We had crossed the Serpentine bridge, and were just turning in upon the Ride, when--and here I am only too conscious that what I am about to say may strike you as almost incredible--when I heard an unfamiliar voice addressing me with, 'I say--you!' and the moment afterwards realised that it proceeded from my own horse! I am not ashamed to own that I was as nearly off as possible; for a more practised rider than I could pretend to be might have a difficulty in preserving his equanimity in this all but unparalleled situation. I was too much engaged in feeling for my left stirrup to make any reply, and presently the horse spoke once more. 'I say,' he inquired, and I failed to discern the slightest trace of respect in his tone--'do you think you can ride?' You can judge for yourself how disconcerting the inquiry must have been from such lips: I felt rooted to the saddle--a sensation which, with me, was sufficiently rare. I looked round in helpless bewilderment, at the shimmering Serpentine, and the white houses in Park Lane gleaming out of a lilac haze, at the cocoa-coloured Row, and the flash of distant carriage-wheels in the sunlight: all looked as usual--and yet, there was I on the back of a horse which had just inquired 'whether I thought I could ride'! 'I have had two dozen lessons at a riding-school,' I said at last, with rather a flabby dignity. 'I should hardly have suspected it,' was his brutal retort. 'You are evidently one of the hopeless cases.' I was deeply hurt, the more so because I could not deny that he had some claim to be a judge. 'I--I thought we were getting on so nicely together,' I faltered, and all he said in reply to that was, '_Did_ you?' 'Do you know,' I began, striving to be conversational, 'I never was on a horse that talked before.' 'You are enough to make any horse talk,' he answered; 'but I suppose I _am_ an exception.' 'I think you must be,' said I. 'The only horses I ever heard of as possessing the gift of speech were the Houyhnhnms.' 'How do you know I am not one of them?' he replied. 'If you are, you will understand that I took the liberty of mounting you under a very pardonable mistake; and if you will have the goodness to stand still, I will no longer detain you.' 'Not so fast,' said he: 'I want to know something more about you first. I should say now you were a man with plenty of oats.' 'I am--well off,' I said. How I wished I was! 'I have long been looking out for a proprietor who would not overwork me: now, of course, I don't know, but you scarcely strike me as a _hard_ rider.' 'I do not think I could be fairly accused of that,' I answered, with all the consciousness of innocence. 'Just so--then buy me.' 'No,' I gasped: 'after the extremely candid opinion you were good enough to express of my riding, I'm surprised that you should even suggest such a thing.' 'Oh, I will put up with that--you will suit me well enough, I dare say.'