"Trumpeter, as the farmer had promised, was quiet as a lamb. He went
forward at a steady jog, and even had the good sense to quarter on
his own account for the one or two vehicles we met on the broad road.
Pretty soon I began to experiment gingerly with the reins; and by the
time we reached Tregarrick streets, was handling them with quite an
air, while observing the face of everyone I met, to make sure I
was not being laughed at. The prospect of Tregarrick Fore Street
frightened me a good deal, and there was a sharp corner to turn at the
entrance of the inn-yard. But the old horse knew his business so well
that had I pulled on one rein with all my strength I believe it would
have merely annoyed, without convincing, him. He took me into the yard
without a mistake, and I gave up the reins to the ostler, thanking
Heaven and looking careless.
"The inn was crowded with mourners, eating and drinking and discussing
the dead man's virtues. They packed the Assembly Room at the back,
where the subscription dances are held, and the reek of hot joints was
suffocating.
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