Captain Becher 



That the police, like everybody else — though "every- 

 body else" being humbugs, more or less, do not admit it — 

 occasionally make mistakes, we are all aware, and they cer- 

 tainly made one when they mistook the rider of Vivian for a 

 body-snatcher of the period ; but so it was, and this was how 

 it came about. 



In 1832, when living at Epsom, he was in the habit of 

 driving down from town very frequently in a light buggy, 

 with a peculiar-shaped driving-box, and his celebrated roan 

 mare. Ladybird, in the shafts. The resurrectionists had been 

 so busy in Surrey just then, that the police were ordered to be 

 specially on the alert, with the consequence that the Captain, 

 much to his astonishment, for several nights running found 

 himself conducted (shadowed, we should call it nowadays) 

 from one patrol to another, until he reached his own door. 



Nor could he solve the enigma, until one evening, on 

 pulling up to '* bait," he remarked to his escort, that as he had 

 favoured him with his company so far, he had better walk in 

 and take a little " something warm." The invitation was 

 accepted, and, on coming into the light, the mystery was at 

 once explained. " Lor, Captain ! " exclaimed the man — who, it 

 seemed, had formerly served in his Yeomanry Regiment — 

 " blowed if we haven't been mistaking you for a body-snatcher, 

 all along of that rum box in your trap." 



Captain Becher relinquished the saddle in the early 

 " forties," honoured by all who knew him, as well he might 

 be ; for it was a fact that during the whole of his steeple- 

 chasing career his riding was never once called in question. 



Unfortunately, like many a good fellow before and since, 

 he failed to make money while the sun shone, consequently his 

 retirement from riding found him in somewhat straitened 

 circumstances. With a view to remedy this, a friend obtained 



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