CHAPTER XXIII.  “Your horses of the Sun,” he said,    “And first-rate whip Apollo!Whate’er they be, I’ll eat my head,    But I will beat them hollow.” Fred Vincy, we have seen, had a debt on his mind, and though no such immaterial burthen could depress that buoyant-hearted young gentleman for many hours together, there were circumstances connected with this debt which made the thought of it unusually importunate. The creditor was Mr. Bambridge, a horse-dealer of the neighborhood, whose company was much sought in Middlemarch by young men understood to be “addicted to pleasure.” During the vacations Fred had