Beautiful! Sir, you may say so. Thar isn’t her match in the county,—
Is thar, old gal? Chiquita, my darling, my beauty!
Feel of that neck, sir,—thar ’s velvet! Whoa! Steady—ah, will you? you vixen!
Whoa! I say. Jack, trot her out; let the gentleman look at her paces.

Morgan!—She ain’t nothin’ else, and I ’ve got the papers to prove it.
Sired by...