"Why, Jock, I cannot help thinking he is something like Geordy Dean's daughter-in-law,--nought but a spindle-shankit devil! I would not wonder if he had cost you eighteen pounds, that greyhound of a creature?" "What a prime judge you are! Why, uncle, that horse cost eighty-five guineas last autumn. He is a real blood horse that; and has won a great deal of valuable plate." "Oh! that, indeed, alters the case! And have you got all that valuable plate?" "Nay, nay; it was before he came to my hand." "That was rather a pity now, Jock--I cannot help thinking that was a great pity; because if you had got the plate, you would have had something you could have called your own.--So, you don't know how much corn that fellow eats in a year?" "Indeed I do not; he never gets above three feeds in a day, unless when he is on a journey, and then he takes five or six." "Then take an average of four: four feeds are worth two shillings at least, as corn is selling. There is fourteen shillings a-week: fourteen times fifty-two--why, Jock, there is £36, 8s. for horse's corn; and there will be about half as much, or more, for hay, besides: on the whole, I find he will cost you about £50 a-year at livery.--I suppose there is an absolute necessity that a manufacturer should keep such a horse?" "O! God bless you, sir, to be sure. We must gather in money and orders, you know. And then, consider the ease and convenience of travelling on such a creature as that, compared with one of your vile low-bred hacks; one goes through the country as he were flying, on that animal." Old Sandy paddled away from the stable, towards the house, chuckling and laughing to himself; but again turned round, before he got half-way.--"Right, Jock! quite right. Nothing like gathering in plenty of money and orders. But, Jock, hark ye--I do not think there is any necessity for _flying_ when one is on such a commission. You should go leisurely and slowly through the towns and villages, keeping all your eyes about you, and using every honest art to obtain good customers. How can you do this, Jock, if you go as you were flying through the country? People, instead of giving you a good order, will come to their shop-door, and say--There goes the Flying Manufacturer!--Jock, they say a rolling stone never gathers any moss. How do you think a flying one should gather it?"