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  'How does it do?' asked Lawless, screwing himself around in an insane effort to look at the small of his own back, a thing a man is certain to attempt when trying on a coat. 'It does not make a fellow look like a guy, does it?'

  'No, I rather admire the sort of thing,' said Cumberland.

  'A jolly dodge for a shower of rain, and no mistake,' said Coleman.

  'It is deucedly fashionable really,' said Smithson – 'this one of yours, and one we made for Augustus Flareaway, Lord Fitz-scamper's son, the man in the Guards, you know, are the only two out yet.'

  'I have just got it at the right time then,' said Lawless; 'I knew old Sam was going to town, so I settled to drive Clayton over to Woodend, in the tandem, tomorrow. The harriers meet there at eleven, and this will be very thing to hide the leathers, and tops and the green cut-away. I saw you at the match, by-the-by, Sithey, this morning.'

  'Ya'as, I was there. Did you see the thing I was on?'

  'A bright bay, with a star on the forehead! A spicy looking nag enough – whose is it?'

  'Why, young Robarts, who came into a lot of tin the other day, has just bought it; Snaffles charged him ninety guineas for it.'

  'And what is it worth?' asked Lawless.

  'Oh! He would not do a dirty thing by any gent I introduced,' replied Smithson. 'I took young Robarts there: he merely made his fair profit out of it; he gave forty pounds for it himself to the man who bred it, only the week before, to my certain knowledge: it's a very sweet thing, and would carry him well, but he's afraid to ride it; that's how I was on it today. I'm getting it steady for him.'

  'A thing it will take you some time to accomplish, eh? A mount like that is not to be had for nothing, every day, is it?'

  'Ya'as, you're about right there, Mr Lawless; you're down to every move, I see, as usual. Any orders today, gents? Your two vests will be home tomorrow, Mr Coleman.'

  'Here, Smithson, wait a moment,' said Cumberland, drawing him on one side, 'I was deucedly unlucky with the balls this morning,' continued he in a lower tone, 'can you let me have five and twenty pounds?'

  'What you please, sir,' replied Smithson, bowing.

  'On the old terms, I suppose?' observed Cumberland.

  'All right,' answered Smithson. 'Stay, I can leave it with you now,' added he, drawing out a leather case; 'oblige me by writing your name here – thank you.'

  So saying, he handed some bank-notes to Cumberland, carefully replaced the paper he had received from him in his pocket-book, and withdrew.

  'Smithey was in great force tonight,' observed Lawless, as the door closed behind him – 'nicely they are bleeding that young ass Robarts among them – he has got into good hands to help him to get rid of his money, at all events. I don't believe Snaffles gave forty pounds for that bay horse; he has got a decided curb on the off hock, if I ever saw one, and I fancy he's a little touched in the wind, too; and there's another thing I should say—'

  What other failing might be attributed to Mr Robarts' bay seed, we were, however, not destined to learn, as tea was at this moment announced. In due time followed evening prayers, after which we retired for the night. Being very sleepy I threw off my clothes, and jumped hastily into bed, by which act I became painfully aware of the presence of what a surgeon would term 'certain foreign bodies' – i.e. not, as might be imagined, sundry French, German, and Italian corpses, but various hard substances, totally opposed to one's preconceived ideas of the component parts of a featherbed. Sleep being out of the question on a couch so constituted, I immediately commenced an active search, in the course of which I succeeded in bringing to light two clothes-brushes, a boot-jack, a pair of spurs, Lemprier's Classical Dictionary, and a brick-bat. Having freed myself from these undesirable bedfellows, I soon fell asleep, and passed (as it seemed to me) the whole night in dreaming that I was a pigeon, or thereabouts, and that Smithson, mounted on the top-booted Sphinx, was inciting Lawless to shoot at me with a red-hot poker. . . .

