From that moment I positively recollect nothing till I saw you here by my side." "The name! If it had been any other horse he'd have had a broken neck!" murmured Melbury.
"'Tis wonderful, sure, how a quiet hoss will bring a man home at such times!" said John Upjohn.

"And what's more wonderful than keeping your seat in a deep, slumbering sleep?
I've knowed men drowze off walking home from randies where the mead and other liquors have gone round well, and keep walking for more than a mile on end without waking.
Well, doctor, I don't care who the man is, 'tis a mercy you wasn't a drownded, or a splintered, or a hanged up to a tree like Absalom--also a handsome gentleman like yerself, as the prophets say." "True," murmured old Timothy.

"From the soul of his foot to the crown of his head there was no blemish in him." "Or leastwise you might ha' been a-wownded into tatters a'most, and no doctor to jine your few limbs together within seven mile!" While this grim address was proceeding, Fitzpiers had dismounted, and taking Grace's arm walked stiffly in-doors with her.

Melbury stood staring at the horse, which, in addition to being very weary, was spattered with mud.

There was no mud to speak of about the Hintocks just now--only in the clammy hollows of the vale beyond Owlscombe, the stiff soil of which retained moisture for weeks after the uplands were dry.