THROWN OUT. 125 



increasing at every stride. We are in a big meadow 

 now, and surely as the field approach the middle of it 

 there is some sort of break in the even pace of the 

 horses. A brook ? Yes. As we come nearer I see it, 

 and the next moment we are on the other side. Had I 

 not seen it I should hardly have known that we had 

 crossed it at all, with such slight exertion does the mare 

 bound over. 



On we go, the field now breaking into two divisions, 

 one making for the gate to the right, and the other 

 steaming away straight ahead. What shall we do r 

 The fence is the most direct way, and on such a mare 

 there is no excuse for hesitation. To it we come. A 

 couple of men fly it ; another jumps short — his horse 

 catches his fore-legs in the ditch and turns over. Our 

 turn now ! Here is an easy place, let us see how Village 

 Lass will manage it. 



On to the bank she lightly S23rings and simply glides 

 over the ditch on the other side. It is just like handing 

 a lady out of a carriage — no more fuss or exertion, and 

 she shakes her little head as she gallops over the field 

 beyond. These are, indeed, moments to live for, car- 

 ried on such a mare across such a country ; for that she 

 will go all day, and like it the better the farther she 

 goes, I' have been assured on the most unimpeachable 

 authority. 



A slight check gives us time to appreciate the plea- 

 sures of the moment more fully, and down a lane, fresh 

 stoned in the cartruts, we trot. 



