Who is it, Jemima ?" "Not any person--not any human being, mamma," said Jemima, half smiling.

"Do you remember our stopping at Wakefield once, on our way to Scarborough, and there were horse-races going on somewhere, and some of the racers were in the stables at the inn where we dined ?" "Yes! I remember it; but what about that ?" "Why, Richard, somehow, knew one of the jockeys, and, as we were coming in from our ramble through the town, this man, or boy, asked us to look at one of the racers he had the charge of." "Well, my dear!" "Well, mamma! Mr Donne is like that horse!" "Nonsense, Jemima; you must not say so.

I don't know what your father would say, if he heard you likening Mr Donne to a brute." "Brutes are sometimes very beautiful, mamma.

I am sure I should think it a compliment to be likened to a race-horse, such as the one we saw.

But the thing in which they are alike, is the sort of repressed eagerness in both." "Eager! Why, I should say there never was any one cooler than Mr Donne.