Digital primer

'I thought he didn't go fast enough at his fences the first time I rode
him,' observed Mr. Sponge, drawing the curb slightly so as to show the
horse's fine arched neck to advantage; 'but he went quick enough to-day, in
all conscience,' added he.
'He did _that_,' observed Mr. Thornton, now bent on a toadying match. 'I
never saw a finer lepper.'
'He flew many feet beyond the brook,' observed Mr. Spareneck, who, thinking
discretion was the better part of valour, had pulled up on seeing his
comrade Thornton blobbing about in the middle of it, and therefore was
qualified to speak to the fact.
So they went on talking about the horse, and his points, and his speed, and
his action, very likely as much for want of something to say, or to keep
off the subject of the run, as from any real admiration of the animal.
The true way to make a man take a fancy to a horse is to make believe that
you don't want to sell him--at all events, that you are easy about selling.
Mr. Sponge had played this game so very often, that it came quite natural
to him.


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