102 My I'irst Steeple-chaser. 



stood in silence by that bedside, and more painful still to think what 

 feelings were working in their breasts at that solemn moment. It 

 was a relief to leave the chamber of death, and go down into the 

 parlour. The daughter had been carried to her bed-room in a 

 swoon, and the little parlour was filled with men who had seen the 

 accident, and who had stopped at the lodge till our arrival. From 

 them we learnt the full particulars. The old uncle was now 

 anxious to get home and make arrangements about the removal of 

 the body. So, after leaving particular instructions for them to cut 

 off a hoof of the horse before they buried him, we rode home. 

 There was but little outward exhibition of grief during the whole 

 of this sad scene — the principal actors in it were made of sterner 

 stuff than to show the sorrow which struck inwardly, but deeply, 

 into their breasts ; and as for the poor girl, she lay, during the 

 whole time, happily unconscious of all that was taking place around 

 her. 



What was to be done about the steeple-chase now that poor Tom 

 was killed ? Of course the old uncle could not go down to the 

 meeting j but the horse was there, heavily backed by many of his 

 friends. And when the old man asked the company in the parlour 

 how he should act, the unanimous reply " Just as if Tom was alive," 

 decided him, and at ten o'clock the Vet. and myself took our places 

 in the night-coach to go down to Bideford, engage another jockey, 

 run the horse, and do our best to win. 



"We reached London by twelve o'clock next day, and Bideford 

 by the Tuesday morning. The journey was a dreary one, far diffe- 

 rent from what we had expected it would be. Just before starting 

 I went up into Tom's room for the jacket and cap , but I had 

 not the heart to take down the two little rosettes which hung up 

 over them, now that he who had so fondly cherished these valued 

 remembrances would never see them again. 



The coach was filled, outside and in, with steeple-chase riders 

 and betting-men, and the conversation the whole way down was 

 slangy and turfy When we entered the little town of Bideford 

 the place was in a bustle, and as we pulled up at the Woolpack in 



