"You are late, Sir George," said the orderly.
"Yes, I had a court-martial. Has Sir Stapleton Cotton gone?"
At this moment a window opened, and a handsome young man in a
very splendid uniform looked out of it.
"Halloa, Murray!" said he. "These cursed papers keep me, but I
will be at your heels."
"Very good, Cotton. I am late already, so I will ride on."
"You might order my groom to bring round my horse," said the
young General at the window to the orderly below, while the other
went on down the road.
The orderly rode away to some outlying stable, and then in a few
minutes there came a smart English groom with a cockade in his
hat, leading by the bridle a horse-- and, oh, my friends, you
have never known the perfection to which a horse can attain until
you have seen a first- class English hunter. He was superb:
tall, broad, strong, and yet as graceful and agile as a deer.
Coal black he was in colour, and his neck, and his shoulder, and
his quarters, and his fetlocks--how can I describe him all to
you? The sun shone upon him as on polished ebony, and he raised
his hoofs in a little playful dance so lightly and prettily,
while he tossed his mane and whinnied with impatience.
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