Not that I had the smallest fear of what the mare could do to me, by fair play and horse-trickery, but that the glory of sitting upon her seemed to be too great for me; especially as there were rumours abroad that she was not a mare after all, but a witch.

However, she looked like a filly all over, and wonderfully beautiful, with her supple stride, and soft slope of shoulder, and glossy coat beaded with water, and prominent eyes full of docile fire.

Whether this came from her Eastern blood of the Arabs newly imported, and whether the cream-colour, mixed with our bay, led to that bright strawberry tint, is certainly more than I can decide, being chiefly acquaint with farm-horses.

And these come of any colour and form; you never can count what they will be, and are lucky to get four legs to them.
Mr.Faggus gave his mare a wink, and she walked demurely after him, a bright young thing, flowing over with life, yet dropping her soul to a higher one, and led by love to anything; as the manner is of females, when they know what is the best for them.

Then Winnie trod lightly upon the straw, because it had soft muck under it, and her delicate feet came back again.
'Up for it still, boy, be ye ?' Tom Faggus stopped, and the mare stopped there; and they looked at me provokingly.
'Is she able to leap, sir?
There is good take-off on this side of the brook.' Mr.Faggus laughed very quietly, turning round to Winnie so that she might enter into it.