  [Frank Fairleigh is instigated by the unscrupulous Cumberland to ride Mad Bess, a hired horse. Coleman, a less experienced rider, is on a fat cob – Punch:]

  Out of consideration for the excitable disposition of Mad Bess, we took our way along the least bustling streets we could select; directing our course towards the outskirts of the town, behind which extended for some miles a portion of the range of hills known as the South Downs, over the smooth green turf of which we promised ourselves a canter. As we rode along, Coleman questioned me as to what could have passed while he was seeing Punch saddled, to make me determine to ride the chestnut mare, whose vicious disposition was, he informed me, so well-known, that not only would no one ride her who could help it, but that Snaffles, who was most anxious to get rid of her, had not as yet been able to find a purchaser. In reply to this I gave him a short account of what had occurred, adding more suspicion to the whole matter that had been arranged by Cumberland, in which notion he entirely agreed with me.

  'I was afraid of something of this sort, when I said I was sorry you had made that remark about cheating to him this morning – you see, he would no doubt suppose you had heard the particulars of his gambling affair, and meant to insult him by what you said, and he has done this out of revenge. Oh, how I wish we were safely at home again; shall we turn back now?'

  'Not for the world,' I said – 'you will find, when you know me better, that when once I have undertaken a thing I will go through with it – difficulties only make me more determined.'

  The road becoming uneven and full of ruts, we agreed to turn our horses' heads, and quit it for the more tempting pathway afforded by the green-sward. No sooner, however, did Punch feel the change from the hard road to the soft elastic footing of the turn, than he proceeded to demonstrate his happiness by slightly elevating his heels, and propping his head down between his forelegs, thereby jerking the rein loose in Coleman's hand; and, perceiving that his rider (who was fully employed in grasping the pommel of his saddle in order to preserve his seat) made no effort to check his vivacity, he indulged his high spirits still further by setting off at a brisk canter.

  'Pull him in,' I cried, 'you'll have him run away with you; pull at him.'

  Whether my advice was acted upon or not I was unable to observe, as my whole attention was demanded by Mad Bess, who appeared at length resolved to justify the propriety of her appellation. Holding her in by means of the snaffle alone had been quite as much as I had been able to accomplish during the last ten minutes, and this escapade on the part of Punch brought the matter to a crisis. I must either allow her to follow him, i.e. to run away, or use the curb to prevent it. Seating myself, therefore, as firmly as I could, and gripping the saddle tightly with my knees, I took up the curb rein, which till now had been hanging loosely on the mare's neck, and gradually tightened it. This did not, for a moment, seem to produce any effect, but as soon as I drew the rein sufficiently tight to check her speed, she stopped short, and shook her head angrily. I attempted gently to urge her on – not a step except backwards would she stir – at length in despair I touched her slightly with the spur, and then 'the fiend within her woke,' and proceeded to make up for lost time with a vengeance. The moment the mare felt the spur, she reared until she stood perfectly erect, and fought the air with her forelegs. Upon this I slackened the rain, and striking her over the ears with my riding-whip, brought her down again; – no sooner, however, had her forefeet touched the ground than she gave two or three violent plunges, which nearly succeeded in unseating me, jerked down her head so suddenly as to loosen the reins from my grasp, kicked viciously several times, and seizing the cheek of the bit between her teeth so as to render it utterly useless (evidently an old trick of hers), sprang forward at a wild gallop. The pace at which we were going soon brought us alongside of Punch, who, having thoroughly mastered his rider, considered it highly improper that any steed should imagine itself able to pass him, and therefore proceeded to emulate the pace of Mad Bess. Thereupon, a short but very spirited race ensued, the cob's plu
ck enabling him to keep neck to neck for a few yards; but the mare was going at racing speed, and the length of her stride soon began to tell; Punch, too, showed signs of having nearly had enough of it. I therefore shouted to Coleman, as we were leaving them: 'Keep his head up hill, and you'll be able to pull him in directly.' His answer was inaudible, but when I turned my head two or three minutes afterwards I was glad to see that he had followed my advice with complete success – Punch was standing still, about half a mile off, while his rider was apparently watching my course with looks of horror.

