This intelligence rather damped my ardour, and I immediately got off the cart and insisted upon leading the brute down the next hill. The animal protested, and shook its head. Remembering its possible tooth-ache, I treated it with increased courtesy, telling it to "Gee-up" and "be a good horse." I am sorry to say that the creature did not seem inclined to acknowledge my kindness. Having come to a level piece of road, I once more mounted into the Lowther Arcade dog-cart, and urged on my partially wild career. I had passed a four-winged post at cross roads, and had followed the sign pointing to "Babbleton." I had got safely up to a farm-house, having restrained _en route_ an inclination on the part of my horse to commit suicide by jumping over the parapet of a bridge into a small mountain torrent. "Is this the way to East Babbleton?" I asked a rather cheery, rosy-cheeked dame, who had been watching our manoeuvres with a kindly smile, not entirely exempt from good-natured apprehension. "No, this is not the road, Master," she returned, in the same unapproachable dialect. "You ought to have borne to the left when you came to the cross-roads." Seeing that I had to go back, I seized each of the reins and called upon my beast of a horse to make an effort. The noble animal answered bravely to the call, and managed to turn round on a space of turf about the size of a waggon wheel. It was really a very clever performance, and had it been seen by Mr. RITCHIE, I fancy would have secured for us a lucrative engagement for a "side show" at the Royal Westminster Aquarium. "Well, that was a shave surely," said the dame of the cheery countenance; "when I saw your off wheel go up in the air and hang over the ditch I thought it would be all up with ye." Accepting the compliment with dignified geniality, I asked our fair critic if she could bait our horse. "Well, I can give him a handful of hay," said the lady; "but I would not take him out of the shafts for worlds. If I untied him I could not put him together again." Refreshed by the nourishment, our steed started again, and after retracing our steps and nearly upsetting a hay cart, and narrowly running down a pig, we reached East Babbleton in fairly good condition. I looked at my watch and found that we had done the six miles in two hours and a quarter. Having transacted my business, I now turned the nose of my steed homewards. I had noticed with some alarm that I had only an hour to get back to Nearvices if I wanted to catch the train for London. This being so, I saw it was absolutely necessary that I should act with decision. I held a council of war with my two sons, and we came to the conclusion that we must get back as fast at we could, and when there was a difficulty, risk it. We entered our conveyance and started.