"Young man," said I, going up to the jockey, "do me the favour to tell me the price of that horse, as I suppose it is to sell." The jockey, who was a surly-looking man, of about fifty, looked at me for a moment, then, after some hesitation, said, laconically, "Seventy." "Thank you," said I, and turned away.

"Buy that horse," said Mr.Petulengro, coming after me; "the dook tells me that in less than three months he will be sold for twice seventy." "I will have nothing to do with him," said I; "besides, Jasper, I don't like his tail.

Did you observe what a mean scrubby tail he has ?" "What a fool you are, brother," said Mr.
Petulengro; "that very tail of his shows his breeding.

No good bred horse ever yet carried a fine tail--'tis your scrubby-tailed horses that are your out-and-outers.

Did you ever hear of Syntax, brother?
That tail of his puts me in mind of Syntax.