258 The Post and the Paddock. 



Field Nicholson had just returned from his first season 

 at Melton (where he afterwards shone so brightly as a 

 steeple-chase rider, on Magic, Plunder, &c.), flushed 

 with triumph at having won a small match there on a 

 fourteen-hand pony, and bringing with him a mare 

 which he fancied fit to beat all the Brocklesby Hunt. 

 Tom Brooks, of Croxby, had been a rival of his in 

 riding, from their very boyhood ; they had sat on the 

 same school bench, thinking doubtless more of foxes 

 than fractions, and then taken their fences, stroke for 

 stroke, for some years before Field graduated in 

 Leicestershire, whither Tom followed him for a season. 

 Field's boasting was not to be borne, and accordingly 

 Tom told him that his animal, who was a magnificent 

 jumper, but slow, was " a nice bagman's mare," and 

 followed up this home-thrust by offering to run him 

 ten miles within a month for 50 guineas a side for the 

 honour of the old county, each to carry fourteen 

 stone. From Thoresby Mill to Aylesby steeple, with 

 some seventy or eighty fences in it, was the line 

 chosen. Every man, woman, and child that could 

 walk, ride, or drive, lined the ten miles, and it seemed 

 as if all the horsemen of Lincolnshire were drawn up 

 in array at Barton Street. The pair went the first 

 half mile together, and then parted. At Ashby and 

 Brigsley, Brooks was in difficulties, as his mare three 

 times refused a water-course with post and rails. All 

 seemed lost, but at the nick of time Nicholson ap- 

 peared over a fence. "Why, Field, you're just the 

 man I want !" roared Tom ; " give me a lead over." 

 " I'll show you the way to jump, my boy," was the 

 jaunty reply ; and Tom's mare followed him like a 

 bird. They met no more in the race, as Field went 

 below Barnoldby and got too far out of his line ; while 

 Tom kept the high ground on the other side of the 

 village, and reached the steeple, out of which those two 

 ancient elderberry bushes still persevere in growing like 

 a couple of ears, in the very teeth of archdeacon and 



