“So I can see, at a glance; even Anneke remembers it. I have heard the whole story from Mary Wallace; it was about a lion. I would give half of what I am worth, to see Mary Wallace in the paws of a lion, or any other wild beast; just to let her see that Guert Ten Eyck has a heart, as well as Corny Littlepage. But, Corny my boy, there is one thing you must do; you are in such favour, that it will be easy for you to effect it; though I might try in vain, for ever.” “I will do anything that is proper, to oblige you, Guert, for you have a claim on me for services rendered by yourself.” “Pshaw!--Say nothing of such matters; I am never happier than when buying or selling a horse; and, in helping you to get off your old cattle, why, I did the King no harm, and you some good. But, it was about horses I was thinking. You must know, Littlepage, there is not a young man, or an old man, within twenty miles of Albany, that drives such a pair of beasts as myself.” “You surely do not wish me to sell these horses to Mary Wallace, Guert!” I rejoined, laughing. “Ay, my lad; and this house, and the old farm, and two or three stores along the river; and all I have, provided you can sell me with them. As the ladies have no present use for horses, however, Herman Mordaunt having brought up with him a very good pair, that came near running over you and me, Corny; so there is no need of any sale; but I _should_ like to drive Mary and Anneke a turn of a few miles, with that team of mine, and in my own sleigh!” “That cannot prove such a difficult affair; young ladies, ordinarily, consenting readily enough to be diverted with a sleigh-ride.” “The off-one carries himself more like a colonel, at the head of his regiment, than like an ignorant horse!” “I will propose the matter to Herman Mordaunt, or to Anneke, herself, if you desire it.” “And the near-one has the movement of a lady in a minuet, when you rein him in a little. I drove those cattle, Corny, across the pine-plains, to Schenectady, in one hour and twenty-six minutes;--sixteen miles, as the crow flies--and nearer sixty, if you follow all the turnings of the fifty roads.” “Well, what am I to do? tell this to the ladies, or beg them to name a day?” “Name a day!--I wish it had come to _that_. Corny, with my whole soul. They are two beauties!” “Yes, I think everybody will admit _that_,” I answered innocently; “yet, very different in their charms.” “Oh! not a bit more alike than is just necessary for a good match. I call one Jack, and the other Moses. I never knew an animal that was named 'Jack,' who would not do his work. I would give a great deal, Corny, that Mary Wallace could see that horse move!”