There was a gentleman of the name of Blantyre staying at the hall; he always rode Lizzie, and praised her so much that one day Lady Anne ordered the sidesaddle to be put on her, and the other saddle on me. When we came to the door the gentleman seemed very uneasy.

“How is this?” he said. “Are you tired of your good Black Auster?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” she replied, “but I am amiable enough to let you ride him for once, and I will try your charming Lizzie. You must confess that in size and appearance she is far more like a lady’s horse than my own favorite.”

“Do let me advise you not to mount her,” he said, “she is a charming creature, but she is too nervous for a lady. I assure you, she is not perfectly safe; let me beg you to have the saddles changed.”