Reminiscent 



sufficiently to overhear their remarks, at which, despite his 

 injuries, he could hardly help laughing. 



" This arm's broke ! " remarked one friend as he took up 

 the limb in question. " So is this," said another, as he handled 

 its fellow tenderly. " His back's broke, I'm certain," chimed in 

 a third. Whilst another sympathizer, determined not to be 

 outdone, exclaimed, " I believe he's DEAD ! " After this 

 startling announcement the surprise of those surrounding the 

 sufferer may be imagined when the supposed corpse, suddenly 

 opening his eyes, inquired faintly, "Where's my horse?" In 

 so doing imparting such a shock to the kindly sportsman on 

 whose knee his head was supported, that he promptly let it 

 drop to the ground with a thud. The corpse had by this time 

 quite recovered himself, so much so that, rejecting the offer of 

 a friend's motor car to take him home, the corpse insisted on 

 remounting his horse and riding back to Edmondthorpe, where 

 on arrival he went straight to bed. Luckily no bones were 

 broken, but that he was bruised from head to foot goes 

 without saying, and from what I have heard since, fancy 

 there is little doubt that the pressure of a coat-button 

 when the horse rolled over him had something to do with 

 his fatal illness. 



The following day he went into Leicester to consult a 

 famous surgeon there, and the day after, as I have stated, 

 like the good-plucked one he was, came to see the writer in 

 London. 



Another narrow escape he had, either just previous or after 

 the fall now described, was when riding to covert one morning 

 all by himself, a small bricked-in bridge over a culvert at the 

 side of the road gave way, letting his horse in up to his head. 

 Mr. Richardson either fell or threw himself off — probably the 

 latter, and as he lay on the ground was all but run into by a motor 



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