couldn’t stir an inch, “the wicked mutton,” as Mr. Duffy called it, rushed full butt at me, and immediately up went my legs, and down I came bump on the grass, with a force that I felt for months afterwards. I set to screaming directly as loud as I could for Mother and Duffy, and kicking with all my might,--for, my legs being tied, I, of course, couldn’t get up, and there was the savage brute poking away with its horns, like the prongs of a pitchfork, at the cotton tops of my silk stockings. At last, just as I’d got my poor feet free from the rope by my continued kickings, thank goodness! I heard the garden door slam to, and knew, by Duffy’s puffing and blowing, and Mother’s “pshewing” away like a rocket, that assistance was at hand. But, alas! no sooner did the rampant beast catch sight of that Duffy’s red plush thingomybobs, than, attracted by the colour I suppose, off it scampered towards the porpoise; and no sooner did that coward of a Duffy catch sight of the rampant beast coming full gallop towards him, than he let fall, with fright, the broom he had come armed with to my help, and taking to his fat legs, ran round the garden, blowing like an asthmatic grampus, with the wicked mutton tearing after him like a woolly maniac. Just as he had got within a yard or so of me, and I had managed to raise myself on my hands and knees, oh! lud-a-mercy me! the savage brute rushed full butt at him behind with such force, that the great fat hulking monster cried out, “O--oo!” and was pitched sprawling right on to my poor back, and down I went again, flop, with such force, that if the fellow--though no sylph--hadn’t been as plump and soft as a feather bed, I do verily believe I should have been taken up a human pancake, and had to have been buried in one of the cracks in Dover cliffs, or some such horrible out-of-the-way place.