lazily,
and is half asleep, like the gemman on his back; well, at the end
of the five miles, when the horse has digested his food, and is all
right, you may begin to push your horse on, trotting him a mile at
a heat, and then walking him a quarter of a one, that his wind may
be not distressed; and you may go on in that way for thirty miles,
never galloping, of course, for none but fools or hivermen ever
gallop horses on roads; and at the end of that distance you may
stop at some other nice inn to dinner.
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