204 The Best Fourteen-Hander in England. 



" How Long is this to Last ?" describing every particular of my 

 eventful ride (of course carefully concealing the fact, which the 

 editor could have known as well as myself, that my mare had run 

 away with me from my old friend's door), and calling upon the 

 local authorities to take strict and vigorous measures for bringing to 

 justice the offenders in such cases, which were now but too common, 

 and for protecting the lives of her Majesty's subjects, and preventing 

 their being recklessly ridden over on their way to church by a 

 parcel of (shall I finish?) " drunken rough riders and horse-dealers." 

 Such was a specimen of the neat manner in which our Bee made 

 its attacks. 



This Tuesday was an important day for me. I had been over at 

 my old friend's lodge all the morning, giving the Evening Star what 

 he called a rare " bucketing j" and when I came home I found the 

 paper and a letter lying on my table, and was told that a " gentle- 

 man " wished to see me on particular business. I bid the servant 

 show " the gentleman " in, and as I was deep in the leader before 

 referred to, in walked the superintendent of our force of "rural 

 Bobbies," and after the usual commonplace apologies, served me 

 with a summons to appear before the Bench on the following 

 Thursday, to answer the charge of having, when in a state of in- 

 toxication on the previous Sunday, leaped the turnpike, thus 

 evading the payment of toll, and, galloping along the footpath, 

 endangered the lives of sundry of her Majesty's liege subjects, to 

 wit, the old lady with the pattens, the two Misses Simpkinsons and 

 their young charges, and, worst of all, of the two future editors of 

 the Bee. The stinging leader was now accounted for the two 

 children in the little four-wheeler belonged to no less a personage 

 than the editor. 



I cared very little for the summons, as I knew my old friend's 

 evidence would soon clear me; but my "cheek blanched" when I 

 took up the ominous-looking letter, and recognised the coat-of-arms 

 on the seal as belonging to the owner of Chunee Villa. The 

 contents were, like his Indian engagements, which he had so often 

 related to me sharp, short, and decisive ; and as the letter will 



