Few hack hunters are without their little peculiarities.

Some are runaways--some kick--some bite--some go tail first on the road--some go tail first at their fences--some rush as if they were going to eat them, others baulk them altogether--and few, very few, give satisfaction.

Those that do, generally retire from the public stud to the private one.

But to our particular quadruped, 'Hercules.' Mr.Sponge was not without his misgivings that, regardless of being on his preferment, the horse might exhibit more of his peculiarity than would forward his master's interests, and, independently of the disagreeableness of being kicked off at the cover side, not being always compensated for by falling soft, Mr.Sponge thought, as the meet was not far off, and he did not sport a cover hack, it would look quite as well to ride his horse quietly on as go in a fly, provided always he could accomplish the mount--the mount--like the man walking with his head under his arm--being the first step to everything.
Accordingly, Mr.Leather had the horse saddled and accoutred as quietly as possible--his warm clothing put over the saddle immediately, and everything kept as much in the usual course as possible, so that the noble animal's temper might not be ruffled by unaccustomed trouble or unusual objects.
Leather having seen that the horse could not eject Mr.Sponge even in trousers, had little fear of his dislodging him in boots and breeches; still it was desirable to avoid all unseemly contention, and maintain the high character of the stud, by which means Leather felt that his own character and consequence would best be maintained.

Accordingly, he refrained from calling in the aid of any of the stable assistants, preferring for once to do a little work himself, especially when the rider was up to the trick, and not 'a gent' to be cajoled into 'trying a horse.' Mr.Sponge, punctual to his time, appeared at the stable, and after much patting, whistling, so--so--ing, my man, and general ingratiation, the redoubtable nag was led out of the stable into a well-littered straw-yard, where, though he might be gored by a bull if he fell, the 'eyes of England' at all events would not witness the floorer.