  All anxiety on his account being thus at an end, I proceeded to take as calm a view of my own situation as circumstances would allow, in order to decide on the best means of extricating myself therefrom. We had reached the top of the first range of hills I have described, and were now tearing at a fearful rate down the descent on the opposite side. It was clear that the mare could not keep up the pace at which she was going for any length of time: still she was in first-rate racing condition, not an ounce of superfluous flesh about her, and, though she must have gone more than two miles already, she appeared as fresh as when we started. I therefore cast my eyes around in search of some obstacle which might check her speed. The slope down which we were proceeding extended for about a mile before us, after which the ground again began to rise. In the valley between the two hills was a small piece of cultivated land, enclosed (as is usual in the district I am describing) within a low wall, built of flint-stones from the beach. Towards this I determined to guide the mare as well as I was able, in the hope that she would refuse the leap, in which case I imagined I might pull her in. The pace at which we were going soon brought us near the spot, when I was glad to perceive that the wall was a more formidable obstacle than I had at first imagined, being fully six feet high, with a ditch in front of it. I therefore selected a place where the ditch seemed widest, got her head up by sawing her mouth with the snaffle, and put her fairly at it. No sooner did she perceive the obstacles before her, than, slightly moderating her pace, she appeared to collect herself, gathered her legs well under her, and rushing forward, cleared wall, ditch, and at least seven feet of ground beyond, with a leap like a deer, alighting safely with me on her back on the opposite side, where she continued her course with unabated vigour.

  We had crossed the field (a wheat stubble) ere I had recovered from my astonishment at finding myself safe, after such a leap as I had most assuredly never dreamt of taking. Fortunately there was a low gate on the farther side, towards which I guided the mare, for though I could not check I was in some measureable to direct her course. This time, however, she either did not see the impediment in her way, or despised it, as, without abating her speed, she literally rushed through the gate, snapping into shivers with her chest the upper bar, which was luckily rotten, and clearing the lower ones in her stride. The blow, and the splintered wood flying about her ears, appeared to frighten her afresh, and she tore up the opposite ascent, which was longer and steeper than the last, like a mad creature. I was glad to perceive, however, that the pace at which she had come, and the distance (which must have been several miles), were beginning to tell – her glossy coat was stained with sweat and dust, while her breath, drawn with short and laboured sobs, her heaving flanks, and the tremulous motion of her limbs, afforded convincing proofs that the struggle could not be protracted much longer. Still she continued to hold the bit between her teeth as firmly as though it were in a vice, rendering any attempt to pull her in utterly futile. We had now reached the crest of the hill, when I was not best pleased to perceive that the descent on the other side was much more precipitous than any I had yet met with. I endeavoured, therefore, to pull her head around, thinking it would be best to try and retrace our steps, but I soon found that it was useless to attempt it. The mare had now become wholly unmanageable; I could not guide her in the slightest degree; and, though she was evidently getting more and more exhausted, she still continued to gallop madly forwards, as though some demon had taken possession of her, and was urging her on to our common destruction. As we proceeded down the hill, our speed increased due to the force of gravitation, till we actually seemed to fly – the wind appeared to shriek as it rushed past my ears, while, from the rapidity with which we were moving, the ground seemed to glide from under us, till my head reeled so giddily that I was afraid I should fall from the saddle.

  We had proceeded about half way down the descent, when, on passing one or two stunted bushes which had concealed the ground beyond, I saw, oh, horror of horrors; what appeared to be the mouth of an old chalk-pit, stretching dark and unfathomable right across our path, about 300 yards before us. The mare perceived it but it was too late, she attempted to stop, but from the impetus with which she was going, was unable to do so. Another moment, and we shall be over the brink! With the energy of despair, I lifted her with the rein with both hands, and drove the spurs madly into her flanks; – she rose to the leap, there was a bound! A sensation of flying through the air! A crash! And I found myself stretched in safety on the turf, beyond, and Mad Bess lying, panting, but uninjured beside me.

