“I suppose I do, sir. The gent was a little man so, o’ course, the gray was taken in agen, and a Suffolk Punch cob, that ’ud a done for a bishop, was then run up the yard. But, lor! the little gent’s legs ’ud never have been of any use to him; they’d a’ stuck out on each side like a curricle-bar—so he wouldn’t do. Coper showed him three or four others—good things in their way, but not at all suited to the gent. At last Coper says to him, with a sort of sigh, ‘Well, sir, I’m afear’d we shan’t make a deal of it to-day, sir; you’re very particular, as you’ve a right to be, and I’ll look about, and if I can find one that I think ’ll do, I’ll call on you.’ By this time he had walked the gent down the stable to opposite a stall where was a brown hoss, fifteen hands or about, ‘Now there ’ud be the thing to suit you, sir,’ says he, ‘and I only wish I could find one like him.’ ‘Why can’t I have him?’ says the gent. ‘Impossible,’ says Coper. ‘Why impossible?’ says the gent. ‘Because he’s Mrs. Coper’s hoss, and money wouldn’t buy him of her; he’s perfect, and she knows it.’ ‘Well,’ says the gent, getting his steam up, ‘I don’t mind price’ ‘What’s money to peace of mind?’ says Coper. ‘If I was to sell that hoss, my missis would worry my life out.’ Well, sir, the more Coper made a difficulty of selling the hoss, the more the gent wanted to buy, till at last Coper took him to a coach-hus, as tho’ to be private, and said to him in a whisper, ‘Well, tell you what I’ll do: I’ll take ninety pounds for him; perhaps he’s not worth that to every body, but I think he is to you, who wants a perfect thing, and ready-made for you.’ ‘You’re very kind,’ said the gent, ‘and I’ll give you a check at once.’ ‘But, mind,’ says Coper, ‘you must fetch him away at night; for if my missus saw him going out of the yard, I do believe she’d pull a life-guardsman off him. How I shall pacify her I don’t know! Ninety pounds! why, ninety pounds won’t pay me for the rows; leave alone the hoss!’ “The gent quite thought Coper was repenting of the bargain, and so walked away to the little countin’-house, and drew a check for the money. When he was gone, I burst out a-laughin’; because I know’d Mrs. Coper was as mild as a bran-mash, and ’ud never a’ dared to blow up her husband; but Coper wouldn’t have it—he looked as solemn as truth. Well, sir, the horse was fetched away that night.” “But why at night, Davis?” “Because they shouldn’t see his good qualities all at once, I suppose, sir; for he’d got the Devonshire coat-of-arms on his off knee.” “Devonshire coat-of-arms?” “Yes, sir; you see Devonshire’s a very hilly country, and most of the hosses down there has broken knees, so they calls a speck the Devonshire coat-of-arms. Well, sir, as Mrs. Coper’s pet shied at every thing and nothing, and bolted when he warn’t a-shieing, the gent came back in about a week to Coper.