The Best Fourteen-Hander in England. 199 



of the question thinking of the nabob's daughter to-day." But I 

 very soon had something else to think of. Being a fine Sunday 

 morning, many country people were on their way to the church in 

 the little town, which was now within half a mile or so, and whose 

 glorious peal of bells distinctly floated upon my ear. They 

 naturally chose the causeway to walk on, under the shade of a row 

 of magnificent chestnuts, which extended along the road right up to 

 the town. Now it is clear that I had no business there ; and I 

 began to get rather nervous as I saw little groups slowly wending 

 their way ahead of me, and who, not having yet heard the clatter 

 of my horse's hoofs on the hard causeway, had little idea of the 

 danger which so closely menaced them. As for pulling up, or 

 even turning the mare into the road, that was out of the question ; 

 she had a mouth of iron, and the little bit which was m it was but 

 a plaything to her. Moreover, my hands were almost paralysed, 

 and I had no more power over her than a child. I had lost my 

 whip in the shrubbery, otherwise, as I now saw what a frightful 

 risk I was about to run, I should certainly have knocked her down 

 by a blow with the handle between the ears. As to throwing 

 myself off at the pace she was going, on a hard road, I dare not 

 risk it j for even if I cleared her, I might be killed by the fall, and 

 if my foot should happen to hang in the stirrup the consequences 

 were too dreadful to think of. All I could do was to shout. 



The first group I came down on was a country lad and his 

 sweetheart. They luckily heard me, and, being young and active, 

 sprang on one side as I passed them like a shot. The next was a 

 corpulent, elderly, " Sairey Gamp " looking old lady in a stuff gown, 

 carrying in her hand a formidable cotton umbrella and pattens. 

 (There was not a cloud in the sky j but no saying, it might come 

 on to rain before night, and she doubtless thought it as well to be 

 prepared.) Luckily she was not deaf, but heard me shout, and 

 scrambled into the ditch before I was down on her. The old lady 

 was game, for she viciously struck at the mare's head with the 

 cotton umbrella as I went past, and screamed out, " Cuss you ! for 

 a bad 'un, whoever you are" words which rang in my ears for 