  To spring upon my feet, and seize the bridle of the mare, who had also by this time recovered her footing, was the work of a moment. I then proceeded to look around, in order to gain a more clear idea of the situation in which I was placed, in the hope of discovering the easiest method of extricating myself from it. Close behind me lay the chalk-pit, and as I gazed down its rugged sides, overgrown with brambles and rank weeds, I shuddered to think of the probable fate from which I had been so almost miraculously preserved, and turned away with a heartfelt expression of thanksgiving to Him, who had mercifully decreed that the thread of my young life should not be snapped in so sudden and fearful a manner. Straight before me, the descent became almost suddenly precipitous, but a little to the right I perceived a sort of sheep-track, winding downwards round the side of the hill. It was a self-evident fact that this must lead somewhere, and, as all places were alike to me, so that they contained any human beings who were able and willing to direct me towards Helmstone, I determined to follow it. After walking about a half a mile, Mad Bess (with her ears drooping, and her nose nearly touching the ground) following me as quietly as a dog, I was rejoiced by the sight of curling smoke, and on turning a corner, I came suddenly upon a little village green, around which some half dozen cottages were scattered at irregular distances. I directed my steps towards one of these, before which a crazy sign, rendered by age and exposure to the weather as delightfully vague and unintelligible as though it had come fresh from the brush of Turner himself, hung picturesquely from the branch of an old oak.

  The sound of horse's feet attracted the attention of an elderly man, who appeared to combine in his single person the offices of ostler, waiter, and boots, and who, as soon as he became aware of my necessities, proceeded to fulfill the duties of these various situations with the greatest alacrity. First (as of the most importance in his eyes) he rubbed down Mad Bess, and administered some refreshment to her in the shape of hay and water; then he brought me a glass of ale, declaring it would do me good (in which, by the way, he was not far from right). He then brushed from my coat certain stains, which I had contracted in my fall, and finally told me my way to Helmstone. I now remounted Mad Bess, who, though much refreshed by the hay and water, still continued perfectly quiet and tractable; and setting off at a moderate trot, reached the town, after riding about eight miles, without any further adventure, in rather less than an hour.

  As I entered the street in which Snaffles' stables were situated, I perceived Coleman and Lawless standing at the entrance of the yard, evidently awaiting my arrival. When I got near them, Coleman sprang eagerly forward to meet me, saying:

  'How jolly glad I am to see you safe again, old fellow! I was so frightened about you. How did you manage to stop her?

  'Why, Fairleigh, I had no idea you were such a rider,' exclaimed Lawless. 'I made up my mind you would break your neck, and old Sam be minus a pupil, when I
heard you were gone out on that mare. You have taken the devil out of her somehow, and no mistake; she's as quiet as a lamb,' added he, patting her.

  'You were very near being right,' I replied, 'she did her best to break my neck and her own too, I can assure you.'

  I then, proceeded to relate my adventures, to which both Lawless and Coleman listened with great attention; the former interrupting me every now and then with various expressions of commendation, and when I had ended, he shook me warmly by the hand, saying:

  'I give you great credit; you behaved in a very plucky manner all through; I didn't think you had it in you; 'pon my word, I didn't. I shall just tell Cumberland and Snaffles a bit of my mind, too.'

  – Francis Edward Smedley: Frank Fairleigh (1850).

  A Fest of the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles at St. Dominic's

  Talbot Baines Reed

  'Tadpoles' and 'Guinea-pigs' were the names of two sets in the clannish Junior School of St. Dominic's. In the middle of their annual celebration, they attract the attention of the seniors, Oliver Greenfield and Horance Wraysford – two fine characters in The Fifth Form at St. Dominic's. This is the best-known book of that admirable boys' author Talbot Baines Reed, appeared (as did most of his tales) in B.O.P. – or the Boy's Own Paper of splendid memory.

  JUST AT THAT MOMENT A TERRIFIC ROW CAME UP FROM BELOW.

  'What's happening down there?'

  'Only the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles. By the way,' said Wraysford, 'they've got a grand "supper", as they call it, on tonight to celebrate their cricket match. Suppose we go and see the fun?'

  'All right!' said Oliver. 'Who won the match?'

  'Why, what a question! Do you suppose a match between Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles ever came to an end? They had a free fight at the end of the first innings. The Tadpoles umpire gave one of his own men "not out" when he hit his wicket, and they made a personal question of it, and fell out. Your young brother, I hear, greatly distinguished himself in the argument.'