198 "MY KINGDOM FOR A HORSE!" 



" Battersby." Discussion on that topic was universal, and 

 abounded chiefly in the neighbourhood of the unfortunate 

 Willoughby, who came in for a constant fire of questions 

 on the subject. 



There was something absolutely delicious in ah 1 this 

 at least, so I thought and I entered with zest into the 

 various conversations. Very difficult, however, was it to 

 avoid bursting into fits of laughter now and again, so 

 exquisite was the irony of the situation. 



Here, for instance, was a gallant captain of the 

 gth Lancers who, as his horse bucked with unexpected 

 vigour over a small fence, showed very much daylight. 

 " Hullo, there," cried a friend, " Joseph Rawlinson 

 Battersby will soon be having his eye on you ! " 



" Yes, indeed," I thought, " he is much nearer than you 

 imagine." 



" I say, Willoughby," asked Sir George Wombwell, 

 riding up to that gentleman for the first time that morning. 

 " Who is this Rawlinson Battersby ? You know him, I 

 see. Upon my word I half thought the thing was a hoax : 

 but after all, it seems genuine enough. Who is he ? " 



Mr Willoughby for the twentieth time indignantly 

 repudiated the alleged mentor of Langar : but the im- 

 pression appeared to prevail that Battersby had let out 

 a secret which the owner of the horse did not wish to be 

 known. He had hitherto had all the credit connected with 

 Langar and his performances to himself : small wonder 

 then that he did not like these facts being disclosed. 



" Take care, my horse kicks," cried someone. " Send 

 him to Battersby," was the immediate response from 

 several voices. 



" I really think I will : he can't make him worse, and 

 he may make him better." 



" I will give him this mare," said another gallant 

 captain, " if he can make her jump water." 



And so the amusement went on throughout the day, 

 no one seeming to doubt for a moment that Battersby 

 is an actual being destined soon to be among them. 



