———_tanto buono e bello, Che chi volesse dir le lodi sue, Bisognarebbe haver un gran cervello, Bisognarebbe un capo come un bue._[1] [Footnote 1: VARCHI.] Perhaps some captious reader may suppose that he has here detected a notable error in my chronology. Nobs, he may say, was made dog's-meat before Reginald Heber was born, or at least before he had exchanged his petticoats for the garb-masculine, denominated galligaskins in philippic verse. Pardon me, reader; the mistake is on your part; and you have committed two in this your supposition. Mistakes indeed, like misfortunes, seldom come single. First it is a mistake, and what, if it were not altogether inconsiderate, would be a calumnious one,—to suppose that Nobs ever was made dog's-meat. The Doctor had far too much regard for his good horse, to let his remains be treated with such indignity. He had too much sense of obligation and humanity to part with an old dumb servant when his strength began to fail, and consign him to the hard usage which is the common lot of these poor creatures, in this, in this respect, hard-hearted and wicked nation. Nobs when his labour was past, had for the remainder of his days the run of the fields at Thaxted Grange. And when in due course of nature, he died of old age, instead of being sent to the tanners and the dogs, he became, like “brave Percy” food for—worms.—A grave was dug, wherein he was decently deposited, with his shoes on, and Barnaby and his master planted a horse-chesnut on the spot. Matthew Montagu, and Montagu Matthew ought to have visited it in joint pilgrimage. Hadst thou been a bay horse, Nobs, it would have been a bay-tree instead. But though the tree which was thy monument was deciduous and has perhaps been doomed to fall by some irreverent or ignorant hand, thy honours are perennial. Secondly, the captious reader is mistaken in supposing me to have spoken of Bishop Heber,—that Heber, who if he had been a Romish Bishop would already have been Saint Reginald by the courtesy of Rome, as in due time he must have been by right of canonization. Sir Edward Lloyd would smile at such a mistake. So would a Yorkshire or a Shropshire Genealogist. I am not enough of one to know in what degree the two Reginalds were related; but that they were of the same family is apparent, and the elder, who is of the equestrian order of Authors and ought to have taken the name of Philip, was contemporary with the Doctor. He published yearly lists of horse matches run from 1753 to 1758,—I know not how much longer. If such registers as his had been preserved of the Olympic Games, precious would they be to historians and commentators, examining Masters, and aspirant Under-Graduates. CHAPTER CXXXVI. THE PEDIGREE AND BIRTH OF NOBS, GIVEN IN REPLY TO THE FIRST QUERY IN THE SECOND CHAPTER P. I.