“‘Ah! that’s the way to do it!” exclaimed Mr. Smoothley, as if delighted at Sir Moses having dropped upon the right course. “Ah! _that’s_ the way to do it!” repented he, swinging himself gaily round on his toe, with a loud snap of his finger and thumb in the air. And Sir Moses said it in such a kind, considerate, matter-of-course sort of way, before company too, and Smoothley clenched it so neatly, that our wine-flushed Major, acute as he is, hadn’t presence of mind to say “No.” So he was saddled with “Little-bo-peep,” who has already lost one eye from cataract, which is fast going with the other. But see! Here comes Solomon followed by the Bumbler in fustian, and the boy from the farm, and we shall soon have the Major and Billy, so let us step into Bo-peep’s box, and I hear the Major’s description of his stud. * * * * Scarcely have the grooms dispersed the fast-gathering gloom of a November afternoon, by lighting the mould candles in the cord-suspended lanterns slung along the ceiling, and began to hiss at the straw, when the Major entered, with our friend Billy at his heels. The Bumbler and Chaw then put on extra activity, and the stable being presently righted, heads were loosened, water supplied, and the horses excited by Solomon’s well-known peregrination to the crushed corn-bin. All ears were then pricked, eyes cast back, and hind-quarters tucked under to respond gaily to the “come over” of the feeder. 155m _Original Size_ The late watchful whinnying restlessness is succeeded by gulping, diving, energetic eating. Our friend having passed his regiment of horses in silent review, while the hissing was going on, now exchanges a few confidential words with the stud groom, as if he left everything to him, and then passes upwards to where he started from. Solomon having plenty to do elsewhere, presently retires, followed by his helpers, and the Major and Billy seat themselves on the bench. After a few puffs and blows of the cheeks and premonitory jerks of the legs, the Major nods an approving “nice ‘oss, that,” to Napoleon the Great, standing opposite, who is the first to look up from his food, being with it as with his work, always in a desperate hurry to begin, and in an equally great one to leave off. “Nice ‘oss, that,” repeats the Major, nodding again. “Yarse, he looks like a nice ‘orse;” replied Billy, which is really as much as any man can say under the circumstances.