“But as it’s not near dinner-time yet--what shall we do with ourselves till dinner-time?” said Sir Philip, yawning pathetically. Clarence not being used to drink in a morning, though all his companions were, was much affected by the wine, and Rochfort proposed that they should take a turn in the park to cool Hervey’s head. To Hyde-park they repaired; Sir Philip boasting, all the way they walked, of the superior strength of his head. Clarence protested that his own was stronger than any man’s in England, and observed, that at this instant he walked better than any person in company, Sir Philip Baddely not excepted. Now Sir Philip Baddely was a noted pedestrian, and he immediately challenged our hero to walk with him for any money he pleased. “Done,” said Clarence, “for ten guineas--for any money you please:” and instantly they set out to walk, as Rochfort cried “one, two, three, and away; keep the path, and whichever reaches that elm tree first has it.” They were exactly even for some yards, then Clarence got ahead of Sir Philip, and he reached the elm tree first; but as he waved his hat, exclaiming, “Clarence has won the day,” Sir Philip came up with his companions, and coolly informed him that he had lost his wager--“Lost! lost! lost! Clarence--fairly lost.” “Didn’t I reach the tree first?” said Clarence. “Yes,” answered his companions; “but you didn’t keep the path. You turned out of the way when you met that crowd of children yonder.” “Now _I_,” said Sir Philip, “dashed fairly through them--kept the path, and won my bet.” “But,” said Hervey, “would you have had me run over that little child, who was stooping down just in my way?” “_I_!’ not I,” said Sir Philip; “but I would have you go through with your civility: if a man will be polite, he must pay for his politeness sometimes.--You said you’d lay me _any money_ I pleased, recollect--now I’m very moderate--and as you are a particular friend, Clarence, I’ll only take your ten guineas.” A loud laugh from his companions provoked Clarence; they were glad “to have a laugh against him,” because he excited universal envy by the real superiority of his talents, and by his perpetually taking the lead in those trifles which were beneath his ambition, and exactly suited to engage the attention of his associates. “Be it so, and welcome; I’ll pay ten guineas for having better manners than any of you,” cried Hervey, laughing; “but remember, though I’ve lost this bet, I don’t give up my pedestrian fame.--Sir Philip, there are no women to throw golden apples in my way now, and no children for me to stumble over: I dare you to another trial--double or quit.” “I’m off, by Jove!” said Sir Philip. “I’m too hot, damme, to walk with you any more--but I’m your man if you’ve a mind for a swim--here’s the Serpentine river, Clarence--hey? damn it!--hey?” Sir Philip and all his companions knew that Clarence had never learned to swim.