THE REV. JOHN RUSSELL. icg 



that from a dim horn-lantern, enabHng Russell 

 to distinguish the head from the tail of the 

 horse on which he was about to mount. How- 

 ever, he was soon in the saddle ; the beast, too, 

 was a willing one, being probably, like John 

 Gilpin's horse, 



" • • . • rig-ht gflad to miss 

 The lumb'ring' of the wheels ; " 



but never before nor since did Russell undergo 

 such a bumping as on the ribs of that War- 

 minster hack. 



On his arrival at Bath, long after midnight, 

 happily for him one hostelry still remained 

 open, the White Lion Inn ; where, finding he 

 could obtain a bed for himself and a stall for 

 his horse, he rested for the night. But when 

 he quitted the animal and committed him to 

 the charge of the ostler, such was the darkness 

 still prevailing that Russell knew no more about 

 the shape, appearance, and colour of the beast 

 than he did about the Greek horse that entered 

 Troy. He might have known, however, that 

 the heroes inside that wooden steed must have 

 had a rough time of it if its movements were 

 not easier than those of his Warminster hack. 



" Feed him well," said Russell to the ostler, 

 as he groped his way out of the yard ; " and 

 don't forget to bring him in the morning 

 to No. 9, Milsom Street, exactly at eleven 

 o'clock." 



